The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan :: :: University of Virginia Library

Quhen Morpheus, wt his sleepie vaile,
Apollo's brightnes did assaile,
And forc'd him chainge his course,
Towards ye Ocean streamis,
To coole his burning beimis
In ould Neptunus' source,
And quhen the Night the Stigian caues had schroudit,
And ye Horizons of myne eyes o'rcloudit,

The Citherean boy in Airmes
Appeird then, sounding Loues alarmes.
Ane Ensigne displayed
In sing of ware he bair,
Quhose colours to declair
Ȝit maks my hert affrayed,
Resolu'd, by force, by subtil slight, or treassoune,
To siege, and sack the Rampier of my ressoune.

His campe was arm'd wt horrid night
As one quho lothed to sie ye Light,
A bow bent in his hand
He caryed to invaid
All such as durst wpbraid,
Or contrar his com̄and.
Inventing then all the Ingynes he can,
To brash my breast ye battery thus began.

Cup.

“Ȝeeld to his powar quho rules and ringis
Both ower mein men, and o're kingis;
Quhose schafts hath ay subdued
Ye most heroick hertis;
Quhose flames and deidly derts
No martiall mynds eschued;
Ȝeild thou and learne how to practize and proue
The heavinly Joyes, and suggared sweits of Loue.

“Once taist yat nectared delyte,
Of all pleasoures ye most perfyte,
To spend thy tender ȝeiris
In loves lascivious layes
Sporting thy ȝouthfull dayes
In Vens wantoune weiris:
O, so the springtyme of thyne age t'imploy,
It is to baith in oceanes of Joy.”

His speichis beutifully sainted,
And for ye present purpose painted,
Mou'd, (by thair chairming power,)
Against me to conspyre,
Ȝouth, courage, and desyer,
To haist my fatall houer;
Ressoune alone, to ratifie my right,
To Cupid then replyed, suolne wt dispicht:

“Cease, serpent, seik no to subdue
And kill ane hert, bot for a vieu;
Thy pleasour is bot paine,
A dreame, a toy, a schadou,
Lyk to a blooming meadou,
Quhose pryd doth schort remaine.
Thy sweitest joyes proue oft in end most sowre,
Lyk to a fair sunschyne befoir a schoure.”

Ȝouth then, with courage and desyer,
All flaming in voluptuouse fyre,
Wt fervent mynds assayed
My Sences to suppryse,
Esteiming me wnwyse
To ressoune to be tyed,
So that, by only his adwyce and will,
My actiounes all must be directed still.

“Fy thou,” (quod ȝouth,) “faint is the spirit,
Of lytill vertue, worth, or merit,
Can tolerat to liue,
Thrall to an oyers will,
His humour to fulfill,
As he com̄and doth giwe.
Fy thou, contemne such servile slawischnes,
If any spunk of valour ye possesse.”

“Peace, peace,” (qd ressoune), “stint thy tounge,
No lesse he profits hes bein dumbe;
Thoght thine owin eyes be blind,
Ȝit woldst thou teach ane oyer,
To saile wtout ane routher,
Contrair both waue and wind;
To losse ane Infinit and endles treassour,
In hope to gaine ye fleiting frooths of pleassour.”

I then perplex'd qt to performe,
To hazard or escheu ȝe storme:
To suime in sueatned seas
Now loues delights bereaues me:
Now feir of falling greeues me,
To such as raschly flies:
Sua, now to loue, now contrairely inclyn'd,
A field of fancies musterd in my mynd.

To flie I long'd, aboue all things;
Ȝit loth to trust in Cupid's wings,
Tuix danger and desyer,
Thus howering to and fro,
Ȝouth newer ceas'd to blo,
Forging affectiounes fyre.
Bot ressoune, then, perceauing my estait,
Wt wraithfull voice did thus begin to threat:

“Art thus thy vertue rock'd asleepe,
Thy witt dround in a boundles deepe,
Thy senses so ensnared,
To sie and ȝit miskno
Ane labyrinth of woe,
For ye (puir wretch), prepair'd?
Behold h'ill proue, quho now doth ye promote,
Ane monstruouse Minotaur to cutt thy throate.

“Ane spytfull spidar, ewer spewing
Ye poysonous potioune of late rewing,
Ȝouths venemous infectioune;
In age, a doating madnes,
A schort abiding glaidnes,
A foolisch imperfectioune,
A basse-borne passioune schairce rype till rottin,
Tuix hatefull lust and Idilnes begottin.”

Quod Cupid then: “Let ressoune raue;
Its not his counsell thou must craue;
Bot once his ȝock reject,
And proue yat divine pleassour,
That Joy beȝond all meassour,
First from aboue direct,
That heavinl[y] vniting of tuo mynds in one,
Quhich nothing can dissolue bot death alone.”

“Abstract,” (qd ressoune,) “then thyne eares
Ye chairming Sirenes songs qch hears,
Flie ye voluptuouse voice,
Quhich hes no other scope
But guyde ye on ye rock
Of thy perpetuell losse.
In tyme tak heid then, least too lait thou mourne,
Ye port is patent, bot wtout retourne.”

“Behold,” (qd Cupid,) “ressounes schifts
Of false philosophie consists;
By sophistrie he schaues
Loues hon̄y to be gall,
A bait only to thrall
Such as obeys his lawes.
Bot quho into such Rhethorick reposses,
Lyfes sueitest joyes, and true contentmēt lossis.

“Since then, to the, consists our stryfe,
Of no lesse momēt then thy lyfe,
Present, befoir thyne eyes,
Ye cause of our dissentioune,
And ponder my intentioune
Wt ressounes fenȝied eyes.
Let yen thy hert discern quho best doth merit.
If subtile fraud, or faith, sould the inherit.”

My hert, elected then to judge,
Armies of diverse thotis did ludge;
Ȝit, out of judgments deepe,
Did loue in end prefer,
Quhose adversar did erre
And thus pronunc'd decreit:
Hencefoorth contemne, reject and banisch reassoune,
A crocodoil, wt tears obscuiring treassoune.

“Giue place to loues cælestial force,
Quhich joynes tuo soules wtout diworce;
Quhose vertue and true power
No crosse can oght impaire,
Bot still growes mair and mair,
Quhen most it seimes to lowre.
Since then this heavinly essence thus doth proue,
Let death alone put period to thy loue.”

Finis be me, W. Mure.