University of Virginia Library

Now, wirthy folk, boece, that senatour,
To wryt this fenyeit fable tuk in cure,
In his gay buke of consolatioun,
ffor our doctrene and gud instructioun;
quhilk in the self suppoiss it fenyeid be,
and hid under the cloik of poetre,
Yit maister trivat doctour nicholass,
quhilk in his tyme a noble theologe wass,
Applyis it to gud moralitie,
rycht full of fructe and seriositie.
ffair phebus is the god of sapience;
Caliope, his wyfe, is eloquence;
Thir twa mareit gat orpheus belyfe,
Quhilk callit is the pairte intelletyfe
Off manis saule, and undirstanding fre,
And seperat fra sensualitie.
Euridices is our effectioun,
Be fantesy oft movit up and doun;
Quhile to ressone it castis the delyte,
Quhyle to the flesche it settis the appetyte.
Arestius, this [hird] that cowth persew
Euridices, is nocht bot gud vertew,
That bissy is to keip our myndis clene;
Bot quhen we fle outthrow the medow grene
Fra vertew, till this warldis vane plesans,
myngit with cair and full of variance,
The serpentis stang, that is the deidly syn,
That posownis the saule without and in;
And than is deid, and eik oppressit doun
Till wardly lust, and all our affectioun.
Thane perfyte wisdome weipis wondir soir,
Seand thus gait our appetyte misfair;
And to the hevin he passit up belyfe,
Schawand to us the Lyfe contemplatyfe,
The perfyte wit, and eik the fervent luve
We suld haif allway to the hevin abuve;
Bot seildin thair our appetyte is fundin,
It is so fast within the body bundin;
Thairfoir dounwart we cast our myndis E,
Blindit with lust, and may nocht upwartis fle;
Sould our desyre be socht up in the spheiris,
Quhen it is tedderit in thir warldly breiris,
Quhyle on the flesch, quhyle on this warldis wrak:
And to the hevin full small intent we tak.
Schir orpheus, thow seikis all in vane
Thy wyfe so he; Thairfoir cum doun agane,
And [pas] unto the monster mervellus,
With thre heidis, that we call cerberus,
Quhilk fenyeid is to haif so mony heidis,
For to be takin thre maner of deidis.
The first is in the tendir yong bernage,
The secound deid is in the middill age,
The thrid is in greit eild quhen men ar tane.
Thus cerberus to swelly sparis nane,
Bot quhen our mynd is myngit with sapience,
and plais upoun the herp of eloquence;
That is to say, makis persuasioun
To draw our will and our affectioun,
In every eild, fra syn and fowll delyte,
The dog our sawll na power hes to byte.

The secound monstour[is] ar the sistiris thre,
Electo, migera, and thesaphany,
Ar nocht ellis, in bukis as we reid,
Bot wickit thocht, ill word, and thrawart deid.
Electo is the bolling of the harte,
Mygera the wickit word inwart,
Thesaphony is operatioun,
That makis fynall executioun
In deidly syn; and thir thre turnis ay
The ugly quheill, is nocht ellis to say,
Bot warldly men sumtyme ar cassin he
upone the quheill, in gret prosperitie,
and with a quhirle, onwarly, or thai wait,
ar thrawin doun to pure and law estait.
Off exione that on the quheill wes spreid,
I sall yow tell of sum pairte, as I haif red:
he was of lyfe brukle and lecherouss,
and in that craft hardy and curaguss,
That he wald luve in to no lawar place
Bot Juno, quene of nature and goddace.
And on a day he went up on the sky,
and socht Juno, thinkand with hir to ly:
Scho saw him cum and knew his foull intent.
a rany clud one fra the firmament
Scho gart discend, and kest betuix thame two;
and in that clud his nature yeid him fro,
off quhilk was generat the sentowriss,
half man, half horss, upoun a ferly wiss.
Thane for the inwart craving and offens
That Juno tuke for his grit violens,
Scho send him doun unto the sistiris thre,
Upone a quheill ay turnyt for to be.
Bot quhen ressoun and perfyte sapience
playis upone the herp of eloquens,
and persuadis our fleschly appetyte
To leif the thocht of this warldly delyte,
Than seissis of our hert the wicket will,
Fra frawart language than the tong is still,
Our synfull deidis fallis doun on sleip,
Thane exione out of the quheill gan creip;
That is to say, the grit solicitud,
Quhyle up, quhyle doun, to win this warldis gud,
seissis furthwith, and our affectioun
waxis quiet in contemplatioun.

