The poems of William Dunbar :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ryght as the stern of day begouth to schyne,
Quhen gone to bed war Vesper and Lucyne,
I raise, and by a rosere did me rest;
Wp sprang the goldyn candill matutyne,
With clere depurit bemes cristallyne,
Glading the mery foulis in thair nest;
Or Phebus was in purpur cape revest
Wp raise the lark, the hevyns menstrale fyne
In May, in till a morow myrthfullest.

Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris
Within thair courtyns grene, in to thair bouris,
Apparalit quhite and red, wyth blomes suete;
Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris,
The perly droppis schake in silvir schouris,

Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete;
To part fra Phebus, did Aurora grete,
Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris,
Quhilk he for lufe all drank vp with his hete.

For mirth of May, wyth skippis and wyth hoppis,
The birdis sang vpon the tender croppis,
With curiouse note, as Venus chapell clerkis:
The rosis yong, new spreding of thair knoppis,
War powderit brycht with hevinly beriall droppis,
Throu bemes rede, birnyng as ruby sperkis;
The skyes rang for schoutyng of the larkis,
The purpur hevyn our scailit in silvir sloppis
Ourgilt the treis, branchis, lef[is] and barkis.

Doun throu the ryce a ryuir ran wyth stremys,
So lustily agayn thai lykand lemys,
That all the lake as lamp did leme of licht,
Quhilk schadovit all about wyth twynkling glemis;
That bewis bathit war in secund bemys
Throu the reflex of Phebus visage brycht;
On every syde the hegies raise on hicht,
The bank was grene, the bruke vas full of bremys,
The stanneris clere as stern in frosty nycht.

The cristall air, the sapher firmament,
The ruby skyes of the orient,
Kest beriall bemes on emerant bewis grene;
The rosy garth depaynt and redolent,
With purpur, aȝure, gold, and goulis gent
Arayed was, by dame Fflora the quene,
So nobily, that ioy was for to sene;
The roch agayn the rywir resplendent
As low enlumynit all the leues schene.

Quhat throu the mery foulys armony,
And throu the ryueris sounn rycht ran me by,
On Fflorais mantill I slepit as I lay,
Quhare sone in to my dremes fantasy
I saw approch agayn the orient sky,
A saill, als quhite as blossum vpon spray,
Wyth merse of gold, brycht as the stern of day;
Quhilk tendit to the land full lustily,
As falcounn swift desyrouse of hir pray.

And hard on burd vnto the blomyt medis,
Amang the grene rispis and the redis,
Arrivit sche, quhar fro anonn thare landis
Ane hundreth ladyes, lusty in to wedis,
Als fresch as flouris that in May vp spredis,
In kirtillis grene, withoutyn kell or bandis:
Thair brycht hairis hang gletering on the strandis
In tressis clere, wyppit wyth goldyn thredis,
With pappis quhite, and mydlis small as wandis.

Discriue I wald, bot quho coud wele endyte
How all the feldis wyth thai lilies quhite
Depaynt war brycht, quhilk to the hevyn did glete:
Noucht thou, [H]omer, als fair as thou coud wryte,
For all thine ornate stilis so perfyte;
Nor yit thou, Tullius, quhois lippis suete
Off rethorike did in to termes flete:
Your aureate tongis both bene all to lyte,
For to compile that paradise complete.

Thare saw I Nature, and [als dame] Venus quene,
The fresch Aurora, and lady Flora schene,
Iuno, Appollo, and Proserpyna,

Dyane the goddesse chaste of woddis grene,
My lady Cleo, that help of Makaris bene,
Thetes, Pallas, and prudent Minerua,
Fair feynit Fortune, and lemand Lucina,
Thir mychti quenis in crounis mycht be sene,
Wyth bemys blith, bricht as Lucifera.

There saw I May, of myrthfull monethis quene,
Betuix Aprile, and June, her sister schene,
Within the gardyng walking vp and doun,
Quham of the foulis gladdith al bedene;
Scho was full tender in hir yeris grene.
Thare saw I Nature present hir a gounn
Rich to behald, and nobil of renounn,
Off ewiry hew under the hevin that bene
Depaynt, and broud be gude proporcioun.

Full lustily thir ladyes all in fere
Enterit within this park of most plesere,
Quhare that I lay our helit wyth leuis ronk;
The mery foulis, blisfullest of chere,
Salust Nature, me thoucht, on thair manere,
And ewiry blome on branch, and eke on bonk,
Opnyt and spred thair balmy leuis donk,
Full low enclynyng to thair Quene so clere,
Quham of thair nobill norising thay thonk.

Syne to dame Flora, on the samyn wyse,
Thay saluse, and thay thank a thousand syse;
And to dame Wenus, lufis mychti quene,
Thay sang ballettis in lufe, as was the gyse,
With amourouse notis lusty to devise,

As thay that had lufe in thair hertis grene;
Thair hony throtis, opnyt fro the splene,
With werblis suete did perse the hevinly skyes,
Quhill loud resownyt the firmament serene.

Ane othir court thare saw I consequent,
Cupide the king, wyth bow in hand ybent,
And dredefull arowis grundyn scharp and square:
Thare saw I Mars, the god armypotent,
Aufull and sterne, strong and corpolent;
Thare saw I crabbit Saturn ald and haire,
His luke was lyke for to perturb the aire;
Thare was Mercurius, wise and eloquent,
Of rethorike that fand the flouris faire;

Thare was the god of gardingis, Priapus;
Thare was the god of wildernes, Phanus;
And Ianus, god of entree delytable;
Thare was the god of fludis, Neptunus;
Thare was the god of wyndis, Eolus,
With variand luke, rycht lyke a lord vnstable;
Thare was Bacus the gladder of the table;
Thare was Pluto, the elrich incubus,
In cloke of grene, his court usit no sable.

And ewiry one of thir, in grene arayit,
On harp or lute full merily thai playit,
And sang ballettis with michty notis clere:
Ladyes to dance full sobirly assayit,
Endlang the lusty rywir so thai mayit:
Thair obseruance rycht hevynly was to here;
Than crap I throu the leuis, and drew nere,
Quhare that I was richt sudaynly affrayit,
All throu a luke, quhilk I haue boucht full dere.

And schortly for to speke, be lufis quene
I was aspyit, scho bad hir archearis kene
Go me arrest; and thay no time delayit;
Than ladyes fair lete fall thair mantillis gren[e,]
With bowis big in tressit hairis schene,
All sudaynly thay had a felde arayit;
And yit rycht gretly was I noucht affrayit,
The party was so plesand for to sene,
A wonder lusty bikkir me assayit.

And first of all, with bow in hand ybent,
Come dame Beautee, rycht as scho wald me schent;
Syne folowit all hir dameselis yfere,
With mony diuerse aufull instrument,
Wnto the pres, Fair Having wyth hir went,
Fyne Portrature, Plesance, and lusty Chere.
Than come Resoun, with schelde of gold so clere,
In plate and maille, as Mars armypotent,
Defendit me that nobil cheuallere.

Syne tender Youth come wyth hir virgyns ying,
Grene Innocence, and schamefull Abaising,
And quaking Drede, wyth humble Obedience;
The Goldyn Targe harmyt thay no thing;
Curage in thame was noucht begonne to spring;
Full sore thay dred to done a violence:
Suete Womanhede I saw cum in presence,
Of artilye a warld sche did in bring,
Seruit wyth ladyes full of reuerence.

Scho led wyth hir Nurture and Lawlynes,
Contenence, Pacience, Gude Fame and Stedfastnes,
Discretioun, Gentrise, and Considerance,

Leuefell Company, and Honest Besynes,
Benigne Luke, Mylde Chere, and Sobirnes:
All thir bure ganyeis to do me greuance;
But Resonn bure the Targe wyth sik constance,
Thair scharp assayes mycht do no dures
To me, for all their aufull ordynance.

Wnto the pres persewit Hie Degree,
Hir folowit ay Estate and Dignitee,
Comparisoun, Honour, and Noble Array,
Will, Wantonnes, Renoun, and Libertee,
Richesse, Fredomm, and eke Nobilitee:
Wit ye thay did thair baner hye display;
A cloud of arowis as hayle schour lousit thay,
And schot, quhill wastit was thair artilye,
Syne went abak reboytit of thair pray.

Quhen Venus had persauit this rebute,
Dissymilance scho bad go mak persute,
At all powere to perse the Goldyn Targe;
And scho that was of doubilnes the rute,
Askit hir choise of archeris in refute.
Wenus the best bad hir go wale at large;
Scho tuke Presence plicht ankers of the barge,
And Fair Callyng that wele a flayn coud schute,
And Cherising for to complete hir charge.

Dame Hamelynes scho tuke in company,
That hardy was, and hende in archery,
And broucht dame Beautee to the felde agayn;
With all the choise of Venus cheualry
Thay come, and bikkerit vnabaisitly:

The schour of arowis rappit on as rayn;
Perilouse Presence, that mony syre has slayne,
The bataill broucht on bordour hard vs by,
The salt was all the sarar suth to sayn.

Thik was the schote of grundyn dartis kene;
Bot Resoun with the Scheld of Gold so schene,
Warly defendit quho so ewir assayit;
The aufull stoure he manly did sustene,
Quhill Presence kest a pulder in his ene,
And than as drunkyn man he all forvayit:
Quhen he was blynd the fule wyth hym thay playit,
And banyst hym amang the bewis grene;
That sory sicht me sudaynly affrayit.

Than was I woundit to the deth wele nere,
And yoldyn as a wofull prisonnere
To lady Beautee, in a moment space;
Me thoucht scho semyt lustiar of chere,
Efter that Resoun tynt had his eyne clere,
Than of before, and lufliare of face:
Quhy was thou blyndit, Resoun? quhi, allace!
And gert ane hell my paradise appere,
And mercy seme, quhare that I fand no grace.

Dissymulance was besy me to sile,
And Fair Calling did oft apon me smyle,
And Cherising me fed wyth wordis fair;
New Acquyntance enbracit me a quhile,
And fauouryt me, quhill men mycht go a myle,
Syne tuk hir leve, I saw hir nevir mare:
Than saw I Dangere toward me repair,

I coud eschew hir presence be no wyle,
On syde scho lukit wyth ane fremyt fare.

And at the last departing coud hir dresse,
And me delyuerit vnto Hevynesse
For to remayne, and scho in cure me tuke;
Be this the Lord of Wyndis, wyth wodenes,
God Eolus, his bugill blew I gesse;
That with the blast the leuis all to-schuke,
And sudaynly, in the space of a luke,
All was hyne went, thare was bot wildernes,
Thare was no more bot birdis, bank, and bruke.

In twynkling of ane eye to schip thai went,
And swyth vp saile vnto the top thai stent,
And with swift course atour the flude thay frak;
Thay fyrit gunnis wyth powder violent,
Till that the reke raise to the firmament,
The rochis all resownyt wyth the rak,
For reird it semyt that the raynbow brak;
Wyth spirit affrayde apon my fete I sprent
Amang the clewis, so carefull was the crak.

And as I did awake of my sueving,
The ioyfull birdis merily did syng
For myrth of Phebus tendir bemes schene;
Suete war the vapouris, soft the morowing,
Halesum the vale, depaynt wyth flouris ying;
The air attemperit, sobir, and amene;
In quhite and rede was all the felde besene,
Throu Naturis nobil fresch anamalyng,
In mirthfull May, of ewiry moneth Quene.

O reuerend Chaucere, rose of rethoris all,
As in oure tong ane flour imperiall,
That raise in Britane ewir, quho redis rycht,
Thou beris of makaris the tryumph riall;
Thy fresch anamalit termes celicall
This mater coud illumynit haue full brycht:
Was thou noucht of oure Inglisch all the lycht,
Surmounting ewiry tong terrestriall,
Alls fer as Mayes morow dois mydnycht?

O morall Gower, and Ludgate laureate,
Your sugurit lippis and tongis aureate,
Bene to oure eris cause of grete delyte;
Your angel mouthis most mellifluate
Our rude langage has clere illumynate,
And faire our-gilt oure speche, that imperfyte
Stude, or your goldyn pennis schupe to wryte;
This Ile before was bare, and desolate
Off rethorike, or lusty fresch endyte.

Thou lytill Quair, be ewir obedient,
Humble, subiect, and symple of entent,
Before the face of ewiry connyng wicht:
I knaw quhat thou of rethorike hes spent;
Off all hir lusty rosis redolent
Is nonn in to thy gerland sett on hicht;
Eschame thar of, and draw the out of sicht.
Rude is thy wede, disteynit, bare, and rent,
Wele aucht thou be afiret of the licht.

II. THE FLYTING OF DUNBAR AND KENNEDIE.

The flyting of Dūbar and Kennedie heir efter followis Jocound and Mirrie.

[DUNBAR TO KENNEDIE.]

Schir Johne the Ross, ane thing thair is compild
In generale be Kennedy and Quinting,
Quhilk hes thame self aboif the sternis styld;
Bot had thay maid of mannace ony mynting
In speciall, sic stryfe sould ryse but stynting;
Howbeit with bost thair breistis wer als bendit
As Lucifer, that fra the hevin descendit,
Hell sould nocht hyd thair harnis fra harmis hynting.

The erd sould trymbill, the firmament sould schaik,
And all the air in vennamus suddane stink,
And all the diuillis of hell for redour quaik,
To heir quhat I sould wryt, with pen and ynk;
For and I flyt sum sege for schame sould sink,
The se sould birn, the mone sould thoill ecclippis,
Rochis sould ryfe, the warld sould hald no grippis,
Sa loud of cair the commoun bell sould clynk.

Bot wondir laith wer I to be ane baird,
Flyting to vse, for gritly I eschame;
For it is nowthir wynning nor rewaird,
Bot tinsale baith of honour and of fame,
Incres of sorrow, sklander, and evill name;
Ȝit mycht thay be sa bald, in thair bakbytting,
To gar me ryme, and rais the feynd with flytting,
And throw all cuntreis, and kinrikis thame proclame.

Quod Dumbar to Kennedy.

[KENNEDIE TO DUNBAR.]

Dirtin Dumbar, quhome on blawes thow thy boist?
Pretendand the to wryte sic skaldit skrowis;
Ramowd rebald, thow fall doun att the roist,
My laureat lettres at the and I lowis;
Mandrag, mymmerkin, maid maister bot in mowis,
Thryse scheild trumpir, with ane threid bair goun,
Say Deo mercy, or I cry the doun,
And leif thy ryming, rebald, and thy rowis.

Dreid, dirtfast dearch, that thow hes dissobeyit
My cousing Quintene and my commissar;
Fantastik fule, trest weill thow salbe fleyit,
Ignorant elf, aip, owll irregular,
Skaldit skaitbird, and commoun skamelar;
Wan-fukkit funling, that natour maid ane yrle,
Baith Iohne the Ross and thow, sall squeill and skirle
And evir I heir ocht of ȝour making mair.

Heir I put sylence to the in all partis,
Obey and ceis the play that thow pretendis;
Waik walidrag, and werlot of the cairtis,
Se sone thow mak my commissar amendis,
And lat him lay sax leichis on thy lendis,

Meikly in recompansing of thi scorne,
Or thow sall ban the tyme that thow wes borne,
For Kennedy to the this cedull sendis.

Quod Kennedy to Dumbar. Iuge in the nixt quha gat the war.

[DUNBAR TO KENNEDIE.]

Irsche brybour baird, wyle beggar with thy brattis,
Cuntbittin crawdoun Kennedy, coward of kynd,
Evill farit and dryit, as Denseman on the rattis,
Lyke as the gleddis had on thy gulesnowt dynd;
Mismaid monstour, ilk mone owt of thy mynd,
Renunce, rebald, thy ryming, thow bot royis,
Thy trechour tung hes tane ane heland strynd;
Ane lawland ers wald mak a bettir noyis.

Revin, raggit ruke, and full of rebaldrie,
Scarth fra scorpione, scaldit in scurrilitie,
I se the haltane in thy harlotrie,
And in to vthir science no thing slie,
Off every vertew woyd, as men may sie;
Quytclame clergie, and cleik to the ane club,
Ane baird blasphemar, in brybrie ay to be;
For wit and wisdome ane wisp fra the may rub.

Thow speiris, dastard, gif I dar with the fecht?
Ȝe dagone, dowbart, thairof haif thow no dowt!
Quhair evir we meit thairto my hand I hecht,
To red thy rebald ryming with a rowt:
Throw all Bretane it salbe blawin owt,
How that thow, poysonit pelor, gat thy paikis;
With ane doig leich I schepe to gar the schowt,
And nowthir to the tak knyfe, swerd, nor aix.

Thow crop and rute of traitouris tressonable,
The fathir and moder of morthour and mischeif,
Dissaitfull tyrand, with serpentis tung, vnstable;
Cukcald cradoun, cowart, and commoun theif;
Thow purpest for to vndo our Lordis cheif
In Paislay, with ane poysone that wes fell,
For quhilk, brybour, ȝit sall thow thoill a breif;
Pelour, on the I sall it preif my sell.

Thocht I wald lie, thy frawart phisnomy
Dois manifest thy malice to all men;
Fy! tratour theif; Ffy! glengoir loun, fy! fy!
Fy! feyndly front, far fowlar than ane fen.
My freyindis thow reprovit with thy pen?
Thow leis, tratour! quhilk I sall on the preif,
Suppois thy heid war armit tymis ten,
Thow sall recryat, or thy croun sall cleif.

Or thow durst move thy mynd malitius,
Thow saw the saill abone my heid up draw;
But Eolus full woid, and Neptunus,
Mirk and moneless, wes met with wind and waw,
And mony hundreth myle hyne cowd ws blaw
By Holland, Seland, Ȝetland, and Northway coist,
In desert quhair we wer famist aw;
Ȝit come I hame, fals baird, to lay thy boist.

Thow callis the rethory with thy goldin lippis:
Na, glowrand, gaipand fule, thow art begyld,
Thow art bot Gluncoch with thy giltin hippis,
That for thy lounry mony a leisch hes fyld;
Wan wisaged widdefow, out of thy wit gane wyld,
Laithly and lowsy, als lathand as ane leik,
Sen thow with wirschep wald sa fane be styld,
Haill, souerane senȝeour! Thy bawis hingis throw thy breik.

Forworthin fule, of all the warld reffuse,
Quhat ferly is thocht thow reioys to flyte?
Sic eloquence as thay in Erschry vse,
In sic is sett thy thraward appetyte;
Thow hes full littill feill of fair indyte:
I tak on me ane pair of Lowthiane hippis.
Sall fairar Inglis mak, and mair parfyte,
Than thow can blabbar with thy Carrik lippis.

Bettir thow ganis to leid ane doig to skomer,
Pynit pykpuirs pelour, than with thy maister pingill.
Thow lay full prydles in the peise this somer,
And fane at evin for to bring hame a single,
Syne rubbit at ane vthir auld wyfis ingle;
Bot now, in winter, for purteth thow art traikit;
Thow hes na breik to latt thy bollokis gyngill;
Beg the ane club, for, baird thow sall go naikit.

Lene larbar, loungeour, baith lowsy in lisk and lonȝe;
Ffy! skolderit skyn, thow art bot skyre and skrumple;
For he that rostit Lawarance had thy grunȝe,
And he that hid sanct Johnis ene with ane wimple,
And he that dang sanct Augustine with ane rumple,
Thy fowll front had, and he that Bartilmo flaid;
The gallowis gaipis eftir thy graceles gruntill,
As thow wald for ane haggeis, hungry gled.

Commirwald crawdoun, na man comptis the ane kerse,
Sueir swappit swanky, swynekeper ay for swaittis;
Thy commissar Quintyne biddis the cum kiss his erse,
He luvis nocht sic ane forlane loun of laittis;
He sayis, thow skaffis and beggis mair beir and aitis
Nor ony cripill in Karrik land abowt;
Uthir pure beggaris and thow ar at debaittis,
Decrepit karlingis on Kennedy cryis owt.

Mater annwch I haiff, I bid nocht fenȝie,
Thocht thow, fowll trumpour, thus vpoun me leid;
Corrupt carioun, he sall I cry thy senȝie;
Thinkis thow nocht how thow come in grit neid,
Greitand in Galloway, lyk to ane gallow breid,
Ramand, and rolpand, beggand koy and ox;
I saw the thair, in to thy wachemanis weid,
Quhilk wes nocht worth ane pair of auld gray fox.

Ersch Katherane, with thy polk breik, and rilling,
Thow and thy quene, as gredy gleddis, ȝe gang
With polkis to mylne, and beggis baith meill and schilling;
Thair is bot lyse, and lang nailis ȝow amang:
Ffowll heggirbald, for hennis thus will ȝe hang,
Thow hes ane perrellus face to play with lambis;
Ane thowsand kiddis, wer thay in faldis full strang,
Thy lymmerfull luke wald fle thame and thair dammis.

In till ane glen thow hes, owt of repair,
Ane laithly luge that wes the lippir mennis;
With the ane sowtaris wyfe, off bliss als bair,
And lyk twa stalkaris steilis in cokis and hennis,
Thow plukkis the pultre, and scho pullis off the pennis;
All Karrik cryis, God gif this dowsy be drownd;
And quhen thow heiris ane guse cry in the glennis,
Thow thinkis it swetar than sacrand bell of sound.

Thow Laȝarus, thow laithly lene tramort,
To all the warld thow may example be;
To luk vpoun thy gryslie peteous port,
Ffor hiddowis, haw, and holkit is thyne ee;
Thy cheik bane bair, and blaiknit is thy ble;
Thy choip, thy choll, garris men for to leif chest;
Thy gane it garris us think that we mon de:
I coniure the, thow hungert heland gaist.

The larbar lukis of thy lang lene craig,
Thy pure pynit thrott, pelit and owt of ply,
Thy skolderit skin, hewd lyk ane saffrone bag,
Garris men dispyt thar flesche, thow spreit of Gy:
Ffy! feyndly ffront; ffy! tykis face, ffy! ffy!
Ay loungand, lyk ane loikman on ane ledder;
[Thy ghaistly luke fleys folkis that pas the by,]
Lyke to ane stark theif glowrand in ane tedder.

Nyse nagus, nipcaik, with thy schulderis narrow,
Thow lukis lowsy, loun of lownis aw;
Hard hurcheoun, hirpland, hippit as ane harrow,
Thy rigbane rattillis, and thy ribbis on raw,
Thy hanchis hirklis, with hukebanis harth and haw,
Thy laithly lymis ar lene as ony treis;
Obey, theif baird, or I sall brek thy gaw,
Ffowll carrybald, cry mercy on thy kneis.

Thow purehippit, vgly averill,
With hurkland banis, holkand throw thy hyd,
Reistit and crynit as hangitman on hill,
And oft beswakkit with ane ourhie tyd,
Quhilk brewis mekle barret to thy bryd;
Hir cair is all to clenge thy cabroch howis,
Quhair thow lyis sawsy in saphron, bak and syd,
Powderit with prymross, sawrand all with clowiss.

Fforworthin wirling, I warne the it is wittin,
How, skyttand skarth, thow hes the hurle behind;
Wan wraiglane wasp, ma wormiss hes thow beschittin,
Nor thair is gerss on grund, or leif on lind;
Thocht thow did first sic foly to my fynd,
Thow sall agane with ma witness than I;
Thy gulsoch gane dois on thy back it bind,
Thy hostand hippis lattis nevir thy hoss go dry.

Thow held the burcht lang with ane borrowit goun,
And ane caprowsy barkit all with sweit,
And quhen the laidis saw the sa lyk a loun,
Thay bickerit the with mony bae and bleit:
Now vpaland thow leivis on rubbit quheit,
Oft for ane causs thy burdclaith neidis no spredding,
Ffor thow hes nowthir for to drink nor eit,
Bot lyk ane berdles baird, that had no bedding.

Strait Gibbonis air, that nevir ourstred ane horse,
Bla berfute berne, in bair tyme wes thow borne;
Thow bringis the Carrik clay to Edinburgh Corse,
Upoun thy botingis, hobland hard as horne;
Stra wispis hingis owt, quhair that the wattis ar worne:
Cum thow agane to skar us with thy strais,
We sall gar scale our sculis all the to scorne,
And stane the vp the calsay quhair thow gais.

Off Edinburgh, the boyis as beis owt thrawis,
And cryis owt ay, “Heir cumis our awin queir Clerk!”
Than fleis thow, lyk ane howlat chest with crawis,
Quhill all the bichis at thy botingis dois bark:
Than carlingis cryis, “Keip curches in the merk,
Our gallowis gaipis; lo! quhair ane greceles gais.”
Ane vthir sayis, “I se him want ane sark,
I reid ȝow, cummer, tak in your lynning clais.”

Than rynis thow doun the gait, with gild of boyis,
And all the toun tykis hingand in thy heilis;
Of laidis and lownis thair ryssis sic ane noyis,
Quhill runsyis rynnis away with cairt and quheilis,
And cager aviris castis bayth coillis and creilis,
Ffor rerd of the, and rattling of thy butis;
Fische wyvis cryis, Fy! and castis doun skillis and skeilis;
Sum claschis the, sum cloddis the on the cutis.

Loun lyk Mahoun, be boun me till obey,
Theif, or in greif, mischeif sall the betyd;
Cry grace, tykis face, or I the chece and sley;
Oule, rere and ȝowle, I sall defowll thy pryd;
Peilet gled, baith fed and bred of bichis syd,
And lyk ane tyk, purspyk, quhat man settis by the!
Forflittin, countbittin, beschittin, barkit hyd,
Clym ledder, fyle tedder, foule edder, I defy the.

Mauch muttoun, vyle buttoun, peilit gluttoun, air to Hilhouse;
Rank beggar, ostir dregar, foule fleggar, in the flet;
Chittirlilling, ruch rilling, lik schilling in the milhouse;
Baird rehator, theif of natour, fals tratour, feyndis gett;
Filling of tauch, rak sauch, cry crauch, thow art our sett;
Muttoun dryver, girnall ryver, ȝadswyvar, fowll fell the:
Herretyk, lunatyk, purspyk, carlingis pet,
Rottin crok, dirtin dok, cry cok, or I sall quell the.

Quod Dunbar to Kennedy.

[KENNEDIE TO DUNBAR.]

Dathane deuillis sone, and dragon dispitous,
Abironis birth, and bred with Beliall;
Wod werwolf, worme, and scorpion vennemous,
Lucifers laid, fowll feyindis face infernall;
Sodomyt, syphareit fra sanctis celestiall,
Put I nocht sylence to the, schiphird knaif,
And thow of new begynis to ryme and raif,
Thow salbe maid blait, bleir eit, bestiall.

How thy forbearis come, I haif a feill,
At Cokburnispeth, the writ makis me war,
Generit betuix ane sche beir and a deill;
Sa wes he callit Dewlbeir and nocht Dumbar:
This Dewlbeir, generit of a meir of Mar,

Wes Corspatrik, Erle of Merche; and be illusioun
The first that evir put Scotland to confusioun
Wes that fals tratour, hardely say I dar.

Quhen Bruce and Balioll differit for the croun,
Scottis Lordis could nocht obey Inglis lawis;
This Corspatrick betrasit Berwick toun,
And slew sevin thousand Scottismen within thay wawis,
The battall syne of Spottismuir he gart cause,
And come with Edwart Langschankis to the feild,
Quhair twelve thowsand trew Scottismen wer keild,
And Wallace chest, as the Cornicle schawis.

Scottis Lordis chiftanes he gart hald and chessone
In firmance fast, quhill all the feild wes done,
Within Dumbar, that auld spelunk of tressoun;
Sa Inglis tykis in Scottland wes abone,
Than spulȝeit thay the haly stane of Scone,
The Croce of Halyrudhouse, and vthir jowellis.
He birnis in hell, body, banis, and bowellis,
This Corspatrik that Scotland hes vndone.

Wallace gart cry ane counsale in to Perth,
And callit Corspatrick tratour be his style;
That dampnit dragone drew him in diserth,
And sayd, he kend bot Wallace, king in Kyle:
Out of Dumbar that theif he maid exyle
Unto Edward, and Inglis grund agane:
Tigris, serpentis, and taidis will remane
In Dumbar wallis, todis, wolffis and beistis wyle.

Na fowlis of effect amangis tha binkis
Biggis, nor abydis, for no thing that may be;
Thay stanis of tressone as the bruntstane stinkis.

Dewlbeiris moder, cassin in by the se,
The wariet apill of the forbiddin tre,
That Adame eit, quhen he tynt Paradyce,
Scho eit invennomit lyk a cokkatryce,
Syne merreit with the Diuill for dignite.

Ȝit of new tressone, I can tell the tailis,
That cumis on nycht in visioun in my sleip;
Archbald Dumbar betrasd the house of Hailis,
Becaus the ȝung Lord had Dumbar to keip;
Pretendand throw that to thair rowmis to creip,
Rycht crewaly his castell he persewit,
Brocht him furth boundin and the place reskewit,
Sett him in fetteris in ane dungeoun deip.

It war aganis bayth natur and gud ressoun,
That Dewlbeiris bairnis were trew to God or man;
Quhilkis wer baith gottin, borne, and bred with tressoun,
Belȝebubbis oyis, and curst Corspatrikis clan:
Thow wes prestyt, and ordanit be Sathan
For to be borne to do thy kin defame,
And gar me schaw thy antecessouris schame;
Thy kin that leivis may wary the and ban.

Sen thow on me thus, lymmer, leis and trattillis,
And fyndis sentence foundit of invy,
Thy elderis banis ilk nycht ryssis and rattillis,
Apon thy corss vengeance, vengeance! thay cry.
Thow art the cause thay may not rest, nor ly;
Thow says for thame few psaltris, psalmis, or creidis,
Bot geris me tell thair trentalis of misdeidis,
And thair ald sin with new schame certify.

Insensuat sow, cesse fals Eustase air!
And knaw, kene skald, I hald of Alathya,

And cause me nocht the cause lang to declair
Of thy curst kyn, Deulber and his Allya:
Cum to the Croce, on kneis, and mak a crya;
Confess thy crime, hald Kenydy the king,
And with ane hauthorne skurge thy self and dyng;
Thus dre thy penance wyth Deliquisti quia.

Pass to my commissar, and be confest,
Cour befoir him on kneis, and cum in will;
And syne ger Stobo for thy lyf protest;
Renounce thy rymis, baith ban and birn thy bill;
Heve to the heuyn thy handis, ande hald the still:
Do thou nocht thus, brigane, thou salbe brynt,
Wyth pik, fyre, ter, gun puldre, or lint,
On Arthuris Sete, or on ane hyar hill.

I perambalit of Pernaso the montayn,
Enspirit wyth Mercury fra his goldyn spere;
And dulcely drank of eloquence the fontayne,
Quhen it was purifit with frost, and flowit cleir:
And thou come, Fule! in Marche or Februere,
Thair till a pule, and drank the paddok rod,
That gerris the ryme in to thy termis glod,
And blaberis that noyis mennis eris to here.

Thow lufis nane Irische, elf, I vnderstand,
Bot it suld be all trew Scottis mennis lede;
It was the gud langage of this land,
And Scota it causit to multiply and sprede,
Quhill Corspatrik, that we of tressoun reid,
Thy forefader, maid Irisch and Irisch men thin,
Throw his tressoun broght Inglise rumplis in,
Sa wald thy self, mycht thou to him succede.

Ignorant fule! in to thy mowis and mokis,
It may be verifeit that thy wit is thin;
Quhare thow writis Densmen dryit apon the rattis,
Densmen of Denmark ar of the kingis kyn.
The wit thou suld haue had, was castin in
Evyn at thyne ers, bakwart, with a staf flong.
Herefore, fals harlot, hursone, hald thy tong:
Deulbere! thow devis the deuill, thyne eme, wyth dyn.

Quhare as thow said, that I stall hennis and lammys,
I latt the wit, I haue land, store and stakkis.
Thou wald be fayn to gnaw, lad, wyth thy gammys,
Wnder my burd, smoch banis behynd doggis bakkis:
Thow has a tome purs, I haue stedis and takkis,
Thow tynt cultur, I haif cultur and pleuch,
Substance and geir, thou has a wedy teuch
On Mount Falconn, about thy crag to rax.

And yit Mount Falconn gallowis is our fair,
For to be fylde with sic a frutles face;
Cum hame, and hing on our gallowis of Aire,
To erd the vnder it I sall purchas grace;
To eit thy flesch the doggis sall haue na space,
The ravyns sall ryve na thing bot thy tong rutis,
For thou sik malice of thy maister mutis,
It is wele sett that thou sik barat brace.

Small fynance amang thy frendis thow beggit,
To stanch the storm, wyth haly muldis thou loste;
Thou sailit to get a dowcare, for to dreg it,
It lyis closit in a clout on Seland cost:
Sic reule gerris the be seruit wyth cald rost,

And sitt vnsoupit oft beȝond the sey,
Cryiand caritas at durris amore Dei,
Bairfut, brekeles, and all in duddis vpdost.

Deulbere hes not ado with a Dunbar,
The Erl of Murray bure that surname ryght,
That euyr trew to the King and constant ware,
And of that kin come Dunbar of Westfelde knyght;
That successione is hardy, wyse, and wycht,
And has na thing ado now with the deuile:
Bot Deulbere is thy kyn, and kennis the wele,
And has in hell for the a chaumir dicht.

Cursit croapand craw, I sall ger crop thy tong,
And thou sall cry, Cor mundum, on thy kneis;
Duerch, I sall ding the, quhill thow dryte and dong,
And thou sall lik thy lippis, and suere thou leis:
I sall degraid the, graceles, of thy greis;
Scaile the for scorne, and shere the of the scule,
Ger round the hede transforme the till a fule,
And syne with tresone trone the on the treis.

Raw-mowit ribald, renegate rehatour,
My linage and forebearis war ay lele;
It cumis of kynde to the to be a traytoure,
To ryde on nycht, to rug, to reue, and stele.
Quhen thow puttis poysonn to me, I appelle
The in that part, [and] preue it pelour wyth thy persone;
Clame not to clergy, [for] I defy the, gersone,
Thow sall by it dere, wyth me, duerche, and thou dele.

In Ingland, oule, suld be thyne habitacione,
Homage to Edward Langschankis maid thy kyn,
In Dunbar thai ressauit him the false nacione,
Thay suld be exilde Scotland mare and myn.
A stark gallowis, ane wedy, and a pyn,
The hede poynt of thyne elderis armes ar;
Wryttyn abone in poesie, Hang Dunbar,
Quarter and draw, and mak that surname thin.

I am the kingis blude, his trew speciall clerk,
That newir yit ymaginit hym offense,
Constant in myn allegeance, word et werk,
Onely dependand on his excellence;
Traistand to haue of his magnificence
Guerdoun, reward, and benefice bedene;
Quhen that the ravyns sall ryve out bath thine ene,
And on the rattis salbe thy residence.

Fra Etrike Forest furthward to Drumfrese
Thow beggit with a pardoun in all kirkis,
Collapis, cruddis, mele, grotis, grisis, and geis,
And ondir nycht quhyle stall thou staggis et stirkis.
Because that Scotland of thy begging irkis,
Thow scapis in France to be a knycht of the felde;
Thow has thy clamschellis, and thy burdoun kelde,
Wnhonest wayis all, wolronn, that thou wirkis.

Thou may not pas Mount Barnard for wild bestis,
Nor wyn throw Mount Scarpre for the snawe;
Mount Nycholas, Mount Godart thare arestis,
Brigantis sik bois and blyndis thame wyth a blawe.
In Parise wyth the maister buriawe

Abyde, and be his prentice nere the bank,
And help to hang the pece for half a frank,
And, at the last, thy self sall thole the lawe.

Haltane harlot, the deuill a gude thou hais!
For fault of puissance, pelour, thou mon pak the;
Thou drank thy thrift, sald and wedsett thy clais,
Thare is na lorde that will in seruice tak the.
A pak of fla-skynnis, fynance for to mak the,
Thow sall ressaue, in Danskyn, of my tailye;
With De profundis fend the, and that failye,
And I sall send the blak Deuill for to bak the.

Into the Katryne thou maid a foull cahute,
For thow bedrait hir, doun fra starn to stere;
Apon hir sydis was sene thou coud schute,
Thy dirt clevis till hir towis this twenty yere:
The firmament na firth was newir cler,
Quhill thou, Deulbere, deuillis birth, was on the see,
The saulis had sonkin throu the syn of the,
War nocht the peple maid sa grete prayere.

Quhen that the schip was saynit, et vndir saile,
Foul brow in holl thow preposit for to pas,
Thow schot, and was not sekir of thy tayle,
Beschate the stere, the compas, et the glas;
The skippar bad ger land the at the Bas:
Thow spewit, and kest out mony a lathly lomp,
Fastar than all the marynaris coud pomp;
And now thy wame is wers than ewir it was.

Had thai bene prouuait sa of schote of gvne
By men of were but perile thay had past;

As thow was louse, and reddy of thy bune,
Thay micht haue tane the collum at the last;
For thou wald cuk a cartfull at a cast;
Thair is na schip that wil the now ressaue;
Thow fylde faster than fyftenesum mycht lawe,
And myrit thaym wyth thy mvk to the myd mast.

Throu Ingland thef, and tak the to thy fute,
And boun with the to haue a fals botwand;
A horse marschall thou call the at the mute,
And with that craft convoy the throu the land:
Be na thing argh, tak ferily on hand,
Happyn thow to be hangit in Northumbir,
Than all thy kyn ar wele quyte of thy cumbir,
And that mon be thy dome, I vndirstand.

Hye Souuerane Lorde, lat newir this synfull sot
Do schame, fra hame, vnto your nacion!
That newir nane, sic ane, be callit a Scot,
A rottyn crok, louse of the dok, thare doun.
Fra honest folk deuoide this lathly lown:
In sum desert, quhair thare is na repaire,
For fyling and infecking of the aire,
Cary this cankerit corrupt carioun.

Thou was consauit in the grete eclips,
A monstir maid be god Mercurius;
Na hald agayn, na hoo is at thy hips,
Infortunate, [foull,] false, et furius,
Evill schryvin, wan-thryvin, not clene na curius;
A myten, full of flyting, [the] flyrdom lyke,
A crabbit, scabbit, euill facit messan tyke;
A schit, but wit, schrewit et iniurius.

Greit in the glaykis gude Maister Gilliam gukkis,
Our imperfyte in poetry, or in prose,
All closse vndir cloud of nycht thou cukkis.
Rymis thou of me, of Rethory the Rose,
Lunatike, lymare, luschbald, louse thy hose,
That I may touch thy tone wyth tribulation,
In recompensing of thy conspiration,
Or turse the out of Scotland: tak thy chose.

Ane benefice quha wald gyue sic ane beste,
Bot gif it war to gyngill Iudas bellis;
Tak the a fidill, or a floyt et geste,
Wndought, thou art ordanyt to not ellis!
Thy cloutit cloke, thy skryp, and thy clamschellis,
Cleke on thy cors, and fare on in to France,
And cum thow newir agayn but a mischance;
The fend fare wyth the, forthward our the fellis.

Cankrit Caym, tryit trowane, Tutiuillus,
Marmaidyn, mymmerken, monstir of all men,
I sall ger bake the to the lard of Hillhouse,
To suelly the in stede of a pullit hen.
Fowmart, fasert, fostirit in filth and fen,
Foule fond, flend fule, apon thy phisnom fy!
Thy dok of dirt dreipis, and will newir dry,
To tume thy tone it has tyrit carlingis ten.

Conspiratour, cursit cokatrice, hell caa,
Turk, trumpour, traitour, tyran intemperate;
Thow irefull attircop, Pilate apostata,
Judas, iow, iuglour, Lollard laureate;
Saraȝene, symonyte, provit Pagane pronunciate,

Mahomete, manesuorne, bugrist abhominabile,
Deuill, dampnit dog, sodomyte insatiable,
With Gog and Magog grete glorificate.

Nero thy nevow, Golyas thy grantsire,
Pharao thy fader, Egipya thy dame,
Deulbere, thir ar the causis that I conspire,
Termygantis temp[t]ise the, et Waspasius thine eme;
Belȝebub thy full brothir will clame
To be thyne air, and Cayphas thy sectour;
Pluto thy hede of kyn, and protectour
To hell to leid the, on lycht day and leme.

Herode thyne othir eme, and grete Egeas,
Marciane, Machomete, and Maxencius,
Thy trew kynnismen, Antenor et Eneas,
Throp thy nere nece, and austern Olibrius,
Puttidew, Baal, and Eyobulus;
Thir fendis ar the flour of thy four branchis,
Sterand the potis of hell, et newir stanchis,
Dout nocht, Deulbere, Tu es Dyabolus.

Deulbere, thy spere of were, but feir, thou yelde,
Hangit, mangit, eddir-stangit, stryndie stultorum,
To me, maist hie Kenydie, et flee the felde,
Pickit, wickit, conwickit, lamp Lollardorum.
Defamyt, blamyt, schamyt, Primas Paganorum.
Out! out! I schout, apon that snowt that snevillis.
Tale tellare, rebellare, induellar wyth the deuillis,
Spynk, sink with stynk ad Tertara Termagorum.

Quod Kennedy to Dumbar, Iuge ȝe now heir quha gat the war.

III. [THE TUA MARIIT WEMEN AND THE WEDO.]

Heir beginnis the tretis of the tua mariit wemen and the wedo, compylit be Maister William Dunbar.

Apon the Midsumer ewin, mirriest of nichtis,
I muvit furth allane, neir as midnicht wes past,
Besyd ane gudlie grene garth, full of gay flouris,
Hegeit, of ane huge hicht, with hawthorne treis;
Quhairon ane bird, on ane bransche, so birst out hir notis
That neuer ane blythfullar bird was on the beuche harde:
Quhat throw the sugarat sound of hir sang glaid,
And throw the sauar sanatiue of the sueit flouris,
I drew in derne to the dyk to dirkin eftir myrthis;
The dew donkit the daill, and dynarit the foulis.

I hard, vnder ane holyn hewinlie grein hewit,
Ane hie speiche, at my hand, with hautand wourdis;
With that in haist to the hege so hard I inthrang
That I was heildit with hawthorne, and with heynd leveis:
Throw pykis of the plet thorne I presandlie luikit,
Gif ony persoun wald approche within that plesand garding.

I saw thre gay ladeis sit in ane grene arbeir,
All grathit in to garlandis of fresche gudelie flouris;
So glitterit as the gold wer thair glorius gilt tressis,

Quhill all the gressis did gleme of the glaid hewis;
Kemmit was thair cleir hair, and curiouslie sched
Attour thair schulderis doun schyre, schyning full bricht;
With curches, cassin thame abone, of kirsp cleir and thin:
Thair mantillis grein war as the gress that grew in May sessoun,
Fetrit with thair quhyt fingaris about thair fair sydis:
Off ferliful fyne favour war thair faceis meik,
All full of flurist fairheid, as flouris in June;
Quhyt, seimlie, and soft, as the sweit lillies;
New vpspred vpon spray, as new spynist rose,
Arrayit ryallie about with mony rich wardour,
That nature, full nobillie, annamalit fine with flouris
Off alkin hewis under hewin, that ony heynd knew;
Fragrant, all full of fresche odour fynest of smell,
Ane marbre tabile coverit wes befoir thai thre ladeis,
With ryale cowpis apon rawys full of ryche wynys:
And of thir fair wlonkes, with tua [that] weddit war with lordis,
Ane wes ane wedow, I wist, wantoun of laitis.
And, as thai talkit at the tabill of mony taill funde,
Thay wauchtit at the wicht wyne, and waris out wourdis;
And syne thai spak more spedelie, and sparit no materis.

[Deinde vidua jam cum interrogatione sua]

Bewrie, said the Wedo, ȝe weddit wemen ȝing,
Quhat mirth ȝe fand in maryage, sen ȝe war menis wyffis;
Reueill gif ȝe rewit that rakles conditioun?
Or gif that ever ȝe luffit leyd vpone lyf mair
Nor thame that ȝe ȝour fayth hes festinit for euir?
Or gif ȝe think, had ȝe chois, that ȝe wald cheis better?
Think ȝe it nocht ane blist band that bindis so fast,
That none vnto it adew may say bot the deithe alane?

[Responsio prime vxoris ad viduam]

Than spak ane lusty belyf, with lusty effeiris;
It, that ȝe call the blist band that bindis so fast,

Is bair of blis, and bailfull, and greit barrat wirkis.
Ȝe speir, had I fre chois, gif I wald cheis better?
Chenȝeis ay ar to eschew; and changeis ar sueit:
Sic cursit chance till eschew, had I my chois anis,
Out of the chenȝeis of ane churle I chaip suld for euir.
God gif matrimony were made to mell for ane ȝeir!
It war bot monstrous to be mair, bot gif our myndis pleisit:
It is agane the law of luif, of kynd, and of nature,
Togiddir hairtis to streine, that stryveis with vther:
Birdis hes ane better law na bernis be meikill,
That ilk ȝeir, with new ioy, ioyis ane maik;
And fangis thame ane fresche feyr, vnfulȝeit, and constant;
And lattis thair fulȝeit feiris flie quhair thai pleis.
Chryst gif sic ane consuetude war in this erth holdin!
Than weill war vs wemen, that euir we may be fre;
We suld haue feiris as fresche to fang quhen we wald,
And gif all larbaris thair leveis, quhan thai lak curage.
My self suld be full semlie with silkis arrayit;
Gymp, jolie, and gent, richt joyus, and gentryce,
I suld at fairis be found, new faceis to spy;
At playis, and preichingis, and pilgrimages greit,
To schaw my renoun, royaly, quhair preis was of folk;
To manifest my makdome to multitude of pepill,
And blaw my bewtie on breid, quhair bernis war mony;
That I micht cheis, and be chosin, and change quhen me lykit:
Than suld I waill ane full weill, our all the wyd realme,
That suld my womanheid weild the lang winter nicht;
And when I gottin had ane grume, ganest of vther,
Ȝaip, and ȝing, in the ȝok ane ȝeir for to draw;
Fra I had preveit his pitht the first plesand moneth,
Than suld I cast me to keik in kirk, and in markat,
And all the cuntre about, kyngis court, and vther,
Quhair I ane galland micht get aganis the nixt ȝeir,
For to perfurneis furth the werk quhen failȝeit the tother;

A forky fure, ay furthwart, and forsy in draucht;
Nothir febill, nor fant, nor fulȝeit in labour;
Bot als fresche of his forme, as flouris in May;
For all the fruit suld I fang thocht he the flour burgeoun.

[Aude vt dicet de viro suo.]

I haue ane wallidrag, ane worme, ane auld wobat carle,
A waistit wolroun, na worth bot wourdis to clatter;
Ane bumbart, ane dron bee, ane bag full of flewme,
Ane skabbit skarth, ane scorpioun, ane scutarde behind;
To see him scart his awin skyn grit scunner I think.
Quhen kissis me that carybald, than kyndillis all my sorow;
As birss of ane brym bair, his berd is als stif,
Bot soft and soupill as the silk is his sary lwme:
He may weill to the syn assent, bot sakles is his deidis.
And gory is his tua grym ene gladderrit all about,
And gorgeit lyk twa gutaris that wer with glar stoppit;
Bot quhen that glourand gaist grippis me about,
Than think I hiddowus Mahoune hes me in armes;
Than ma na sanyne me save fra that auld Sathane;
For, thocht I cros me all cleine, fra the croun doun,
He wil my corse all beclip, et clap [me] to his breist.
Quhen schaiffyn is that ald schalk with a scharp rasiour,
He schowis on me his schewill mouth, and schedis my lippis;
And with his hard hurcheone skyn sa heklis he my chekis,
That as a glemand gleyd glowis my chaftis;
I schrenk for the scharp stound, bot schout dar I nought,
For schore of that auld schrew, schame him betide!
The luf-blenkis of that bogill, fra his blerde ene,
As Belȝebub had on me blent, abasit my spreit;
And quhen the smy on me smyrkis, with his smake smolet,
He feppillis like a farcy aver, that flyrit on a gillot.

Quhen that the sound of his saw sinkis in my eris,
Than ay renewis my noy, or he be neir cumand:
Quhen I heir nemmyt his name, than mak I nyne crocis,
To keip me fra the cummerans of that carll mangit,
That full of eldnyng is, et anger, et all euill thewis.
I dar nought luk to my luf for that lene gib,
He is sa full of ielusy, and engyne fals;
Euer ymagynyng in mynd materis of evill,
Compasand et castand cacis a thousand
How he sall tak me, with a trawe, at trist of ane othir:
I dar nought keik to the knaip that the cop fillis,
For eldnyng of that ald schrew that euer on euill thynkis;
For he is waistit, et worne fra Venus werkis,
And may nought beit worth a bene in bed of my mystirs.
He trowis that ȝoung folk I ȝerne ȝeild, for he gane is,
Bot I may ȝuke all this ȝer, or his ȝerd help.

Ay quhen that caribald carll wald clym on my wambe,
Than am I dangerus, et dane, and dour of my will;
Ȝit leit I neuer that larbar my leggis ga betueene,
To fyle my flesche, na fumyll me, without a fee gret;
And thoght his pen purly me payis in bed,
His purse pays richely in recompense efter:
For, or he clym on my corse, that carybald forlane,
I haue conditioun of a curche of kersp allther fynest;
A govn of engranyt claith, right gaily furrit;
A ring with a ryall stane, or other riche iowell,
Or rest of his rousty raid, thoght he wer rede [wod]:
For all the buddis of Iohne Blunt, quhen he abone clymis,
Me think the baid deir aboucht sa bawch ar his werkis;
And thus I sell him solace, thoght I it sour think:
Fra sic a syre, God ȝow saif, my sueit sisteris deir!

Quhen that the semely had said her sentence to end,
Than all thai leuch apon loft, with laitis full mery;
And raucht the cop round about full off riche wynis,
And ralȝest lang, or thai wald rest, with ryatus speche.

[Hic bibent, et inde vidua interrogat alteram mulierem, et illa respondet, vt sequitur.]

The wedo to the tothir wlonk warpit ther wordis;
Now, fair sister, fallis ȝow but fenȝeing to tell,
Sen man ferst with matrimony ȝow menkit in kirk,
How haif ȝe farne be ȝour faith? confese ws the treuth:
That band to blise, or to ban, quhilk ȝow best thinkis?
Or how ȝe like lif to leid in to leill spousage?
And syne my self ȝe exeme on the samyn wise,
And I sall say furth the south, dissymyland no word.

The plesand said, I protest, the treuth gif I schaw,
That of ȝour toungis ȝe be traist: The tothir twa grantit;
With that sprang vp hir spreit be a span hecher.
To speik, quoth scho, I sall nought spar; ther is no spy neir:
I sall a ragment reveil fra [the] rute of my hert,
A roust that is sa rankild quhill risis my stomok;
Now sall the byle all out brist, that beild has [bein] so lang;
For it to beir on my brist wes berdin our hevy:
I sall the venome devoid with a vent large,
And me assuage of the swalme, that suellit wes gret.

My husband wes a hur maister, the hugeast in erd,
Tharfor, I hait him with my hert, sa help me our Lord!
He is a ȝoung man ryght ȝaip, bot nought in ȝouth[is] flouris;
For he is fadit full far, and feblit of strenth:
He wes as flurising fresche within this few ȝeris,
Bot he is falȝeid full far, and falȝeid in labour;

He has bene lychour so lang quhill lost is his natur,
His lwme is vaxit larbar, and lyis into swonne:
Wes neuer sugeorne wer set na on that snaill tyrit,
For efter seven oulkis rest, it will nought rap anys;
He has bene waistit apon wemen, or he me wif chesit,
And in adultre, in my tyme, I haif him tane oft:
And ȝit, he is als brankand with bonet on syde,
And blenkand to the brichtest that in the burgh duellis,
Alse curtly of his clething, and kemmyng of his hair,
As he that is mair valȝeand in Venus chalmer;
He semys to be sumthing worth, that syphyr in bour,
He lukis as he wald luffit be, thocht he be litill of valour;
He dois as dotit dog that damys on all bussis,
And liftis his leg apon loft, thoght he nought list pische;
He has a luke without lust, et lif without curage;
He has a forme without force, and fessoun but vertu,
And fair wordis but effect, all fruster of dedis;
He is for ladyis in luf a right lusty schadow,
Bot into derne, at the deid, he salbe drup fundin;
He ralis, and makis repet with ryatus wordis,
Ay rusing him of his radis, and rageing in chalmer;
Bot God wait quhat I think quhen he so thra spekis:
And how it settis him so syde to sege of sic materis.
Bot gif him self, of sum evin, myght ane say amang thaim,
Bot he nought ane is, bot nane of naturis possessoris.

Scho that has ane auld man nought all is begylit;
He is at Venus werkis na war na he semys:
I wend I iosit a gem, and I haif [ane] geit gottin;
He had the glemyng of gold, and wes bot glase fundin:
Thought men be ferse, wele I fynd, fra falȝe ther curage,
Thar is bot eldnyng, or anger ther hertis within.

Ȝe speik of berdis on bewch: of blise may thai sing,
That, on sanct Valentynis day, ar vacandis ilk ȝer;
Hed I that plesand prevelege to part quhen me likit,
To change, et ay to cheise agane, than, chastite, adew!
Than suld I haif a fresch feir to fang in mynn armes:
To hald a freke, quhill he faynt, may foly be callit.

Apone sic materis I mus[e], at mydnyght, full oft,
And murnys so in my mynd, I murdris my selfin;
Than ly I walkand for wa, and walteris about
Wariand off my weckit kyn, that me away cast,
To sic a craudoune, but curage, that knyt my cler bewte;
And ther so mony kene knyghtis this kenrik within:
Than think I on a semelyar, the suth for to tell,
Na is our syre be sic sevin; with that I sych oft:
Than he ful tenderly dois turne to me his twme person,
And with a ȝoldin ȝerd, dois ȝolk me in armys;
And sais, “My souerane sueit thing, quhy sleip ȝe no betir?
Me think ther haldin ȝow a hete, as ȝe sum harme alyt.”
Quoth I, “My hony, hald abak, and handill me nought sair;
A hathe is happinit hastely at my hert rut.”
With that I seme for to swoune, thought I na swerf tak;
And thus beswik I that swane, with my sueit wordis:
I cast on him a crabbit E, quhen cleir day is cummyn,
And lettis it is a luf-blenk, quhen he about glemys,
I turne it in a tender luke, that I in tene warit,
And him behaldis hamely, with hertly smyling.

I wald a tender peronall, that myght na put thole,
That hatit men with hard geir, for hurting of flesch,
Had my gud man to hir gest; for I dar God suer,
Scho suld not stert for his straik a stray breid of erd.
And syne, I wald that ilk band, that ȝe so blist call,
Had bund him so to that bryght, quhill his bak werkit;

And I wer in a beid broght with berne that me likit,
I trow, that bird of my blis suld a bourd want.

Onone quhen this amyable had endit hir speche,
Loudly lauchand the laif allowit hir mekle:
Thir gay Wiffis maid game amang the grene leiffis;
Thai drank, and did away dule, vnder derne bewis;
Thai swapit of the sueit wyne, thai swan-quhit of hewis,
Bot all the pertlyar in plane thai put out ther vocis.

[Nunc bibent, et inde prime due interrogant viduam, et de sua responsione, et quomodo erat.]

Than said the Weido, I vis ther is no way othir;
Now tydis me for to talk; my taill it is nixt:
God my spreit now inspir, et my speche quykkin,
And send me sentence to say, substantious, et noble;
Sa, that my preching may pers your perverst hertis,
And mak yow mekar to men in manneris and conditiounis.

I schaw ȝow, Sisteris in schrift, I wes a schrew euir,
Bot I wes schene in my schrowd, et schew me innocent;
And thought I dour wes, et dane, dispitois, et bald,
I wes dissymblit suttelly in a sanctis liknes:
I semyt sober, and sueit, et sempill without fraud,
Bot I couth sexty dissaif that suttillar wer haldin.

Wnto my lesson ȝe lyth, and leir at me wit,
Gif yov nought list be forleit with losingeris vntrew:
Be constant in ȝour gouernance, and counterfeit gud maneris,
Thought ȝe be kene, inconstant, et cruell of mynd;
Thought ȝe as tygris be terne, be tretable in luf;
And be as turtoris in your talk, thought ȝe haif talis brukill;
Be dragonis baitht and dowis, ay in double forme,
And quhen it nedis ȝow, onone, note baith ther stranthis;
Be amyable with humble face, as angellis apperand,

And with a terrebill tail be stangand as edderis;
Be of ȝour luke like innocentis, thoght ȝe haif euill myndis;
Be courtly ay in clething, et costly arrayit,
That hurtis ȝow nought worth a hen; ȝowr husband pays for all.

Twa husbandis haif I had, thai held me baith deir,
Thought I dispytit thaim agane, thai spyit it na thing:
Ane wes ane hair hogeart, that hostit out flewme;
I hatit him like a hund, thought I it hid preue:
With kissing, et with clapping, I gert the carill fon;
Weil couth I claw his cruke bak, and kemm his cowit noddill,
And with a bukky in my cheik bo on him behind;
And with a bek gang about, et bler his ald E;
And with a kyind contynance kys his crynd chekis;
In to my mynd makand mokis at that mad fader,
Trovand me with trew lufe to treit him so fair:
This cought I do without dule, et na dises tak,
Bot ay be mery in my mynd, and myrthfull of cher.

I had a lufsummar leid, my lust for to slokyn,
That couth be secrete and sure, and ay saif my honour,
And sew bot at certayne tymes, et in sicir placis;
Ay when the ald did me anger, with akword wordis,
Apon the galland for to goif it gladit me agane.
I had sic wit that for wo weipit I [bot] litill;
Bot leit the sueit ay the sour to gud sesone bring.
Quhen that the chuf wald me chid, with girnand chaftis,
I vald him chuk, cheik et chyn, et cheris him so mekill;
That his cheif chymys [he] had chevist to my sone,
Suppos the churll wes gane chaist, or the child wes gottin:
As wis woman ay I wrought, et not as wod fule,
For mar with wylis I wan na wichtnes of handis.

Syne maryit I a marchand, myghti of gudis:
He was a man of myd eld, et of mene statur;

Bot we na fallowis wer in frendschip and blud,
In fredome, na furth bering, na fairnes of persoune;
Quhilk ay the fule did forȝet, for febilnes of knawlege;
Bot I sa oft thoght him on quhill angrit his hert,
And quhilum I put furth my voce, et Pedder him callit:
I wald ryght tuichand [in] talk be, I wes tuyse maryit,
For endit wes my innocence with my ald husband:
I wes apperand to be pert within perfit eild;
Sa sais the curat of our kirk, that knew me full ȝing:
He is our famous to be fals, that fair worthy prelot;
I salbe laith to lat him le, quhill I may luke furth.
I gert the buthman obey, ther wes no bute ellis;
He maid me ryght hie reverens, fra he my rycht knew:
For, thocht I say it my self, the seuerance wes mekle,
Betuix his bastard blude, et my birth noble.
That page wes neuer of sic price for to presome anys
Wnto my persone to be peir, had pete nought grantit.
Bot mercy in to womanheid is a mekle vertu:
For neuer bot in a gentill hert is generit ony ruth.
I held ay grene in to his mynd that I of grace tuk him,
And for he couth ken him self I curtasly him lerit:
He durst not sit anys my summondis; for, or the secund charge,
He wes ay redy for to ryn; so rad he wes for blame.
Bot ay my will wes the war of womanly natur;
The mair he loutit for my luf, the les of him I rakit;
And eik, this is a ferly thing, or I him faith gaif,
I had sic favour to that freke, and feid syne for euer.

Quhen I the cure had all clene, et him ourcummyn haill,
I crew abone that craudone, as cok that wer wictour;
Quhen I him saw subiect, and sett at myn bydding,
Than I him lichtlyit as a lowne, et lathit his maneris.
Than woxe I sa vnmerciable to martir him I thought,

For, as a best, I broddit him to all boyis laubour:
I wald haif ridden him to Rome, with [ane] raip in his heid,
Wer not ruffill of my renovne, et rumour of pepill.
And ȝit hatrent I hid within my hert all;
Bot quhilis it hepit so huge, quhill it behud out:
Ȝit tuk I neuir the wosp clene out of my wyde throte,
Quhill I oucht wantit of my will, or quhat I wald desir.
Bot quhen I seuerit had that syre of substance in erd;
And gottin his biggingis to my barne, et hie burrow landis;
Than with a stew stert out the stoppell of my hals,
That he all stwnyst throu the stound, as of a stele wappin.
Than wald I, efter lang, first sa fane haif bene wrokin,
That I to flyte wes als fers as a fell dragoun.
I had for flattering of that fule fenȝeit so lang,
Mi euidentis of heritagis or thai wer all selit;
My breist that wes gret beild, bowdyn wes sa huge,
That neir my baret out brist or the band makin;
Bot quhen my billis, and my bauthles wes all braid selit,
I wald na langar beir on bridill, bot braid vp my heid;
Thar myght na molet mak me moy, na hald my mouth in:
I gert the renȝeis rak, et rif into sondir;
I maid that wif carll to werk all womenis werkis,
And laid all manly materis, and mensk in this eird.
Than said I, to my cumaris, in counsall about,
“Se how I cabeld ȝone cout with a kene brydill!
The cappill, that the crelis kest in the caf mydding,
Sa curtasly the cart drawis, and kennis na plungeing,
He is nought skeich, na ȝit sker, na scippis nought on syd:”
And thus the scorne and the scaith scapit he nothir.

He wes no glaidsum gest for a gay lady,
Tharfor, I gat him a game that ganyt him bettir;
He wes a gret goldit man, et of gudis riche;
I leit him be my lumbart to lous me all misteris,

And he wes fane for to fang fra me that fair office,
And thoght my favoris to fynd through his feill giftis.
He grathit me in a gay silk, et gudly arrayis;
In gownis of engranyt claight, et gret goldin chenȝeis;
In ringis ryally set with riche ruby stonis,
Quhill hely raise my renovne amang the rude peple;
Bot I full craftely did keip thai courtly wedis,
Quhill eftir dede of that drupe, that docht nought in chalmir:
Thought he of all my clathis maid cost et expense,
Ane othir sall the worschip haif, that weildis me eftir;
And thoght I likit him bot litill, ȝit for [the] luf of otheris,
I wald me prunȝa plesandly in precius wedis,
That luffaris myght apon me luke, and ȝing lusty gallandis,
That I held more in daynte, et derer be ful mekill,
Ne him that dressit me so dink: full dotit wes his heyd.
Quhen he wes heryit out of hand, to hie vp my honoris,
And payntit me as pako, proudest of fedderis,
I him miskennyt, be Crist; et cukkald him maid;
I him forleit as a lad, and lathlyit him mekle:
I thoght my self a papingay, et him a plukit herle;
All thus enforsit he his fa, et fortifyit in strenth,
And maid a stalwart staff to strik him selfe doune.

Bot of ane bowrd in to bed I sall ȝow breif ȝit:
Quhen he ane hail ȝear wes hanyt, and him behuffit rage,
And I wes laith to be loppin with sic a lob avoir,
Alse lang as he wes on loft, I lukit on him neuer;
Na leit neuer enter in my thoght that he my thing persit.
Bot ay in mynd ane other man ymagynit that I haid;
Or ellis had I neuer mery bene at that myrthles raid.
Quhen I that grome geldit had of gudis, and of natur,
Me thought him gracelese on to goif, sa me God help:
Quhen he had warit all on me his welth, et his substance,
Me thoght his wit wes all went away with the laif;

And so I did him despise, I spittit quhen I saw
That super spendit euill spreit, spvlȝeit of all vertu.
For, weill ȝe wait, wiffis, that he that wantes riches,
And valȝeandnes in Venus play, is ful vile haldin:
Full fruster is his fresch array, et fairnes of persoune,
All is bot frutlese his effeir, and falȝeis at the vp-with.

I buskit vp my barnis like baronis sonnis,
And maid bot fulis of the fry of his first wif:
I banyst fra my boundis his brethir ilkane;
His frendis as my fais I held at feid evir;
Be this, ȝe belief may, I luffit nought him self,
For neuer I likit a leid that langit till his blude:
And ȝit thir wisemen, thai wait that all wiffis euill
Ar kend with ther conditionis, et knawin with the samin.

Deid is now that dyvour, et dollin in erd:
With him deit all my dule, et my drery thoghtis;
Now done is my dolly nyght, my day is vpsprungin,
Adew dolour, adew! my daynte now begynis:
Now am I a wedow, I wise, and weill am at ese;
I weip as I wer woful, bot wel is me for euer;
I busk as I wer bailfull, bot blith is my hert;
My mouth it makis murnyng, et my mynd lauchis;
My clokis thai ar caerfull in colour of sabill;
Bot courtly and ryght curyus my corse is ther vndir:
I drup with a ded luke, in my dule habit,
As with manis daill [I] had done for dayis of my lif.

Quhen that I go to the kirk, cled in cair weid,
As foxe in a lambis fleise fenȝe I my cheir;
Than lay I furtgh my bright buke on breid on my kne,
With mony lusty letter ellummynit with gold;
And drawis my clok forthwart our my face quhit,
That I may spy, vnaspyit, a space me beside:
Full oft I blenk by my buke, et blynis of deuotioun,

To se quhat berne is best brand, or bredest in schulderis,
Or forgeit is maist forcely, to furnyse a bancat
In Venus chalmer, valȝeandly, withoutin vane ruse:
And, as the new mone, all pale, oppressit with change,
Kythis quhilis her cleir face, through cluddis of sable,
So keik I through my clokis, and castis kynd lukis
To knychtis, and to cleirkis, and courtly personis.

Quhen frendis of my husbandis behaldis me on fer,
I haif a water spunge for wa, within my wyde clokis,
Than wring I it full wylely, et wetis my chekis;
With that wateris myn ene, and welteris doune teris.
Than say thai all, that sittis about, “Se ȝe nought, allace!
Ȝone lustlese led so lelely scho luffit hir husband:
Ȝone is a pete to enprent in a princis hert,
That sic a perle of plesance suld ȝone pane dre!”
I sane me as I war ane sanct, et semys ane angell;
At langage of lichory I leit as I war crabit:
I sich, without sair hert, or seiknes in body;
According to my sable weid I mon haif sad maneris,
Or thai will se all the suth; for certis, we wemen
We set us all fra the syght to syle men of treuth:
We dule for na euill deid, sa it be derne haldin.

Wise women has wayis, and wonderfull gydingis
With gret engyne to beiaip ther ielyus husbandis;
And quyetly, with sic craft, convoyis our materis
That, vnder Crist, no creatur kennis of our doingis.
Bot folk a cury may miscuke, that knawledge wantis,
And has na colouris for to cover thair awne kindly favtis;
As dois thir damysellis, for derne dotit lufe,
That dogonis haldis in dainte, et delis with thaim so lang,
Quhill all the cuntre knaw ther kyndnes, et faith:
Faith has a fair name, bot falsheid faris bettir:

Fy on hir that can nought feyne her fame for to saif!
Ȝit am I wise in sic werk, et wes all my tyme;
Thoght I want wit in warldlynes, I wylis haif in luf,
As ony happy woman has that is of hie blude:
Hutit be the halok lase a hunder ȝeir of eild!

I have ane secrete serwand, rycht sobir of his toung,
That me supportis of sic nedis, quhen I a syne mak:
Thoght he be sympill to the sicht, he has a tong sickir;
Full mony semelyar sege wer service dois mak:
Thought I haif cair, vnder cloke, the cleir day quhill nyght,
Ȝit haif I solace, vnder serk, quhill the sone ryse.

Ȝit, am I haldin a haly wif our all the haill schyre,
I am sa peteouse to the pur, quhen ther [is] personis mony
In passing of pilgrymage I pride me full mekle,
Mair for the prese of peple, na ony perdoun wynyng.

Bot ȝit, me think, the best bourd, quhen baronis and knychtis,
And othir bachilleris, blyth blwmyng in ȝouth,
And all my luffaris lele, my lugeing persewis,
And fillis me wyne wantonly, with weilfair et ioy:
Sum rownis; and sum ralȝeis; and sum redis ballatis;
Sum raiffis furght rudly with riatus speche;
Sum plenis, and sum prayis; sum prasis mi bewte,
Sum kissis me; sum clappis me; sum kyndnes me proferis;
Sum kerffis to me curtasli; sum me the cop giffis;
Sum stalwardly steppis ben, with a stout curage,
And a stif standand thing staiffis in my neiff;
And mony blenkis ben our, that but full fer sittis,
That mai nought, for the thik thrang, thrif as thai wald.
Bot, with my fair calling, I comfort thaim all:
For he that sittis me nixt, I nip on his finger;
I serf him on the tothir syde on the samin fasson;
And he that behind me [sittis], I hard on him lene;
And him befor, with my fut fast on his I stramp;

And to the bernis far but sueit blenkis I cast:
To euery man in speciall speke I sum wordis,
So wisly, and so womanly, quhill warmys ther hertis.

Thar is no liffand leid so law of degre
That sall me luf vnluffit, I am so loik hertit;
And gif his lust so be lent, into my lyre quhit,
That he be lost or with me lig, his lif sall nocht [haif] danger;
I am so mercifull in mynd, et menys all wichtis,
My sely saull salbe saif, quhen sa bot all iugis.
Ladyis leir thir lessonis, et be no lassis fundin:
This is the legeand of my lif, thought Latyne it be nane.

Quhen endit had her ornat speche this eloquent wedow,
Lowd thai lewch all the laif, and loffit hir mekle;
And said, thai suld exampill tak of her souerane teching,
And wirk efter hir wordis, that woman wes so prudent.
Than culit thai thair mouthis with confortable drinkis;
And carpit full cummerlik, with cop going round.

Thus draif thai our that deir night, with danceis full noble,
Quhill that the day did vp daw, et dew donkit the flouris;
The morow myld wes et meik, the mavis did sing,
And all remuffit the myst, et the meid smellit;
Siluer schouris doune schuke, as the schene cristall,
And berdis schoutit in schaw, with thair schill notis;
The goldin glitterand gleme, so gladit ther hertis,
Thai maid a glorius gle amang the grene bewis.
The soft souch of the swyr, et sovne of the stremys,
The sueit sawour of the sward, [and] singing of foulis,
Myght confort ony creatur of the kyn of Adam;
And kindill agane his curage thocht it wer cald sloknyt.

Than rais thir ryall roisis, in ther riche wedis,
And rakit hame to ther rest, through the rise blwmys;

And I all prevely past to a plesand arber,
And with my pen did report thair pastance most mery.

Ȝe Auditoris, most honorable, that eris has gevin
Onto this vncouth aventur, quhilk airly me happinnit;
Of ther thre wantoun wiffis, that I haif writtin heir,
Quhilk wald ȝe vvaill to ȝour vvif, gif ȝe suld vved one?

Quod Dunbar.

IV. [LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS. QUHEN HE WES SEIK.]

I that in heill wes and glaidnes,
Am trublit now with gret seiknes,
And feblit with infirmitie;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
This fals warld is bot transitory,
The flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The stait of man dois change et vary,
Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary,
Now dansand mirry, now like to dee;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

No stait in erd heir standis sickir;
As with the wynd wavis the wickir,
[So] wavis this warldis vanite;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Onto the ded gois all Estatis,
Princis, Prelotis, and Potestatis,
Baith riche et pur of all degre;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He takis the knychtis in to feild,
Anarmit vnder helme et scheild;
Wictour he is at all melle;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That strang vnmercifull tyrand
Tak[is] on the moderis breist sowkand
The bab, full of benignite;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He takis the campion in the stour,
The capitane closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewte;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He spairis no lord for his piscence,
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull strak may no man fle;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Art, magicianis, and astrologgis,
Rethoris, logicianis, et theologgis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In medicyne the most practicianis,
Lechis, surrigianis, et phisicianis,
Thame self fra ded may not supple;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

I see that makaris amang the laif
Playis heir ther pageant, syne gois to graif;
Sparit is nocht ther faculte;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes done petuously devour,
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flouir,
The Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thre;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun,
Et eik, Heryot, et Wyntoun,
He hes tane out of this cuntre;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That scorpioun fell hes done infek
Maister Iohne Clerk, and James Afflek,
Fra balat making et trigide;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Holland et Barbour he has berevit;
Allace! that he nought with ws lewit
Schir Mungo Lokert of the Le;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane,
That maid the anteris of Gawane;
Schir Gilbert Hay endit has he;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He has Blind Hary, et Sandy Traill
Slaine with his schour of mortall haill,
Quhilk Patrik Iohnestoun myght nought fle;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes reft Merseir his endite,
That did in luf so lifly write,
So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes tane Roull of Aberdene,
And gentill Roull of Corstorphin[e];
Two bettir fallowis did no man se;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In Dumfermelyne he has done rovne
With Maister Robert Henrisoun;
Schir Iohne the Ros enbrast hes he;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

And he has now tane, last of aw,
Gud gentill Stobo et Quintyne Schaw,
Of quham all wichtis hes pete:
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Gud Maister Walter Kennedy,
In poynt of dede lyis veraly,
Gret reuth it wer that so suld be;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen he has all my brether tane,
He will naught lat me lif alane,
On forse I man his nyxt pray be;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen for the deid remeid is non,
Best is that we for dede dispone.
Eftir our deid that lif may we;
Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Quod Dunbar quhen he wes seik, etc.

V. [THE BALLAD OF KYND KITTOK.]

My Gudame wes a gay wif, bot scho wes rycht gend,
Scho duelt furth fer in to France, apon Falkland fellis;
Thay callit her Kynd Kittok, quhasa hir weill kend:
Scho wes like a caldrone cruke cler vnder kellis;
Thay threpit that scho deit of thrist, et maid a gud end.
Efter hir dede, scho dredit nought in hevin for to duell;
And sa to hevin the hieway dreidless scho wend,
Ȝit scho wanderit, and ȝeid by to ane elriche well.
Scho met thar, as I wene,
Ane ask rydand on a snaill,
Et cryit, “Ourtane fallow, haill!”
And raid ane inche behind the taill,
Till it wes neir evin.

Sa scho had hap to be horsit to hir herbry,
Att ane ailhous neir [hevin], it nyghttit thaim thare;
Scho deit of thrist in this warld, that gert hir be so dry,
Scho neuer eit, bot drank our mesur et mair.
Scho slepit quhill the morne at none, et rais airly;
And to the ȝettis of hevin fast can the wif fair,

And by Sanct Petir, in at the ȝet, scho stall prevely:
God lukit et saw hir lattin in, et lewch his hert sair.
And thar, ȝeris sevin
Scho lewit a gud life,
And wes our Ladyis hen wif:
And held Sanct Petir at stryfe,
Ay quhill scho wes in hevin.

