 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
XI. [OF THE SAME.]
Of Titans harp, sith thou intones the strings,Of ambrose and of nectar so thou feeds,
Not only vther poets thou outsprings,
Bot vhylis also thy very self excedes;
Transporting thee as ravishd, vhen thou redes
Thyn auin inventione, wondering at thy wit.
Quhat mervell than, thoght our fordullit hedes
And blunter brainis be mare amaisd at it;
To sie thy ȝeirs and age, vhilks thou hes ȝit,
Inferiour far to thy so grave ingyne;
Quha haȝard at so high a mark, and hit,
In English, as this Vranie of thyne:
Quharfor thy name, O Prince! eternall ringis,
Quhais muse not Jove, bot grit Jehova singis.
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |