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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. 
 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. 
XXXIV. [HARKEN, HERKENE, ME THINK ANE TROMPETT DOIS STUND.]
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 


237

XXXIV. [HARKEN, HERKENE, ME THINK ANE TROMPETT DOIS STUND.]

Harken, herkene, me think ane trompett dois stund,
blawing ane dreidfull blast;
aryss, ȝe deid, outt of þe grund,
cum to ȝour Judgmenntt Last.
The king of kingis, and god most hie,
sall mak þis blast to blaw;
for he sell cum In maistir[ie],
to Judge boithe hie and law.
Ten hundreth thousand angellis bricht,
appostellis, and prophettis,
His marteris all in oppin sicht,
Sell sit In Judgment sett,
For to beir witness, schairp and schor,
aganis þe wickit trane,
quhome cryst sell dame for ever more
wnto eternall pane.
For god, dowtles, most neidis be Just,
and thocht it seames lang,
ane compt of all men tak he must,
of all þair evell and wrang.
Quhat evere man befor hes done,
In secreitt or In sicht,
In presence of þat feirfull throne,
It selbe brocht to licht.

238

Bott sowme will say, I wein,
and lauche goddis word to scorn:
“the warld is now as it hes bene,
sene mankynd first was borne.
“Thairfoir it is vncredabill,
thatt chryst sould come sa sone;
It is also wnpossibille,
this warld suld be vndone.
“Thir thingis ar feynit of subtill men,
as thingis to mak ws feir:
Come, lett ws tak oure pleseure than,
as lang as we be heir.”
To this sanct peter ansuoris,
contrary þair desyre,
that bothe þe heven, and eik þe arthe,
ar keip in stor for fyre,
Unto þe day of last iudgment,
and of perditioune,
quhair with þe vngodlie selbe brunt,
with greitt distructioun.
Our god, quhilk promisit to come,
his promess will nocht beir;
quhairfor he will not tary lang,
his coming is not far.
Ane day is had as muche with him,
as we ane thowsand ȝeiris;
Agane ane thousand ȝeiris with him,
bott as ane day appeiris.

239

Not onlie peter wryttis so,
that this day is at hand;
bot we haue ressonis money mo,
as ȝe sell vndirstand.
Our maister, Cryst, himsellff dois say,
Sa dois þe apposellis all,
that þis same last & dreidfull day,
Lyk to ane theif cum sell.
Quhen þai sell wein þat all is will,
In peice and quyit rest,
euen than sell fall distrouctioun fell,
quhen þai think on it less.
Thai bocht and sauld befor þe fluid,
thy drank and spairit na coist,
thy tuik þair lust, as þai wor wod,
and suddenlie wer lost.
Sa sell þai do befor the dome,
as chryst dois plainlie say;
we sie the lyk to pas is come,
quhy doutt we of þis day?
Sanct Iames did beir the Iewis in hand,
now money ȝeiris befor,
that Chryst, þe Iudge, did present stand,
and knokit at þe dure.
In his appocalipss, sant Ihone,
dois planlie testifie,
that chryst sayis [in] his awin persone,
“behald, I come schortlie.”

240

Sant peter wrett ane vþair quhair,
and I beleif it trew:
The finell end of all is neir,
and schortlie will Insew.
If they did think þe end at hand,
sa mony ȝeiris ago,
muche moir aucht we to vnderstand,
thair be not money mo.
This by þe scripturis evident,
it planlie dois appeir:
now proue we sell by argument,
þat this same day drawis neir.
All thingis þatt be vnder þe sonne,
manis saull exceptit plane,
Lykwyse as they [did] anis begune,
sa sell thay end againe.
The fyre with heitt, and rege ferwent,
Dois sor consume and burne,
As sur and sertene argument,
That all to it sell turne.
Quhat so dois waist in evere pairt,
the haill most neidis decay:
the warld dois waist in evere airthe,
quhairfor it most away.
The sune, þe mone, þe starnis so fair
and all þat hevenlie host,
the wateris, and þe mowing air,
Sum of þair strenthe heve lost.

241

The erthe of auld gaue heir encress,
without tillage or pane;
bott now hir strenthe is les and les,
and les þe workmanis gane.
Now herbes haue lost thair auncient strenthe,
that they did hawe beforn;
Thais do laik thair breid and lenthe,
and smaller is þe corn.
The bodie[s] of all beistis grow les
then they hawe bene before;
thairby may ȝe planlie ges,
thair kynd is feblit soir.
We hawe hard tell of gyanttis fell,
that wer in elder tyme;
bot now we be lyk emmettis small,
if we compair to þame.
Euerie thing quhen it is new,
then it is fresche and fair;
bott ȝeitt we find this resoun trew,
it waxis auld and bair.
Religioun trew was anis ferwent,
bott now we see it cauld;
that is ane certene argument,
this warld is faint and auld.
Bott quhat so ever waxis auld,
it wenischis away;
thairfor by resone manifald,
this warld must neidis decay.

242

Quhen nott on dall, nor ȝitt on hill,
ȝe sie þe sune do stand,
na langer dowtt, I think, ȝe will,
that nicht is neir at hand.
So quhen no wertew wsit is,
in greitt, nor ȝett in small,
than may we trewlie trust to this,
the warld sell hawe ane fall.
Quhen naturall hert dois man forsaik,
and wynature dois abound,
It cawsis him with fefeir quaik,
and dois his lyf confound.
[So] quhen þe lowe to god is small,
and self lowe dois exceid,
then certenlie some plaige mortall,
sone efter lett ws dreid.
Now luf to god is out of land,
and sellff luf waxis strange;
quhairfor þe warld most ceass to stand,
I think, or it be lang.
Quhen daithe drawis nereist man vnto,
thy raig in þair mad moid;
thy hawe no skyll to say or do,
bott feir as þai war wode.
Before þe end of all lykwayss,
salbe in quyet rest;
Now Antechryst dois stile deuyss
the godle to molest.

243

Bott let þat beist still rage and roir,
and kill by sea and land,
feir not, ȝe folk of Chryst, thairfor,
for ȝour iudge is at hand.
He will ȝow tak to heven full hie,
and raiss ȝow frome þe ground:
Prepair ȝow then to heir, schortlie,
this ioyfull trompit sound.
Our King is Iames, þe we pray,
Lord, saif him with þai grace;
Keip all his subiectis in gud stay,
and all his foes defece.
Come, Lord, come quicklie, we þe pray,
and tak ws wp on hie,
that we may sing [in bliss] for ay
eternall praiss to the.
Finis.