Sche lukit out on a day, and thoght ryght lang
To se the ailhous beside, in till an euill hour;
And out of hevin the hie gait cought the wif gang
For to get hir ane fresche drink, ȝe aill of hevin wes sour.
Scho come againe to hevinnis ȝet, quhen the bell rang,
Sanct Petir hat hir with a club, quhill a gret clour
Rais in hir heid, becaus the wif ȝeid wrang.
Than to the ailhous agane scho ran, the pycharis to pour,
And for to brew, and baik.
Frendis, I pray you hertfully,
Gif ȝe be thristy or dry,
Drink with my Guddame, as ȝe ga by,
Anys for my saik.

Explicit, &c.

VI. [THE TESTAMENT OF MR ANDRO KENNEDY.]

I, maister Andro Kennedy,
Curro quando sum vocatus,
Gottin with sum incuby,
Or with sum freir infatuatus;
In faith I can nought tell redly,
Unde aut vbi fui natus,
Bot in treuth I trow trewly,
Quod sum dyabolus incarnatus.

Cum nichill sit certius morte,
We mon all de, [quhen we haif] done,
Nescimus quando, vel qua sorte,
Na blind Allane wait of the mone.
Ego patior in pectore,
This night I myght nocht sleip a wink;
Licet eger in corpore,
Ȝit wald my mouth be wet with drink.

Nunc condo testamentum meum,
I leiff my saull for euermair.
Per omnipotentem Deum,
In to my lordis wyne cellair,

Semper ibi ad remanendum,
Quhill domisday, without disseuer,
Bonum vinum ad bibendum,
With sueit Cuthbert that luffit me neuer.

Ipse est dulcis ad amandum,
He wald oft ban me in his breith,
Det michi modo ad potandum,
And I forgif him laith et wraith:
Quia in cellario cum cervisia,
I had lever lye baith air and lait,
Nudus solus in camesia,
Na in my Lordis bed of stait.

A barell bung ay at my bosum,
Of varldis gud I bad na mair;
[Et] corpus meum ebriosum,
I leif on to the toune of Air;
In a draf mydding for euer and ay
Ut ibi sepeliri queam,
Quhar drink and draff may ilka day
Be cassyne super faciem meam:

[Thair wald I be bereit, me think,
Or beir my bodie ad tabernam,
Quhair I may feill the savour of drink,
Syn sing for me requiem eternam.]

I leif my hert that neuer wes sic[k]ir,
Sed semper variabile,
That never mair wald flow nor flickir,
Consorti meo Iacobe:

Thought I wald bynd it with a wickir,
Verum Deum renui;
Bot and I hecht to teme a bicker,
Hoc pactum semper tenui.

Syne leif I the best aucht I bocht,
Quod est Latinum propter caupe,
To hede of kyn, bot I wait nought
Quis est ille, than I schrew my scawpe:
I callit my lord my heid, but hiddill,
Sed nulli alii hoc dixerunt,
We weir als sib as seue et riddill,
In vna silua que creuerunt.

Omnia mea solatia
Thay wer bot lesingis all et ane,
Cum omni fraude et fallacia,
I leif the maister of Sanct Antane;
Willelmo Gray, sine gratia,
Myne awne deir cusing, as I wene,
Qui nunquam fabricat mendacia,
Bot quhen the holyne growis grene.

My fenȝeing, and my fals wynyng,
Relinquo falsis fratribus;
For that is Goddis awne bidding,
Dispersit, dedit pauperibus.
For menis saulis thay say thai sing,
Mentientes pro muneribus;
Now God gif thaim ane euill ending,
Pro suis prauis operibus.

To Iok Fule, my foly fre
Lego post corpus sepultum;
In faith I am mair fule than he,
Licet ostendit bonum vultum:
Of corne and catall, gold and fe,
Ipse habet walde multum,
And ȝit he bleris my lordis E
Fingendo eum fore stultum.

To Master Iohne Clerk syne,
Do et lego intime,
Goddis [braid] malisone and myne:
Ipse est causa mortis mee.
War I a dog and he a swyne,
Multi mirantur super me,
Bot I suld ger that lurdane quhryne,
Scribendo dentes sine de.

Residuum omnium bonorum
For to dispone my Lord sall haif,
Cum tutela puerorum,
Ade, Kytte, and all the laif.
In faith I will na langar raif:
Pro sepultura ordino
On the new gys, sa God me saif,
Non sicut more solito.

In die mee sepulture
I will nane haif bot our avne gyng,
Et duos rusticos de rure
Berand a barell on a styng;
Drynkand and playand cop out, evin,
Sicut egomet solebam;
Singand and gretand with hie stevin,
Potum meum cum fletu miscebam.

I will na preistis for me sing,
Dies illa, Dies ire;
Na ȝit na bellis for me ring,
Sicut semper solet fieri;
Bot a bag pipe to play a spryng,
Et unum ail wosp ante me;
In stayd of baneris for to bring
Quatuor lagenas ceruisie,
Within the graif to set sic thing,
In modum crucis juxta me,
To fle the fendis, than hardely sing
De terra plasmasti me.

[Heir endis the Tesment of Maister Andro Kennedy, maid be Dunbar quhen he wes lyk to dy.]

VII. [THE BALLAD OF LORD BERNARD STEWART, LORD OF AUBIGNY.]

The ballade of ane right noble victorius and myghty Lord Barnard Stewart, lord of Aubigny, erle of Beaumont, roger and bonaffre, consaloure, and chamerlane ordinare to the maist hee, maist excellent, and maist crystyn prince Loys, King of France, Knight of his ordour, Capitane of the kepyng of his body, Conquereur of Naplis and vmquhile constable general of the same, Compilit be maistir Willyam dumbar at the said lordis cumyng to Edinburghe in Scotland send in ane ryght excellent embassat fra the said maist crystin King to our maist Souuerane lord and victorius prince James the ferde, Kyng of Scottis.

Renownit, ryall, right reuerend and serene
Lord, hie trywmphing in wirschip and valoure,
Fro kyngis downe most Cristin knight, and kene,
Most wyse, most valyeand, most laureat hie wictour,
Onto the sterris vpheyt is thyne honour;
In Scotland Welcum be thyne Excellence
To King, Queyne, lord, clerk, knight and seruatour,
Withe gloire and honour, lawde and reuerence.

Welcum in stour most strong, incomparable knight,
The fame of armys, and floure of vassalage;
Welcum in were moste worthi, wyse and wight;
Welcum the soun of Mars of moste curage;

Welcum moste lusti branche of our linnage,
In euery realme oure scheild, and our defence;
Welcum our tendir blude of hie parage,
With gloire and honour, lawde and reuerence.

Welcum in were the secund Iulius,
The prince of knightheyd, and flour of cheualry;
Welcum most valyeant and victorius;
Welcum invincible victour moste wourthy;
Welcum our Scottis chiftane most dughty;
Wyth sowne of clarioun, organe, song and sence,
To the atonis, Lord, Welcum all we cry;
With gloire and honour, lawde and reuerence.

Welcum oure indeficient adiutorie,
That evir our Naceoun helpit in thare neyd;
That neuer saw Scot yit indigent nor sory,
Bot thou did hym suport, with thi gud deid;
Welcum, therfor, abufe all livand leyd,
Withe us to liue, and to maik recidence,
Quhilk never sall swnye for thy saik to bleid:
To quham be honour, lawde and reuerence.

Is none of Scotland borne faithfull and kynde,
Bot he of naturall inclinacioune
Dois favour the, withe all his hert and mynde,
Withe fervent, tendir, trew intencioun;
And wald of inwart hie effectioun,
Bot dreyd of danger, de in thi defence,
Or dethe, or schame, war done to thi persoun;
To quham be honour, lawde and reuerence.

Welcum thow knight, moste fortunable in feild;
Welcum in armis moste aunterus and able,
Wndir the soun that beris helme or scheild;
Welcum thou campioun, in feght wnourcumable;

Welcum most dughti, digne, and honorable,
And moist of lawde, and hie magnificence,
Nixt wndir kingis to stand incomparable;
To quham be honour, lawde and reuerence.

Throw Scotland, Ingland, France, and Lumbardy,
Fleys on weyng thi fame, and thi renoune;
And our all cuntreis, wndirnethe the sky,
And our all strandis, fro the sterris doune;
In euery province, land, and regioun,
Proclamit is thi name of excellence,
In euery cete, village, and in toune,
Withe gloire and honour, lawd and reuerence.

O feyrse Achill, in furius hie curage!
O strong invincible Hector, vndir scheild!
O vailyeant Arthur, in knyghtli vassalage!
Agamemnon, in gouernance of feild!
Bold Henniball, in batall to do beild!
Iulius, in iupert, in wisdom and expence!
Most fortunable chiftane, bothe in yhouth and eild,
To the be honour, lawde and reuerence!

At parlament thow suld be hye renownit,
That did so mony victoryse opteyn;
Thi cristall helme with lawry suld be crownyt,
And in thi hand a branche of olyve greyn;
The sueird of conquis, and of knyghtheid keyn,
Be borne suld highe before the in presence,
To represent sic man as thou has beyn;
With gloire and honour, lawde and reuerence.

Hie furius Mars, the god armipotent,
Rong in the hevin at thyne natiuite;
Saturnus doune, withe fyry eyn, did blent,
Throw bludy visar, men manasing to gar de;

On the fresche Wenus keist hir amourouse E;
On the Marcurius furtheyet his eloquence;
Fortuna Maior did turn hir face on the;
With gloire and honour, lawde and reuerence.

Prynce of fredom, and flour of gentilnes,
Sweyrd of knightheid, and choise of cheualry,
This tyme I lefe, for grete prolixitnes,
To tell quhat feildis thou wan in Pikkardy,
In France, in Bertan, in Naplis, and Lumbardy;
As I think eftir, withe all my diligence,
Or thow departe, at lenthe for to discry;
With gloire and honour, lawd and reuerence.

B, in thi name, betaknis batalrus;
A, able in feild; R, right renoune most hie;
N, nobilnes; and A, for aunterus;
R, ryall blude; for dughtines, is D;
W, valyeantnes; S, for strenewite;
Quhoise knyghtli name, so schynyng in clemence,
For wourthines in gold suld writtin be;
With gloire and honour, lawd and reuerence.

[OMITTED]

VIII. [ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF BERNARD STEWART, LORD OF AUBIGNY.]

Illuster Lodovick, of France most Cristin king,
Thou may complain with sighis lamentable
The death of Bernard Stewart, nobill and ding,
In deid of armis most anterous and abill;
Most mychti, wyse, worthie, and confortable,
Thy men of weir to governe and to gy:
Fortun, allace! now may thow weir the sabill,
Sen he is gone, the flour of chevelrie.

Complaine sould everie nobill valiant knycht
The death of him that douchtie was in deid,
That many ane fo in feild hes put to fly[ch]t,
In weiris wicht, be wisdome and manheid.
To the Turk sey all land did his name dreid,
Quhois force all France in fame did magnifie;
Of so hie price sall nane his place posseid,
For he is gon, the flour of chevilrie.

O duilfull death! O dragon dolorous!
Quhy hes thow done so dulfullie devoir
The prince of knychtheid, nobill and chevilrous,
The witt of weiris, of armes and honour,

The crop of curage, the strenth of armes in stour,
The fame of France, the fame of Lumbardy,
The choiss of chiftanes, most awfull in armour,
The charbunckell, cheif of every chevelrie!

Pray now for him, all that him loveit heir!
And for his saull mak intercessioun
Unto the Lord that hes him bocht so deir,
To gif him mercie and remissioun,
And namelie we of Scottis natioun,
Intill his lyff quhom most he did affy,
Forȝett we nevir into our orisoun
To pray for him, the flour of chavelrie.

Quod Dumbar.

IX. [I CRY THE MERCY, AND LASAR TO REPENT.]

To The, O mercifull Salviour, Jesus,
My King, my Lord, and my Redemar sweit,
Befoir thy bludy figor dolorus
I repent my synnys, with humill hairt contreit,
That evir I did vnto this hour compleit,
Baith in werk, in word, and eik intent;
Falling on face, full law befoir thy feit,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

To The, my sweit Saluiour, I me schirryve,
Committing me in thy mercy [maist] excelling,
Off the wrang spending of my wittis fyve,—
In hering, seing, gusting, twiching, and smelling,
Ganestanding, greving, moving, and rebelling
Aganis The my God and Lord omnipotent;
With teiris of sorrow frome my ene distilling,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I wretchit synner, vyle, and full of vyce,
Off the Sevin Deidly Synnys dois me schirryve,—

Off pryd, off yre, invy, and covetyce,
Off lichery, gluttony, with slewth ay to ourdryve,
Exercing vycis evir in all my lyve,
For quhilk, allace! I servit to be schent:
Rew on me, Jesu, for thy woundis fyve!
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I confess me, Lord! that I abusit haif
The Sevin Deidis of Mercy Corporall,—
To hungre meit, nor drynk to thristy gaif,
Nor veseit the seik, nor did redeme the thrall,
Harbreit the wolsome, nor naikit cled att all,
Nor ȝit the deid to bury, tuke I tent:
Thow, that put mercy aboif thy workis all,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

In the Sevin Deidis of Marcy Spirituall,—
To ignorantis nocht gaif I my teiching,
Synnaris correctioun, nor destitut counsall,
Na vnto wofull wretchis conforting,
Nor to my nychtbouris support of my praying,
Nor was to ask forgifnes penitent,
Nor to forgif my nychtbouris offending;
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Lord! I haif done full littill reverence
To thy Sacramentis excellent of renoun,—
Thy Haly Supper ffor my syn recompence,
And of my gilt the holy satisfactioun,

And Bapteme, als quhilk all my syn wesche doun;
Heirof, als far as I was negligent,
With hairt contreit, and teiris falling doun,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

The Ten Commandis,—ane God for till honour,

Commandis.

Nocht tane in vane his name, no sleyar to be,
Fader and moder to wirschep at all hour,
To be no theif, the haly day to vphie,
Nychtbouris to lufe, fals witness for to fle,
To leif adultre, to covet no manis rent;
Aganis thir preceptis culpable knaw I me;
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

The Articulis of Trewth,—in God to trow,

Articulis, Creid.

The Fader that all thingis wrocht and comprehendit,
And in his haly blissit Sone, Jesu,
Of Mary borne, on croce deit, to hell discendit,
The thrid day rysing, to the Fader ascendit,
Off quick and deid to cum, and hald jugement;
In to thir poynttis, O Lord! quhair I offendit
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I trow in to the blissit Haly Spreit,
And in the Kirk, to do as it commandis,
And to thy dome that we sall ryss compleit
And tak our flesche agane, baith feit and handis,
All to be saiff in stait of grace that standis;
Plane I rewoik in thir quhair I miswent,
Befoir The, Juge and Lord of see and landis,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I synnyt, Lord! that nocht being strong as wall,
In howp, in faith, in fervent cheretie;
Nocht with the Foure Vertewis Cardenall,
Aganis vycis seure enarming me,
With fortitude, prowdence, and temperance, thir thre
With justice evir [in] work, word, or intent;
To The, Chryst Jesu, casting vp myne e,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

[The seuin commandis of the Kirk, that is to say,
Thy teind to pay, and cursing to eschew,
To keipe the festuall and the fasting day,
The mess on Sonday, the parroche kirk persew,
To proper curat to mak confessioun trew,
Anis in the ȝeir to tak the sacrament;
In thir pointis, quhair I offendit, sair I rew;
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.]

Off syn als aganis the Haly Spreit,
Of vertew postponyng, and syn aganis nateur,
Off [in]contritioun, [of confessioun] indiscreit,
Of ressait sinffull of The my Saluiour,
Of non repentance, and satisfaction seur,
Of the Sevin Giftis the Haly Gaist me sent,
Of Sex Petitionis in Pater Noster peur;
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Nocht thanking The of gratitud nor grace,
That thow me wrocht, and bocht [me] with thy [deid];
Of this schort lyfe remembring nocht the space,
The hevenis bliss, the hellis hiddouss feid,

But moir trespass, my synnis to remeid,
Concluding nevir all thrwch in myne entent;
[O] Thow, quhois blude on rude ran for my deid,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I knaw me vicious, Lord, and richt culpable
In aithis sweiring, leising, and blaspheming,
Off frustrat speiking in court, in kirk, and table,
In wordis vyle, in vaneteis expreming,
Preysing my self, and evill my nichtbouris deming,
And so in ydilnes my dayis haif [I] spent;
Thow that was rent on rude for my redeming,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I synnit in consaving thochtis jolie,
Vp to the hevin extolling myne ententioun,
In he exaltit arrogance and folye,
Prowdnes, derisioun, scorne and vilipentioun,
Presumptioun, inobedience and contemptioun,
In fals vane gloir and deidis negligent;
O Thow, that deit on rud, for my redemptioun,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I synnit als in reif and in oppressioun,
In wranguss gudis taking and posseding,
Contrar gud ressoun, conscience and discretioun,
Of prodigall spending, but rewth of peure folkis neiding,
In fowll disceptionis, in fals inventionis breiding,
To conqueiss honor, tresor, land and rent,
In fleschly lust aboif mesur exceding;
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Off mynd dissymvlat, Lord! I me confess,
Of feid vndir [ane] freindly countenance,
Of parciall jugeing, and pervess wilfulness,
[Off] flattering wordis for fynning of substance,
Of fals solisting ffor wrang deliuerance
At Counsale, Sessioun, and at Parliament;
Of every gilt, and wicket govirnance,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

I schryve me of all cursit cumpany,
All tymes both witting and vnwitting me,
Off criminall causs, off deid of fellony,
Of tyranny, and vengeable crewaltie,
[Off] hurt or slawchter, culpable gif I be,
Be ony maner, deid, counsale, or consent;
O deir Jesu! that for me deit on tre,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Thocht I haif nocht thy precious feit to kiss,
As had the Magdalene, quhen scho did mercy craif,
I sall, as scho, weip teiris for my miss,
And every morrow seik The at thy graif;
Thairfoir, forgif me, as Thow hir forgaif,
That seis my hart as hiris penitent!
Thy precious body in breist or I ressaif,
I cry The mercy, and lasar to repent.

To mak me, Jesu, on The to remember!
I ask thy Passioun in me so to habound,

Quhill nocht vnmenȝeit be in me ane member,
Bot fall in wo, with The, of every wound;
And every straik mak throw my hart a stound,
That evir did stenȝie thy fair flesche innocent,
So that no pairt of my body be sound,
Bot crying The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Off all thir synnis that I did heir expreme,
And als forȝet, to The, Lord! I me schryif,
Appeling fra thy justice court extreme
Vnto thy court of mercy exvltyf;
Thow mak my schip in blissit port to arryif,
That sailis heir in stormis violent,
And saif me, Jesu! for thy woundis fyve,
That cryis The mercy, and lasar to repent.

Finis quod Dumbar.

X. [RORATE CELI DESUPER.]

Rorate celi desuper!
Hevins distill ȝour balmy schouris,
For now is rissin the bricht day ster,
Fro the ross Mary, flour of flouris:
The cleir Sone, quhome no clud devouris,
Surmunting Phebus in the est,
Is cumin of his hevinly touris;
Et nobis Puer natus est.

Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis,
Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir,
And all ȝe hevinly operationis,
Ster, planeit, firmament, and speir,
Fyre, erd, air, and watter cleir,
To him gife loving, most and lest,
That come in to so meik maneir;
Et nobis Puer natus est.

Synnaris be glaid, and pennance do,
And thank your Maker hairtfully;
For he that ȝe mycht nocht cum to,
To ȝow is cumin full humly,
Your saulis with his blud to by,
And louss ȝow of the feindis arrest,
And only of his awin mercy;
Pro nobis Puer natus est.

All clergy do to him inclyne,
And bow vnto that barne benyng,
And do ȝour obseruance devyne
To him that is of kingis King;
Ensence his altar, reid, and sing
In haly kirk, with mynd degest,
Him honouring attour all thing,
Qui nobis Puer natus est.

Celestiall fowlis in the are
Sing with your nottis vpoun hicht;
In firthis and in forrestis fair
Be myrthfull now, at all ȝour mycht,
For passit is ȝour dully nycht;
Aurora hes the cluddis perst,
The son is rissin with glaidsum lycht,
Et nobis Puer natus est.

Now spring vp flouris fra the rute,
Reuert ȝow vpwart naturaly,
In honour of the blissit frute
That raiss vp fro the rose Mary;
Lay out ȝour levis lustely,
Fro deid tak lyfe now at the lest
In wirschip of that Prince wirthy,
Qui nobis Puer natus est.

Syng hevin imperiall, most of hicht,
Regions of air mak armony;
All fishe in flud and foull of flicht,
Be myrthfull and mak melody:
All gloria in excelsis cry,
Hevin, erd, se, man, bird, and best,
He that is crownit abone the sky
Pro nobis Puer natus est.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XI. [MEMENTO, HOMO, QUOD CINIS ES!]

Memento, homo, quod cinis es!
Think, man, thow art bot erd and ass!
Lang heir to dwell na thing thow press,
For as thow come sa sall thow pass,
Lyk as ane schaddow in ane glass;
Hyne glydis all thy tyme that heir is.
Think, thocht thy bodye ware of brass,
Quod tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Worthye Hector and Hercules,
Forcye Achill and strong Sampsone,
Alexander of grit nobilnes,
Meik Dauid and fair Absolone
Hes playit thair pairtis, and all are gone
At will of God that all thing steiris:
Think, man, exceptioun thair is none,
Sed tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Thocht now thow be maist glaid of cheir,
Fairest and plesandest of port;
Ȝit may thow be, within ane ȝeir,
Ane vgsum, vglye tramort;
Ane sen thow knawis thy tyme is schort,
And in all houre thy lyfe in weir is,
Think, man, amang all vthir sport,
Quod tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Thy lustye bewte and thy ȝouth
Sall feid as dois the somer flouris;
Syne sall the swallow with his mouth
The dragone Death [that all devouris.]
No castell sall the keip, nor touris,
Bot he sall seik the with thy feiris;
Thairfore, remembir at all houris
Quod tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Thocht all this warld thow did posseid,
Nocht eftir death thow sall possess,
Nor with the tak, bot thy guid deid,
Quhen thow dois fro this warld the dres.
So speid the, man, and the confes,
With humill hart and sobir teiris,
And sadlye in thy hart inpres
Quod tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Thocht thow be taklit nevir so sure
Thow sall in deathis port arryve,
Quhair nocht for tempest may indure,
Bot ferslye all to speiris [dryve].
Thy Ransonner, with woundis fyve,
Mak thy plycht anker and thy steiris,
To hald thy saule with him on lyve,
Cum tu in cinerem reuerteris.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XII. [ALL ERDLY JOY RETURNIS IN PANE.]

Off Lentren in the first mornyng,
Airly as did the day vpspring,
Thus sang ane bird with voce vpplane,
“All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“O man! haif mynd that thow mon pass;
Remembir that thow art bot ass,
And sall in ass return agane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Haif mynd that eild ay followis ȝowth;
Deth followis lyfe with gaipand mowth,
Devoring fruct and flowring grane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Welth, warldly gloir, and riche array
Ar all bot thornis laid in thy way,
Ourcowerd with flouris laid in ane trane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Come nevir ȝit May so fresche and grene,
Bot Januar come als wod and kene;
Wes nevir sic drowth bot anis come rane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Evirmair vnto this warldis joy
As nerrest air succeidis noy;
Thairfoir, quhen joy ma nocht remane,
His verry air succeidis pane.”

“Heir helth returnis in seikness
And mirth returnis in haviness,
Toun in desert, forrest in plane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Fredome returnis in wrechitness,
And trewth returnis in dowbilness,
With fenȝeit wordis to mak men fane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Vertew returnis in-to vyce,
And honour in-to avaryce;
With cuvatyce is consciens slane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

“Sen erdly joy abydis nevir,
Wirk for the joy that lestis evir;
For vder joy is all bot vane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.”

Quod Dumbar.

XIII. [TIDINGS FROM THE SESSION.]

Ane mvrlandis man of vplandis mak
At hame thus to his nychtbour spak,
“Quhat tydingis gossep, peax or weir?”
The tother rownit in [his eir,]
“I tell ȝow this vndir confessioun,
Bot laitly lichtit of my meir,
I come of Edinburch fra the Sessioun.”

“Quhat tythingis hard ȝe thair, I pray ȝow?”
The tother answerit, “I sall say ȝow,
Keip this all secreit, gentill brother;
Is na man thair that trestis ane vther:
Ane commoun doar of transgressioun
Of innocent folkis prevenis a futher:
Sic tydingis hard I at the Sessioun.”

Sum with his fallow rownis him to pleiss
That wald for invy byt of his neiss;
His fa sum by the oxstar leidis;
Sum patteris with his mowth on beidis,
That hes his mynd all on oppressioun;
Sum beckis full law and schawis bair heidis,
Wald luke full heich war not the Sessioun.

Sum bydand the law layis land in wed;
Sum super expendit gois to his bed;
Sum speidis, for he in court hes menis;
Sum of parcialitie complenis,
How feid and favour flemis discretioun;
Sum speiks full fair, and falsly fenis:
Sic tythings hard I at the Sessioun.

Sum castis summondis, and sum exceptis;
Sum standis besyd and skaild law keppis;
Sum is continwit, sum wynnis, sum tynis;
Sum makis him mirry at the wynis;
Sum is put owt of his possessioun;
Sum herreit, and on creddens dynis:
Sic tydingis hard I at the Sessioun.

Sum sweiris, and forsaikis God;
Sum in ane lamb skin is ane tod;
Sum in his toung his kyndnes tursis;
Sum cuttis throttis, and sum pykis pursis;
Sum gois to gallouss with processioun;
Sum sanis the Sait, and sum thame cursis:
Sic tydings hard I at the Sessioun.

Religious men of diuerss placis
Cumis thair to wow and se fair facis;
Baith Carmeleitis and Cordilleris
Cumis thair to genner and get ma freiris,
And ar vnmyndfull of thair professioun;
The ȝungar at the eldar leiris:
Sic tydingis hard I at the Sessioun.

Thair cumis ȝung monkis of he complexioun,
Of devoit mynd, luve, and affectioun;
And in the courte thair hait flesche dantis,
Full faderlyk, with pechis and pantis;
Thay ar so humill of intercessioun,
All mercyfull wemen thair eirandis grantis:
Sic tydings hard I at the Sessioun.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XIV. [DEVORIT WITH DREME, DEVYSING IN MY SLUMMER.]

Devorit with dreme, devysing in my slummer,
How that this realme, with nobillis owt of nummer,
Gydit, provydit sa mony ȝeiris hes bene;
And now sic hunger, sic cowartis, and sic cummer
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sic pryd with prellattis, so few till preiche and pray;
Sic hant of harlettis with thame bayth nicht and day,
That sowld haif ay thair God afoir thair ene;
So nyce array, so strange to thair abbay,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

So mony preistis cled vp in secular weid,
With blasing breistis casting thair clathis on breid,
It is no neid to tell of quhome I mene;
So quhene the Psalme and Testament to reid
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

So mony maisteris, so mony guckit clerkis,
So mony westaris to God and all his warkis,
So fyry sparkis, of dispyt fro the splene,
Sic losin sarkis, so mony glengoir markis
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony lordis, so mony naturall fulis,
That better accordis to play thame at the trulis,
Nor seiss the dulis that commonis dois sustene;
New tane fra sculis, sa mony anis and mvlis
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mekle tressone, sa mony partiall sawis,
Sa littill ressone to help the commoun cawis,
That all the lawis ar not sett by ane bene;
Sic fenȝeit flawis, sa mony waistit wawis
Within this warld was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony theivis and mvrdereris weill kend,
Sa grit relevis of lordis thame to defend,
Becawis the spend the pelf thame betwene;
So few till wend this mischief till amend,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

This to correct, thay schoir with mony crakkis,
Bot littill effect of speir or battar ax,
Quhen curage lakkis the corss that sowld mak kene;
Sa mony jakkis, and brattis on beggaris bakkis,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sic vant of wostouris with hairtis in sinfull staturis,
Sic brallaris and bosteris, degenerat fra thair naturis,
And sic regratouris, the peure men to prevene;
Sa mony tratouris, sa mony rubeatouris,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony jugeis and lordis now maid of lait,
Sa small refugeis the peur man to debait,
Sa mony estait, for commoun weill sa quhene;
Ouir all the gait sa mony thevis sa tait
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony ane sentence retreitit, for to win
Geir and acquentance, or kyndnes of thair kin,
They think no sin, quhair proffeit cumis betwene;
Sa mony ane gin to haist thame to the pin,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sic knavis and crakkaris to play at cartis and dyce,
Sic halland schekkaris, quhilk at Cowkelbyis gryce
Ar haldin of pryce, quhen lymmaris dois convene;
Sic stoir of vyce, sa mony wittis vnwyce
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony merchandis, sa mony ar mensworne,
Sa peur tennandis, sic cursing evin and morne,
Quhilk slayis the corne and fruct that growis grene;
Sic skaith and scorne, so mony paitlattis worne
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony rakkettis, sa mony ketche-pillaris,
Sic ballis, sic nackettis, and sic tutivillaris,
And sic evill-willaris to speik of king and quene;
Sic pudding-fillaris, discending down frome millaris,
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sic fartingaillis on flaggis als fatt as quhailis,
Facit lyk fulis with hattis that littill availlis,
And sic fowill tailis, to sweip the calsay clene,
The dust vpskaillis; so mony fillok with fuck sailis
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Sa mony ane Kittie, drest vp with goldin chenȝe,
So few witty, that weill can fabillis fenȝe,
With apill renȝe ay schawand hir goldin chene;
Off Sathanis senȝie syne sic ane vnsall menȝie
Within this land was nevir hard nor sene.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XV. [IN ASKING SOWLD DISCRETIOUN BE.]

Off every asking followis nocht
Rewaird, bot gif sum caus war wrocht;
And quhair causs is, men weill ma sie,
And quhair nane is, it wilbe thocht
In asking sowld discretioun be.

Ane fule, thocht he haif causs or nane,
Cryis ay, Gif me, in to a drene;
And he that dronis ay as ane bee
Sowld haif ane heirar dull as stane:
In asking sowld discretioun be.

Sum askis mair than he deservis;
Sum askis far les than he servis;
Sum schames to ask, as braidis of me,
And all withowt reward he stervis:
In asking sowld discretioun be.

To ask but seruice hurtis gud fame;
To ask for seruice is not to blame;

To serve and leif in beggartie
To man and maistir is baith schame:
In asking sowld discretion be.

He that dois all his best servyiss
May spill it all with crakkis and cryis,
Be fowll inoportunitie;
Few wordis may serve the wyis:
In asking sowld discretioun be.

Nocht neidfull is men sowld be dum;
Na thing is gottin but wordis sum;
Nocht sped but diligence we se;
For nathing it allane will cum:
In asking sowld discretioun be.

Asking wald haif convenient place,
Convenient tyme, lasar, and space,
But haist or preiss of grit menȝie,
But hairt abasit, but toung rekless:
In asking sowld discretion be.

Sum micht haif ȝe, with littill cure,
That hes oft nay, with grit labour;
All for that tyme not byd can he,
He tynis baith eirand and honour:
In asking sowld discretion be.

Suppois the servand be lang vnquit,
The lord sumtyme rewaird will it;
Gife he dois not, quhat remedy?
To fecht with fortoun is no wit:
In asking sowld discretioun be.

Finis of Asking.

XVI. [OF DISCRETIOUN IN GEVING.]

To speik of gift or almouss deidis;
Sum gevis for mereit and for meidis;
Sum warldly honour to vphie
Gevis to thame that no thing neidis:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum gevis for pryd and glory vane;
Sum gevis with grugeing and with pane;
Sum gevis in practik for supple;
Sum gevis for twyiss als gud agane:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum gevis for thank, sum [for] chereitie;
Sum gevis money, and sum gevis meit;
Sum gevis wordis fair and sle;
Giftis fra sum ma na man treit:
In giving sowld discretioun be.

Sum is for gift sa lang requyrd,
Quhill that the crevar be so tyrd
That, or the gift deliuerit be,

The thank is frustrat and expyrd:
In geving suld discretioun be.

Sum gevis to littill full wretchitly,
That his giftis ar not set by,
And for a huidpyk haldin is hie,
That all the warld cryis on him fy:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum in his geving is so large,
That all ourlaidin is his barge;
Than vyce and prodigalite
Thairof his honour dois discharge:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum to the riche gevis geir,
That micht his giftis weill forbeir;
And thocht the peur for falt sowld de,
[H]is cry nocht enteris in his eir:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum givis to strangeris with face new,
That ȝisterday fra Flanderis flew;
And to awld serwandis list not se,
War thay nevir of sa grit vertew:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum gevis to thame can ask and plenȝie;
Sum gevis to thame can flattir and fenȝie;
Sum gevis to men of honestie,
And haldis all janglaris at disdenȝie:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum gettis giftis and riche arrayis,
To sweir all that his maister sayis,
Thocht all the contrair weill knawis hie;
Ar mony sic now in thir dayis:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum gevis gud men for thair [thewis;]
Sum gevis to trumpouris and to schrewis;
Sum gevis to [knaiffis] awtoritie;
Bot in thair office gude fundin few is:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Sum givis parrochynnis full wyd,
Kirkis of Sanct Barnard and Sanct Bryd,
To teiche, to rewill and to ouirsie,
That he na wit hes thame to gyd:
In geving sowld discretioun be.

Finis of Discretioun of Geving.

XVII. [OF DISCRETIOUN IN TAKING.]

Eftir geving I speik of taking,
Bot littill of ony gud forsaiking:
Sum takkis our littill awtoritie,
And sum our mekle, and that is glaiking:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

The clerkis takis beneficis with brawlis,
Sum of Sanct Petir, and sum of Sanct Pawlis;
Tak he the rentis, no cair hes he,
Suppois the diuill tak all thair sawlis:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Barronis takis fra the tennentis peure
All fruct that growis on the feure,
In mailis and gersomes rasit ouir hie,
And garris thame beg fra dur to dure:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

[Thir merchantis takis vnlesum win,
Quhilk makis thair pakkis oftymes full thin,
Be thair successioun ȝe may see
That ill-won geir riches not the kin:
In taking suld discretioun be.]

Sum takis vthir menis takkis,
And on the peure oppressioun makkis,
And nevir remembris that he mon die,
Quhill that the gallowis gar him rax:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Sum takis be sie and be land,
And nevir fra taking can hald thair hand,
Quhill he be tit vp to ane tre;
And syne thay gar him vndirstand
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Sum wald tak all his nychbouris geir,
Had he of man als littill feir
As he hes dreid that God him see;
To tak than sowld he nevir forbeir:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Sum wald tak all this warldis breid,
And ȝit not satisfeit of thair neid,
Throw hairt vnsatiable and gredie;
Sum wald tak littill, and can not speid:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Grit men for taking and oppressioun
Ar sett full famous at the Sessioun,
And peur takaris ar hangit hie,
Schamit for evir and thair successioun:
In taking sowld discretioun be.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XVIII. [MUSING ALLONE THIS HINDER NICHT.]

Musing allone this hinder nicht,
Of mirry day quhen gone was licht,
Within ane garth vndir a tre,
I hard ane voce, that said on hicht,
May na man now vndemit be.

For thocht I be ane crownit king,
Ȝit sall I not eschew deming;
Sum callis me guid, sum sayis I lie,
Sum cravis of God to end my ring,
So sall I not vndemit be.

Be I ane lord, and not lord lyk,
Than every pelour and purspyk
Sayis, Land war bettir warit on me;
Thocht he dow not to leid a tyk,
Ȝit can he not lat deming be.

Be I ane lady fresche and fair,
With gentill men makand repair,
Than will thay say, baith scho and hie,
That I am jaipit lait and air;
Thus sall I not vndemit be.

Be [I] ane courtman or ane knycht,
Honestly cled that cumis me richt,
Ane prydfull man than call thay me;
Bot God send thame a widdy wicht,
That can not lat sic demyng be.

Be I bot littill of stature,
Thay call me catyve createure;
And be I grit of quantetie,
Thay call me monstrowis of nature;
Thus can I not vndemit be.

And be I ornat in my speiche,
Than Towsy sayis, I am sa streiche,
I speik not lyk thair houss menȝie.
Suppois hir mouth misteris a leiche,
Ȝit can I not vndemit be.

Bot wist thir folkis that vthir demiss,
How that thair sawis to vthir semiss,
Thair vicious wordis and vanitie,
Thair tratling tungis that all furth temiss,
Sum wald lat thair demyng be.

[War nocht the mater wald grow the mair,
To wirk vengeance on ane demar;
But dout I wald caus mony de,
And mony cative end in cair,
Or sum tyme lat thair deming be.]

Gude James the Ferd, our nobill king,
Quhen that he was of yeiris ying,
In sentens said full subtillie,
“Do weill, and sett not by demying,
For no man sall vndemit be.”

And so I sall, with Goddis grace,
Keip his command in to that cace;
Beseiking ay the Trinitie,
In hevin that I may haif ane place,
For thair sall no man demit be.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XIX. [HOW SOWLD I REWILL ME, OR QUHAT WYISS.]

How sowld I rewill me, or quhat wyiss,
I wald sum wyisman wald dewyiss;
I can not leif in no degre,
Bot sum will my maneris dispyiss.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

Gif I be galland, lusty and blyth,
Than will thay say on me full swyth,
That owt of mynd ȝone man is hie,
Or sum hes done him confort kyth.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

Gife I be sorrowfull and sad,
Than will thay say that I am mad;
I do bot drowp as I wald die,
Thus will thay say, baith man and lad.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

[Be I liberall, gentill and kynd
Thocht I it tak of nobill strynd,
Ȝit will thai say, baythe he and he,
Ȝon man is lyke out of his mynd:
Lord God, how sall I gowerne me?]

Gife I be lusty in array,
Than luve I parramouris thay say,
Or in my hairt is prowd and hie,
Or ellis I haif it sum wrang way.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

Gif I be nocht weill als besene,
Than twa and twa sayis thame betwene,
That evill he gydis ȝone man trewlie;
Lo! be his claithis it may be sene.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

Gif I be sene in court ouir lang,
Than will thay mvrmour thame amang,
My freyndis ar not worth a fle,
That I sa lang but [guerdon] gang.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

In court rewaird than purchess I,
Than haif thay malyce and invy,
And secreitly thay on me lie,
And dois me hinder prevely.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

I wald my gyding war diwysit;
Gif I spend littill I am despysit;
Gif I be nobill, gentill and fre,
A prodigall man I am so prysit.
Lord God, how sall I governe me?

Now juge thay me baith guid and ill,
And I may no mans tung hald still;
To do the best my mynd salbe,
Latt every man say quhat he will.
The gratious God mot governe me.

Finis quod Dumbar.

XX. [TO DWELL IN COURT, MY FREIND.]

To dwell in court, my freind, gife that thow list,
For gift of fortoun invy thow no degre;
Behold and heir, and lat thy tung tak rest,
In mekle speic[h]e is part of vanitie;
And for no malyce preiss the nevir to lie;
Als trubill nevir thy self, sone, be no tyd,
Vthiris to rewill, that will not rewlit be:
He rewlis weill, that weill him self can gyd.

Bewar quhome to thy counsale thow discure,
Ffor trewth dwellis nocht ay for that trewth appeiris:
Put not thyne honour into aventeure;
Ane freind may be thy fo as fortoun steiris:
In cumpany cheiss honorable feiris,
And fra vyle folkis draw the far on syd;
The Psalme sayis, Cum sancto sanctus eiris:
He rewlis weill, that weill him self can gyd.

Haif pacience thocht thow no lordschip posseid,
For hie vertew may stand in law estait;
Be thow content, of mair thow hes no neid;
And be thow nocht, desyre sall mak debait
Evirmoir, till deth say to the than chakmait:
Thocht all war thyne this warld within so wyd,
Quha can resist the serpent of dispyt?
He rewlis weill, that weill him self can gyd.

Ffle frome the fallowschip of sic as ar defamit,
And fra all fals tungis fulfild with flattry,
Als fra all schrewis, or ellis thow art eschamit;
Sic art thow callit as is thy cumpany:
Fle perrellus taillis foundit of invy;
With wilfull men, son, argown thow no tyd,
Quhome no ressone may seiss nor pacify:
He rewlis weill, that weill him self can gyd.

And be thow not ane roundar in the nwke,
For, gif thow be, men will hald the suspect:
Be nocht in countenance ane skornar, nor by luke,
Bot dowt siclyk sall stryk the in the neck:
Be war also to counsall or coreck
Him that extold hes far him self in pryd:
Quhair parrell is but proffeit or effect,
He rewlis weill, that weill him self can gyd.

And sen thow seyis mony thingis variand,
With all thy hart treit bissines and cure;
Hald God thy freind, evir stabill be him stand,
He will the confort in all misaventeur;
And be no wayis dispytfull to the peure,
Nor to no man to wrang at ony tyd:
Quho so dois this, sicker I ȝow asseure,
He rewlis weill, that sa weill him can gyd.

Finis quod Dumbar.

100

XXI. [QUHOME TO SALL I COMPLENE MY WO.]

Quhome to sall I complene my wo,
And kyth my kairis on or mo?
I knaw nocht, amang riche nor pure,
Quha is my freynd, quha is my fo;
For in this warld may non assure.

Lord, how sall I my dayis dispone?
For lang seruice rewarde is none,
And schort my lyfe may heir indure,
And lossit is my tyme bygone:
Into this warld ma none assure.

Oft falsett rydis with ane rowt,
Quhen trewth gois on his fute abowt,
And lak of spending dois him spur;
Thus quhat to do I am in dowt:
In to this warld ma none assure.

Nane heir bot riche men hes renoun,
And bot pure men ar pluckit doun,
And nane bot just men tholis iniure;
Sa wit is blindit and ressoun:
In to this warld ma none assure.

101

Vertew the court hes done dispyiss;
Ane rebald to renoun dois ryiss,
And cairlis of nobillis hes the cure,
And bumbardis brukis the benifyiss:
Into this warld may none assure.

All gentrice and nobiltie
Ar passit out of he degre;
On fredome is laid foirfaltour;
In princis is thair no pety;
For in this warld may none assure.

Is non so armit in-to plait
That can fra truble him debait;
May no man lang in welth indure,
For wo that evir lyis at the wait:
Into this warld may none assure.

Flattry weiris ane furrit goun,
And falsett with the lord dois roun,
And trewth standis barrit at the dure,
And exul is of the toun:
In to this warld may none assure.

Fra everilk mowth fair wirdis proceidis;
In every hairt disceptioun breidis;
Fra everylk E gois luke demure,
Bot fra the handis gois few gud deidis:
Into this warld may none assure.

Toungis now are maid of quhyte quhaill bone,
And hairtis ar maid of hard flynt stone,
And ene of amiable blyth asure,

102

And handis of adamant laith to dispone:
Into this warld may none assure.

Ȝit hairt with hand and body, all
Mon answer deth, quhen he dois call
To compt befoir the iuge future:
Sen all ar deid, or than de sall,
Quha suld in to this warld assure?

No thing bot deth this schortly cravis,
Quhair fortoun evir, as so, dissavis
With freyndly smylingis of ane hure,
Quhais fals behechtis as wind hyne wavis:
Into this warld may none assure.

O! quha sall weild the wrang possessioun,
Or the gold gatherit with oppressioun,
Quhen the angell blawis his bugill sture,
Quhilk vnrestorit helpis no confessioun?
Into this warld may none assure.

Quhat help is thair in lordschippis sevin,
Quhen na houss is bot hell and hevin,
Palice of licht, or pitt obscure,
Quhair ȝoulis ar hard with horreble stevin:
In to this warld may none assure.

Vbi ardentes anime,
Semper dicentes Ve! Ve!
Sall cry Allace! that wemen thame bure,
O quante sunt iste tenebre!
In to this warld may none assure.

Than quho sall wirk for warldis wrak,
Quhen flude and fyre sall our it frak,

103

And frely fruster feild and fure,
With tempest kene and hiddouss crak?
In to this warld may none assure.

Lord! sen in tyme sa sone to cum
De terra surrectourus sum,
Reward me with non erdly cure,
Tu regni da imperium:
In to this warld may non assure.

Finis quod Dumbar.

104

XXII. [SCHIR, ȜIT REMEMBIR AS OF BEFOIR.]

Schir, ȝit remembir as of befoir,
How that my ȝowth I done forloir
In ȝour seruice, with pane and greif;
Gud consciens cryis reward thairfoir;
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Ȝour clerkis ar seruit all about,
And I do lyk ane reid halk schout,
To cum to lure that hes no leif,
Quhair my plummyis begynis to brek out:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Fforsett is ay the falconis kynd,
Bot euir the mittane is hard in mynd,
Of quhome the gled dois prettikis preif;
The gentill goishalk gois vndynd:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

The pyet with hir pretty cot
Fenȝeis to sing the nychtingalis not;
Bot scho can nevir the corchat cleif,
Ffor harsknes of hir carlich throt:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

105

Ay farest faderis hes farrest fowlis;
Suppois thay haif no sang bot ȝoulis,
In siluer caigis thai sit at cheif;
Kynd natyve nest dois clek bot owlis:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

O gentill egill! how may this be?
That of all fowlis dois heest fle,
Ȝour legis quhy will ȝe nocht releif,
And chereiss eftir thair degre?
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Quhen seruit is all vdir man,
Gentill and semple of euery clan,
Kyne of Rauf Colȝard and Johnne the Reif,
Na thing I get, na conquest than:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Thocht I in court be maid refuss,
And haif few vertewis for to russ,
Ȝit am I cumin of Adame and Eif,
And fane wald leif as vderis doiss;
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Or I suld leif in sic mischance,
Gife it to God war no grevance,
To be a pykthank I wald preif,
Ffor thay in warld wantis no plesans:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

In sum parte on my self I plenȝe,
Quhen vdir folkis dois flattir and fenȝe;
Allace! I can bot ballattis breif,

106

Sic bairneheid biddis my brydill renȝe:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

I grant my seruice is bot licht;
Thairfoir of mercy, and nocht of richt,
I ask ȝow, schir, no man to greif,
Sum medecyne gife that ȝe micht:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

May nane remeid my melady
Sa weill as ȝe, schir, veraly;
Ffor with a benifice ȝe may preif,
And gif I mend nocht hestely:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif,

I wes in ȝowth on nureiss kne,
Dandely, bischop, dandely,
And quhen that ege now dois me greif,
Ane semple vicar I can nocht be:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Jok, that wes wont to keip the stirkis,
Can now draw him ane cleik of kirkis,
With ane fals cairt in to his sleif,
Worth all my ballattis vndir the birkis:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Twa curis or thre hes vpolandis Michell,
With dispensationis bund in knitchell,
Thocht he fra nolt had new tane leif;
He playis with totum and I with nichell:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

How suld I leif that is nocht landit,
Nor ȝit with benifice am I blandit?

107

I say nocht, schir, ȝow to repreif;
Bot doutles, I ga rycht neir hand it:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

As saule is heir in purgatory,
Leving in pane and houp of glory,
Seand my self I haif beleif
In houp, schir, of ȝour adiutory:
Excess of thocht dois me mischeif.

Ffinis quod Dumbar.

108

XXIII. HERMES THE PHILOSOPHER.

Be mirry and glaid, honest and vertewous,
Ffor that suffisis to anger the invyous.

Be mirry, man! and tak nocht far in mynd
The wawering of this wrechit warld of sorrow;
To God be hvmill, and to thy freynd be kynd,
And with thy nychtbouris glaidly len and borrow;
His chance to nycht it may be thyne to morrow.
Be blyth in hairt for ony aventure,
For oft with wysmen it hes bene said aforrow,
Without glaidnes awailis no tressour.

Mak the gud cheir of it that God the sendis,
For warldis wrak but weilfair nocht awailis;
Na gude is thyne saif only bot thow spendis,
Remenant all thow brukis bot with bailis;
Seik to solace quhen sadnes the assailis,
In dolour lang thy lyfe ma nocht indure;
Quhairfoir of confort set vp all thy sailis:
Without glaidnes availis no tresour.

Follow on petie, fle truble and debait;
With famows folkis hald thy cumpany;

109

Be charitabill and humyll in thyne estait,
For warldly honour lestis bot a cry;
For truble in erd tak no mallancoly;
Be riche in patience, gif thow in gudis be pure;
Quho levis mirry, he levis michtely:
Without glaidnes availis no tresour.

Thow seis thir wrechis sett with sorrow and cair,
To gaddir gudis in all thair lyvis space,
And quhen thair baggis ar full thair selfis ar bair,
And of thair richess bot the keping hess;
Quhill vthiris cum to spend it that hes grace,
Quhilk of thy wynning no labour had nor cure;
Tak thow example and spend with mirriness:
Without glaidnes availis no tresour.

Thocht all the werk that evir had levand wicht
Wer only thyne no moir thy pairt dois fall,
Bot meit, drynk, clais, and of the laif a sicht,
Ȝit to the iuge thow sall gif compt of all;
Ane raknyng rycht cumis of ane ragment small;
Be just and joyws and do to non ingure,
And trewth sall mak the strang as ony wall:
Without glaidness availis no tresure.

Quod Dumbar.

110

XXIV. [FULL OFT I MVSS AND HES IN THOCHT.]

Full oft I mvss and hes in thocht
How this fals warld is ay on flocht,
Quhair no thing ferme is nor degest;
And quhen I haif my mynd all socht,
For to be blyth me think it best.

This warld evir dois flicht and wary,
Ffortoun sa fast hir quheill dois cary;
Na tyme bot turne can tak rest;
For quhois fals change suld none be sary;
Ffor to be blyth me think it best.

Wald men considdir in mynd richt weill,
Or fortoun on him turn hir quheill,
That erdly honour may nocht lest,
His fall less panefull he suld feill;
Ffor to be blyth me think it best.

Quha with this warld dois warsill and stryfe,
And dois his dayis in dolour dryfe,
Thocht he in lordschip be possest,
He levis bot ane wrechit lyfe;
For to be blyth me think it best.

111

Off warldis gud and grit richess,
Quhat fruct hes man but miriness?
Thocht he this warld had eist and west,
All wer pouertie but glaidness;
For to be blyth me think it best.

Quho suld for tynsall drowp or de
For thyng that is bot vanitie,
Sen to the lyfe that evir dois lest
Heir is bot twynklyng of ane Ee;
For to be blyth me think it best.

Had I for warldis vnkyndness
In hairt tane ony haviness,
Or fro my plesans bene opprest,
I had bene deid langsyne, dowtless;
For to be blyth me think it best.

How evir this warld do change and vary
Lat ws in hairt nevir moir be sary,
Bot evir be reddy and addrest
To pass out of this frawdfull fary;
For to be blyth me think it best.

Etc. Quod Dunbar.

112

XXV. [WE THAT AR HEIR IN HEVINS GLORY.]

The Dregy of Dunbar maid to King James the Fyift being in Striuilling.

We that ar heir in hevins glory,
To ȝow that ar in purgatory,
Commendis ws on our hairtly wyiss;
I mene we folk in parradyis,
In Edinburcht with all mirriness,
To ȝow of Striuilling in distress,
Quhair nowdir plesance nor delyt is,
For pety thus ane Apostill wrytis.
O! ȝe heremeitis and hankersaidilis,
That takis your pennance at your tablis,
And eitis nocht meit restoratiue,
Nor drynkis no wyn confortatiue,
Bot aill and that is thyn and small:
With few coursis into ȝour hall,
But cumpany of lordis and knychtis,
Or ony vder gudly wichtis,
Solitar walkand ȝour allone,
Seing no thing bot stok and stone;
Out of ȝour panefull purgatory,

113

To bring ȝow to the bliss of glory,
Off Edinburgh the mirry toun
We sall begyn ane cairfull soun;
Ane dergy devoit and meik,
The Lord of bliss doing beseik
Ȝow to delyuer out of ȝour noy,
And bring ȝow sone to Edinburgh ioy,
For to be mirry amang ws;
And sa the dergy begynis thuss.

Lectio prima.

The Fader, the Sone and Haly Gaist,
The mirthfull Mary virgene chaist,
Of angellis all the ordouris nyne,
And all the hevinly court devyne,
Sone bring ȝow fra the pyne and wo
Of Striuilling, every court-manis fo,
Agane to Edinburghis ioy and bliss,
Quhair wirschep, welth and weilfar is,
Pley, plesance and eik honesty:
Say ȝe amen, for cheritie.

Responsio, Tu autem Domine.

Tak consolatioun in ȝour pane,
In tribulatioun tak consolatioun,
Out of vexatioun cum hame agane,
Tak consolatioun in ȝour pane.

Jube Domine benedic[ere].

Oute of distress of Striuilling toun
To Edinburcht bliss, God mak ȝow boun.

114

Lectio secunda.

Patriarchis, profeitis and appostillis deir,
Confessouris, virgynis and marteris cleir,
And all the saitt celestiall,
Devotely we vpoun thame call,
That sone out of ȝour panis fell,
Ȝe may in hevin heir with ws dwell,
To eit swan, cran, pertrik and plever,
And every fische that swymis in rever;
To drynk with ws the new fresche wyne,
That grew upoun the rever of Ryne,
Ffresche fragrant clairettis out of France,
Of Angerss and of Orliance,
With mony ane courss of grit dyntie:
Say ȝe amen, for cheritie.

Responsorium, Tu autem Domine.

God and Sanct Jeill heir ȝow convoy
Baith sone and weill, God and Sanct Jeill
To sonce and seill, solace and joy,
God and Sanct Geill heir ȝow convoy.
Out of Striuilling panis fell,
In Edinburght ioy sone mot ȝe dwell.

Lectio tertia.

We pray to all the Sanctis of hevin,
That ar aboif the fterris sevin,
Ȝow to deliuer out of ȝour pennance,
That ȝe may sone play, sing and dance
Heir in to Edinburcht and mak gude cheir,
Quhair welth and weilfair is, but weir;

115

And I that dois ȝour panis discryve
Thinkis for to vissy ȝow belyve;
Nocht in desert with ȝow to dwell,
Bot as the angell Sanct Gabriell
Dois go betwene fra hevinis glory
To thame that ar in purgatory,
And in thair tribulatioun
To gif thame consolatioun,
And schaw thame quhen thair panis ar past,
Thay sall till hevin cum at last;
And how nane servis to haif sweitness
That nevir taistit bittirness,
And thairfoir how suld ȝe considdir
Of Edinburcht bliss, quhen ȝe cum hiddir,
Bot gif ȝe taistit had befoir
Of Striuilling toun the panis soir;
And thairfoir tak in patience
Ȝour pennance and ȝour abstinence,
And ȝe sall cum, or Ȝule begyn,
Into the bliss that we ar in;
Quhilk grant the glorius Trinitie!
Say ȝe amen, for cheritie.

Responsorium.

Cum hame and dwell no moir in Striuilling;
Frome hiddouss hell cum hame and dwell,
Quhair fische to sell is non bot spirling;
Cum hame and dwell no moir in Striuilling.

Et ne nos inducas in temptationem de Striuilling:
Sed libera nos a malo illius.
Requiem Edinburgi dona eijs, Domine,

116

Et lux ipsius luceat eijs.
A porta tristitie de Striuilling,
[Erue], Domine, animas [et corpora] eorum.
Credo gustare statim vinum Edinburgi,
In villa viuentium.
Requiescant Edinburgi. Amen.

[Domine, exaudi orationem meam, Et clamor meus ad te veniat.]

[Oremus.]

Deus qui iustos et corde humiles
Ex omni eorum tribulatione liberare dignatus es,
Libera famulos tuos apud villam de Stirling versantes
A penis et tristitijs eiusdem,
Et ad Edinburgi gaudia eos perducas,
Vt requiescat Striuilling. Amen.

Heir endis Dunbaris Dergy to the King, bydand to lang in Stirling.

117

XXVI. THE DANCE [OF THE SEVIN DEIDLY SYNNIS.]

Off Februar the fyiftene nycht,
Full lang befoir the dayis lycht,
I lay in till a trance;
And then I saw baith hevin and hell:
Me thocht, amangis the feyndis fell,
Mahoun gart cry ane dance
Off schrewis that wer nevir schrevin,
Aganiss the feist of Fasternis evin,
To mak thair observance;
He bad gallandis ga graith a gyiss,
And kast vp gamountis in the skyiss,
That last came out of France.

“Lat se,” quod he, “Now quha begynnis;”
With that the fowll Sevin Deidly Synnis
Begowth to leip at anis.
And first of all in dance wes Pryd,

Pryd.

With bair wyld bak and bonet on syd,
Lyk to mak vaistie wanis;
And round abowt him, as a quheill,
Hang all in rumpillis to the heill

118

His kethat for the nanis:
Mony prowd trumpour with him trippit
Throw skaldand fyre, ay as thay skippit
Thay gyrnd with hiddouss granis.

Heilie harlottis on hawtane wyiss
Come in with mony sindrie gyiss,
Bot ȝit luche nevir Mahoun;
Quhill preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis,
Than all the feyndis lewche, and maid gekkis,
Blak Belly and Bawsy Brown.

Yre.

Than Yre come in with sturt and stryfe;
His hand wes ay vpoun his knyfe,
He brandeist lyk a beir:
Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris,
Eftir him passit in to pairis,
All bodin in feir of weir;

In iakkis, and stryppis and bonettis of steill,
Thair leggis wer chenȝeit to the heill,
Ffrawart wes thair affeir:
Sum vpoun vdir with brandis beft,
Sum jaggit vthiris to the heft,
With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir.

Invy.

Nixt in the dance followit Invy,
Fild full of feid and fellony,
Hid malyce and dispyte;
Ffor pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit.
Him followit mony freik dissymlit,
With fenȝeit wirdis quhyte;

And flattereris in to menis facis;
And bakbyttaris of sindry racis,

119

To ley that had delyte;
And rownaris of fals lesingis;
Allace! that courtis of noble kingis
Of thame can nevir be quyte.

Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce,

Auaryce.

Rute of all evill and grund of vyce,
That nevir cowd be content;
Catyvis, wrechis and okkeraris,
Hud-pykis, hurdaris and gadderaris,
All with that warlo went:

Out of thair throttis thay schot on vdder
Hett moltin gold, me thocht a fudder,
As fyreflawcht maist fervent;
Ay as thay tomit thame of schot,
Ffeyndis fild thame new vp to the thrott
With gold of allkin prent.

Syne Sweirnes, at the secound bidding,

Sueirnes.

Come lyk a sow out of a midding,
Full slepy wes his grunȝie:
Mony sweir bumbard belly huddroun,
Mony slute daw and slepy duddroun,
Him serwit ay with sounȝie;

He drew thame furth in till a chenȝie,
And Belliall, with a brydill renȝie,
Evir lascht thame on the lunȝie:
In dance thay war so slaw of feit,
Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit,
And maid thame quicker of counȝie.

120

Lichery.

Than Lichery, that lathly corss,
Berand lyk a bagit horss,
And Ydilness did him leid;
Thair wes with him ane vgly sort,
And mony stynkand fowll tramort,
That had in syn bene deid.

Quhen thay wer entrit in the dance,
Thay wer full strenge of countenance,
Lyk turkass birnand reid;
All led thay vthir by the tersis,
Suppoiss thay fycket with thair ersis,
It mycht be na remeid.

Gluttony.

Than the fowll monstir Glutteny,
Off wame vnsasiable and gredy,
To dance he did him dress:
Him followit mony fowll drunckart,
With can and collep, cop and quart,
In surffet and excess;

Full mony a waistless wallydrag,
With wamiss vnweildable, did furth wag,
In creische that did incress;
Drynk! ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip,
The feyndis gaif thame hait leid to laip,
Thair lovery wes na less.

Na menstrallis playit to thame but dowt,
Ffor glemen thair wer haldin owt,
Be day, and eik by nycht;

121

Except a menstrall that slew a man,
Swa till his heretage he wan,
And entirt be breif of richt.

Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand padȝane;
Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadȝane,
Ffar northwart in a nuke;
Be he the correnoch had done schout,
Erschemen so gadderit him abowt,
In Hell grit rowme thay tuke.

Thae tarmegantis, with tag and tatter,
Ffull lowd in Ersche begowth to clatter,
And rowp lyk revin and ruke:
The Devill sa devit wes with thair ȝell,
That in the depest pot of hell
He smorit thame with smvke.

122

XXVII. THE TURNAMENT.

Nixt that a turnament wes tryid,
That lang befoir in hell wes cryid,
In presens of Mahoun;
Betuix a telȝour and ane sowtar,
A pricklouss and ane hobbell clowttar,
The barress wes maid boun.
The tailȝeour, baith with speir and scheild,
Convoyit wes vnto the feild,
With mony lymmar loun,
Off seme byttaris and beist knapparis,
Off stomok steillaris and clayth takkaris,
A graceless garisoun.

His baner born wes him befoir,
Quhairin wes clowttis ane hundreth scoir,
Ilk ane of diuerss hew;
And all stowin out of sindry webbis,
For, quhill the Greik sie flowis and ebbis,
Telȝouris will nevir be trew.
The tailȝour on the barrowis blent,
Allaiss! he tynt all hardyment,

123

Ffor feir he chaingit hew:
Mahoun come furth and maid him knycht,
Na ferly thocht his hart wes licht,
That to sic honor grew.

The tailȝeour hecht hely befoir Mahoun,
That he suld ding the sowtar doun,
Thocht he wer strang as mast;
Bot quhen he on the barrowis blenkit,
The telȝouris hairt a littill schrenkit,
His hairt did all ourcast.
Quhen to the sowtar he did cum,
Off all sic wirdis he wes full dum,
So soir he wes agast;
In harte he tuke ȝit sic ane scunner,
Ane rak of fartis lyk ony thunner,
Went fra him, blast for blast.

The sowtar to the feild him drest,
He wes convoyid out of the west,
As ane defender stout:
Suppoiss he had na lusty varlot,
He had full mony lowsy harlott,
Round rynnand him aboute,
His baner wes of barkit hyd,
Quhairin Sanct Girnega did glyd,
Befoir that rebald rowt:
Ffull sowttar lyk he wes of laitis,
For ay betuix the harness plaitis
The vly birstit out.

124

Quhen on the telȝour he did luke,
His hairt a littill dwamyng tuke,
He mycht nocht rycht vpsitt;
In to his stommok wes sic ane steir,
Off all his dennar quhilk he coft deir
His breist held deill a bitt.
To comfort him, or he raid forder,
The Devill off knychtheid gaif him order;
For sair syne he did spitt,
And he about the Devillis nek
Did spew agane ane quart of blek,
Thuss knychtly he him quitt.

Than fourty tymis the Feynd cryd, Fy!
The sowtar rycht effeiritly
Vnto the feild he socht:
Quhen thay wer serwit of thair speiris,
Ffolk had ane feill be thair effeiris,
Thair hairtis wer baith on flocht.
Thay spurrit thair horss on adir syd,
Syne thay attour the grund cowd glyd,
Than thame togidder brocht;
The tailȝeour that wes nocht weill sittin,
He left his sadill all beschittin,
And to the grund he socht.

His harnass brak and maid ane brattill,
The sowtaris horss scart with the rattill,

125

And round about cowd reill;
The beist that frayit wes rycht evill,
Ran with the sowtar to the Devill,
And he rewardit him weill.
Sum thing frome him the Feynd eschewit,
He went agane to bene bespewit,
So stern he wes in steill:
He thocht he wald agane debait him,
He turnd his erss and all bedret him,
Evin quyte from nek till heill.

He lowsit it of with sic a reird,
Baith horss and man he straik till eird,
He fartit with sic ane feir;
“Now haif I quitt the,” quod Mahoun;
Thir new maid knychtis lay bayth in swoun,
And did all armes mensweir.
The Devill gart thame to dungeoun dryve,
And thame of knychtheid cold depryve,
Dischairgeing thame of weir;
And maid thame harlottis bayth for evir,
Quhilk still to keip thay had fer levir,
Nor ony armes beir.

I had mair of thair werkis writtin,
Had nocht the sowtar bene beschittin,

126

With Belliallis erss vnblist;
Bot that sa gud ane bourd me thocht,
Sic solace to my hairt it rocht,
For lawchtir neir I brist;
Quhairthrow I walknit of my trance.
To put this in rememberance,
Mycht no man me resist,
Ffor this said justing it befell
Befoir Mahoun, the air of hell:
Now trow thiss gif ȝe list.

Heir endis the sowtar and tailȝouris war,
Maid be the nobill poyet Mr William Dumbar.

127

XXVIII. FFOLLOWIS THE AMENDIS MADE BE HIM TO THE TELȜOURIS AND SOWTARIS FOR THE TURNAMENT MAID ON THAME.

Betuix twell houris and ellevin,
I dremed ane angell came fra Hevin,
With plesand stevin sayand on hie,
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

In Hevin hie ordand is ȝour place,
Aboif all sanctis in grit solace,
Nixt God, grittest in dignitie:
Tailȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

The causs to ȝow is nocht vnkend,
That God mismakkis ȝe do amend,
Be craft and grit agilitie:
Tailȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

Sowtaris, with schone weill maid and meit,
Ȝe mend the faltis of ill maid feit,
Quhairfoir to Hevin ȝour saulis will fle;
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

128

Is nocht in all this fair a flyrok,
That hes vpoun his feit a wyrok,
Knowll tais, nor mowlis in no degrie,
Bot ȝe can hyd thame: blist be ȝe.

And ȝe tailȝouris, with weilmaid clais
Can mend the werst maid man that gais,
And mak him semely for to se:
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

Thocht God mak ane misfassonit man,
Ȝe can him all schaip new agane,
And fassoun him bettir be sic thre:
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

Thocht a man haif a brokin bak,
Haif he a gude crafty telȝour, quhattrak,
That can it cuver with craftis slie:
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

Off God grit kyndness may ȝe clame,
That helpis his peple fra cruke and lame,
Supportand faltis with ȝour supple:
Tailȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

In erd ȝe kyth sic mirakillis heir,
In Hevin ȝe salbe sanctis full cleir,
Thocht ȝe be knavis in this cuntre:
Telȝouris and Sowtaris, blist be ȝe.

Quod Dumbar.

129

XXIX. [SANCT SALUATOUR! SEND SILUER SORROW.]

Sanct Saluatour! send siluer sorrow;
It grevis me both evin and morrow,
Chasing fra me all cheritie;
It makis me all blythness to borrow;
My panefull purss so pricliss me.

Quhen I wald blythlie ballattis breif,
Langour thairto givis me no leif;
War nocht gud howp my hart vphie,
My verry corpis for cair wald cleif;
My panefull purss so prikillis me.

Quhen I sett me to sing or dance,
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance;
My panefull purss so prikillis me.

Quhen men that hes purssis in tone,
Passis to drynk or to disione,
Than mon I keip ane grauetie,
And say, that I will fast quhill none;
My panefull purss so pricliss me.

My purss is maid of sic ane skyn,
Thair will na corss byd it within;

130

Fra it as fra the Feynd thay fle,
Quha evir tyne, quha evir win;
My panefull purss so pricliss me.

Had I ane man of ony natioun
Culd mak on it ane coniuratioun,
To gar siluer ay in it be,
The Devill suld haif no dominatioun,
With pyne to gar it prickill me.

I haif inquyrit in mony a place,
For help and confort in this cace,
And all men sayis, My Lord, that ȝe
Can best remeid for this malice,
That with sic panis prickillis me.

Quod Dumbar to the King.

131

XXX. FFOLLOWIS HOW DUMBAR WES DESYRD TO BE ANE FREIR.

This nycht befoir the dawing cleir,
Me thocht Sanct Francis did to me appeir,
With ane religiouss abbeit in his hand,
And said, “In thiss go cleith the my serwand;
Reffuss the warld, for thow mon be a freir.”

With him and with his abbeit bayth I skarrit,
Lyk to ane man that with a gaist wes marrit:
Me thocht on bed he layid it me abone,
Bot on the flure delyuerly and sone
I lap thairfra, and nevir wald cum nar it.

Quoth he, “Quhy skarris thow with this holy weid?
Cleith the thairin, for weir it thow most neid;
Thow, that hes lang done Venus lawis teiche,
Sall now be freir, and in this abbeit preiche;
Delay it nocht, it mon be done but dreid.”

Quod I, “Sanct Francis, loving be the till,
And thankit mot thow be of thy gude will

132

To me, that of thy clayis ar so kynd;
Bot thame to weir it nevir come in my mynd;
Sweit Confessour, thow tak it nocht in ill.

In haly legendis haif I hard allevin,
Ma sanctis of bischoppis, nor freiris, be sic sevin;
Off full few freiris that hes bene sanctis I reid;
Quhairfoir ga bring to me ane bischopis weid,
Gife evir thow wald my saule gaid vnto Hevin.

My brethir oft hes maid the supplicationis,
Be epistillis, sermonis, and relationis,
To tak the abyte, bot thow did postpone;
But ony process, cum on thairfoir annone,
All sircumstance put by and excusationis.

Gif evir my fortoun wes to be a freir,
The dait thairof is past full mony a ȝeir;
For into every lusty toun and place
Off all Yngland, frome Berwick to Kalice,
I haif in to thy habeit maid gud cheir.

In freiris weid full fairly haif I fleichit,
In it haif I in pulpet gon and preichit
In Derntoun kirk, and eik in Canterberry;
In it I past at Dover our the ferry
Throw Piccardy, and thair the peple teichit.

Als lang as I did beir the freiris style,
In me, God wait, wes mony wrink and wyle;

133

In me wes falset with every wicht to flatter,
Quhilk mycht be flemit with na haly watter;
I wes ay reddy all men to begyle.

This freir that did Sanct Francis thair appeir,
Ane fieind he wes in liknes of ane freir;
He vaneist away with stynk and fyrie smowk;
With him me thocht all the houshend he towk,
And I awoik as wy that wes in weir.

Quod Dumbar.

134

XXXI. [HE THAT HES GOLD AND GRIT RICHESS.]

He that hes gold and grit richess,
And may be into mirryness,
And dois glaidness fra him expell,
And levis in to wrechitness,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that may be but sturt or stryfe,
And leif ane lusty plesand lyfe,
And syne with mariege dois him mell,
And bindis him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

He that hes for his awin genȝie
Ane plesand prop, but mank or menȝie,
And schuttis syne at ane vncow schell,
And is forfairn with the fleis of Spenȝie,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

And he that with gud lyfe and trewth,
But varians or vder slewth,

135

Dois evir mair with ane maister dwell,
That nevir of him will haif no rewth,
He wirkis sorrow to him sell.

Now all this tyme lat ws be mirry,
And sett nocht by this warld a chirry:
Now quhill thair is gude wyne to sell,
He that dois on dry breid virry,
I gif him to the Devill of hell.

Quod Dumbar.

136

XXXII. THE WOWING OF THE KING QUHEN HE WES IN DUMFERMELING.

This hindir nycht in Dumfermeling,
To me wes tawld ane windir thing;
That lait ane tod wes with ane lame,
And with hir playit, and maid gude game,
Syne till his breist did hir imbrace,
And wald haif riddin hir lyk ane rame:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

He braisit hir bony body sweit,
And halsit hir with [his] fordir feit;
Syne schuk his taill, with quhinge and ȝelp,
And todlit with hir lyk ane quhelp;
Syne lowrit on growfe and askit grace;
And ay the lame cryd, Lady, help!
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

The tod wes nowder lene nor skowry,
He wes ane lusty reid haird lowry,
Ane lang taild beist and grit with all;
The silly lame wes all to small

137

To sic ane tribbill to hald ane bace:
Scho fled him nocht; ffair mot hir fall!
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

The tod wes reid, the lame wes quhyte,
Scho wes ane morsall of delyte;
He lovit na ȝowis auld, twch and sklender:
Becaus this lame wes ȝung and tender,
He ran vpoun hir with a race,
And scho schup nevir for till defend hir:
And thiss me thocht ane ferly cace.

He grippit hir abowt the west,
And handlit hir as he had hest;
This innocent that nevir trespast,
Tuke hert that scho wes handlit fast,
And lute him kiss hir lusty face;
His girnand gamis hir nocht agast:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

He held hir till him be the hals,
And spak full fair thocht he wes falss;
Syne said and swoir to hir be God,
That he suld nocht twich hir prenecod;
The silly thing trowd him, allace!
The lame gaif creddence to the tod:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

I will no lesingis put in verss,
Lyk as thir jangleris dois reherss,
Bot be quhat maner thay war mard,
Quhen licht wes owt and durris wes bard;

138

I wait nocht gif he gaif hir grace,
Bot all the hollis wes stoppit hard:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Quhen men dois fleit in joy maist far,
Sone cumis wo, or thay be war;
Quhen carpand wer thir two most crowss,
The wolf he ombesett the houss,
Vpoun the tod to mak ane chace;
The lamb than cheipit lyk a mowss:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Throw hiddowis ȝowling of the wowf,
This wylie tod plat doun on growf,
And in the silly lambis skin,
He crap als far as he micht win,
And hid him thair ane weill lang space;
The ȝowis besyd thay maid na din:
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Quhen of the tod wes hard no peip,
The wowf went all had bene on sleip;
And quhill the tod had strikkin ten,
The wowf hes drest him to his den,
Protestand for the secound place:
And this report I with my pen,
How at Dumfermling fell the cace.

Quod Dumbar.

139

XXXIII. ANE BALLAT OF THE FENȜEIT FREIR OF TUNGLAND, HOW HE FELL IN THE MYRE FLEAND TO TURKILAND.

As ȝung Awrora, with cristall haile,
In orient schew hir visage paile,
A sweuyng swyth did me assaile,
Off sonis of Sathanis seid;
Me thocht a Turk of Tartary
Come throw the boundis of Barbary,
And lay forloppin in Lumbardy,
Ffull lang in waithman weid.

Ffra baptasing for to eschew,
Thair a religious man he slew,
And cled him in his abeit new,
Ffor he cowth wryte and reid.
Quhen kend was his dissimvlance,
And all his cursit govirnance,
Ffor feir he fled and come in France,
With littill of Lumbard leid.

To be a leiche he fenyt him thair,
Quhilk mony a man micht rew evirmair;
For he left nowthir seik nor sair
Vnslane, or he hyne ȝeid.

140

Vane organis he full clenely carvit,
Quhen of his straik so mony starvit,
Dreid he had gottin that he desarvit,
He fled away gud speid.

