The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie Edited by James Cranstoun |
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| IV. | IV.
A GODLY PRAYER. |
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 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
IV. A GODLY PRAYER.
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei:
I am not worthy to be cald thy chylde,
Vho stubburnely haif lookt so long astray,
Not lyk thy sone, bot lyk the prodigue wyld.
My sillie saull with sin is so defyld,
That Satan seeks to catch it as his pray.
God grant me grace that he may be begyld:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
I am not worthy to be cald thy chylde,
Vho stubburnely haif lookt so long astray,
Not lyk thy sone, bot lyk the prodigue wyld.
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That Satan seeks to catch it as his pray.
God grant me grace that he may be begyld:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
I am abashd how I dar be sa bald
Befor thy godly presence to appeir,
Or haȝard anes the hevins to behald,
Vha am vnworthy that the earth suld beir.
Ȝit damne me noght vhom thou hes boght so deir;
Sed salvum me fac, dulcis Fili Dei,
For out of Luk this leson nou I leir,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Befor thy godly presence to appeir,
Or haȝard anes the hevins to behald,
Vha am vnworthy that the earth suld beir.
Ȝit damne me noght vhom thou hes boght so deir;
Sed salvum me fac, dulcis Fili Dei,
For out of Luk this leson nou I leir,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
If thou, O Lord, with rigour woldst revenge,
Vhat flesh befor the faultles suld be fund?
Or vho is he vhois conscience can him clenge,
Bot by his birth to Satan he is bund?
Ȝit, of thy grace, thou took auay that grund,
And sent thy Sone our penalty to pay,
To saiv us from that hiddious hellish hund.
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Vhat flesh befor the faultles suld be fund?
Or vho is he vhois conscience can him clenge,
Bot by his birth to Satan he is bund?
Ȝit, of thy grace, thou took auay that grund,
And sent thy Sone our penalty to pay,
To saiv us from that hiddious hellish hund.
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
I hope for mercy, thoght my sinnes be huge:
I grant my gylt, and grones to thee for grace.
Thoght I suld flie, vhair sall I find refuge?
In hevin, O Lord? thair is thy duelling place.
The erth, thy futstule; ȝea in helis, alace!
Doun with the dead; bot all must the obey.
Thairfor I cry, vhill I haif tyme and space,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
I grant my gylt, and grones to thee for grace.
Thoght I suld flie, vhair sall I find refuge?
In hevin, O Lord? thair is thy duelling place.
The erth, thy futstule; ȝea in helis, alace!
Doun with the dead; bot all must the obey.
Thairfor I cry, vhill I haif tyme and space,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
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O gratious God, my gyltines forgive,
In sinners death since thou does not delyte,
Bot rather that they suld convert and live,
As witnessis thy sacred holy wryte.
I pray the, then, thy promise to perfyte
In me; and I sall with the Psalmist say
To pen thy prais, and wondrous works indyte:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
In sinners death since thou does not delyte,
Bot rather that they suld convert and live,
As witnessis thy sacred holy wryte.
I pray the, then, thy promise to perfyte
In me; and I sall with the Psalmist say
To pen thy prais, and wondrous works indyte:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Suppose I slyde, let me not sleep in sleuth,
In stinking sty with Satans sinfull swyn;
Bot make my tongue the trompet of thy treuth,
And lend my verse sik wings as ar divyne.
Sen thou hes grantit me so good ingyn
To loif the, Lord, in gallant style and gay,
Let me no moir so trim a talent tyne:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
In stinking sty with Satans sinfull swyn;
Bot make my tongue the trompet of thy treuth,
And lend my verse sik wings as ar divyne.
Sen thou hes grantit me so good ingyn
To loif the, Lord, in gallant style and gay,
Let me no moir so trim a talent tyne:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Thy Spirit, my spirit to speik, with speed, inspyre.
Help, Holy Ghost! and be Montgomeries Muse;
Flie doun on me in forked tongues of fyre,
As thou did, on thy oune Apostills, vse;
And with thy fyre me fervently infuse
To laud the, Lord, and longer not delay.
My former folish fictiouns I refuse:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Help, Holy Ghost! and be Montgomeries Muse;
Flie doun on me in forked tongues of fyre,
As thou did, on thy oune Apostills, vse;
And with thy fyre me fervently infuse
To laud the, Lord, and longer not delay.
My former folish fictiouns I refuse:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
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Stoup, stubborne stomock, that hes bene so stout;
Stoup, filthie flesh, and carioun of clay;
Stoup, hardint hairt, befor the Lord, and lout
Stoup, stoup in tyme, defer not day by day.
Thou knouis not weill vhen thou man pass away;
The Tempter, als, is bissie to betrey.
Confes thy sinnes, and shame not for to say,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Stoup, filthie flesh, and carioun of clay;
Stoup, hardint hairt, befor the Lord, and lout
Stoup, stoup in tyme, defer not day by day.
Thou knouis not weill vhen thou man pass away;
The Tempter, als, is bissie to betrey.
Confes thy sinnes, and shame not for to say,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
To grit Jehovah let all glore be gevin,
Vha shupe my saul to his similitude;
And to his Sone, vhom he sent doun from hevin,
Vhen I wes lost, to buy me with his blude;
And to the Holy Ghost, my gyder gude,
Vho must confirme my faith to tak no fray.
In me cor mundum crea—I conclude:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
Vha shupe my saul to his similitude;
And to his Sone, vhom he sent doun from hevin,
Vhen I wes lost, to buy me with his blude;
And to the Holy Ghost, my gyder gude,
Vho must confirme my faith to tak no fray.
In me cor mundum crea—I conclude:
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |