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Poems of Alexander Montgomerie

And Other Pieces from Laing MS. No. 447: Supplementary Volume: Edited with Introduction, Appendices, Notes, and Glossary by George Stevenson

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
IV. [PREPOTENT PALME IMPERIALL.]
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 

IV. [PREPOTENT PALME IMPERIALL.]

Prepotent palme Imperiall,
Of perfyte pulchritude preclair!
O lusume Lamp Etheriall,
Quhais beamis bricht hes no compair!
Ȝour angell face, fragrant and fair,
Hes me bereft of my puir hairt,
Quhais perfytnes I will declair,
Gif ȝe wald tak it in gude pairt.
My witt of knawlege is to faint,
With barrane speich and barbour brane,
My toung vnabile is to paint
That constant lufe þat dois remane
Within my hairt, with greif and payne,
For laik of knawlege to furth schawe;
Sens I can nocht þe same explane,
O wald to god ȝour grace wald knawe!

197

O happie war the Rethoriciane,
That with sueit wourdis wald lament it!
Alss happie war the gude musiciane,
Wald sett and caus it to be prentit;
And in ȝour graces hand present it,
Sua that ȝe wald reid and pervs it,
To knaw so soir I am tormentit,
So that my grosnes war excusit.
The vehement wodnes of the wind,
Or rageing of þe Roring sey,
Nor cannownis with þair thundering din,
Nor ȝet in battels for to be,
Throw force of armes thocht I suld die,
War nocht so grevous to my hairt,
As to schaw furth my mynde to þe,
Or latt ȝow knaw my painfull pairt.
For quhen I haue declairit at large
My mynde to ȝow with diligence,
And hes committit all þe charge
To ȝour wisdome and excellence,
Or ȝit to ȝow suld do offence,
That I so bauldlie durst proceid,
Than suld I tak in patience,
Ilk day to die ane sindrie deid.
Quhairfore I humele pray ȝour grace,
Latt my complaint cum peirss ȝour eareis,
Gif pitie in ȝour hairt hes place,
As be ȝour pulchritude appeiris;
Than suld I nocht, with fludis of teiris,
Bevaill the day, nor weip þe nicht,
Nor ȝit be faischet with deidis feiris,
Throw absence of ȝour bewte bricht.

198

Lyke as it is the liȝairtis kynd,
Of mannis face to pray hir fude,
So nature still steris vp my mynd
To wew ȝour peirles pulchritude;
Quhairfore schortlie to conclude,
Lat clemencie in ȝow be schawin,
And nocht of mercie so denude,
As rigorouslie to slay ȝour awin.
Quhat vantage hes ane armit knycht,
His ȝeild in presoun for to kill?
Or be quhat equitie or richt,
May he on him his rage fulfill?
Lykewyse, sens I am in ȝour will,
And for ȝour pitie dois imploir,
Lat ȝour sueit confort cum vntill
Ȝour bundman now and euir moir.
Finis quod ane luiffar.