In Scotland than, the narrest way
He come, his cunnyng till assay;
To sum man thair it was no play
The preving of his sciens.
In pottingry he wrocht grit pyne,
He murdreist mony in medecyne;
The jow was of a grit engyne,
And generit was of gyans.

In leichecraft he was homecyd,
He wald haif, for a nicht to byd,
A haiknay and the hurtmanis hyd,
So meikle he was of myance.
His yrnis was rude as ony rawchtir,
Quhair he leit blude it was no lawchtir,
Full mony instrument for slawchtir
Was in his gardevyance.

He cowth gif cure for laxatyve;
To gar a wicht horss want his lyve,
Quha evir assay wald, man or wyve,
Thair hippis ȝeid hiddy giddy.
His practikis nevir war put to preif,
But suddane deid, or grit mischeif;
He had purgatioun to mak a theif
To dee withowt a widdy.

Vnto no mess pressit this prelat,
For sound of sacring bell nor skellat;

141

As blaksmyth bruikit was his pallatt,
Ffor battering at the study.
Thocht he come hame a new maid channoun,
He had dispensit with matynnis channoun,
On him come nowthir stole nor fannoun,
Ffor smowking of the smydy.

Me thocht seir fassonis he assailȝeit,
To mak the quintessance, and failȝeit;
And quhen he saw that nocht availȝeit,
A fedrem on he tuke,
And schupe in Turky for to fle;
And quhen that he did mont on he,
All fowill ferleit quhat he sowld be,
That evir did on him luke.

Sum held he had bene Dedalus,
Sum the Menatair marvelus,
Sum the Martis smyth Wlcanus,
And sum Saturnus kuke.
And evir the cuschettis at him tuggit,
The rukis him rent, the ravynis him druggit,
The hudit crawis his hair furth ruggit,
The hevin he micht not bruke.

The myttane, and Sanct Martynis fowle,
Wend he had bene the hornit howle,
Thay set avpone him with a ȝowle,
And gaif him dynt for dynt.
The golk, the gormaw, and the gled,
Beft him with buffettis quhill he bled;
The sparhalk to the spring him sped,
Als fers as fyre of flynt.

142

The tarsall gaif him tug for tug,
A stanchell hang in ilka lug,
The pyot furth his pennis did rug,
The stork straik ay but stynt.
The bissart, bissy but rebuik,
Scho was so cleverus of hir clvik,
His bawis he micht not langer bruik,
Scho held thame at ane hint.

Thik was the clud of kayis and crawis,
Of marleȝonis, mittanis, and of mawis,
That bikkrit at his berd with blawis
In battell him abowt.
Thay nybbillit him with noyis and cry,
The rerd of thame raiss to the sky,
And evir he cryit on Fortoun, Fy!
His lyfe was in to dowt.

The ja him skrippit with a skryke,
And skornit him as it was lyk;
The egill strong at him did stryke,
And rawcht him mony a rowt.
Ffor feir vncunnandly he cawkit,
Quhill all his pennis war drownd and drawkit,
He maid a hundreth nolt all hawkit
Beneth him with a spowt.

He schewre his feddreme that was schene,
And slippit owt of it full clene,
And in a myre, vp to the ene,
Amang the glar did glyd.
The fowlis all at the fedrem dang,
As at a monster thame amang,
Quhill all the pennis of it owsprang
In till the air full wyde.

143

And he lay at the plunge evirmair,
Sa lang as any ravin did rair;
The crawis him socht with cryis of cair
In every schaw besyde.
Had he reveild bene to the rwikis,
Thay had him revin all with thair clwikis:
Thre dayis in dub amang the dukis
He did with dirt him hyde.

The air was dirkit with the fowlis,
That come with ȝawmeris and with ȝowlis,
With skryking, skrymming and with scowlis,
To tak him in the tyde.
I walknit with the noyis and schowte,
So hiddowis beir was me abowte;
Sensyne I curss that cankerit rowte
Quhair evir I go or ryde.

Ffinis quod Dumbar.

144

XXXIV. [THIS NYCHT IN MY SLEIP I WES AGAST.]

This nycht in my sleip I wes agast,
Me thocht the Devill wes tempand fast
The peple with aithis of crewaltie;
Sayand as throw the mercat he past,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

Me thocht as he went throw the way,
Ane preist sweirit be God verey,
Quhilk at the alter ressauit he;
Thow art my clerk, the Devill can say,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

Than swoir ane courtyour mekle of pryd,
Be Chrystis windis bludy and wyd,
And be his harmes wes rent on tre;
Than spak the Devill hard him besyd,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

145

Ane merchand, his geir as he did sell,
Renuncit his pairt of hevin and hell;
The Devill said, “Welcum mot thow be,
Thow salbe merchand for my sell,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

Ane goldsmyth said, “The gold is sa fyne,
That all the workmanschip I tyne,
The Feind ressaif me gif I le;”
“Think on,” quod the Devill, “that thow art myne,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

Ane tailȝour said, “In all this toun
Be thair ane bettir weilmaid goun,
I gif me to the Feynd all fre;”
“Gramercy, telȝour,” said Mahoun,
“Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

Ane sowttar said, “In gud effek,
Nor I be hangit be the nek,
Gife bettir butis of ledder ma be;”
“Fy,” quod the Feynd, “Thow sairis of blek,
Go clenge the clene and cum to me.”

Ane baxstar sayd, “I forsaik God,
And all his werkis evin and od,
Gif fairar stuff neidis to be;”

146

The Dyvill luche and on him qwoth nod,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

Ane fleschour swoir be the sacrament,
And be Chrystis blud maist innocent,
Nevir fatter flesch saw man with E;
The Devill said, “Hald on thy intent,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

[“Be Godis bluid,” quod the taverneir,
“Thair is sic wyne in my selleir
As neuir come in this cuntrie.”
“Ȝett,” quod the Deuill, “thou sellis our deir,
With thy fals mett cum unto me.”]

The maltman sais, “I God forsaik,
And that the Devill of hell me taik
Gif ony bettir malt may be,
And of this kill I haif inlaik;”
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

Ane browstar swoir the malt wes ill,
Bath reid and reikit on the kill,
That it will be na aill for me,
Ane boll will nocht sex gallonis fill;
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

The smyth swoir be rude and raip,
In till a gallowis mot I gaip,
Gif I ten dayis wan pennyis thre,
Ffor with that craft I can nocht thraip;
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

147

Ane menstrall said, “The Feind me ryfe,
Gif I do ocht bot drynk and swyfe;”
The Devill said, “Hardly mot it be,
Exerss that craft in all thy lyfe;
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

Ane dysour said with wirdis of stryfe,
The Devill mot stik him with a knyfe,
Bot he kest vp fair syisis thre;
The Devill said, “Endit is thy lyfe,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

Ane theif said, “God, that evir I chaip,
Nor ane stark widdy gar me gaip,
Bot I in hell for geir wald be;”
The Devill said, “Welcum in a raip,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

The fische wyffis flett and swoir with granis,
And to the Feind, saule, flesch and banis,
Thay gaif thame, with ane schowt on hie;
The Devill said, “Welcum all att anis,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.”

[The rest of craftis gryt aithis swair
Thair wark and craft had na compair,
Ilk ane into thair qualitie;
The Deuill said then, withouttin mair,
“Renunce ȝour God, and cum to me.”

The court man did gryt aithis sueir,
He wald serue Sathan for seuin ȝeir,
For fair claithis and gold plaintie;

148

The Deuill said, “Thair is sum for geir
Wald renunce God and cum to me.”

To ban and sweir nan stuid [in] a,
Man or woman gryt or sma,
Rich or pure nor the clargie;
The Deuill said then, “Of commoun la
All mensworne folk man cum to me.”]

Me thocht the Devillis, als blak as pik,
Solistand wer as beis thik,
Ay tempand folk with wayis sle;
Rownand to Robene and to Dik,
Renunce thy God and cum to me.

Quod Dumbar.

149

XXXV. [LUCINA SCHYNNYNG IN SILENCE OF THE NICHT.]

Lucina schynnyng in silence of the nicht,
The hevin being all full of sternis bricht,
To bed I went, bot thair I tuke no rest,
With havy thocht I wes so soir opprest,
That sair I langit eftir [the] dayis licht.

Off Fortoun I complenit hevely,
That scho to me stude so contrariowsly;
And at the last, quhen I had turnyt oft,
Ffor weirines on me ane slummer soft
Come with ane dremyng and a fantesy.

Me thocht Deme Fortoun with ane fremmit cheir
Stude me beforne, and said on this maneir,
Thow suffer me to wirk gif thow do weill,
And preiss the nocht to stryfe aganis my quheill,
Quhilk every warldly thing dois turne and steir.

Full mony ane man I turne vnto the hicht,
And makis als mony full law to doun licht;
Vp-on my staigis or that thow ascend,
Trest weill thy truble neir is at ane end,
Seing thir taikinis, quhairfoir thow mark thame rycht.

150

Thy trublit gaist sall neir moir be degest,
Nor thow in to no benifice beis possest,
Quhill that ane abbot him cleith in ernis pennis,
And fle vp in the air amangis the crennis,
And as ane falcone fair fro eist to west.

He sall ascend as ane horrebble grephoun,
Him meit sall in the air ane scho dragoun;
Thir terrible monsteris sall togidder thrist,
And in the cludis gett the Antechrist,
Quhill all the air infeck of thair pvsoun.

Vndir Saturnus fyrie regioun
Symone Magus sall meit him and Mahoun,
And Merlyne at the mone sall him be bydand,
And Jonet the weido on ane bussome rydand,
Off wichiss with ane windir garesoun.

And syne thay sall discend with reik and fyre,
And preiche in erth the Antechrysts impyre,
Be than it salbe neir this warldis end.
With that this lady sone fra me did wend;
[Sleipand and walkand wes frustrat my desyr.]

Quhen I awoik, my dreme it was so nyce,
Ffra every wicht I hid it as a vyce;
Quhill I hard tell be mony suthfast wy,
Ffle wald ane abbot vp in to the sky,
And all his fethreme maid wes at devyce.

151

Within my hairt confort I tuke full sone;
“Adew,” quod I, “My drery dayis ar done;
Ffull weill I wist to me wald nevir cum thrift,
Quhill that twa monis wer sene vp in the lift,
Or quhill ane abbot flew aboif the mone.”

Quod Dumbar.

152

XXXVI. [MAN, SEN THY LYFE IS AY IN WEIR.]

Man, sen thy lyfe is ay in weir,
And deid is evir drawand neir,
The tyme vnsicker and the place;
Thyne awin gude spend quhill thow hes space.

Gif it be thyne thy self it vsis,
Gif it be nocht the it refusis,
Ane vthir of it the proffeit hess;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes spaiss.

Thow may to day haif gude to spend,
And hestely to morne fra it wend,
And leif ane vthir thy baggis to braiss;
Thy awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

Quhill thow hes space se thow dispone,
That for thy geir quhen thow art gone,
No wicht ane vder slay nor chace;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

Sum all his dayis dryvis our in vane,
Ay gadderand geir with sorrow and pane,
And nevir is glaid at Ȝule nor Paiss;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

153

Syne cumis ane vder glaid of his sorrow,
That for him prayit nowdir evin nor morrow,
And fangis it all with mirrynais;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

Sum grit gud gadderis and ay it spairis,
And eftir him thair cumis ȝung airis,
That his auld thrift settis on ane ess;
Man, thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

It is all thyne that thow heir spendis,
And nocht all that on the dependis,
Bot his to spend it that hes grace;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes spais.

Trest nocht ane vthir will do the to,
It that thy self wald nevir do,
Ffor gife thow dois, strenge is thy cace;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes spais.

Luke how the bairne dois to the muder,
And tak example be nane vdder,
That it nocht eftir be thy cace;
Thyne awin gud spend quhill thow hes space.

Quod Dumbar.

154

XXXVII. [SURREXIT DOMINUS DE SEPULCHRO.]

Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro,
The Lord is rissin fra deid to lyfe agane,
Qui pro nobis pependit in ligno,
Quhilk for our synnys on the croce wes slane;
Quhame to annoynt went Mary Magdalene,
Ibat Maria Salame cum ea;
Quhen Godis angell thus did ansuer plane,
“Surrexit sicut dixit, allalua!”

This angellis weid wes snawith in cullour,
His face as fyrflacht flawmit, ferly brycht;
The knychtis keparis of Christis sepultour
Ffell doun as deid, afferit of his licht,
Quhome to behald thay had no grace nor mycht;
Et terre motus est factus in Judea;
The wird of Jesew is fulfillit rycht,
Surrexit sicut dixit, allalua!

Behaldin the brichtnes of this angell,
The Magdalene and Mare Salamee
Abasit wer in sprit, as sayis the Ewangell,
And stud abak. “Be nocht afferd!” said he,
“The Lord is rissin quhome ȝe come to se,

155

Ipse precedit vos in Gallelela;
To his appostillis ga tell the verite,
Surrexit sicut dixit, allalua!”

All honour we this Lord with joy and glory,
Thanking that mychty Campioun invincible,
That wan on tre trevmphe of he victory;
Syne brak the hellis dungeoun most terrible,
And chest the dragonis hidous and horrible
Per crucis validissima trophea,
And brocht the sawlis to joy euir permansible:
Surrexit sicut dixit, allalua!

Pleiss we this Lord that did in battell byd
For ws, quhilk had non vthir bute nor beild,
Quhill bludy wes his bak, body, and syd;
He wes our mychte paviss, and our scheild.
Or Phebus dirknes him Goddis Sone reveild
Sanguinea erant eius cannepea;
He deit triumphand, he raiss and wan the feild:
Surrexit sicut dixit, allelua!

Finis.

156

XXXVIII. [DONE IS A BATTELL ON THE DRAGON BLAK.]

Done is a battell on the dragon blak,
Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force;
The ȝettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,
The signe trivmphall rasit is of the croce,

Pro ȝoulis.

The diuillis trymmillis with hiddouss voce,
The saulis ar borrowit and to the bliss can go,
Chryst with his blud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Dungin is the deidly dragon Lucifer,
The crewall serpent with the mortall stang;
The auld kene tegir, with his teith on char,
Quhilk in a wait hes lyne for ws so lang,
Thinking to grip ws in his clowss strang;
The mercifull Lord wald nocht that it wer so,
He maid him for to felȝe of that fang:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

He for our saik that sufferit to be slane,
And lyk a lamb in sacrifice wes dicht,
Is lyk a lyone rissin vp agane,
And as gyane raxit him on hicht;
Sprungin is Aurora radius and bricht,
On loft is gone the glorius Appollo,
The blisfull day departit fro the nycht:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

157

The grit victour agane is rissin on hicht,
That for our querrell to the deth wes woundit;
The sone that vox all paill now schynis bricht,
And dirknes clerit, our fayth is now refoundit;
The knell of mercy fra the hevin is soundit,
The Cristin ar deliuerit of thair wo,
The Jowis and thair errour ar confoundit:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

The fo is chasit, the battell is done ceiss,
The presone brokin, the jevellouris fleit and flemit;
The weir is gon, confermit is the peiss,
The fetteris lowsit and the dungeoun temit,
The ransoun maid, the presoneris redemit;
The feild is win, ourcumin is the fo,
Dispulit of the tresur that he ȝemit:
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.

Finis quod Dunbar.

158

XXXIX. [FFREDOME, HONOUR AND NOBILNES.]

Ffredome, honour and nobilnes,
Meid, manheid, mirth and gentilnes
Ar now in cowrt reput as vyce;
And all for causs of cuvetice.

All weilfair, welth and wantones
Ar chengit in-to wretchitnes,
And play is sett at littill price;
And all for causs of covetyce.

Halking, hunting and swift horss rynning
Ar chengit all in wrangus wynnyng;
Thair is no play bot cartis and dyce;
And all for causs of covetyce.

Honorable houshaldis ar all laid doun;
Ane laird hes with him bot a loun,
That leidis him eftir his devyce;
And all for causs of covetyce.

In burghis, to landwart and to sie,
Quhair was plesour and grit plentie,
Vennesoun, wyld fowill, wyne and spyce,
Ar now decayid thruch covetyce.

159

Husbandis that grangis had full grete,
Cattell and corne to sell and ete,
Hes now no beist bot cattis and myce;
And all thruch caus of covettyce.

Honest ȝemen in every toun
War wont to weir baith reid and broun,
Ar now arrayit in raggis with lyce;
And all thruch caus of covetyce.

And lairdis in silk harlis to the eill,
For quhilk thair tennentis sald somer meill,
And leivis on rutis vndir the ryce;
And all thruch caus of covetyce.

Quha that dois deidis of petie,
And leivis in pece and cheretie,
Is haldin a fule, and that full nyce;
And all thruch caus of covetyce.

And quha can reive vthir menis rowmis,
And vpoun peur men gadderis sowmis,
Is now ane active man and wyice;
And all thruch caus of covetyce.

Man, pleiss thy makar and be mirry,
And sett not by this warld a chirry;
Wirk for the place of paradyce,
For thairin ringis na covettyce.

Ffinis.

160

XL. [RYCHT AIRLIE ON ASK WEDDINSDAY.]

Rycht airlie on Ask Weddinsday,
Drynkand the wyne satt cumeris tway;
The tane cowth to the tother complene,
Graneand and suppand cowd scho say,
“This lang Lentern makis me lene.”

On cowch besyd the fyre scho satt,
God wait gif scho wes grit and fatt,
Ȝit to be feble scho did hir fene;
And ay scho said, “Latt preif of that,
This lang Lentern makis me lene.”

“My fair, sweit cummer,” quod the tuder,
Ȝe tak that nigirtness of ȝour muder;
All wyne to test scho wald disdane
Bot mavasy, scho bad nane vder;
This lang Lentern makis me lene.”

161

“Cummer, be glaid both evin and morrow,
Thocht ȝe suld bayth beg and borrow,
Fra our lang fasting ȝe ȝow refrene,
And latt your husband dre the sorrow;
This lang Lantern makis me lene.”

“Ȝour counsale, cummer, is gud,” quod scho,
“All is to tene him that I do,
In bed he is nocht wirth a bene;
Fill fow the glass and drynk me to;
This lang Lentern makis me lene.”

Off wyne owt of ane choppyne stowp,
They drank twa quartis, sowp and sowp,
Of drowth sic excess did thame constrene;
Be than to mend thay had gud howp;
This lang Lentroun makis me lene.

Quod Dumbar.

162

XLI. [BE ȜE ANE LUVAR, THINK ȜE NOCHT ȜE SULD.]

Be ȝe ane luvar, think ȝe nocht ȝe suld
Be weill adwysit in ȝour gouerning?
Be ȝe nocht sa, it will on ȝow be tauld;
Bewar thairwith for dreid of misdemyng.
Be nocht a wreche, nor skerche in ȝour spending,
Be layth alway to do amiss or schame;
Be rewlit rycht and keip this doctring,
Be secreit, trew, incressing of ȝour name.

Be ȝe ane lear, that is werst of all,
Be ȝe ane tratlar, that I hald als ewill;
Be ȝe ane janglar, and ȝe fra vertew fall,
Be nevir mair on to thir vicis thrall;
Be now and ay the maistir of ȝour will,
Be nevir he that lesing sall proclame;
Be nocht of langage quhair ȝe suld be still,
Be secreit, trew, incressing of ȝour name.

Be nocht abasit for no wicket tung,
Be nocht sa set as I haif said ȝow heir;
Be nocht sa lerge vnto thir sawis sung,
Be nocht our prowd, thinkand ȝe haif no peir;

163

Be ȝe so wyiss that vderis at ȝow leir,
Be nevir he to sklander nor defame;
Be of ȝour lufe no prechour as a freir,
Be secreit, trew, incressing of ȝour name.

Finis quod Dumbar.

164

XLII. [SEN THAT I AM A PRESONEIR.]

Sen that I am a presoneir
Till hir that farest is and best,
I me commend, fra ȝeir till ȝeir,
In till hir bandoun for to rest.
I govit on that gudliest,
So lang to luk I tuk laseir,
Quhill I wes tane withouttin test,
And led furth as a presoneir.

Hir sweit having, and fresche bewte,
Hes wondit me but swerd or lance;
With hir to go commandit me,
Ontill the castell of pennance.
I said, “Is this ȝour gouirnance,
To tak men for thair luking heir?”
Bewty sayis, “Ȝa, schir, perchance
Ȝe be my ladeis presoneir.”

Thai had me bundin to the ȝet,
Quhair Strangenes had bene portar ay,
And in deliuerit me thairat,
And in thir termis can thai say,

165

Do wait, and lat him nocht away.
Quo Strangnes vnto the porteir,
“Ontill my lady, I dar lay,
Ȝe be to pure a presoneir.”

Thai kest me in a deip dungeoun,
And fetterit me but lok or cheyne;
The capitane hecht Comparesone,
To luke on me he thocht greit deyne.
Thocht I wes wo I durst nocht pleyne,
For he had fetterit mony affeir;
With petouss voce thus cuth I sene,
Wo is a wofull presoneir.

Langour wes weche vpoun the wall,
That nevir sleipit bot evir wouke;
Scorne wes bourdour in the hall,
And oft on me his babill schuke,
Lukand with mony a dengerous luke.
Quhat is he ȝone, that methis ws neir?
Ȝe be to townage, be this buke,
To be my ladeis presoneir.

Gud Houp rownit in my eir,
And bad me baldlie breve a bill;
With Lawlines he suld it beir,
With Fair Scherwice send it hir till.
I wouk, and wret hir all my will;
Fair Scherwice fur withouttin feir,
Sayand till hir with wirdis still,
Haif pety of ȝour presoneir.

Than Lawlines to Petie went,
And said till hir in termis schort,
Lat we ȝone presoneir be schent,
Will no man do to ws support;

166

Gar lay ane sege vnto ȝone fort.
Than Petie said, “I sall appeir;”
Thocht sayis, “I hecht, com I ourthort,
I houp to lowss the presoneir.”

Than to battell thai war arreyit all,
And ay the wawart kepit Thocht;
Lust bur the benner to the wall,
And Bissines the grit gyn brocht.
Skorne cryis out, sayis, “Wald ȝe ocht?”
Lust sayis, “We wald haif entre heir;”
Comparisone sayis, “That is for nocht,
Ȝe will nocht wyn the presoneir.”

Thai thairin schup for to defend,
And thai thairfurth sailȝeit ane hour;
Than Bissines the grit gyn bend,
Straik doun the top of the foir tour.
Comparisone began to lour,
And cryit furth, “I ȝow requeir,
Soft and fair and do fawour,
And tak to ȝow the presoneir.”

Thai fryit the ȝettis deliuerly
With faggottis wer grit and huge;
And Strangenes, quhair that he did ly,
Wes brint in to the porter luge.
Lustely thay lakit bot a juge,
Sik straikis and stychling wes on steir,
The semeliest wes maid assege,
To quhome that he wes presoneir.

Thrucht Skornes noss thai put a prik,
This he wes banist and gat a blek;
Comparisone wes erdit quik,
And Langour lap and brak his nek.

167

Thai sailȝeit fast, all the fek,
Lust chasit my ladeis chalmirleir,
Gud Fame wes drownit in a sek;
Thus ransonit thai the presoneir.

Fra Sklandir hard Lust had vndone
His enemeis, him aganis
Assemblit ane semely sort full sone,
And raiss and rowttit all the planis.
His cusing in the court remanis,
Bot jalouss folkis and geangleiris,
And fals Invy that no thing lanis,
Blew out on Luvis presoneir.

Syne Matremony, that nobill king,
Was grevit, and gadderit ane grit ost,
And all enermit, without lesing,
Chest Sklander to the west se cost.
Than wes he and his linege lost,
And Matremony, withowttin weir,
The band of freindschip hes indost,
Betuix Bewty and the presoneir.

Be that of eild wes Gud Famiss air,
And cumyne to continwatioun,
And to the court maid his repair,
Quhair Matremony than woir the crowne.
He gat ane confirmatioun,
All that his modir aucht but weir,
And baid still, as it wes resone,
With Bewty and the presoneir.

Finis.

168

XLIII. [THIR LADYIS FAIR, THAT MAKIS REPAIR.]

Thir ladyis fair, That makis repair,
And in the court ar kend,
Thre dayis thair, Thay will do mair,
Ane mater for till end,
Than thair gud men Will do in ten,
For ony craft thay can,
So weill thay ken, Quhat tyme and quhen,
Thair menes thay sowld mak than.

With littill noy, Thay can convoy
Ane mater fynaly,
Richt myld and moy, And keip it coy,
On evyns quyetly.
Thay do no miss, Bot gif thay kiss,
And keipis collatioun,
Quhat rek of this? Thair mater is
Brocht to conclusioun.

Wit ȝe weill, Thay haif grit feill,
Ane mater to solist,
Trest as the steill, Syne nevir a deill
Quhen thay cum hame ar mist.

169

Thir lairdis ar, Methink richt far
Sic ladeis behaldin to,
That sa weill dar Go to the bar,
Quhen thair is ocht ado.

Thairfoir I reid, Gif ȝe haif pleid,
Or mater in to pley,
To mak remeid, Send in ȝour steid,
Ȝour ladeis grathit vp gay.
Thay can defend, Evin to the end,
Ane mater furth express;
Suppois thay spend, It is vnkend,
Thair geir is nocht the les.

In quyet place, Thocht thay haif space,
Within less nor twa howris,
Thay can, percaice, Purchess sum grace,
At the compositouris.
Thair compositioun, With full remissioun
Thair fynaly is endit,
With expeditioun And full conditioun,
Thair seilis ar to pendit.

Alhaill almoist, Thay mak the coist,
With sobir recompens,
Richt littill loist, Thay get indoist,
Alhaill thair evidens.
Sic ladyis wyiss, Thay ar to pryis,
To say the veretie,
Swa can devyiss, And not suppryiss
Thame, nor thair honestie.

Finis quod Dumbar.

170

XLIV. [IN PRAYS OF WOMAN.]

Now of wemen this I say for me,
Off erthly thingis nane may bettir be;
Thay suld haif wirschep and grit honoring
Off men, aboif all vthir erthly thing;
Rycht grit dishonour vpoun him self he takkis
In word or deid quha evir wemen lakkis;
Sen that of wemen cumin all ar we,
Wemen ar wemen and sa will end and de.
Wo wirth the fruct wald put the tre to nocht,
And wo wirth him rycht so that sayis ocht
Off womanheid that may be ony lak,
Or sic grit schame vpone him for to tak.
Thay ws consaif with pane, and be thame fed
Within thair breistis thair we be boun to bed;
Grit pane and wo, and mvrnyng mervelluss,
Into thair birth thay suffir sair for ws;
Than meit and drynk to feid ws get we nane,
Bot that we soik out of thair breistis bane.
Thay ar the confort that we all haif heir,
Thair may no man be till ws half so deir;
Thay ar our verry nest of nvrissing.
In lak of thame quha can say ony thing,

171

That fowll his nest he fylis, and forthy
Exylit he suld be of all gud cumpany;
Thair suld na wyiss man gif audience,
To sic ane without intelligence.
Chryst to his fader he had nocht ane man;
Se quhat wirschep wemen suld haif than.
That Sone is Lord, that Sone is King of kingis,
In hevin and erth his maiestie ay ringis.
Sen scho hes borne him in hir halines,
And he is well and grund of all gudnes,
All wemen of ws suld haif honoring,
Serwice and luve, aboif all vthir thing.

[Finis] quod Dumbar.

172

XLV. [QUHA WILL BEHALD OF LUVE THE CHANCE.]

Quha will behald of luve the chance,
With sueit dissauyng countenance,
In quhais fair dissimvlance
May none assure;
Quhilk is begun with inconstance,
And endis nocht but variance,
Scho haldis with continwance
No scheruiture.

Discretioun and considerance
Ar both out of hir gouirnance;
Quhairfoir of it the schort plesance
May nocht indure;
Scho is so new of acquentance,
The auld gais fra remembrance;
Thus I gife our the obseruanss
Of luvis cure.

It is ane pount of ignorance
To lufe in sic distemperance,
Sen tyme mispendit may avance
No creature;

173

In luve to keip allegance,
It war als nyss an ordinance,
As quha wald bid ane deid man dance,
In sepulture.

Finis quod Dumbar.

174

XLVI. [IN MAY AS THAT AURORA DID VPSPRING.]

In May as that Aurora did vpspring,
With cristall ene chasing the cluddis sable,
I hard a merle with mirry notis sing
A sang of lufe, with voce rycht confortable,
Agane the orient bemis amiable,
Vpone a blisful brenche of lawryr grene;
This wes hir sentens sueit and delectable,
A lusty lyfe in luves scheruice bene.

Vndir this brench ran doun a revir bricht,
Of balmy liquour, cristallyne of hew,
Agane the hevinly aisur skyis licht,
Quhair did, vpone the tothair syd, persew
A nychtingall, with suggurit notis new,
Quhois angell fedderis as the pacok schone;
This wes hir song, and of a sentens trew,
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone.

With notis glaid and glorious armony,
This joyfull merle so salust scho the day,
Quhill rong the widdis of hir melody,
Saying, “Awalk, ȝe luvaris, O, this May.

175

Lo, fresche Flora hes flurest every spray,
As natur hes hir taucht, the noble quene,
The feild bene clothit in a new array;
A lusty lyfe in luvis scheruice bene.

Nevir suetar noys wes hard with levand man,
Na maid this mirry gentill nychtingaill,
Hir sound went with the rever as it ran,
Outthrow the fresche and flureist lusty vaill.
“O merle,” quod scho, “O fule, stynt of thy taill,
For in thy song gud sentens is thair none,
For boith is tynt the tyme and the travaill
Of every luve bot vpone God allone.”

“Seiss,” quod the merle, “thy preching, nychtingale,
Sall folk thair ȝewth spend in-to holiness?
Of ȝung sanctis growis auld feyndis but fable;
Fy, ypocreit, in ȝeiris tendirness,
Agane the law of kynd thow gois express,
That crukit aige makis on with ȝewth serene,
Quhome natur of conditionis maid dyverss;
A lusty life in luves scheruice bene.”

The nychtingaill said, “Fule, remembir the,
That both in ȝewth and eild, and every hour,
The luve of God most deir to man suld be,
That him of nocht wrocht lyk his awin figour,
And deit him self fro deid him to succour.
O, quhithir wes kythit thair trew lufe or none?
He is most trew and steidfast paramour;
All luve is lost bot vpone him allone.”

176

The merle said, “Quhy put God so grit bewte
In ladeis, with sic womanly having,
Bot gife he wald that thay suld luvit be?
To luve eik natur gaif thame inclynnyng;
And He, of natur that wirker wes and king,
Wald no thing frustir put, nor lat be sene,
In to his creature of his awin making:
A lusty lyfe in luves scheruice bene.”

The nychtingall said, “Nocht to that behufe
Put God sic bewty in a ladeis face,
That scho suld haif the thank thairfoir or lufe,
Bot He, the wirker, that put in hir sic grace,
Off bewty, bontie, richess, tyme or space,
And every gudness that bene to cum or gone;
The thank redoundis to him in every place;
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone.”

“O nychtingall, it wer a story nyce,
That luve suld nocht depend on cherite,
And gife that vertew contrair be to vyce,
Than lufe mon be a vertew, as thinkis me;
For ay to lufe invy mone contrair be:
God bad eik lufe thy nychtbour fro the splene,
And quho than ladeis suetar nychbouris be?
A lusty lyfe in lufe[s] scheruice bene.”

The nychtingaill said, “Bird, quhy dois thow raif?
Man may tak in his lady sic delyt,
Him to forȝet that hir sic vertew gaif,
And for his hevin rassaif hir cullour quhyt;

177

Hir goldin tressit hairis redomyt,
Lyk to Appollois bemis thocht thay schone,
Suld nocht him blind fro lufe that is perfyt;
All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone.”

The merle said, “Lufe is causs of honour ay,
Luve makis cowardis manheid to purchass,
Luve makis knychtis hardy at assey,
Luve makis wrechis full of lergeness,
Luve makis sueir folkis full of bissiness,
Luve makis sluggirdis fresche and weill besene,
Luve changis vyce in vertewis nobilness;
A lusty lyfe in luvis scheruice bene.”

The nychtingaill said, “Trew is the contrary;
Sic frustir luve, it blindis men so far,
In-to thair myndis it makis thame to vary;
In fals vane glory thai so drunkin ar,
Thair wit is went, of wo thai ar nocht war,
Quhill that all wirchip away be fro thame gone,
Fame, guddis and strenth; quhairfoir weill say I dar,
All luve is lost bot vpone God allone.”

Than said the merle, “Myn errour I confess;
This frustir luve all is bot vanite;
Blind ignorance me gaif sic hardiness,
To argone so agane the varite;
Quhairfoir I counsall every man, that he
With lufe nocht in the feindis net be tone,
Bot luve the luve that did for his lufe de;
All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone.”

178

Than sang thay both with vocis lowd and cleir;
The merle sang, “Man, lufe God that hes the wrocht:”
The nychtingall sang, “Man, lufe the Lord most deir,
That the and all this warld maid of nocht:”
The merle said, “Luve him that thy lufe hes socht
Fra hevin to erd, and heir tuk flesche and bone:”
The nychtingall sang, “And with his deid the bocht;
All lufe is lost bot vpone him allone.”

Thane flaw thir birdis our the bewis schene,
Singing of lufe amang the levis small,
Quhois ythand pleid ȝit maid my thochtis grene,
Bothe sleping, walking, in rest and in travall;
Me to reconfort most it dois awaill
Agane for lufe, quhen lufe I can find none,
To think how song this merle and nychtingaill,
All lufe is lost bot vpone God allone.

Finis quod Dumbar.

179

XLVII. NOW CUMIS AIGE QUHAIR ȜEWTH HES BENE, AND TREW LUVE RYSIS FRO THE SPLENE.

Now culit is dame Venus brand;
Trew luvis fyre is ay kindilland,
And I begyn to vndirstand,
In feynit luve quhat foly bene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew luve rysis fro the splene.

Quhill Venus fyre be deid and cauld,
Trew luvis fyre nevir birnis bauld;
So as the ta lufe vaxis auld,
The tothir dois incress moir kene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

No man hes curege for to wryte
Quhat plesans is in lufe perfyte,
That hes in fenȝeit lufe delyt,
Thair kyndnes is so contrair clene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Full weill is him that may imprent,
Or onywayiss his hairt consent,
To turne to trew luve his intent,

180

And still the quarrell to sustene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

I haif experience by my sell;
In luvis court anis did I dwell,
Bot quhair I of a joy cowth tell,
I culd of truble tell fyftene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Befoir quhair that I wes in dreid,
Now haif I confort for to speid;
Quhair I had maugre to my meid,
I trest rewaird and thankis betuene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Quhair lufe wes wont me to displeiss,
Now find I in to lufe grit eiss;
Quhair I had denger and diseiss,
My breist all confort dois contene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Quhair I wes hurt with jelosy,
And wald no luver wer bot I,
Now quhair I lufe I wald all wy
Als weill as I luvit I wene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Befoir quhair I durst nocht for schame
My lufe discure, nor tell hir name;
Now think I wirschep wer and fame,

181

To all the warld that it war sene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Befoir no wicht I did complene,
So did hir denger me derene;
And now I sett nocht by a bene
Hir bewty nor hir twa fair ene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

I haif a luve farar of face,
Quhome in no denger may haif place,
Quhilk will me guerdoun gif and grace,
And mercy ay quhen I me mene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Vnquyt I do no thing nor sane,
Nor wairis a luvis thocht in vane;
I salbe als weill luvit agane,
Thair may no jangler me prevene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew luve rysis fro the splene.

Ane lufe so fare, so gud, so sueit,
So riche, so rewthfull and discreit,
And for the kynd of man so meit,
Nevir moir salbe nor ȝit hes bene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew lufe rysis fro the splene.

Is none sa trew a luve as he,
That for trew luve of ws did de;
He suld be luffit agane, think me,

182

That wald sa fane our luve obtene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew luve rysis fro the splene.

Is non but grace of God I wiss,
That can in ȝewth considdir thiss;
This fals dissavand warldis bliss,
So gydis man in flouris grene:
Now cumis aige quhair ȝewth hes bene,
And trew luve rysis fro the splene.

Finis quod Dumbar.

183

XLVIII. THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE.

Quhen Merche wes with variand windis past
And Appryll had, with hir siluer schouris,
Tane leif at nature with ane orient blast;
And lusty May, that mvddir is of flouris,
Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris
Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt,
Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt;

In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene,
In at the window lukit by the day,
And halsit me, with visage paill and grene;
On quhois hand a lark sang fro the splene,
Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering,
Se how the lusty morrow dois vp spring.

Me thocht fresche May befoir my bed vpstude,
In weid depaynt of mony diuerss hew,
Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude,
In brycht atteir of flouris forgit new,
Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun and blew,
Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys,
Quhill all the houss illumynit of hir lemys.

“Slugird,” scho said, “awalk annone for schame,
And in my honour sum thing thow go wryt;
The lork hes done the mirry day proclame,

184

To raiss vp luvaris with confort and delyt,
Ȝit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt,
Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blisfull bene,
Sangis to mak vndir the levis grene.”

“Quhairto,” quod I, “sall I vpryss at morrow,
For in this May few birdis herd I sing?
Thai haif moir causs to weip and plane thair sorrow,
Thy air it is nocht holsum nor benyng;
Lord Eolus dois in thy sessone ring;
So busteous ar the blastis of his horne,
Amang thy bewis to walk I haif forborne.”

With that this lady sobirly did smyll,
And said, “Vpryss, and do thy observance;
Thow did promyt, in Mayis lusty quhyle,
For to discryve the Ross of most plesance.
Go se the birdis how thay sing and dance,
Illumynit our with orient skyis brycht,
Annamyllit richely with new asur lycht.”

Quhen this wes said, depairtit scho, this quene,
And enterit in a lusty gairding gent;
And than, me thocht, full hestely besene,
In serk and mantill [eftir hir] I went
In to this garth, most dulce and redolent
Off herb and flour, and tendir plantis sueit,
And grene levis doing of dew doun fleit.

The purpour sone, with tendir bemys reid,
In orient bricht as angell did appeir,
Throw goldin skyis putting vp his heid,
Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir,
That all the world tuke confort, fer and neir,
To luke vpone his fresche and blisfull face,
Doing all sable fro the hevynnis chace.

185

And as the blisfull sonne of cherarchy
The fowlis song throw confort of the licht;
The birdis did with oppin vocis cry,
O, luvaris fo, away thow dully nycht,
And welcum day that confortis every wicht;
Haill May, haill Flora, haill Aurora schene,
Haill princes Natur, haill Venus luvis quene.

Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair
To ferss Neptunus, and Eolus the bawld,
Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air,
And that no schouris, nor blastis cawld,
Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold;
Scho bad eik Juno, goddes of the sky,
That scho the hevin suld keip amene and dry.

Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist
Befoir hir hienes suld annone compeir,
And every flour of vertew, most and leist,
And every herb be feild fer and neir,
As thay had wont in May, fro ȝeir to ȝeir,
To hir thair makar to mak obediens,
Full law inclynnand with all dew reuerens.

With that annone scho send the swyft Ro
To bring in beistis of all conditioun;
The restles Suallow commandit scho also
To feche all fowll of small and greit renown;
And to gar flouris compeir of all fassoun,
Full craftely conjurit scho the Yarrow,
Quhilk did furth swirk als swift as ony arrow.

All present wer in twynkling of ane e,
Baith beist, and bird and flour, befoir the quene,
And first the Lyone, gretast of degre,

186

Was callit thair, and he, most fair to sene,
With a full hardy contenance and kene,
Befoir dame Natur come, and did inclyne,
With visage bawld, and curage leonyne.

This awfull beist full terrible wes of cheir,
Persing of luke, and stout of countenance,
Rycht strong of corpis, of fassoun fair, but feir,
Lusty of schaip, lycht of deliuerance,
Reid of his cullour, as is the ruby glance;
On feild of gold he stude full mychtely,
With flour delycis sirculit lustely.

This lady liftit vp his cluvis cleir,
And leit him listly lene vpone hir kne,
And crownit him with dyademe full deir,
Off radyous stonis, most ryall for to se;
Saying, “The King of Beistis mak I the,
And the cheif protector in woddis and schawis;
Onto thi leigis go furth, and keip the lawis.

Exerce justice with mercy and conscience,
And lat no small beist suffir skaith, na skornis
Of greit beistis that bene of moir piscence;
Do law elyk to aipis and vnicornis,
And lat no bowgle, with his busteous hornis,
The meik pluch ox oppress, for all his pryd,
Bot in the ȝok go peciable him besyd.”

Quhen this was said, with noyis and soun of joy,
All kynd of beistis in to thair degre,
At onis cryit lawd, “Viue le Roy!”
And till his feit fell with humilite,
And all thay maid him homege and fewte;
And he did thame ressaif with princely laitis,
Quhois noble yre is proceir prostratis.

187

Syne crownit scho the Egle King of Fowlis,
And as steill dertis scherpit scho his pennis,
And bawd him be als just to awppis and owlis,
As vnto pacokkis, papingais, or crennis,
And mak a law for wycht fowlis and for wrennis;
And lat no fowll of ravyne do efferay,
Nor devoir birdis bot his awin pray.

Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild,
Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris;
Vpone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld,
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris;
Concedring him so able for the weiris,
A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif,
And said, “In feild go furth, and fend the laif;

And, sen thow art a king, thow be discreit;
Herb without vertew thow hald nocht of sic pryce
As herb of vertew and of odor sueit;
And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce,
Hir fallow to the gudly flour delyce;
Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlicheness,
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness.

Nor hald non vdir flour in sic denty
As the fresche Ross, of cullour reid and quhyt;
For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty,
Conciddering that no flour is so perfyt,
So full of vertew, plesans and delyt,
So full of blisfull angeilik bewty,
Imperiall birth, honour and dignite.”

Than to the Ross scho turnyt hir visage,
And said, “O lusty dochtir most benyng,
Aboif the lilly, illustare of lynnage,

188

Fro the stok ryell rysing fresche and ȝing,
But ony spot or macull doing spring;
Cum blowme of joy with jemis to be cround,
For our the laif thy bewty is renownd.”

A coistly croun, with clarefeid stonis brycht,
This cumly quene did on hir heid incloiss,
Quhill all the land illumynit of the licht;
Quhairfoir me thocht all flouris did reioss,
Crying attonis, “Haill, be thow richest Ross!
Haill, hairbis empryce, haill, freschest quene of flouris,
To the be glory and honour at all houris.”

Thane all the birdis song with voce on hicht,
Quhois mirthfull soun wes mervelus to heir;
The mavyss song, “Haill, Roiss most riche and richt,
That dois vp flureiss vndir Phebus speir;
Haill, plant of ȝowth, haill, princes dochtir deir,
Haill, blosome breking out of the blud royall,
Quhois pretius vertew is imperiall.”

The merle scho sang, “Haill, Roiss of most delyt,
Haill, of all flouris quene and souerane;”
The lark scho song, “Haill, Roiss, both reid and quhyt,
Most plesand flour, of michty cullouris twane;”
The nychtingaill song, “Haill, naturis suffragene,
In bewty, nurtour and every nobilness,
In riche array, renown and gentilness.”

The commoun voce vpraiss of birdis small,
Apone this wyss, “O blissit be the hour
That thow wes chosin to be our principall;
Welcome to be our princes of honour,
Our perle, our plesans and our paramour,
Our peax, our play, our plane felicite,
Chryst the conserf frome all aduersite.”

189

Than all the birdis song with sic a schout,
That I annone awoilk quhair that I lay,
And with a braid I turnyt me about
To se this court; bot all wer went away:
Than vp I lenyt, halflingis in affrey,
And thuss I wret, as ȝe haif hard to forrow,
Off lusty May vpone the nynt morrow.

Explicit, quod Dumbar.

190

XLIX. [IN VICE MOST VICIUS HE EXCELLIS.]

In vice most vicius he excellis,
That with the vice of tressone mellis;
Thocht he remissioun
Haif for prodissioun,
Schame and susspissioun
Ay with him dwellis.

And he evir odious as ane owle,
The falt sa filthy is and fowle;
Horrible to natour
Is ane tratour,
As feind in fratour
Vndir a cowle.

Quha is a tratour or ane theif,
Vpoun him selff turnis the mischeif;
His frawdfull wylis
Him self begylis,
As in the ilis
Is now a preiff.

The fell strong tratour, Donald Owyr,
Mair falsett had nor vdir fowyr;
Rowme ylis and seyis

191

In his suppleis,
On gallow treis
Ȝitt dois he glowir.

Falsett no feit hes, nor deffence,
Be power, practik, nor puscence;
Thocht it fra licht
Be smord with slicht,
God schawis the richt
With soir vengence.

Off the falis fox dissimvlatour,
Kynd hes every theiff and tratour;
Eftir respyt
To wirk dispyt
Moir appetyt
He hes of natour.

War the fox tane a thousand fawd,
And grace him gevin als oft for frawd,
War he on plane
All war in vane,
Frome hennis agane
Micht non him hawd.

The murtherer ay mvrthour mais,
And evir quhill he be slane he slais;
Wyvis thuss makis mokkis
Spynnand on rokkis;
Ay rynnis the fox
Quhill he fute hais.

Finis, quod Dumbar, for Donald Ovre Epetaphe.

192

L. [OF SIR THOMAS NORRAY.]

Now lythis of ane Knycht,
Schir Thomas Norray, wyse and wicht.
And full of chivalrie;
Quhais father was ane Grand Keyne,
His mother was ane Farie Queyne,
Gottin be sossery.

Ane fairer knycht nor he was ane,
On ground may nother ryd nor gang,
Na beir bucklar nor brand;
Or cum in this court but dreid;
He did full mony valȝeant deid
In Roiss, and Murray land.

Full many catherein hes he cheist,
And cummered mony Helland gaist,
Amang thai dully glennis:
Off the Glen Quhettane twenti scoir
He drawe as oxin him befoir;
This deid thocht na man kennis.

At feistis and brydallis wpaland,
We wan the gre, and the garland;
Danceit non so on deiss:

193

He hes att warslingis beine ane hunder,
Ȝett lay his body nevir at wnder:
He knawis gif this be leiss.

Was never vyld Robeine wnder bewch,
Nor ȝet Roger of Clekkinsklewch,
So bauld a bairne as he;
Gy of Gysburne, na Allan Bell,
Na Simones sonnes of Quhynfell,
At schot war nevir so slie.

This anterouss knycht, quhaire ever he vent,
At justinge, and at tornament,
Evir moir he wan the gre;
Was never of halff so gryt renoun
Schir Bevis the knycht of South Hamptoun:
I shrew him gif I lie.

Thairfoir Quhentyne was bot ane lurdane,
That callit him ane full plum Jurdane,
This wyse and worthie knycht;
He callit him foullar than ane fuill,
He said he was ane licheruss bull,
That croynd bayth day and nycht.

He wald have maid him Curris knaiff;
I pray God better his honour saiff,
Na to be lichtleit sua!
Ȝett this far furth I dar him prais,
He fyld never sadell in his dais;
And Curry befyld tua.

194

Quhairfoir, ever at Pasche and Ȝull,
I cry him Lord of everie fuill,
That in this regioun dwellis;
And, verralie, that war gryt rycht:
For, of ane hy renowned knycht,
He wantis no thing bot bellis.

Quod Dumbar.

195

LI. OF JAMES DOG, KEPAR OF THE QUENIS WARDROP.

TO THE QUENE.

The Wardraipper of Wenus boure,
To giff a doublett he is als doure,
As it war off ane futt syd frog:
Madame, ȝe heff a dangerouss Dog!

Quhen that I schawe to him ȝour markis,
He turnis to me again, and barkis,
As he war wirriand ane hog:
Madame, ȝe heff a dangerouss Dog!

Quhen that I schawe to him ȝour wryting,
He girnis that I am red for byting;
I wald he had ane hawye clog:
Madame, ȝe heff ane dangerouss Dog!

Quhen that I speik till him freindlyk,
He barkis lyk ane midding tyk,
War chassand cattell through a bog:
Madame, ȝe heff a dangerouss Dog!

He is ane mastyf, mekle of mycht,
To keip ȝour wardroippe ower nycht

196

Fra the grytt Sowdan Gog-ma-gog:
Madame, ȝe heff a dangerouss Dog!

He is owre mekle to be ȝour messan,
Madame, I red ȝou get a less ane,
His gang garris all ȝour chalmeris schog:
Madame, ȝe heff a dangerouss Dog!

Quod Dumbar of James Dog, Kepar of the Quenis Wardrop.

197

LII. OF THE SAME JAMES, QUHEN HE HAD PLESETT HIM.

O gracious Princes, guid and fair!
Do weill to James ȝour Wardraipair;
Quhais faithfull bruder maist freind I am:
He is na Dog; he is a Lam.

Thocht I in ballet did with him bourde,
In malice spaik I newir ane woord,
Bot all, my Dame, to do ȝou gam:
He is na Dog; he is a Lam.

Ȝour Hienes can nocht gett ane meter,
To keip your wardrope, nor discreter,
To rule ȝour robbis, and dress the sam:
He is na Dog; he is a Lam.

The wyff, that he had in his innys,
That with the taingis wald brack his schinnis,
I wald scho drownit war in a dam:
He is na Dog; he is a Lam.

The wyff that wald him kuckald mak,
I wald scho war, bayth syd and bak,
Weill batteret with ane barrow-tram:
He is na Dog; he is ane Lam.

198

He hes sa weill doin me obey
In-till all thing, thairfoir I pray
That newir dolour mak him dram:
He is na Dog; he is a Lam.

Quod Dumbar, of the same James quhen he had plesett him.

199

LIII. OF A DANCE IN THE QUENIS CHALMER.

Schir Jhon Sinclair begowthe to dance,
For he was new cum owt of France;
For ony thing that he do mycht,
The ane futt ȝeid ay onrycht,
And to the tother wald not gree.
Quoth ane, “Tak vp the Quenis knycht:”
A mirrear Dance mycht na man see.

Than cam in Maister Robert Scha:
He leuket as he culd lern tham a;
Bot ay his ane futt did wawer,
He stackerit lyk ane strummall awer,
That hap schackellit war abone the kne:
To seik fra Sterling to Stranawer,
A mirrear Daunce mycht na man see.

Than cam in the Maister Almaser,
Ane hommilty jommeltye juffler,
Lyk a stirk stackarand in the ry;
His hippis gaff mony hiddouss cry.
John Bute the Fule said, “Wa es me!
He is bedirtin,—Fy! fy!”
A mirrear Dance mycht na man se.

200

Than cam in Dunbar the Mackar;
On all the flwre thair was nane frackar,
And thair he daunset the dirrye dantoun;
He hoppet lyk a pillie wantoun,
For luff of Mwsgraeffe, men tellis me;
He trippet, quhill he tint his pantoun:
A mirrear Dance mycht na man se.

Than cam in Maestriss Mwsgraeffe;
Scho mycht hef lernit all the laeffe;
Quhen I saw hir sa trimlye dance,
Hir guid conwoy and countenance,
Than, for his saek, I wissitt to be
The grytast erle, or duik, in France:
A mirrear Dance mycht na man see.

Than cam in Dame Dountebour;
God waitt gif that scho loukit sour!
Scho maid sic morgeownis with hir hippis,
For lauchter nain mycht hald thair lippis;
Quhen scho was danceand bysselye,
Ane blast of wind soun fra hir slippis:
A mirrear Dance mycht na man see.

Quhen thair was cum in fywe or sax,
The Quenis Dog begowthe to rax;
And of his band he maid a bred,
And to the danceing soun he him maid;
Quhou mastew-lyk about ȝeid he!
He stinckett lyk a tyk, sum said:
A mirrear Dance mycht na man se.

Quod Dumbar of a dance in the Quenis chalmer.

201

LIV OF ANE BLAK-MOIR.

Lang heff I maid of ladyes quhytt,
Now of ane blak I will indytt,
That landet furth of the last schippis;
Quhou fain wald I descrywe perfytt,
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quhou scho is tute mowitt lyk an aip,
And lyk a gangarall unto graip;
And quhou hir schort catt noiss vp skippis;
And quhou scho schynes lyk ony saip;
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quhen scho is claid in reche apperrall,
Scho blinkis als brycht as ane tar barrell;
Quhen scho was born, the sone tholit clippis,
The nycht be fain faucht in hir querrell:
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quhai for hir saik, with speir and scheld,
Preiffis maist mychtelye in the feld,
Sall kiss, and withe hir go in grippis;
And fra thyne furth hir luff sall weld:
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

202

And quhai in felde receawes schame,
And tynis thair his knychtlie name,
Sall cum behind and kiss hir hippis,
And newir to wther confort clame:
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quod Dumbar of ane blak-moir.

203

LV. [TO THE QUENE.]

Madame, ȝour men said thai wald ryd,
And latt this Fasterrennis ewin ower slyd;
Bott than thair wyffis cam furth in flockis,
And baid tham betteis soun abyd
At hame, and lib tham of the pockis.

Now propoyss thai, sen ȝe dwell still,
Off Wenus feest to fang ane fill,
Bott in the felde preiff thai na cockis;
For till heff riddin had bein less ill
Nor latt thair wyffis breid the pockis.

Sum of ȝour men sic curage hed,
Dame Venus fyre sa hard tham sted,
Thai brak vp durris, and raeff vp lockis,
To get ane pamphelet on ane pled
That thai mycht lib thame of the pockis.

Sum, that war ryatouss as rammiss
Ar now maid tame lyk ony lammiss,
And settin down lyk sarye crockis;
And hes forsaekin all sic gammiss,
That men callis libbing of the pockis.

204

Sum, thocht tham selffis stark, lyk gyandis,
Ar now maid waek lyk willing wandis;
With schinnis scharp and small lyk rockis;
And gottin thair bak in bayth thair handis,
For ower offt libbing of the pockis.

I saw cowclinkis me besyd,
The ȝoung men to thair howses gyd,
Had bettir liggit in the stockis;
Sum fra the bordell wald nocht byd,
Quhill that thai gatt the Spanȝie pockis.

Thairfor, all ȝoung men, I ȝou pray,
Keip ȝou fra harlattis nycht and day;
Thay sall repent quha with thame ȝockis;
And be war with that perrellouss play,
That men callis libbing of the pockis.

Quod Dumbar.

205

LVI. [TO THE KING.] QUHEN MONY BENEFICES VAKIT.

Schir, at this feist of benefyce,
Think that small partis makis grit seruice,
And equale distributioun,
Makis thame content that hes ressoun;
And quha hes nane ar plesit na wyiss.

Schir, quhiddir is it mereit mair
To gif him drink that thristis sair,
Or fyll ane fow man quhyll he brist,
And lat his fallow de for thrist,
Quhylk wyne to drynk als worthie war?

It is no glaid collatioun
Quhair ane makis myrrie, ane vther lukis doun;
Ane thristis, ane vther playis cop out:
Lat anis the cop ga round about,
And wyn the covanis banesoun.

Quod Dumbar quhone mony benefices vakit.

206

LVII. AGANIS THE SOLISTARIS IN COURT.

Be dyuers wayis and operatiounis
Men makis in court thair solistationis:
Sum be seruice and diligence;
Sum be continewale residence;
On substance sum man dois abyde,
Quhill fortoun do for him prowyde;
Sum singis; sum dancis; sum tellis storeis;
Sum lait at evin bringis in the moreis;
Sum flyrdis; sum feynȝeis; and sum flattiris;
Sum playis the fule, and all-out clattiris;
Sum man, musand with the wa,
Luikis as he mycht nocht do with a;
Sum standis into a nuke, and rownis;
For covatice ane vther neir swownis;
Sum beiris as he wald ga wod
For hot desyir off warldis gude;
Sum at the mes levis all devotioun,
And besey labouris for promotioun;
Sum hes thair advocattis in chamer,
And takis thame selffe thairof na glamer.

My sympilnes, amang the laif,
Wait of na way, sa God me saiff!

207

Bot, with ane humill cheir and face,
Referris me to the Kyngis grace:
Me think his gracious countenence
In riches is my sufficence.

Quod Dumbar aganis the solistaris in court.

208

LVIII.

[TO THE KING.]

Off benefice, Schir, at everie feist,
Quha monyast hes makis maist requeist:
Get thai nocht all, thay think ȝe wrang thame:
Ay is the ouir-word of the geist,
Giff thame the pelffe to pairt amang thame.

Sum swelleis swan, sum swelleis duke,
And I stand fastand in a nwke,
Quhill the effect of all thay fang thame:
Bot, Lord! how petewuslie I luke,
Quhen all the pelfe thay pairt amang thame.

Off sic hie feistis of saintis in glorie,
Baithe off commoun and propir storie,
Quhair lordis war patrones, oft I sang thame
Caritas pro Dei amore;
And ȝit, I gat na thing amang thame.

This blynd warld euer so payis his dett,
Riche befoir puir spreidis ay thair nett,
To fische all wateris dois belang thame:
Quha na thing hes, can na thing gett,
Bot ay as syphir sett amang thame.

209

Swa thai the kirk haue in thair cure,
Thay fors bot litill how it fure,
Nor of the buikis, nor bellis quha rang thame:
Thay panss nocht off the parrochin pure,
Had thai the pelfe to pairt amang thame.

So variant is this warldis rent,
That nane thairof can be content,
Off deathe quhyll that the dragoun stang thame;
Quha maist hes than sall maist repent,
With largest compt to pairt amang thame.

Quod Dumbar.

210

LIX. [COMPLAINT TO THE KING AGANIS MURE.]

Schir, I complane of iniuris:
A refyng sone of rakyng Muris
Hes magellit my making, throw his maliss,
And present it into ȝowr paliss:
Bot, sen he plesis with me to pleid,
I sall him knawin mak hyne to Calyss,
Bot giff ȝowr Hieness it remeid.

That fulle dismemberit hes my meter,
And poysound it with strang salpeter,
With rycht defamowss speiche off lordis,
Quhilk with my collouris all discordis:
Quhois crewall sclander seruiss deid;
And in my name all leis recordis,
Ȝour Grace beseik I of remeid.

He hes indorsit myn indytting
With versis off his [awin] hand vrytting;
Quhairin baithe sclander is and tressoun:
Off ane vod fuill far owt off seasoun,
He wantis nocht bot a rowndit heid,
For he has tynt baith wit and ressoun:
Ȝowr Grace beseik I off remeid.

211

Puness him for his deid culpabile;
Or gar deliver him ane babile,
That Cuddy Rig the Drumfress fuill,
May him resave agane this Ȝuill,
All roundit in-to ȝallow and reid;
That ladis may bait him lyk a buill:
For that to me war sum remeid.

Quod Dumbar.

212

LX. [DUNBAR'S COMPLAINT.]

TO THE KING.

Complane I wald, wist I quhome till,
Or wnto quhome direct my bill;
Quhidder to God, that all thing steiris,
All thing seis, and all thing heiris,
And all thing wrocht in dayis seweyne;
Or till his Moder, Quein of Heweyne;
Or wnto wardlie prince heir downe,
That dois for justice weir a crowne;
Off wrangis, and of gryt iniuris
That nobillis in thar dayis indures,
And men of wertew, and cuning,
Of wit, and visdome in gyding,
That nocht can in this cowrt conquyss
For lawte, luiff, nor lang servyss.

Bot fowll, jow-jowrdane-hedit jevellis,
Cowkin-kenseis, and culroun kewellis;
Stuffettis, strekouris, and stafische strummellis;
Wyld haschbaldis, haggarbaldis, and hummellis;
Druncartis, dysouris, dy[v]owris, drewellis,
Misgydit, memberis of the dewellis;
Mismad mandragis of mastyf strynd,
Crawdones, couhirttis, and theiffis of kynd;

213

Blait-mowit bladȝeanes, with bledder cheikis,
Club-facet cluccanes, with cloutit breikis,
Chuff-midding churllis, cuming off cart-fillaris,
Gryt glaschew-hedit gorge-millaris,
Ewill horrible monsteris, falss and fowll;
Sum causless clekis till him ane cowll,
Ane gryt convent fra syne to tyss;
And he him-selff exampill of vyss:
Enterand for geir, and no devotioun,
The dewell is glaid of his promotioun;
Sum ramyis ane rokkat fra the roy,
And dois ane dastart destroy;
And sum that gaittis ane personage,
Thinkis it a present for a page;
And on no wayis content is he,
My lord quhill that he callit be.

Bot quhow is he content, or nocht,
Deme ȝe abowt in to ȝour thocht!
The lerit sone of erll or lord,
Wpone this ruffie to remord,
That with ald castingis hes him cled,
His erandis for to ryne and red?
And he is maister natiwe borne,
And all his eldaris him beforne;
And mekle mair cuning be sic thre,
Hes to posseid ane dignite,
Saying his odius ignorance
Panting ane prelottis countenance,
Sa far abowe him sett at tabell
That wont was for to muk the stabell:
Ane pyk-thank in a prelottis claiss,
With his wawill feitt, and virrok taiss,

214

With hoppir hippis, and henches narrow,
And bausy handis to beir ane barrow;
With lut schulderis, and luttaird bak,
Quhilk natur maid to beir a pak;
With gredy mynd, and glaschand game,
Mell-heidit lyk ane mortar-stane,
Fenȝeing the feiris of ane lord,
And he ane strumbell, I stand ford;
And evir moir as he dois ryss,
And nobillis of bluid he dois dispyss,
And helpis for to hald thame downe,
That they ryss nevir to his renowne.

Thairfoir, O Prince, maist honorable!
Be in this mater merciabill,
And to thy auld schervandis have an E,
That lang hes lippinit into the;
Gif I be ane of thay my sell,
Throw all regiones hes bein hard tell,
Of quhilk my wrytting vitnes beris;
And ȝet thy danger ay me deris:
Bot eftir danger cumis grace,
As hes bein herd in mony place.

Quod Dumbar.

215

LXI. [THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE, AULD DUNBAR.]

Now lufferis cummis with largess lowd,
Quhy sould not palfrayis thane be prowd,
Quhen gillettis wilbe schomd and schroud,
That ridden ar baith with lord and lawd?
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald,
[That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!]

Quhen I was ȝoung and into ply,
And wald cast gammaldis to the sky,
I had beine bocht in realmes by,
Had I consentit to be sauld.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald,
[That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!]

With gentill horss quhen I wald knyp,
Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip,
To colleveris than man I skip,
That scabbit ar, hes cruik and cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald,
[That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!]

Thocht in the stall I be nocht clappit,
As cursouris that in silk beine trappit,
With ane new houss I wald be happit,

216

Aganis this Crysthinmes for the cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in town be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

Suppois I war ane ald ȝaid aver,
Schott furth our clewch to pull the clever,
And had the strenthis off all Strenever,
I wald at Ȝoull be housit and stald,
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I suld be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

I am ane auld horss, as ȝe knaw,
That evir in duill dois drug and draw;
Great court horss puttis me fra the staw,
To fang the fog be firthe and fald.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

I haif run lang furth in the feild,
On pastouris that ar plane and peild;
I mycht be now tein in for eild,
My beikis ar spruning he and bauld.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

My mane is turned in to quhyt,
And thairof ȝe haff all the wyt!
Quhen uther horss had bran to byt
I gat bot griss, cnype gif I wald.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

217

I was nevir dautit into stabell,
My lyf hes bene so miserable,
My hyd to offer I am abill,
For evill schom strae that I reive wald.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

And ȝitt, suppois my thrift be thyne,
Gif that I die ȝour aucht within,
Latt nevir the soutteris have my skin,
With uglie gumes to be gnawin.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

The court hes done my curage cuill,
And maid me [ane] forriddin muill;
Ȝett, to weir trappouris at this Ȝuill,
I wald be spurrit at everie spald.
Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald,
That I sould be ane Ȝuillis ȝald!

RESPONSIO REGIS.

Eftir our wrettingis, thesaurer,
Tak in this gray horss, Auld Dunbar,
Quhilk in my aucht with schervice trew
In lyart changeit is in hew.
Gar howss him now aganis this Ȝuill,
And busk him lyk ane beschopis muill,
For with my hand I have indost
To pay quhat euir his trappouris cost.

218

LXII. [TO THE KING.] THAT HE WAR JOHNE THOMOSUNIS MAN.

Schir, for ȝour Grace bayth nicht and day,
Richt hartlie on my kneis I pray,
With all devotioun that I can,
God gif ȝe war Johne Thomsounis man!

For war it so, than weill war me,
But benifice I wald nocht be;
My hard fortoun wer endit than:
God gif ȝe war Johne Thomsounis man!

Than wald sum reuth within ȝow rest,
For saik of hir, fairest and best
In Bartane, sen hir tyme began;
God gif ȝe war Johne Thomsounis man!

For it micht hurt in no degre,
That one, so fair and gude as sche,
Throw hir vertew sic wirschip wan,
As ȝow to mak Johne Thomsounis man.

I wald gif all that ever I haue
To that conditioun, sa God me saif,
That ȝe had vowit to the Swan,
Ane ȝeir to be Johne Thomsounis man.

219

The mersy of that sweit meik Rois,
Suld soft ȝow, Thirsill, I suppois,
Quhois pykis throw me so reuthles ran;
God gif ȝe war Johne Thomsounis man!

My aduocat, bayth fair and sweit,
The hale reiosing of my spreit,
Wald speid in-to my erandis than;
And ȝe war anis Johne Thomsounis man.

Ever quhen I think ȝow harde or dour,
Or mercyles in my succour,
Than pray I God, and sweit Saint An,
Gif that ȝe war Johne Thomsounis man!

Finis, quod Dunbar.

220

LXIII. DUNBAR'S REMONSTRANCE.

TO THE KING.

Schir, ȝe haue mony servitouris,
And officiaris of dyuers curis;
Kirkmen, courtmen, and craftismen fyne;
Doctouris in jure, and medicyne;
Divinouris, rethoris, and philosophouris,
Astrologis, artistis, and oratouris;
Men of armes, and vailȝeand knychtis,
And mony vther gudlie wichtis;
Musicianis, menstralis, and mirrie singaris:
Chevalouris, callandaris, and flingaris;
Cunȝouris, carvouris, and carpentaris,
Beildaris of barkis, and ballingaris;
Masounis, lyand vpon the land,
And schip-wrichtis hewand vpone the strand;
Glasing wrichtis, goldsmythis, and lapidaris,
Pryntouris, payntouris, and potingaris;
And all of thair craft cunning,
And all at anis lawboring,
Quhilk pleisand ar and honorable;
And to ȝour hienes profitable;
And richt convenient for to be
With ȝour hie regale majestie;
Deserving of ȝour grace most ding
Bayth thank, rewarde, and cherissing.

221

And thocht that I, amang the laif,
Vnworthy be ane place to haue,
Or in thair nummer to be tald,
Als lang in mynd my wark sall hald!
Als haill in everie circumstance,
In forme, in mater, and substance,
But wering, or consumptioun,
Roust, canker, or corruptioun,
As ony of thair werkis all,
Suppois that my rewarde be small!

Bot ȝe sa gracious ar, and meik,
That on ȝour hienes followis eik
Ane vthir sort, more miserabill,
Thocht thai be nocht sa profitable:
Fenȝeouris, fleichouris, and flatteraris;
Cryaris, craikaris, and clatteraris;
Sonkaris, groukaris, gledaris, gunnaris;
Monsouris of France, gud clarat-cunnaris;
Innopportoun askaris of Yrland kynd;
And meit revaris, lyk out of mynd;
Scaffaris, and scamleris in the nuke,
And hall huntaris of draik and duik;
Thrimlaris and thriftaris, as thay war woid,
Kokenis, and kennis na man of gude;
Schulderaris, and schowaris, that hes no schame,
And to no cunning that can clame;
And can non vthir craft nor curis
Bot to mak thrang, Schir, in ȝour duris,
And rusche in quhair thay counsale heir,
And will at na man nurtir leyr:
In quintiscence, eik, ingynouris joly,
That far can multiplie in folie;
Fantastik fulis, bayth fals and gredy,
Off toung vntrew, and hand ewill dredie:
Few dar of all this last additioun,
Cum in tolbuyth, without remissioun.

222

And thocht this nobill cunning sort,
Quhom of befoir I did report,
Rewardit be, it war bot ressoun,
Thairat suld no man mak enchessoun:
Bot quhen the vthir fulis nyce
That feistit at Cokelbeis gryce
Ar all rewardit, and nocht I,
Than on this fals world I cry, Fy!
My hart neir bristis than for teyne,
Quhilk may nocht suffer nor sustene
So grit abusioun for to se,
Daylie in court befoir my E!

And ȝit, more panence wald I have,
Had I rewarde amang the laif,
It wald me sumthing satisfie,
And less of my malancolie,
And gar me mony falt ouerse,
That now is brayd befoir myn E:
My mynd so fer is set to flyt,
That of nocht ellis I can endyt;
For owther man my hart to-breik,
Or with my pen I man me wreik;
And sen the tane most nedis be,
In-to malancolie to de,
[Or] lat the venim ische all out,—
Be war, anone, for it will spout,
Gif that the tryackill cum nocht tyt
To swage the swalme of my dispyt!

Quod Dumbar.

223

LXIV. [TO A LADYE.]

Sweit roiss of vertew and of gentilnes,
Delytsum lyllie of everie lustynes,
Richest in bontie, and in bewtie cleir,
And everie vertew that is [held most] deir,
Except onlie that ȝe ar mercyless.

In to ȝour garthe this day I did persew,
Thair saw I flowris that fresche wer of hew;
Baithe quhyte and reid moist lusty wer to seyne,
And halsum herbis vpone stalkis grene;
Ȝit leif nor flour fynd could I nane of rew.

I dout that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne,
Hes slane this gentill herbe, that I of mene;
Quhois petewous deithe dois to my hart sic pane
That I wald mak to plant his rute agane,
So confortand his levis vnto me bene.

Quod Dumbar.

224

LXV. [LEARNING VAIN WITHOUT GUID LYFE.]

WRITTEN AT OXINFURDE.

To speik of science, craft, or sapience,
Off vertew, morall cwnnyng, or doctrine;
Off jure, of wisdome, or intelligence;
Off euerie study, lair, or discipline;
All is bot tynt, or reddie for to tyne,
Nocht vsing it as it sould vsit be;
The craift exerceing, considdering not the fyne:
Ane paralous seiknes is vaine prosperite.

The curious probatioun logicall;
The eloquence of ornat rethorie;
The naturall science philosophicall;
The dirk apperance of astronomie;
The theologis sermoun; the fablis of poetry;
Without gud lyfe all in the self dois de,
As Mayis flouris dois in September dry:
A paralous lyfe is vaine prosperite.

Quhairfoir, ȝe clarkis grittest of constance,
Fullest of science and of knawlegeing,

225

To ws be myrrouris in ȝour governance;
And in our darkness be lampis in schyning:
Or than in frustar is [all] ȝour lang leirning;
Gif to ȝour sawis ȝour deidis contrair be,
Ȝour maist accusar salbe ȝour awin cwnning:
A peralus seiknes is vane prosperitie.

Quod Dumbar at Oxinfurde.

226

LXVI. [OF THE WARLDIS INSTABILITIE.]

TO THE KING.

This waverand warldis wretchidness,
The failȝeand and frutless bissines,
The mispent tyme, the service vaine,
For to considder is ane pane.

The slydand joy, the glaidness schort,
The feinȝeid luif, the fals confort,
The sweit abayd, the slichtfull trane,
For to considder is ane pane.

The sugurit mouthis, with myndis therfra,
The figurit speiche, with faceis tua,
The plesand toungis, with hartis unplane,
For to considder is ane pane.

The leill labour lost, and leill seruice,
The lang availl on humill wyse,
And the lytill rewarde agane,
For to considder is ane pane.

Nocht I say all be this cuntre,
France, Ingland, Ireland, Almaine,
Bot als be Italie and Spane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

227

The change of warld fra weill to wo,
The honourable vse is all ago,
In hall and bour, in burgh and plane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

Beleif dois hep, traist dois nocht tarie,
Office dois flit, and courtis dois varie,
Purpois dois change as wynd or rane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

Gude rewle is banist our the Bordour,
And rangat ringis but ony ordour,
With reird of rebaldis, and of swane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

The pepill so wickit ar of feiris,
The frutless erde all witness beiris,
The ayr infectit and prophane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

The temporall stait to gryp and gather,
The sone disheris wald the father,
And as ane dyvour wald him demane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

Kirkmen so halie ar and gude,
That on thair conscience, rowme and rude,
May turne aucht oxin and ane wane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

I knaw nocht how the kirk is gydit,
Bot beneficis ar nocht leill devydit;
Sum men hes sewin, and I nocht ane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

228

And sum, vnworthy to browk ane stall,
Wald clym to be ane cardinall,
Ane bischoprik may nocht him gane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

Vnworthie I, amang the laif,
Ane kirk dois craif, and nane can haif;
Sum with ane thraif playis passage plane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

It cumis be king, it cumis be quene,
Bot ay sic space is ws betwene,
That nane can schut it with ane flane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

It micht have cuming in schortar quhyll
Fra Calȝecot and the new-fund Yle,
The partis of Transmeridiane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

It micht, be this, had it bein kynd,
Cummin out of the desertis of Ynde,
Our all the grit se occeane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

It micht have cuming out of all ayrtis,
Fra Paris, and the Orient partis,
And fra the Ylis of Aphrycane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

It is so lang in cuming me till,
I dreid that it be quyt gane will,
Or bakwart it is turnit agane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

229

Vpon the heid of it is hecht
Bayth unicornis, and crownis of wecht,
Quhen it dois cum, all men dois frane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

I wait [it] is for me provydit,
Bot sa done tyrsum it is to byd it,
It breikis my hairt, and birstis my brane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

Greit abbais grayth I nill to gather,
Bot ane kirk scant coverit with hadder;
For I of lytill wald be fane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

And for my curis in sindrie place,
With help, Schir, of ȝour nobill Grace,
My sillie saule sall never be slane;
Na for sic syn to suffer pane.

Experience dois me so inspyre,
Of this fals failȝeand warld I tyre,
That ever more flytis lyk ane phane;
Quhilk to considder is ane pane.

The formest hoip ȝit that I haue
In all this warld, sa God me saue,
Is in ȝour Grace, bayth crop and grayne,
Quhilk is ane lessing of my pane.

Finis, quod Dumbar.