This tantalus, of quhome I spak of aire,
quhill he levit he was a gay ostlaire,
and on a nycht come travilland thairby
The god of richess, and tuk harbery
with tantalus; and he till his supper
Slew his awin sone that was [him] leif and deir,
Syne in a sew, with spycis soddin weill,
he gart the god eit up his flesche ilk deill.
For this dispyt, quhen he wes deid annone,
Was dampnit in the flud of acherone,
Till suffer hungir, thrist, nakit and cawld,
Rycht wo begone, as I befoir haif tould.
This hungry man and thirsty, tantalus,
Betaknis men gredy and covetouss,
The god of riches that ar ay reddy
For to ressaif, and tak in harbery;
And till him sieth his sone in pecis small,
That is the flesch and blud, with grit travell,
To full the bag, and nevir fund in thair hairt
Upoun thame self to spend, nor tak thair pairte.
Allace, in erd quhair is thair mair foly,
Than for to want, and haif haboundantly,
Till haif distress on bed, on bak and burd,
And spair till wyn [of] men of gold a hurd?
And in the nycht sleip soundly thay may nocht,
To gaddir geir so gredy is thair thocht.
Bot quhen [that] ressoun and intelligence
Smytis upoun the herp of conscience,
Schawand to ws quhat perrell on ilk syd
That thai incur quhay will trest or confyd
Into this warldis vane prosperitie,
quhilk hes thir sory properteis thre,
That is to say, gottïn with grit Labour,
Keipit with dreid, and tynt with grit dolour.
This grit avariss, be grace quha undirstud,
I trow suld leif thair grit solicitude
off ythand thochtis and he besines
To gaddir gold, [and] syne leif in distres;
Bot he suld eit and drink quhen evir he list
off cuvatyse, to slaik the birnand thrist.
This titius lay nalit on the bent,
And [with] the grip his bowellis revin and rent,
Quhill he levit, he set al his intentioun
To find the craft of divinatioun,
and lyrit it unto the spamen all,
To tell befoir sic thingis as wald befall,
quhat lyfe, quhat deth, quhat destany and werd,
provydit ware unto every man on erd.
Appollo than for this abusioun,
Quhilk is the god of divinatioun,
for he usurpit of his facultie,
put him to hell, and thair remanis he.
Ilk man that heiris this conclusioun
Suld dreid to serss be constillatioun
Thingis to fall undir the firmament,
Till ye or na quhilk ar indefferent,
Without profixit causs and certane,
quhilk nane in erd may knaw bot god allane,
Quhen orpheus upoun his harp can play,
That is our undirstanding for to say,
Cryis, ‘o man, recleme thi folich harte,
Will thow be god and tak on the his parte?
To tell thingis to cum that nevir wilbe,
Quhilk god hes kepit in his prevetie?
Thow ma no mair offend to god of micht,
Na with thi spaying reif fra him his richt;’
This perfyte wisdome with his melody
fleyis the spreit of fenyeid profecy,
and drawis upwart our affectioun.
Fra wichcraft, spaying, and sorsery,
and superstitioun of astrology,
Saif allanerly sic maner of thingis
quhilk upoun trew and certane caussis hingis,
The quhilk mone cum to thair caus indure,
On verry forss, and nocht throw avanture,
As is the clippis and the conjunctioun
of sone and mone be calculatioun,
The quhilk ar fundin in trew astronomy,
Be moving of the speiris in the sky;
All thir to speik it may be tollerable,
And none udir quhilk no caussis stable.
This ugly way, this myrk and dully streit,
Is nocht ellis bot blinding of the spreit,
With myrk cluddis and myst of Ignorance,
affetterrit in this warldis vane plesance,
And bissines of temporalite;
To kene the self a styme it may nocht se,
For stammeris on eftir effectioun,
Fra Ill to war ale thus to hale gois doun,
That is wan howp throw lang hanting of syn,
and fowll dispair that mony fallis In.
Than orpheus our ressoun is full wo,
and twichis on his harp and biddis ho,
Till our desyre and fulich appetyte
Bidis leif this warldis full delyte.
Than pluto, god and quene of hellis fyre,
Mone grant to ressoun on forss the desyre.
Than orpheus hes wone euridices,
Quhen our desyre with ressoun makis pess,
And seikis up to contemplatioun,
of syn de[te]stand the abutioun.
Bot ilk man suld be wyse, and warly se
That he bakwart cast nocht his myndis E,
Gifand consent, and delectatioun,
off fleschly lust and for the affectioun;
for thane gois bakwart to the sone agane
our appetyte, as it befoir was slane,
In warldly lust and vane prosperite,
and makis ressoun wedow for to be.

Now pray we god sen our affectioun
Is allway promp and reddy to fall doun,
That he wald undirput his haly hand
of mantenans, and gife us forss to stand
In perfyte luve, as he is glorius.
And thus endis the taill of orpheus.