 | The Poems of James VI. of Scotland |  |
119
33
Vpon occasion of some great disorders in Scotland.
O cruell constellation that conspirdBefore my birth my bale sa sharpe & saire
O miserable Mother that desir'd
The Midwife wise na paines on me to spaire
In vaine wase milke my meate a yeare & maire
In vaine therafter wase I speand alace
In vaine ye wise Pierides tooke a caire
To bring me brauely up in euerie cace
In vaine ye made me syne to take a place
Vpon that forked hill in honnour hie
In vaine descended I of Royal race
Which by succession made a King of me
All were but shawes Marcellus sure am I
Or Job whaise patience Sathan thinkes to try.
| The Poems of James VI. of Scotland | |