230

LXVII. [OF CONTENT.]

Quho thinkis that he hes sufficience,
Of gudis hes no indigence;
Thocht he haue nowder land nor rent,
Grit mycht, nor hie magnificence,
He hes anewch that is content.

Quho had all riches vnto Ynd,
And wer not satisfiet in mynd,
With powertie I hald him schent;
Off covatyce sic is the kynd:
He hes anewch that is content.

Thairfoir I pray ȝow, breder deir,
Not to delyt in daynteis seir;
Thank God of it is to the sent,
And of it glaidlie mak gud cheir:
He hes anewch that is content.

Defy the warld, feynȝeit and fals,
With gall in hart, and hwnyt hals:
Quha maist it servis sall sonast repent:
Off quhais subchettis sour is the sals:
He hes anewch that is content.

231

Gif thow hes mycht, be gentill and fre;
And gif thow standis in powertie,
Off thine awin will to it consent;
And riches sall returne to the:
He hes anewch that is content.

And ȝe and I, my bredir all,
That in this lyfe hes lordschip small,
Lat languour not in ws imprent;
Gif we not clym we tak no fall:
He hes anewch that is content.

For quho in warld moist covatus is
In world is purast man, I-wis,
And moist neidy of his intent;
For of all gudis no thing [is his,]
That of no thing can be content.

Quod Dumbar.

232

LXVIII. [OF THE CHANGES OF LYFE.]

I seik abowte this warld onstable,
To find a sentence conveniable;
Bot I can not in all my witt,
Sa trew a sentence find of it,
As say, it is dissavable.

For ȝisterday, I did declair
How that the sasoun soft and fair,
Come in als fresche as pacok feddir;
This day it stangis lyke ane eddir,
Concluding all in my contrair.

Ȝisterday fair sprang the flowris,
This day thai ar all slane with schouris;
And foulis in forrest that sang cleir,
Now walkis with ane drerie cheir,
Full cauld ar bayth thair beddis and bouris.

So nixt to symmer, wynter bene;
Nixt eftir confort, cairis keine;
Nixt eftir myd nycht, the myrthfull morrow;
Nixt eftir joy, ay cwmis sorrow:
So is this warld, and ay hes bene.

Quod Dumbar.

233

LXIX. [MEDITATIOUN IN WYNTIR.]

In to thir dirk and drublie dayis,
Quhone sabill all the hewin arrayis,
With mystie vapouris, cluddis and skyis,
Nature all curage me denyis
Off sangis, ballattis, and of playis.

Quhen that the nycht dois lenthin houris,
With wind, with haill, and havy schouris,
My dule spreit dois lurk for schoir;
My hairt for languor dois forloir,
For laik of symmer with his flouris.

I walk, I turne, sleip may I nocht,
I vexit am with havy thocht;
This warld all ouir I cast about,
And ay the mair I am in dout,
The mair that I remeid have socht.

I am assayit on everie syde,
Dispair sayis ay, “In tyme prowyde,
And get sum thing quhairon to leif;
Or with grit trouble and mischeif,
Thow sall in to this court abyde.”

234

Than Patience sayis, “Be nocht agast:
Hald Hoip and Treuthe within the fast;
And lat Fortoun wirk furthe hir rage,
Quhen that no rasoun may assuage,
Quhill that hir glas be run and past.”

And Prudence in my eir sayis ay,
“Quhy wald thow hald that will away?
Or craif that thow may have no space,
Thow tending to ane uther place,
A journay going everie day?”

And than sayis Age, “My freind, cum neir,
And be nocht strange, I the requeir:
Cum, brodir, by the hand me tak,
Remember thow hes compt to mak
Off all thi tyme thow spendit heir.”

Syne Deid castis up his ȝettis wyd,
Saying, “Thir oppin sall ȝe abyd;
Albeid that thow were never sa stout,
Vndir this lyntall sall thow lowt:
Thair is nane vther way besyd.”

For feir of this all day I drowp;
No gold in kist, nor wyne in cowp
No ladeis bewtie, nor luiffis blys
May lat me to remember this:
How glaid that ever I dyne or sowp.

Ȝit, quhone the nycht begynnis to schort,
It dois my spreit sum part confort,
Off thocht oppressit with the schouris.
Cum, lustie symmer! with thy flouris,
That I may leif in sum disport.

Quod Dumbar.

235

LXX. [ANE ORISOUN.] QUHEN THE GOUERNOUR PAST IN FRANCE.

Thow that in hewin for our salvatioun,
Maid justice, mercie, and pietie, to aggre;
And Gabriell send with the salutatioun
On-to the mayd of maist humilite;
And maid thy sone to tak humanite,
For our demeritis to be of Marie borne;
Haue of us pietie, and our protectour be!
For, but thy help, this kynrick is forlorne.

O hie supernale Father of sapience,
Quhilk of thy vertew dois everie folie chais,
Ane spark of thy hie excellent prudence
Giff ws, that nouther wit nor ressoun hes!
In quhais heartis no prudence can tak place,
Exemple, nor experience of beforne;
To us, synnaris, ane drop send of thy grace!
For, but thy help, this kynrick is forlorne.

We ar so beistlie, dull, and ignorant,
Our rudnes may nocht lichtlie be correctit;
Bot thow, that art of mercy militant,
Thy vengeance seiss on us to syn subjectit,

236

And gar thy justice be with reuth correctit;
For quyt away so wyld fra us is worne,
And in folie we ar so fer infectit,
That, but thy help, this kynrick is forlorne.

Thow, that on rude ws ransomit and redemit,
Rew on our syn, befoir ȝour sicht decydit;
Spair our trespas, quhilk may nocht be expremit,
For breif of justice, for we may nocht abyd it,
Help this pure realme, in partyis all devydit!
Ws succour send, that wair the croun of thorne,
That with the gift of grace it may be gydit!
For, but thy help, this kynrick is forlorne.

Lord! hald thy hand, that strikken hes so soir;
Haue of ws pietie, eftir our punytioun;
And gif ws grace the [for] to greif no more,
And gar us mend with penance and contritioun;
And to thy vengeance mak non additioun,
As thow that of michtis may to morne
Fra cair to confort thow mak restitioun:
For, but thy help, this kynrick is forlorne.

Quod Dunbar quhen the Gouernour past in France.

237

LXXI. [WE LORDIS HES CHOSIN A CHIFTANE MERVELLUS.]

We Lordis hes chosin a chiftane mervellus,
That left hes ws in grit perplexite,
And him absentis, with wylis cautelus
Ȝeiris and dayis mo than two or thre,
And nocht intendis the land nor peple se,
Faltis to correct, nor vicis for to chace.
Our Lord Gouernour, this sedull send we the:
In lak of iustice this realme is schent allace!

Is nane of ws ane vddir settis by,
Bot laubouris ay for vthiris distructioun;
Quhilk is grit plessour to our auld innamy,
And daly caussis grit dissentioun,
Amang ws now and als diuisioun,
Quhilk to heir is ane drery cace
To the, our lord and gyd vnder the croun;
In lak of iustice this realme is schent allace!

Thy prudent wit we think thow hes abusit,
Absentand the for ony warldly geir;
We ȝarne thy presens, bot oft thow hes refusit
Till cum ws till, or ȝit till merk ws neir,

238

Quhilk is the causs of thift, slawchter and weir.
Approch in tyme our freindschip to purchace;
Thy leiges leill thy byding byis full deir;
In lak of iustice this realme is schent allace!

Couatyce ringis into the spirituall state,
Ȝarnand banifice the quhilk ar now vacand;
That, but thy presens, will causs rycht grit debait,
And contrauersy to ryss into this land;
And thy bidding we trest thay sall ganestand,
Without thow cum and present thame thy face.
Address the sone, fulfill thy will and band;
In lak of iustice this realme is schent allace!

Grit wer and wandrecht hes bene ws amang,
Sen thy depairting, and ȝit approchis mair;
Thy tardatioun caussis ws to think lang,
For of thi cuming we haif rycht grit dispair.
Off gyd and gouirnance we ar all solitair,
Dependand ay vpoun thy stait and grace;
Speid the thairfoir, in dreid we all forfair;
In lak of iustice this realme is schent allace!

239

LXXII. [ANE BALLAT OF THE PASSIOUN OF CHRIST.]

Amang thir freiris, within ane cloister,
I enterit in ane oritorie,
And kneling doun with ane pater noster,
Befoir the michti king of glorye,
Having his passioun in memorye;
Syne to his mother I did inclyne,
Hir halsing with ane gaude-flore;
And sudandlie I slepit syne.

Me thocht Judas with mony ane Jow
Tuke blissit Jesu, our Salvatour,
And schot him furth, with mony ane schow,
With schamefull wourdis of dishonour;
And lyke ane thef, or ane tratour,
Thai led that hevinlie prince most hie,
With manassing attour mesour,
O mankynd, for the luf of the.

Falsly condampnit befoir ane juge,
Thai spittit in his visage fair;
And, as lyonis with awfull ruge,
In yre thai hurlit him heir and thair,

240

And gaif him mony buffat sair,
That it was sorrow for to se;
And of his claithis thai tirvit him bair,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Thai tyrandis to revenge thair teyne,
For scorne thai cled him in-to quhyte;
And hid his blythfull glorious eyne,
To se quham angellis had delyt;
Dispituouslie syne did him smyt,
Saying, “Gif sone of God thow be,
Quha straik the now, thow tell us tyt?”—
O mankynd, for the luf of the.

In tene, thai tirvit him agane,
And till ane pillar thai him band;
Quhill blude birst out at every vane,
Thai scurgit him baith fut and hande:
At every straik ran furth ane strand,
Quhilk mycht have ransomit warldis thre;
He baid in stour quhill he mycht stand,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Nixt all in purpour thai him cled,
And syne with thornis scharp and kene;
His saikles blude agane thai sched,
Persing his heid with pykis grene;
Vneiss with lyf he mycht sustene
That croune, on thrungin with crueltie,
Quhill flude of blude blyndit his ene,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Ane croce that was baith large and lang,
To beir thai gaif that blissit Lord;
Syn fullelie, as theif to hang,
Thai harlit him furth with raip and corde;

241

With blude and sweit was all deflorde
His face, the fude of angellis fre;
His feit with stanis war rewin and scorde,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Agane thai tirvit him bak and syde,
Als brim as ony baris woid;
The claith that claif to his clere hyde,
Thai raif away with ruggis rude,
Quhill fersly followit flesche and blude,
That it was pietie for to se;
Na kynd of torment he ganestude,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Unto the crose of breid and lenth,
To gar his lymmis langar wax,
Thai straitit him with all thair strenth,
Quhill to the rude thai gart him rax;
Syne tyit him on with greit irne takkis,
And him all nakit on the tre
Thai raisit on loft, be houris sax,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Quhen he was bendit so on breid,
Quhill all his vanys brist and brak,
To gar his cruell pane exceid,
Thai leit him fall doune with ane swak,
Quhill corss and corps and all did crak;
Agane thai raisit him on hie,
Reddie mair turmentis for to mak,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Betuix tuo theiffis the spreit he gaif,
On-to the Fader most of mycht;
The erde did trimmill, the stanis claif,
The sone obscurit of his licht;

242

The day wox dirk as ony nycht,
Deid bodyis raiss in the cite:
Godis deir Sone all thus was dicht,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

In weir that he was ȝit on lyf,
Thai ran ane rude speir in his syde,
And did his precious body ryff,
Quhill blude and wattir did furth glyde:
Thus Jesus with his woundis wyde,
As martir suffirit for to de,
And tholit to be crucifyid,
O mankynd, for the luif of the.

Methocht Compassioun, vode of feiris,
Than straik at me with mony ane stound,
And for Contritioun, baithit in teiris,
My visage all in watter drownd,
And Reuth into my eir ay round
“For schame, allace! behald, Man, how
Beft is with mony bludy wound
Thy blissit Salvatour Jesu!”

Than rudelie come Rememberance
Ay rugging me, withoutin rest,
Quhill croce and nalis scharp, scurge, and lance,
Ane bludy crowne befoir me kest;
Than pane with passioun me opprest,
And ever did Petie on me pow,
Saying, “Behald how Jowis hes drest
Thy blissit Salvatour Jesu!”

With greiting glaid be than come Grace,
With wourdis sweit saying to me,
“Ordane for Him ane resting-place,
That is so werie wrocht for the:

243

The Lord within thir dayis three
Sall law under thy lyntell bow,
And in thy hous sall herbrit be
Thy blissit Salvatour Jesu.”

Than swyth Contritioun wes on steir,
And did eftir Confessioun ryn;
And Conscience me accusit heir,
And kest out mony cankerit syn;
To ryse Repentence did begyn
And out at the ȝettis did schow;
Penance did walk the house within,
Byding our Salvatour Jesu.

Grace become gyd and governour,
To keip the house in sicker stait,
Ay reddy till our Salvatour,
Quhill that he come, air or lait;
Repentence ay with cheikis wait,
No pane nor pennence did eschew,
The house within ever to debait,
Only for luif of sweit Jesu.

For grit terrour of Chrystis deid,
The erde did trymmyll quhar I lay;
Quhairthrow I waiknit in that steid,
With spreit halflingis in effray;
Than wrait I all without delay,
Richt heir as I have schawin to ȝow,
Quhat me befell, on Gud Friday,
Befoir the Croce of sweit Jesu.

Finis quod Dunbar.

244

LXXIII. [O WRECHE, BE WAR!]

O wreche, be war! this warld will wend the fro,
Quhilk hes begylit mony greit estait;
Turne to thy freynd, beleif nocht in thy fo,
Sen thow mon go, be grathing to thy gait;
Remeid in tyme, and rew nocht all to lait;
Provyde thy place, for thow away man pass
Out of this vaill of trubbill and dissait:
Vanitas Vanitatum, et omnia Vanitas.

Walk furth, pilgrame, quhill thow hes dayis lycht,
Dress fro desert, draw to thy dwelling-place;
Speid home, for-quhy anone cummis the nicht
Quhilk dois the follow with ane ythand chaise!
Bend up thy saill, and win thy port of grace;
For and the deith ourtak the in trespas,
Then may thow say thir wourdis with allace!
Vanitas Vanitatum, et omnia Vanitas.

Heir nocht abydis, heir standis no thing stabill,
[For] this fals warld ay flittis to and fro;
Now day vp bricht, now nycht als blak as sabill,
Now eb, now flude, now freynd, now cruell fo;
Now glaid, now said, now weill, now in-to wo;
Now cled in gold, dissoluit now in ass;
So dois this warld transitorie go:
Vanitas Vanitatum, et omnia Vanitas.

Finis quod Dunbar.

245

LXXIV. [TO A LADYE.] QUHONE HE LIST TO FEYNE.

My hartis tresure, and swete assured fo,
The finale endar of my lyfe for ever;
The creuell brekar of my hart in tuo,
To go to deathe, this I deservit never:
O man-slayar! quhill saule and life dissever;
Stynt of ȝour slauchter; Allace! ȝour man am I,
A thowsand tymes that dois ȝow mercy cry.

Haue mercie, luif! haue mercie, ladie bricht!
Quhat haue I wrocht aganis ȝour womanheid,
That ȝe [suld] mwrdir me, a saikles wicht,
Trespassing neuer to ȝow in word nor deid?
That ȝe consent thairto, O God forbid!
Leif creuelte, and saif ȝour man for schame,
Or throucht the warld quyte losit is ȝour name.

My deathe chasis my lyfe so besalie
That wery is my goist to fle so fast;
Sic deidlie dwawmes so mischeifaislie
Ane hundrithe tymes hes my hairt ouirpast;
Me think my spireit rynnis away full gast,
Beseikand grace, on kneis ȝow befoir,
Or that ȝour man be lost for evermoir.

246

Behald my wod intollerabill pane,
For evermoir quhilk salbe my dampnage!
Quhy, vndir traist, ȝour man thus haue ȝe slane?
Lo! deithe is in my breist, with furious rage,
Quhilk may no balme, nor tryacle assuage,
But ȝour mercie, for laik of quhilk I de:
Allace! quhair is ȝour womanlie petie!

Behald my deidlie passioun dolorous!
Behald my hiddows hew and wo, allace!
Behald my mayne, and mwrning merwalous,
Withe sorrowfull teris falling frome my face!
Rewthe, luif, is nocht, helpe ȝe not in this cace,
For how sould ony gentill hart indure
To se this sycht on ony creature!

Quhyte dow, quhair is ȝour sobir humilnes?
Swete gentill turtour, quhair is ȝour pete went?
Quhair is ȝour rewthe? the frute of nobilnes,
Off womanheid the tresour, and the rent;
Wertue is neuer put out of meik intent,
Nor out of gentill hart is fundin petie;
Sen mercyles may no wycht nobill be.

In-to my mynd I sall ȝow mercye cry,
Quhone that my tovng sall faill me to speik;
And quhill that nature me my sycht deny;
And quhill my ene for paine incluse and steik;
And quhill the dethe my hart in sowndir breik;
And quhill my mynd may think, and towng may steir;
And syne, Fair weill, my hartis Ladie deir!

Quod Dumbar quhone he list to feyne.

247

LXXV. [IN SECREIT PLACE THIS HYNDIR NYCHT.]

In secreit place this hyndir nycht,
I hard ane beyrne say till ane bricht,
“My hwny, my hart, my hoip,, my heill,
I haue bene lang ȝour luifar leill,
And can of ȝow get confort nane;
How lang will ȝe with danger deill?
Ȝe brek my hart, my bony ane!”

His bony beird wes kemmit and croppit,
Bot all with cale it wes bedroppit;
And he wes townysche, peirt, and gukit;
He clappit fast, he kist, and chukkit,
As with the glaikis he wer ouirgane;
Ȝit be his feiris he wald haue fukkit;
Ȝe brek my hart, my bony ane!

Quod he, “My hairt, sweit as the hwnye,
Sen that I borne wes of my mynnye,
I nevir wowit weycht bot ȝow;
My wame is of ȝour lufe sa fow,
That as ane gaist I glour and grane,
I trymble sa, ȝe will not trow;
Ȝe brek my hart, my bony ane!”

248

“Tehe!” quod scho, and gaif ane gaufe,
“Be still my cuchair and my calfe,
My new spanit howffing fra the sowk,
And all the blythnes of my bowk;
My sweit swanking, saif ȝow allane,
Na leid I luiffit all this owk;
Full leifis me ȝour graceles gane.”

Quod he, “My claver, and my curldodie,
My hwny soppis, my sweit possodie,
Be nocht our bosteous to ȝour billie,
Be warme hairtit and nocht ewill-willie;
Ȝour heylis, quhyt as quhalis bane,
Garss ryiss on loft my quhillelillie;
Ȝe brek my hart, my bony ane!”

Quod scho, “My clype, my vnspaynit gyane,
With moderis milk ȝit in ȝour mychane,
My belly huddrun, my swete hurle bawsy,
My hwnygukkis, my slawsy gawsy;
Ȝour mvsing wald perss ane hairt of stane,
Tak gud confort, my grit-heidit slawsy,
Full leifis me ȝour gracles gane.

Quod he, “My kyd, my capirculȝoun,
My bony baib with the rwch brylȝoun,
My tendir gyrle, my wallie gowdye,
My tyrlie myrlie, my crowdie mowdie;
Quhone that our mowthis dois meit at ane,
My stang dois storkyn with ȝour towdie;
Ȝe brek my hairt, my bony ane!”

249

Quod scho, “Now tak me be the hand,
Wylcum! my golk of maireland,
My chirrie and my maikles munȝoun,
My sowklar sweit as ony vnȝoun,
My strwmmill stirk, ȝit new to spane,
I am applyit to ȝour opunȝoun;
I luif rycht weill ȝour graceles gane.”

He gaiff to hir ane apille rubye;
Quod scho, “Gramercye! my sweit cowhubye.”
And thai twa to ane play began,
Quhilk men dois call the dery-dan;
Quhill that thair myrthis met baythe in ane.
“Wo is me!” quod scho, “quhair will ȝe, man?
Bot now I luif that graceles gane.”

Quod Dumbar.

250

LXXVI. [QUHAT IS THIS LYFE BOT ANE STRAUCHT WAY TO DEID.]

Quhat is this lyfe bot ane straucht way to deid,
Quhilk hes a tyme to pas, and nane to duell;
A slyding quheill ws lent to seik remeid;
A fre chois gevin to Paradice or Hell;
A pray to deid, quhome vane is to repell;
A schoirt torment for infineit glaidnes,
Als schort ane joy for lestand hevynes!

Quod Dumbar.

251

LXXVII. [BLYTH ABERDEIN.]

Blyth Aberdein, thow beriall of all tounis,
The lamp of bewtie, bountie, and blythnes;
Unto the heaven [ascendit] thy renoun is,
Off vertew, wisdome, and of worthines;
He nottit is thy name of nobilnes,
Into the cumming of oure lustie quein,
The vall of velth, guid cheir, and mirrines:
Be blyth, and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

And first hir mett the burgess of the toun,
Richelie arrayit as become thame to be,
Of quhom they cheset four men of renoun,
In gounes of veluot, ȝoung, abill, and lustie,
To beir the paill of veluet cramase
Abone hir heid, as the custome hes bein;
Gryt was the sound of the artelȝ[er]ie:
Be blyth, and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

Ane fair processioun mett hir at the Port,
In a cap of gold and silk, full pleasantlie,
Syne at hir entrie, with many fair disport,
Ressauet hir on streittis lustilie;
Quhair first the salutatioun honorabilly
Of the sweitt Virgin, guidlie mycht be seine;
The sound of menstrallis blawing to the sky:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

252

And syne thow gart the orient kingis thrie
Offer to Chryst, with benyng reuerence,
Gold, sence, and mir, with all humilitie,
Schawand him king with most magnificence;
Syne quhow the angill, with sword of violence,
Furth of the joy of paradice putt clein
Adame and Eve for innobedience:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

And syne the Bruce, that euir was bold in sto[u]r,
Thow gart as roy cum rydand vnder croun,
Richt awfull, strang, and large of portratour,
As nobill, dreidfull, michtie campioun:
The [nobill Stewarts] syne, of great renoun,
Thow gart upspring, with branches new and greine,
Sa gloriouslie, quhill glaided all the toun:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

Syne come thair four and twentie madinis ȝing,
All claid in greine of mervelous bewtie,
With hair detressit, as threidis of gold did hing,
With quhyt hattis all browderit rycht brav[elie,]
Playand on timberallis, and syngand rycht sweitlie;
That seimlie sort, in ordour weill besein,
Did meit the quein, hir [saluand] reverentlie:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

The streittis war all hung with tapestrie,
Great was the press of peopill dwelt about,
And pleasant padgeanes playit prattelie;
The legeiss all did to thair lady loutt,
Quha was convoyed with ane royall routt
Off gryt barrounes and lustie ladyis [schene];
Welcum, our quein! the commoness gaif ane schout:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

253

At hir cuming great was the mirth and joy,
For at thair croce aboundantlie rane wyne;
Vntill hir ludgeing the toun did hir convoy;
Hir for to treit thai sett thair haill ingyne,
Ane riche present thay did till hir propyne;
Ane costlie coup that large thing wald contene,
Couerit and full of cunȝeitt gold rycht fyne:
Be blyth and blisfull, burgh of Aberdein.

O potent princes, pleasant and preclair,
Great caus thow hes to thank this nobill toun,
That for to do the honnour, did not spair
Thair geir, riches, substance, and persoun,
The to ressaue on maist fair fasoun;
The for to pleis thay socht all way and mein;
Thairfoir, sa lang as quein thow beiris croun,
Be thankfull to this burgh of Aberdein.

Quod Dumbar.

254

LXXVIII. [MY HEID DID ȜAK ȜESTERNICHT.]

My heid did ȝak ȝesternicht,
This day to mak that I na micht,
So sair the magryme dois me menȝie,
Perseing my brow as ony ganȝie,
That scant I luik may on the licht.

And now, schir, laitlie, eftir mess,
To dyt, thocht I begowthe to dress,
The sentence lay full evill till find,
Vnsleipit in my heid behind,
Dullit in dulness and distres.

Full oft at morrow I wpryse,
Quhen that my curage sleipeing lyis,
For mirth, for menstrallie and play,
For din, nor danceing, nor deray,
It will nocht walkin me no wise.

Quod Dumbar.

255

LXXIX. [MY LORDIS OF CHACKER, PLEIS ȜOW TO HEIR.]

My Lordis of Chacker, pleis ȝow to heir
My coumpt, I sall it mak ȝow cleir,
But ony circumstance or sonȝie;
For left is nether corce nor cunȝie
Off all that I tuik in the ȝeir.

For rekkyning of my rentis and roumes,
Ȝe neid nocht for to tyre ȝour thowmes;
Na, for to gar ȝour countaris clink,
Nor paper for to spend, nor ink,
In the ressaueing of my soumes.

I tuik fra my Lord Thesaurair
Ane soume of money for to wair:
I cannocht tell ȝow how it is spendit,
Bot weill I waitt that it is endit;
And that me think ane coumpt our sair!

I trowit, in tyme, quhen that I tuik it,
That lang in burgh I sould haue bruikit,
Now the remanes are eith to turss;
I haue na preiff heir bot my purss,
Quhilk wald nocht lie, and it war luikit.

Quod Dumbar.

256

LXXX. A NEW YEAR'S GIFT TO THE KING.

My prince in God gif the guid grace,
Joy, glaidnes, confort, and solace,
Play, pleasance, myrth, and mirrie cheir,
In hansell of this guid new ȝeir.

God gif to the ane blissed chance,
And of all vertew aboundance,
And grace ay for to perseveir,
In hansell of this guid new ȝeir.

God giue the guid prosperitie,
Fair fortoun and felicitie,
Euir mair in earth quhill thow ar heir,
In hansell of this guid new ȝeir.

The heavinlie Lord his help the send,
Thy realme to reull and to defend,
In peace and justice it to steir,
In hansell of this guid [new] ȝeir.

God gif the blis quhair euir thow bownes,
And send the many Fraunce crownes,
Hie liberall heart, and handis nocht sweir,
In hansell of this guid new ȝeir.

Quod Dumbar.

257

LXXXI. [THE DREAM.]

This hinder nycht halff-sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht my chalmer in ane new aray
Was all depeint with many diuerss hew,
Of all the nobill storyis ald and new,
Sen oure first father formed was of clay.

Me thocht the lift all bricht with lampis lycht,
And thairin enterrit many lustie wicht,
Sum ȝoung, sum old, in sindry wyse arayit,
Sum sang, sum danceit, on instrumentis sum playit,
Sum maid disportis with hartis glaid and lycht.

Thane thocht I thus, this is ane felloun phary,
Or ellis my witt rycht woundrouslie dois varie;
This seimes to me ane guidlie companie,
And gif it be ane freindlie fantasie,
Defend me Jhesu, and his moder Marie!

Thair pleasant sang, nor ȝett thair pleasant toun,
Nor ȝett thair joy did to my heart redoun;
Me thocht the drerie damiesall Distres,
And eik hir sorie sister Hewenes,
Sad as the leid, in baid lay me abone.

And Langour satt wp at my beddis heid,
With instrument full lamentable and deid;
Scho playit sangis so duilfull to heir,
Me thocht ane houre seimeit ay ane ȝeir;
Hir hew was wan and wallowed as the leid.

258

Thane com the ladyis, danceing in ane trace,
And Nobilnes befoir thame come ane space,
Saying, withe cheir bening and womanly,
“I sa ane heir in bed oppressit ly,
My sisteris, go and help to get him grace.”

With that anon did start out of a dance
Twa sisteris, callit Confort and Pleasance,
And with twa harpis did begin to sing,
Bot I thairof mycht tak na rejoseing,
My heavines opprest me with sic mischance.

Thay saw that I nocht glaidder wax of cheir,
And thairof had thai winder all but weir,
And said ane lady that Persaueing hecht,
“Of Heviness he feillis sic a wecht,
Ȝour melody he pleissis nocht till heir,

Scho and Distres hir sister dois him greve.”
Quod Nobilness, “Quhow sall he thame escheve?”
Thane spak Discretioun, ane lady richt bening,
“Wirk eftir me, and I sall gar him sing,
And lang or nicht gar Langour tak hir leve.”

And then said Witt, “Gif thai work nocht be the,
But onie dout thai sall not work be me.”
Discretioun said, “I knaw his malady,
The strok he feillis of melancholie,
And Nobilness, [his] lecheing lyis in the.

Or euir this wicht at heart be haill and feir,
Both thow and I most in the court appeir;
For he hes lang maid seruice thair in vaine:
With sum rewaird we mane him quyt againe,
Now in the honour of this guid new ȝeir.”

259

“Weill worth the, sister,” said Considerance,
“And I sall help for to mantene the dance.”
Than spak ane wicht callit Blind Effectioun,
“I sall befoir ȝow be, with myne electioun,
Of all the court I haue the governance.”

Thane spak ane constant wycht callit Ressoun,
And said, “I grant ȝow hes beine lord a sessioun,
In distributioun, bot now the tyme is gone,
Now I may all distribute myne alone;
Thy wrangous deidis did euir man enschesoun.

For tyme war now that this mane had sum thing,
That lange hes bene ane serwand to the king,
And all his tyme neuir flatter couthe nor faine,
Bot humblie into ballat wyse complaine,
And patientlie indure his tormenting.

I counsall him be mirrie and jocound;
Be Nobilness his help mon first be found.”
“Weill spokin, Ressoun, my brother,” [quoth] Discretioun,
“To sett on deiss with lordis at the cessioun,
Into this realme ȝow war worth mony ane pound.”

Thane spak anone Inoportunitie,
“Ȝe sall nocht all gar him speid without me,
For I stand ay befoir the kingis face;
I sall him deiff, or ellis my self mak chace,
Bot gif that I befoir him seruit be.

Ane besy askar soonner sall he speid,
Na sall twa besy serwandis out of dreid,
And he that askis nocht tynes bot his word,
Bot for to tyne lang seruice is no bourd,
Ȝett thocht I neuir to do sic folie deid.”

260

Than com anon ane callit Schir Johne Kirkepakar,
Off many cures ane michtie vndertaker,
Quod he, “I am possest in kirkis sevin,
And ȝitt I think thai grow sall till ellevin,
Or he be seruit in ane, ȝone ballet-maker.

And then Schir Bet-the-kirk, sa mot I thryff,
I haif of busie serwandis foure or fyve,
And all directit vnto sindrie steidis,
Ay still awaitting vpoun kirk-menes deidis,
Fra quhom my tithingis will I heir belyff.”

Quod Ressoun than, “The ballance gois vnevin,
That thow allace to serff hes kirkis sevin,
And sevin als worth kirk, nocht haifand ane,
With gredines I sie this world ourgane,
And sufficience dwellis nocht bot in heavin.”

“I have nocht wyt thairof,” quod Temperance,
“For thocht I hald him evinlie the ballance;
And, but ane cuir, full [evin] micht till him wey,
Ȝett will he take ane vther and gar it suey:
Quha best can rewll wald maist haue governance.

Patience to me, “My friend,” said, “mak guid cheir,
And on the prince depend with heuinely feir,
For I full weill dois knaw his nobill intent;
He wald nocht, for ane bischopperikis rent,
That ȝow war vnrewairdit half ane ȝeir.”

Than as ane fary thai to duir did frak,
And schot ane gone that did so rudlie trak,
Quhill all the air did raird the ranebow vnder,
On Leith sandis me thocht scho brak in sounder,
And I anon did walkin with the crak.

261

LXXXII. [SATIRE ON EDINBURGH.]

Quhy will ȝe, merchantis of renoun,
Lat Edinburgh, ȝour nobill toun,
For laik of reformatioun
The commone proffeitt tyine and fame?
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That onie vther regioun
Sall with dishonour hurt ȝour name!

May nane pas throw ȝour principall gaittis,
For stink of haddockis and of scaittis;
For cryis of carlingis and debaittis;
For fensum flyttingis of defame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Befoir strangeris of all estaittis
That sic dishonour hurt ȝour name!

Ȝour stinkand S[ty]ll that standis dirk,
Haldis the lycht fra ȝour parroche kirk;
Ȝour foirstairis makis ȝour housis mirk,
Lyk na cuntray bot heir at hame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Sa litill polesie to wirk
In hurt and sklander of ȝour name!

At your hie Croce, quhair gold and silk
Sould be, thair is bot crudis and milk;
And at ȝour Trone bot cokill and wilk,

262

Pansches, pudingis of Jok and Jame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
Sen as the world sayis that ilk
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name!

Ȝour commone menstrallis hes no tone,
Bot ‘Now the day dawis,’ and ‘Into Joun’;
Cuningar men man serve Sanct Cloun,
And neuir to vther craftis clame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
To hald sic moweris on the moune,
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name!

Tailyouris, soutteris, and craftis vyll,
The fairest of ȝour streitis dois fyll;
And merchandis at the stinkand Styll
Ar hamperit in ane hony came:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That ȝe haue nether witt nor wyll
To win ȝour selff ane bettir name!

Ȝour burgh of beggeris is ane nest,
To schout thai swenȝouris will nocht rest;
All honest folk they do molest,
Sa piteuslie thai cry and rame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That for the poore hes nothing drest,
In hurt and sclander of ȝour name!

Ȝour proffeit daylie dois incres
Ȝour godlie workis less and les;
Through streittis nane may mak progres,
For cry of cruikit, blind, and lame:
Think ȝe nocht schame,
That ȝe sic substance dois posses,
And will nocht win ane bettir name!

263

Sen for the Court and the Sessioun,
The great repair of this regioun
Is in ȝour burgh, thairfoir be boun
To mend all faultis that ar to blame,
And eschew schame;
Gif thai pas to ane vther toun
Ȝe will decay, and ȝour great name!

Thairfoir strangeris and leigis treit,
Tak nocht ouer meikle for thair meit,
And gar ȝour merchandis be discreit,
That na extortiounes be proclaime,
All fraud and schame:
Keip ordour, and poore niechtbouris beit,
That ȝe may gett ane bettir name!

Singular proffeit so dois ȝow blind,
The common proffeit gois behind:
I pray that Lord remeid to fynd
That deit into Jerusalem;
And gar ȝow schame!
That sum tyme ressoun may ȝow bind,
For to [win back to] ȝow guid name.

Quod Dumbar.

264

LXXXIII. [WELCOME TO THE LORD TREASURER.]

I thocht lang quhile sum lord come hame,
Fra quhom faine kyndnes I wald clame;
His name of confort I will declair,
Welcom, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Befoir all raik of this regioun,
Under our roy of most renoun,
Of all my mycht, thocht it war mair,
Welcom, my awin Lord Thesaurair.

Ȝour nobill payment I did assay,
And ȝe hecht sone without delay,
Againe in Edinburgh till repair;
Welcom, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Ȝe keipit tryst so winder weill,
I hald ȝow trew as ony steill;
Neidis nane ȝour payment till dispair;
Welcom, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Ȝett in a pairt I was agast,
Or ȝe the narrest way had past,
Fra toun of Stirling to the air:
Welcom, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

265

Thane had my dyt beine all in duill,
Had I my wage wantit quhill Ȝuill;
Quhair now I sing with heart onsair,
Welcum, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Welcum, my benefice, and my rent,
And all the lyflett to me lent;
Welcum, my pensioun most preclair;
Welcum, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Welcum, als heartlie as I can,
My awin dear maister to ȝour man;
And to ȝour schervand singulair,
Welcum, my awin Lord Thesaurair!

Quod Dumbar.

266

LXXXIV. [BALLATE AGAINST EVIL WOMEN.]

The beistlie lust, the furious appatite,
The haistie wo, the verrie grit defame,
The blind discretioun, and the foul delyte
Off woman-kynd that dreidis for na schame,
Setand at nocht God nor manis blame,
Thair lustis hes thame unreist so, but dreid,
That all thair traist is in thair god Cupeid.

So quhone the biche is jolie and on rage,
Scho chesis not the grewhund in the hour,
The foulest tyk quhill scho hir lust aswage;
Rycht so the meir forsaikis the cursour,
And takis a crukit aver and a dour,
Evin so women wairis thair virginitie
On thame that maist ar holdin onworthie.

The lustiast ladie that nature can devyne,
Thocht scho have mony semelie scheruitour,
Ȝit se ȝe hir full suddanelie incleine
To tak a crippill, or a creatour
Deformit as ane oule [be] dame Natour.

267

Sic is thair weird, thairfoir quha sould thame wyte
To serue thair beistlie lust and appatite.

And sen thir clarkis hes writtin in thair stylis
To ȝoungar folk and thair successioun,
For to eschew the malice and the wylis
Off wickit woman, and thair oppressioun,
Thir folkis wise of gude discretioun
Hes teichit ws quhat skaithis and offence
That women dois with cullourit eloquence.

And war it possibill that in ony corce
War Salamonis witt and hie sapience,
Arrestotlis clergie, Sampsonis strength and force,
Hectouris manheid and michtie excellence,
Ȝitt women sould with thair sle eloquence
Thair vertewis all mak of na availis,
Be subtill winkis, and thair desaitfull talis.

Dissimulat so dangerous and dane,
So feinȝitt, and so fals with litill feir,
And quhair thai go thai beir the sleikit stane;
Go follow thame, quha will inconstance leir,
Secreit invy, and of dispyt the speir;
With women haill gois quyt now for euir,
Quhilk sould caus men fra subtill huris dissiuir.

Explicit.

