Poems (1830) :: :: University of Virginia Library

God be his word his wark began,
To forme the erth and hevin for man,
The sie and watter deip;
The sone, the mune, the starris bricht,
The day divydit frome the nicht,
Thair coursis for to keip;
The beistis that on the grund do mufe,
And fische in to the sie;
Fowlis in the air to flé abufe
Off ilk kynd creat hee;
Sum creiping, sum fleiting,
Sum fleing in the air,
So heichtly, so lichtly
In moving heir and thair.

Thir workis of grit magnificence,
Perfytit be his providence,
According to his will:
Nixt maid he man; to gif him gloir,
Did with his ymage him decoir,
Gaif paradice him till;

Into that garding hevinly wrocht,
With plesouris mony one,
The beistis of every kynd war brocht,
Thair names he sowld expone;
Thame nemming and kennyng,
As he list for to call;
For pleising and eising
Of man, subdewit thame all.

In hevinly joy man so possest,
To be allone God thocht not best,
Maid Eve to be his maik;
Bad thame incress and multiplie;
And eit of every fruct and trie
Thair plesour thay sowld taik,
Except the trie of gud and ill
That in the middis dois stand,
Forbad that thay sowld cum it till,
Or twiche it with thair hand;
Leist plucking or lucking
Baith thay and als thair seid,
Seveirly, awsteirly,
Sowld dye withowt remeid.

Now Adame and his lusty wyfe,
In paradyce leidand thair lyfe,
With plesowris infineit;
Wanting na thing sowld do them eiss

Ilk beist obeying thame to pleiss,
As thay cowld wiss in spreit:
Behald the serpent subtilly
Invyand manis estait,
With wickit craft and subtilty,
Eve temptit with dissait;
Nocht feiring bot speiring,
Quhy scho tuke not hir till,
In using, and chusing
The fruct of gud and ill?

Commandit us, scho said, the Lord,
Nowayis thairto we sowld accord,
Under eternall pane;
Bot grantit us full libertie
To eit of every fruct and trie,
Except that trie in plane:
No, no, not so, the serpent said,
Thow art dissavit thairin;
Eit ye thairof ye sall be maid,
In knawlege lyk to Him,
In semyng and demyng
Off every thing arricht,
Als dewly, als trewly,
As ye wer goddis of micht.

Eve with thir fals wordis thus allurit,
Eit of the fruct, and syne procurit
Adame the same to play:

Behald, said scho, how precious,
So delicat and delicious,
Besyd knawlege for ay:
Adame puft up in warldly gloir,
Ambitioun and of pryd,
Eit of the fruct; Allace, thairfoir,
And swa thay baith did slyd!
Neglecting, forgetting
The eternal Goddis command,
Quha scurgit and purgit
Thame quyt out of that land.

Quhen thay had eitin of that frute
Off joy than war thay destitut;
And saw thair bodyis bair;
Annone thay past with all thair speid,
Off leivis to mak thameselvis a weid,
To cleith thame, was thair cair.
During the tyme of innocence,
No syn nor schame thay knew,
Fra tyme thay gat experience,
Unto ane buss thay drew,
Abyding and hyding,
As God sowld nocht thame see,
Quha spyit and cryit,
Adame, quhy hyddis thow thee?

I being naikit, Lord, throw feir,
For schame I durst nocht to compeir,
And so I did refuse:

Had thow nocht eitin of that tré,
That knawlege had nocht bene in thé,
Nor yit no sic excuse;
This helper, Lord, thow gaif to me,
Has cawsit me transgress,
Sayd scho, the serpent subtilly,
Perswadit me no less,
Intreitting be eitting,
That we sould be perfyte,
Me sylit, begylit;
In him lyis all the wyte.

The Lord that evir jugeit richt,
Bringand his justice to the licht,
The serpent first did juge;
Becauss the woman thow begylit,
For evir thow sall be exylit
Said he without reffuge;
Betuix hir Seid and thy ofspring
Na peax nor rest sal be,
And hir Seid sall thy heid doun thring,
For all thy subtilty;
Abhorrit, deformit,
Thow on thy breist sall gang,
In feiding and leiding
Thy lyfe the beistis amang.

The Woman nixt for hir offence,
Did of the Lord ressaif sentence,
Her sorrow sall incress,

With wo and pane hir childrene beir,
Subdewit to man, undir his feir,
No liberty possess:
For Adamis falt he curst the erth,
That barane it sowld be,
Withowt labour sowld yeild na birth
Off coirnis, erb, nor tré;
Bot wirking and irking
For evir sowld remane,
And being in deing,
In erth return agane.

O crewall serpent vennemus,
Dispytfull and seditious,
The grund of all our cair,
Thow fals-bound slave unto the divill,
Thow first inventar of the evill,
Off bliss quhilk maid us bair;
O divillis slaive, did thow beleif,
Or how had thow sic grace,
Thairby for evir thow micht leif
Aboif in to that place:
Thy grudgeing gat scrudgeing,
And swa God lute thé sie
O dissavar no cravar,
Off his reward sowld be.

O dilicat dame, with eiris bent
That harknit to that fals serpent,
Thy banis we may sair ban;

Withowt excuse thow art to blame,
Thow justly hes obtenit that name,
The verry Wo of Man;
With teiris we may bewaill and greit
That wickit tyme and tyd,
Quhen Adame was caussit to sleip,
And thow tane of his syd.
No sleiping bot weiping
Thy seid hes fund sensyne
Thy eitting and sweitting,
Is turned to wo and pyne.

Adame thy pairt, quha can excuse,
With knawlege thow that did abuse
Thy awin felicitie:
The serpentis fals inventing,
The womanis sone consenting,
Was nocht sa wickitlie,
God did prefer thé to this day,
And thame subdewid to thé,
So all that thay cowld mene or say,
Sowld not haif movit thé
To brecking abjecking
That heich command of lyfe
Quhilk gydit provydit
Thé ay to leif but stryfe.

Behald the stait that man was in,
And als how it he tynt throw sin,
And loist the same for ay;

Yit God his promeiss dois performe,
Send his Sone of the Virgyn borne,
Oure ransome for to pay.
To that grit God let us gif gloir,
To us has bene so gude,
Quha be his deith did us restoir,
Quhairof we war denude;
Nocht karing nor sparing
His body to be rent,
Redemyng, releiving
Ws quhen we war all schent.