Salviour, suppois my sensualitie
Subiect to syn hes maid my saull of syss,

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Sum spark of licht and spiritualitie,
Walkins my witt, and ressoun bidis me rys,
My corrupt conscience askis, clipis, and cryis
First grace, syn space, for to amend my myss,
Substance with honour doing nane suppryss,
Freindis prosperitie heir, peax, syn heavins blys.

Quod Dumbar.

269

LXXXV. ANE BALLAT OF OUR LADY.

Haile, sterne superne! Haile, in eterne,
In Godis sicht to schyne!
Lucerne in derne, for to discerne
Be glory and grace devyne;
Hodiern, modern, sempitern,
Angelicall regyne!
Our tern inferne for to dispern,
Helpe rialest rosyne.
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Haile, fresche flour femynyne!
Ȝerne ws, guberne, wirgin matern,
Of reuth baith rute and ryne.

Haile, ȝhyng, benyng, fresche flurising!
Haile, Alphais habitakle!
Thy dyng ofspring maid ws to syng
Befor his tabernakle;
All thing maling we dovne thring,
Be sicht of his signakle;
Quhilk king ws bring vnto his ryng,
Fro dethis dirk vmbrakle.
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Haile, moder and maid but makle!
Bricht sygn, gladyng our languissing,
Be micht of the mirakle.

270

Haile, bricht, be sicht, in hevyn on hicht!
Haile, day sterne orientale!
Our licht most richt, in clud of nycht,
Our dirknes for to scale:
Haile, wicht, in sicht, puttar to flicht
Of fendis in battale!
Haile, plicht, but sicht! Haile, mekle of mycht!
Haile, glorious Virgine, haile!
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Haile, gentill nychttingale!
Way stricht, cler dicht, to wilsome wicht,
That irke bene in travale.

Haile, qwene serene! Haile, most amene!
Haile, hevinlie hie empryss!
Haile, schene, vnseyne with carnale eyne!
Haile, ross of paradyss!
Haile, clene, bedene, ay till conteyne!
Haile, fair fresche flour-de-lyce!
Haile, grene daseyne! Haile, fro the splene,
Of Jhesu genetrice!
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Thow bair the prince of pryss;
Our teyne to meyne, and ga betweyne,
Ane hevinle oratrice.

Haile, more decore, than of before,
And swetar be sic sevyne,
Our glore, forlore, for to restore,
Sen thow art qwene of hevyne!
Memore of sore, stern in Aurore,
Lovit with angellis stevyne;
Implore, adore, thow indeflore,
To mak our oddis evyne.
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
With lovingis lowde ellevyn,

271

Quhill store and hore, my ȝouth devore,
Thy name I sall ay nevyne.

Empryce of pryss, imperatrice,
Brycht polist precious stane;
Victryce of wyce, hie genetrice
Of Jhesu, lord souerayne:
Our wyss pavyss fra enemyss,
Agayne the feyndis trayne;
Oratrice, mediatrice, salvatrice,
To God gret suffragane!
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Haile, sterne meridiane!
Spyce, flour-de-lice of paradyse,
That bair the gloryuss grayne.

Imperiall wall, place palestrall,
Of peirless pulcritud;
Trywmphale hall, hie tour royall
Of Godis celsitud;
Hospitall riall, the lord of all
Thy closet did include;
Bricht ball cristall, ross virginall,
Fulfillit of angell fude.
Aue Maria, gratia plena!
Thy birth has with his blude,
Fra fall mortall, originall,
Ws raunsound on the rude.

Quod Dumbar.

272

LXXXVI. [ROISS MARY MOST OF VERTEW VIRGINALL.]

Roiss Mary most of vertew virginall.
Fresche flowr on quhom the hevynnis dewe doun fell.
O gemme joynit in joye angelicall,
In quhom Jhesu rejosit wes to dwell.
Rute of refute, of mercy spring and well,
Of ladyis chois as is of letteris A,
Empress of hevyne, of paradyss, and hell,
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

O sterne that blyndis Phebus bemys bricht,
With course above the hevynnis cristallyne;
Above the speir of Saturne hie on hicht,
Surmunting all the angelis ordouris nyne;
O lamp lemand befoir the trone devyne!
Quhar cherubyne syngis sweit Osanna,
With organe, tympane, harpe, and symbilyne;
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

O chast conclaif of clene virginite,
That closit Crist but crymes criminale;
Tryumphand tempill of the Trinite,
That turned us fra Tartar eternall:
Princes of peiss, and palme imperiall,
Our wicht invinsable Sampson sprang the fra,

273

That with ane buffat bair doune Beliall;
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

Thy blyssit sydis bair the campioun,
The quhilk, with mony bludy woundis, in stour,
Victoriusly discomfeit the dragoun
That reddy wes his pepill to devour;
At hellis ȝettis he gaf hyme na succour,
He brak the barmekyn of that bribour bla,
Quhill all the feyndis trymbillit for reddour:
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

O madyne meik, most mediatrix for man,
And moder myld, full of humilite!
Pray thy sone Jhesu, with his woundis wan,
Quhilk deinȝeit him for our trespass to de,
And as he bled his blude vpon a tre,
Us to defend fra Lucifer our fa,
In hevyne that we may syng apon our kne:
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

Hail, purifyet perle! Haile, port of paradyse
Haile, redolent ruby, riche and radyuss!
Haile, clarifyit cristale! Haile, quene and emperyse!
Haile, moder of God! Haile, Virgin glorius!
O gracia plena, tecum Dominus!
With Gabriell that we may syng and say,
Benedicta tu in mulieribus:
O mater Jhesu, salue Maria!

274

LXXXVII. [GLADETHE THOUE QUEYNE OF SCOTTIS REGIOUN.]

Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun,
Ȝing tendir plaunt of plesand pulcritude,
Fresche flour of ȝouthe, new germyng to burgeoun,
Our perle of price, our princes fair and gud,
Our chairbunkle chosin of hye Imperiale blud,
Our Roys Riale, most reverent vnder Crovne,
Joy be and grace onto thi Selcitud!
Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun.

O hye trivmphing peradiss of joy,
Lodsteir and lamp of eivry lustines,
Of port surmounting Pollexen of Troy,
Dochtir to Pallas in angellik brichtnes,
Mastres of nurtur and of nobilnes,
Of fresch depictour princes and patroun,
O hevin in erthe of ferlifull suetnes:
Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun.

Of thi fair fegour natur micht reioiyss,
That so the kervit withe all hir curiys slicht;
Sche has the maid this verray wairldis chois,
Schawing on the hir craftis and hir micht,
To se quhow fair sche couthe depant a wicht,
Quhow gud, quhow noble of all condicioun,
Quhow womanly in eivry mannis sicht:
Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun.

275

Roys red and quhit, resplendent of colour,
New of thi knop, at morrow fresche atyrit,
One stalk ȝet grene, O! ȝing and tendir flour,
That with thi luff has all this Regioun firit;
Gret Gode ws graunt that we have long desirit,
A plaunt to spring of thi successioun,
Syne with all grace his spreit to be inspirit:
Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun.

O precius Mergreit, plesand, cleir, and quhit,
Moir blith and bricht na is the beriall schene,
Moir deir na is the diamaunt of delit,
Moir semely na is the sapheir one to seyne,
Moir gudely eik na is the emerant greyne,
Moir riche na is the ruby of renovne,
Fair gem of joy, Mergreit of the I meyne:
Gladethe thoue Queyne of Scottis regioun.

276

LXXXVIII. [LONDON, THOU ART OF TOWNES A PER SE.]

London, thou art of townes A per se.
Soveraign of cities, semeliest in sight,
Of high renoun, riches and royaltie;
Of lordis, barons, and many goodly knyght;
Of most delectable lusty ladies bright;
Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall;
Of merchauntis full of substaunce and myght:
London, thou art the flour of Cities all.

Gladdith anon thou lusty Troynovaunt,
Citie that some tyme cleped was New Troy,
In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant,
Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure and of joy,
A richer restith under no Christen roy;
For manly power, with craftis naturall,
Fourmeth none fairer sith the flode of Noy:
London, thou art the flour of Cities all.

Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie,
Most myghty carbuncle of vertue and valour;
Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuytie;
Of royall cities rose and geraflour;
Empresse of townes, exalt in honour;

277

In beawtie beryng the crone imperiall;
Swete paradise precelling in pleasure:
London, thow art the floure of Cities all.

Aboue all ryuers thy Ryuer hath renowne,
Whose beryall stremys, pleasaunt and preclare,
Under thy lusty wallys renneth down,
Where many a swanne doth swymme with wyngis fare;
Where many a barge doth saile, and row with are,
Where many a ship doth rest with toppe-royall.
O! towne of townes, patrone and not compare:
London, thou art the floure of Cities all.

Upon thy lusty Brigge of pylers white
Been merchauntis full royall to behold;
Upon thy stretis goeth many a semely knyght
[All clad] in velvet gownes and cheynes of gold.
By Julyus Cesar thy Tour founded of old
May be the hous of Mars victoryall,
Whos artillary with tonge may not be told:
London, thou art the flour of Cities all.

Strong be thy wallis that about thee standis;
Wise be the people that within thee dwellis;
Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis;
Blith be thy churches, wele sownyng be thy bellis;
Riche be thy merchauntis in substaunce that excellis;
Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white and small;
Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis:
London, thow art the flour of Cities all.

Thy famous Maire, by pryncely governaunce,
With swerd of justice, the rulith prudently.
No Lord of Parys, Venyce, or Floraunce
In dignytie or honoure goeth to hym nye.

278

He is exampler, loode-ster, and guye;
Principall patrone and roose orygynalle,
Above all Maires as maister moost worthy:
London, thou art the flour of Cities all.

279

LXXXIX. [NOW FAYRE, FAYREST OFF EVERY FAYRE.]

Now fayre, fayrest off every fayre,
Princes most plesant and preclare,
The lustyest one alyve that byne,
Welcum of Scotland to be Quene!

Ȝounge tender plant of pulcritud,
Descendyd of Imperyalle blode;
Freshe fragrant floure of fayrehede shene,
Welcum of Scotland to be Quene!

Swet lusty lusum lady clere,
Most myghty kynges dochter dere,
Borne of a princes most serene,
Welcum of Scotland to be Quene!

Welcum the Rose bothe rede and whyte,
Welcum the floure of oure delyte!
Oure secrete rejoysyng frome the sone beine,
Welcum of Scotland to be Quene;
Welcum of Scotlande to be Quene!

280

XC. [O SYNFULL MAN, THIR AR THE FOURTY DAYIS.]

O synfull man, thir ar the fourty dayis
That every man sulde wilfull pennence dre;
Oure Lorde Jhesu, as haly writ sayis,
Fastit him self oure exampill to be;
Sen sic ane michty king and lorde as he,
To fast and pray was so obedient,
We synfull folk sulde be more deligent.

I reid [the,] man, of thi transgressioun,
With all thi hert, that thow be penitent;
Thow schrive the clene, and mak confessioun,
And se thairto [that] thow be deligent,
With all thi synnes into thi mynde present,
That every syn be the selfe be schawin,
To thyne confessioun it ma be kend and knawin.

Apon thi body gif thow hes ane wounde
That caussis the gret panis for to feill,
Thair is no leiche ma mak the haill and sounde,
Quhill it be sene, and clengit every deill;
Rycht sua thi schrift, bot it be schawin weill,
Thow art nocht abill remissioun for to get,
Wittandlie and thow [suld] ane syn forȝet.

281

Off tuenty woundis, and ane be left unhelit
Quhat awalis the leiching of the laif?
Rycht sua thi schrift, and thair be oucht concelit,
It avalis nocht thi sely saule to saif;
Nor ȝit of God remissioun for to haif:
Of syn gif thow wald have deliverance,
Thow sulde it tell with all the circumstance.

Sa that thi confessour be wyss and discreit,
Than can the discharge of every doute and weir,
And power hes of thy synnes compleit:
Gif thow can nocht schaw furth thi synnes perqueir,
And he be blinde, and can nocht at the speir,
Thow ma rycht weill in thi mynde consydder
That ane blynde man is led furth be ane uther.

And sa I halde, that ȝe ar baith begylde;
He can nocht speir, nor thow can nocht him tell,
Quhen, nor how, thi conscience thow hes fylde;
Thairfor, I reid, that thow excuse thi sell,
And rype thi mynde how every thing befell,
The tyme, the place, and how, and in quhat wyis,
So that thi confessioun ma thi synnes pryce.

Awys the weill, or thou cum to the preist,
Of all thi synnes, and namelie of the maist,
That thai be reddy prentit in thi breist;
Thow sulde nocht cum to schryfe the in [greit] haist,
And syne sit doun abasit as ane beist:
With humyll [hart] and sad contrytioun,
Thow suld cum to [mak] thine confessioun.

With thine awin mouth thi synnes thow suld tell;
Bot sit and heir the preist hes nocht ado,
Quha kennes thi synnes better na thi sell?

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Thairfor, I reid the, tak gude tent thairto;
Thow knawis best quhair bindis the thi scho;
Thairfor, be wys afor or thow thair cum,
That thow schaw furth thi synnes all and sum.

Quhair seldin compt is tane, and hes a hevy charge,
And syne is rekless in his governance,
And on his conscience he takis all to large,
And on the end hes no rememberance,
That man is abill to fall ane gret mischance:
The synfull man that all the ȝeir our settis,
Fra Pasche to Pasche, rycht mony a thing forȝettis.

I reid the, man, quhill thow art stark and young,
With pith and strenth into thi ȝeris grene,
Quhill thow art abill baith in mynde and toung,
Repent the, man, and kepe thi conscience clene;
Till byde till age is mony perrell sene:
Small merit is of synnes for to irke
Quhen thow art ald, and ma na wrangis wyrke.

283

POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO DUNBAR

285

I. THE FREIRIS OF BERWIK.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

As it befell, and happinnit in-to deid,
Vpoun a rever, the quhilk is callit Tweid;
At Tweidis mowth thair standis a nobill toun,
Quhair mony lordis hes bene of grit renovne,
Quhair mony a lady bene fair of face,
And mony ane fresche lusty galland wass.
In-to this toun, the quhilk is callit Berwik,
Vpoun the sey thair standis nane it lyk,
For it is wallit weill abowt with stane,
And dowbill stankis castin mony ane;
And syne the castell is so strang and wicht,
With strait towris and turattis he on hicht;
The wallis wrocht craftely withall;
The portcules most subtelly to fall,
Quhen that thame list to draw thame vpoun hicht;
That it micht be of na maner of micht
To win that houss be craft or subteltie.
Quhairfoir it is maist gud allutirly,
In-to my tyme quhair evir I haif bene,
Moist fair, most gudly, most plesand to be sene;

286

The tovne, the wall, the castell and the land,
The he wallis vpoun the vpper hand,
The grit croce kirk, and eik the Masone Dew,
The Jacobene freiris of the quhyt hew,
The Carmeleitis, and the monkis eik;
The four ordouris wer nocht for to seik,
Thay wer all in this toun dwelling.
So appinnit in a Maij morning,
That twa of the Jacobyne freiris,
As thay wer wont and vsit mony ȝeiris
To pass amang thair brethir vpaland,
Wer send of thame best practisit and cunnand,
Freir Allane, and Freir Robert the vder;
Thir silly Freiris with wyffis weill cowld gluder;
Rycht wondir weill plesit thai all wyffis
And tawld thame tailis of haly sanctis lyffis,
Quhill on a tyme thay purposit to pass hame;
Bot verry tyrit and wett wes Freir Allane,
For he wes awld, and micht nocht wele travell,
And als he had ane littill spyce of gravell.
Freir Robert wes ȝoung, and verry hett of blude,
And be the way he bure both clothis and hude,
And all thair geir, for he wes strong and wicht.
Be that it drew neir towart the nicht,
As thay wer cumand towart the tovne full neir;
Freir Allane said than, “Gud bruder deir,
It is to lait, I dreid the ȝet be closit,
And we ar tyrit, and verry evill disposit
To luge owt of the toun, bot gif that we

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In sume gud houss this nycht mot herbryt be.”
Swa wynnit thair ane woundir gude hostillar,
Without the toun, in till a fair manar,
And Symon Lawrear wes his name;
Ane fair blyth wyf he had, of ony ane,
Bot scho wes sumthing dynk and dengerous.
The silly Freiris quhen thay come to the houss,
With fair hailsing and bekking courteslye,
To thame scho anschirit agane in hye;
Freir Robert sperit eftir the gud man,
And scho agane anschirit thame thane,
“He went fra hame, God wait, on Weddinsday,
In the cuntre for to seik corne and hay,
And vthir thingis quhairof we haif neid.”
Freir Robert said, “I pray grit God him speid
Him haill and sound in-to his travell,”
And hir desyrit the stowp to fill of aill,
That we may drink, for I am wondir dry.
With that the wyfe went furth richt schortly,
And fillit the stowp, and brocht in breid and cheiss;
Thay eit and drank, and satt at thair awin eiss.
Freir Allane said to the gudwyf in hye,
“Cum hiddir, deme, and sett ȝow doun me bye,
And fill the cop agane anis to me;”
Freir Robert said, “Full weill payit sall ȝe be.”
The Freiris wer blyth, and mirry tailis cowld tell,
And even with that thay hard the prayer bell
Off thair awin abbay, and than thay wer agast,
Becauss thay knew the ȝettis wer closit fast,

288

That thay on na wayiss micht gett entre.
Than the gudwyfe thay prayit for cheritie
To grant thame herbrye that ane nicht;
Bot scho to thame gaif anschir with grit hicht,
“The gudman is fra hame, as I ȝow tald,
And God it wait, gif I durst be so bald
To herbry Freiris in this houss with me,
Quhat wald Symon say, ha, benedicite,
Bot in his absence I abusit his place?
Our deir Lady Mary keip fra sic cace,
And keip me owt of perrell and of schame.”
Than auld Freir Allane said, “Na, fair dame,
For Godis saik, heir me quhat I sall say,
In gud faith, we will both be deid or day;
The way is evill, and I am tyrit and wett,
Our ȝettis ar closit that we may nocht in gett,
And to our abbay we can nocht win in;
To causs ws perreiss but help ȝe haif grit syn;
Thairfoir of verry neid we mon byd still,
And ws commit alhaill in-to ȝour will.”
The gudwyf lukit vnto the Freiris tway,
And, at the last, to thame culd scho say,
“Ȝe byd nocht heir, be Him that ws all coft;
Bot gif ȝe list to lig vp in ȝone loft,
Quhilk is weill wrocht in-to the hallis end,
Ȝe sall fynd stray, and clathis I sall ȝow send;
Quhair, and ȝe list, pass on baith in feir,
For on no wayis will I repair haif heir.”
Hir madin than scho send hir on befoir,
And hir thay followit baith withowttin moir;

289

Thay war full blyth, and did as scho thame kend,
And vp thay went, in-to the hallis end,
In till a loft wes maid for corne and hay;
Scho maid thair bed, syne past doun but delay,
Closit the trop and thay remanit still.
In-to the loft thay wantit of thair will;
Freir Allane lay doun as he best micht;
Freir Robert said, “I hecht to walk this nicht,
Quha wait perchance sum sport I ma espy?”
Thus in the loft latt I thir Freiris ly,
And of the gudwyf now I will speik mair.
Scho wes richt blyth that thay wer closit thair,
For scho had maid ane tryst that samyn nicht
Freir Johine hir luvis supper for to dicht;
And scho wald haif none vder cumpany,
Becauss Freir Johine that nicht with hir sowld ly,
Quha dwelland wes in-to that samyne toun,
And ane Blak Freir he wes of grit renown.
He govirnit alhaill the abbacy;
Silwer and gold he had aboundantly;
He had a prevy posterne of his awin,
Quhair he micht ische, quhen that he list, vnknawin.
Now thus in-to the toun I leif him still,
Bydand his tyme; and turne agane I will
To this fair wyfe, how scho the fyre cowld beit,
And thristit on fatt caponis to the speit;
And fatt cunyng[is] to fyre did scho lay,
Syne bad the madin, in all the haist [scho] may,
To flawme, and turne, and rost thame tenderly.
And to hir chalmer so scho went in hy;
Scho pullit hir cunt, and gaif hit buffettis tway
Vpoun the cheikis, syne till it cowd scho say,

290

“Ȝe sowld be blyth and glaid at my requeist,
Thir mvllis of ȝouris ar callit to ane feist.”
Scho cleithis hir in a kirtill of fyne reid,
Ane fair quhyt curch scho puttis vpoun hir heid;
Hir kirtill wes of silk, and silwer fyne,
Hir vthir garmentis as the reid gold did schyne;
On every finger scho weiris ringis two;
Scho was als prowd as ony papingo.
The burde scho cuverit with clath of costly greyne,
Hir napry aboif wes woundir weill besene.
Than but scho went, to se gif ony come,
Scho thocht full lang to meit hir lufe Freir Johine.
Syne schortly did this Freir knok at the ȝett;
His knok scho kend, and did so him in lett.
Scho welcomit him in all hir best maneir;
He thankit hir, and said, “My awin luve deir,
Haif thair ane pair of bossis, gud and fyne,
Thay hald ane gallone full of Gascone wyne;
And als ane pair of pertrikis richt new slane,
And eik ane creill full of breid of mane;
This I haif brocht to ȝow, my awin luve deir,
Thairfoir, I pray ȝow, be blyth, and mak gud cheir;
Sen it is so that Semon is fra hame,
I wilbe hamely now with ȝow, gud dame.
Scho sayis, “Ȝe ar full hertly welcome heir
At ony tyme, quhen that ȝe list appeir.
With that scho smylit woundir lustely;
He thristit hir hand agane richt prevely,
Than in hett luve thay talkit vderis till.

291

Thus at thair sport now will I leif thame still,
And tell ȝow off thir silly Freiris two
Wer lokit in the loft amang the stro:
Freir Allane in the loft still can ly;
Freir Robert had ane littill jelosy,
For in his hairt he had ane persaving,
And throw the burdis he maid with his botkin
A littill hoill on sic a wyiss maid he,
All that thay did thair doun he micht weill se,
And every word he herd that thay did say.
Quhen scho wes prowd, richt woundir fresche and gay,
Scho callit him baith hert, lemmane and luve;
Lord God, gif than his curage wes aboif,
So prelat lyk sat he in to the chyre:
Scho rownis than ane pistill in his eir;
Thus sportand thame, and makand melody:
And quhen scho saw the supper wes reddy,
Scho gois belyfe and cuveris the burde annon,
And syne the pair of bossis hes scho tone,
And sett thame doun vpoun the burde hir by.
And evin with that thay hard the gudman cry,
And knokand at the ȝett he cryit fast:
Quhen thay him hard then wer thay both agast:
And als Freir Johine wes in a fellone fray,
He stert vp fast, and wald haif bene away,
Bot all for nocht, he micht no way win owt.
The gudwyfe spak than, with a visage stowt,
“Ȝone is Symone that makis all this fray,

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That I micht tholit full weill had bene away;
I sall him quyt, and I leif half a ȝeir,
That cummert hes ws thus in sic maneir,
Becauss for him we may nocht byd togidder;
I soir repent and wo is ȝe come hidder,
For we wer weill gif that ȝe wer away.”
“Quhat sall I do, allace?” the Freir can say,
[“Into this case, Lord! how sall I me beir,
For I am schent and Symon fynd me heir,
I dreid me sair, and he cum in this innis,
And fynd me heir, that I los bath my quhynnis.”]
“Hyd ȝou,” scho said, “quhill he be brocht to rest,
In-to ȝone troich, I think it for the best;
It lyis mekle and huge in all ȝone nwke,
It held a boll of meill quhen that we buke.”
Than vndir it scho gart him creip in hy,
And bad him lurk thair verry quyetly;
Scho closit him, and syne went on hir way.
“Quhat sall I do, allace?” the Freir can say.
Syn to hir madin spedyly scho spak,
“Go to the fyre, and the meitis fra it tak;
Be bissy als, and slokkin out the fyre;
Ga cloiss ȝone burd, and tak away the chyre,
And lok vp all in to ȝone almery,
Baith meit and drink, with wyne and aill put by;
The mayne breid als thow hyd it with the wyne;
That being done, thow sowp the houss clene syne,
That na apperance of feist be heir sene,

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Bot sobirly our selffis dois sustene.”
And syne, withowttin ony mair delay,
Scho castis of haill hir fresch array;
Than went scho to hir bed annone,
And tholit him to knok his fill, Symone.
Quhen he for knoking tyrit wes, and cryid,
Abowt he went vnto the vdir syd,
[Till ane windo wes at hir beddis heid,
And cryit “Alesoun awalk for Goddis deid!”]
And on Alesone fast cold he cry;
And at the last scho anschirit crabitly,
“Ach, quha be this that knawis sa weill my name?
Go henss,” scho sayis, “for Symon is fra hame,
And I will herbry no gaistis heir perfay;
Thairfoir I pray ȝow to wend on ȝour way,
For at this tyme ȝe may nocht lugit be.”
Than Symone said, “Fair dame, ken ȝe nocht me?
I am your Symone and husband of this place.”
“Ar ȝe my spous Symone?” scho sayis, “allace,
Be misknawlege I had almaist misgane,
Quha wenit that ȝe sa lait wald haif cum hame?”
Scho stertis vp and gettis licht in hy,
And oppinit than the ȝet full haistely;
Scho tuk fra him his geir at all devyiss,
Syne welcomit him on maist hairtly wyiss.
He bad the madin kindill on the fyre,
Syne graith me meit, and tak ȝe all thy hyre.

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The gudwyf said schortly, “Ȝe may trow,
Heir is no meit that ganand is for ȝow.”
“How sa, fair deme, ga gait me cheiss and breid,
Ga fill the stowp, hald me no mair in pleid,
For I am verry tyrit, wett and cauld.”
Than vp scho raiss, and durst nocht mair be bauld,
Cuverit the burde, thairon sett meit in hy,
Ane sowsit nolt fute, and scheipheid, haistely;
And sum cauld meit scho brocht to him belyve,
And fillit the stowp. The gudman than wes blyth;
Than satt he doun, and swoir “be All hallow,
I fair richt weill and I had ane gud fallow:
Dame, eit with me, and drink, gif that ȝe may.”
Said the gudwyf, “Devill inche cun may I;
It wer mair meit in to ȝour bed to be,
Than now to sit desyrand cumpany.”
[The freiris twa, that in the loft can ly
Thay hard him weill desyrand cumpany.]
Freir Robert said, “Allace, gud bruder deir,
I wald the gudman wist that we wer heir,
Quha wait perchance sum bettir wald he fair;
For sickerly my hairt will ay be sair
Gif ȝone scheipheid with Symon birneist be,
Sa mekill gud cheir being in the almerie:”
And with that word he gaif ane hoist anone.
The gudman hard, and speirit, “Quha is ȝone?
[Methink that thair is men into ȝon loft.”
The gudwyf ansuerit with wourdis soft,
“Ȝon ar ȝour awin Freyris brether tway.”]
Symone said, “Tell me quhat Freiris be thay.”
“Ȝone is Freir Robert and silly Freir Allane,

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That all this day hes travellit with grit pane;
Be thay come heir it wes so verry lait
Curfur wes rung, and closit wes thair [ȝait;]
And in ȝone loft I gaif thame harb[o]rye.”
The gudman said, “Sa God haif pairt of me,
Tha Freiris twa ar hairtly welcome hidder,
Ga call thame doun, that we ma drink togidder.”
The gudwyf said, “I reid ȝow latt thame be,
Thay had levir sleip nor sit in cumpanye.
[To drink and dot, it ganis nocht for thame.”
“Let be, fair dame, thy wordis ar in vane,
I will thame haif be Goddis dignite;
Mak no delay, bot bring thame doun to me.”]
The gudman said vnto the maid[in] thone,
“Go, pray thame baith to cum till me annone.”
And sone the trop the madin oppinit than,
And bad thame baith cum doun to the gudman.
Freir Robert said, “Now be sweit Sanct Jame,
The gudman is verry velcome hame,
And for his weilfair dalie do we pray;
We sall annone cum doun to him, ȝe say.”
Than with that word thay start vp baith attone,
And doun the trop delyverly thay come,
Halsit Symone als sone as thay him se;
And he agane thame welcomit hairtfullie,
And said, “Cum heir, myne awin bredir deir,
And sett ȝow doun sone besyd me heir,
For I am now allone, as ȝe may se;
Thairfoir sitt doun, and beir me cumpanye,
And tak ȝow pairt of sic gud as we haif.”
Freir Allane said, “Schir, I pray God ȝow saif,
For heir is now annwch of Godis gud.”

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Than Symon anschirit, “Now, be the Rud,
Ȝit wald I gif ane croun of gold for me,
For sum gud meit and drink amangis ws thre.”
Freir Robert said, “Quhat drinkis wald ȝe craif,
Or quhat meitis desyre ȝe for to haif?
For I haif mony sindry practikis seir,
Beyond the sey in Pareiss did I leir,
That I wald preve glaidly for ȝour saik,
And for ȝour demys that harbry cowd ws maik.
I tak on hand, and ȝe will counsale keip,
That I sall gar ȝow se, or ever I sleip,
Of the best meit that is in this cuntre;
Off Gascone wyne, gif ony in it be;
Or, be thair ony within ane hundreth myle,
It salbe heir within a bony quhyle.”
The gudman had grit mervell of this taill,
And said, “My hairt [will] neir be haill
Bot gif ȝe preve that practik or ȝe pairte,
[Be quhat kin science, nigromansy, or art.”
Freir Robert said, “Of this ȝe haue no dreid,
For I can do fer mair, and thair be neid.”
Than Symon said, “Freir Robert, I ȝou pray,
For my saik that science ȝe wald assay,]
To mak ane sport.” And than the Freir [vprais,]
He tuk his buk and to the flure he gais;
He turnis it our, and reidis it a littill space,
And to the eist direct he turnis his face,
[And maid ane croce, and than the freyr cuth lout]
Syne to the west he turnit [him ewin about,]
[Than in the north he turnit and lowtit down]
And tuk his buk and red ane orisoun;
And ay his eyne wer on the almery,

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And on the troch quhair that Freir Johine did ly.
Than sat he doun, and kest abak his hude,
He granit, and he glowrit, as he wer woid;
And quhylis still he satt in studeing,
And vthir quhylis vpoun his buk reding;
And [quhylis] with baith his handis he wald clap,
And vthir quhylis wald he glour and gaip;
Syne in the sowth he turnit him abowt
Weill thryiss, and mair than lawly cowd he lowt,
Quhen that he come neir the almery.
Thairat our dame had woundir grit invy,
For in her hairt scho had ane persaving
That he had knawin all hir govirning.
Scho saw him gif the almery sic a straik,
Vnto hir self scho said, “Full weill I wait
I am bot schent, he knawis full weill my thocht;
Quhat sall I do? Allace, that I wes wrocht;
Get Symon wit, it wilbe deir doing.”
Be that the Freir had left his studeing,
And on his feit he startis vp full sture,
And come agane, and seyit all his cure.
Now is it done, and ȝe sall haif playntie
Of breid and wyne, the best in this cuntre;
Thairfoir, fair dame, get vp deliverlie,
And ga belyfe vnto ȝone almerie,
And oppin it; and se ȝe bring ws syne
Ane pair of boissis full of Gascone wyne,
Thay had ane galloun and mair, that wait I weill;
And bring ws als the mayne breid in a creill;
Ane pair of cunyngis, fat and het pypand;
The caponis als ȝe sall ws bring fra hand;
Twa pair of pertrikis, I wait thair is no ma;

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And eik of pluveris se that ȝe bring ws twa.
The gudwyf wist it wes no variance;
Scho knew the Freir had sene hir govirnance;
Scho saw it wes no bute for to deny;
With that scho went vnto the almery,
And oppinnit it, and than scho fand thair
All that the Freir had spokin of befoir.
Scho stert abak, as scho wer in a fray,
And sanyt hir, and smyland cowd scho say,
“Ha, banedicitie, quhat may this bene?
Quha evir afoir hes sic a fairly sene?
Sa grit a mervell as now hes apnit heir,
Quhat sall I say? He is ane haly Freir,
He said full swth of all that he did say.”
Scho brocht all furth, and on the burd cowd lay
Baith breid and wyne, and vthir thingis moir,
Cunyngis and caponis, as ȝe haif hard befoir;
Pertrikis and pluveris befoir thame hes scho brocht.
The Freir knew weill and saw thair wantit nocht,
Bot all wes furth brocht, evin at his devyiss.
And Symone saw it appinnit on this wyiss,
He had grit wondir, and sweris be the mone
That Freir Robert weill his dett had done;
He may be callit ane man of grit science,
Sa suddanly maid all this purviance
Hes brocht ws heir throw his grit subteltie,
And throw his knawlege in filosophie:
In ane gud tyme it wes quhen he come hidder;
Now fill the cop that we ma drink togidder,
And mak gud cheir eftir this langsum day,
For I haif riddin ane woundir wilsome way.
Now God be lovit, heir is suffisance

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Vnto ws all throw ȝour gud govirnance:
And than annone thay drank evin round abowt
Of Gascone wyne; the Freiris playit cop owt.
Thay sportit thame, and makis mirry cheir
With sangis lowd, baith Symone and the Freir;
And on this wyiss the lang nicht thay ourdraif;
No thing thay want that thay desyrd to haif.
Than Symon said to the gudwyf in hy,
“Cum heir, fair dame, and sett ȝow doun me by,
And tak pairte of sic gud as we haif heir,
And hairtly, I ȝow pray, to thank this Freir
Off his bening grit besines and cure,
That he hes done to ws vpoun this flure,
And brocht ws meit and drink haboundantlie,
Quhairfoir of richt we aucht mirry to be.”
Bot all thair sport, quhen thay wer maist at eiss,
Vnto our deme it wes bot littill pleiss,
For vther thing thair wes in to hir thocht;
Scho wes so red, hir hairt wes ay on flocht,
That throw the Freir scho sowld discoverit be,
To him scho lukit oft tymes effeiritlie,
And ay disparit in hart was scho,
That he had witt of all hir purveance to.
Thus satt scho still, and wist no vdir wane;
Quhat evir thay say, scho lute him all alane,
Bot scho drank with thame in-to cumpany
With fenȝeit cheir, and hert full wo and hevy.
Bot thay wer blyth annwche, God watt, and sang,
For ay the wyne was rakand thame amang,
Quhill at the last thay woix richt blyth ilk one.

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Than Symone said vnto the Freir annone,
“I mervell mikill how that this may be,
In till schort tyme that ȝe sa suddanlye
Hes brocht to ws sa mony denteis deir.”
Thairof haif ȝe no mervell,” quod the Freir,
“I haif ane pege full prevy of my awin
Quhen evir I list will cum to me vnknawin,
And bring to me sic thing as I will haif;
Quhat evir I list it neidis me nocht to craif.
Thairfoir be blyth, and tak in pacience,
And trest ȝe weill I sall do diligence;
Gif that ȝe list, or thinkis to haif moir,
It salbe had and I sall stand thairfoir,
Incontinent that samyn sall ȝe se;
Bot I protest that ȝe keip it previe,
Latt no man wit that I can do sic thing.”
Than Symone swoir, and said, “Be hevynnis king,
It salbe kepit prevy as for me;
Bot, bruder deir, ȝour schirwand wald I se,
Gif it ȝow pleiss, that we may drynk togidder,
For I wait nocht gif ȝe ma ay cum hidder,
Quhen that we want our neidis sic as this.”
The Freir said, “Nay, so mot I haif hevynis bliss,
Ȝow to haif the sicht of my schirwand
It can nocht be; ȝe sall weill vndirstand,
That ȝe may se him graithly in his awin kynd,
Bot ȝe annone sowld go owt of your mynd,
He is so fowll and vgly for to se;
I dar nocht awnter for to tak on me,
To bring him hidder heir in-to our sicht,
And namely now so lait in to the nicht;

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Bot gif it wer on sic a maner wyiss
Him to translait or ellis dissagyiss
Fra his awin kynd in-to ane vder stait.”
Than Symone said, “I mak no moir debait,
As pleisis ȝow so lyk is it to me,
As evir ȝe list, bot fane wald I him se.”
[Freyr Robert said, “Sen that ȝour will is so,
Tell onto me withouttin wourdis mo,]
In till quhat kynd sall I him gar appeir?”
Than Symone said, “In liknes of a Freir,
In quhyt cullour, richt as ȝour self it war,
For quhyt cullour will na body deir,”
[And ewill spreitts quhyte colour ay will fle.]
Freir Robert said that swa it cowld nocht be,
For sic caussis as he may weill foirse,
That he compeir in to our habeit quhyt,
Vntill I ordour it wer a grit dispyte,
That ony sic vnworthy wicht as he
In till our habeit men sowld behald or se.
Bot sen it pleissis ȝow that ar heir,
Ȝe sall him se in liknes of a Frier;
In habeit blak it was his kynd to weir,
[Into sic wys that he sall no man deir.]
Gif ȝe so do, and rewll ȝow at all wyiss
To hald ȝow cloiss and still at my devyiss,
Quhat evir it be ȝe owdir se or heir,
Ȝe speik no word, nor mak no kynd of steir,
Bot hald ȝow cloiss, quhill I haif done my cure.
Than said he, “Semon, ȝe mone be on the flure,
Neirhand besyd with staff in to your hand;
Haif ȝe no dreid, I sall ȝow ay warrand.”

302

Than Symon said, “I assent that it be swa;”
And vp he start, and gat a libberla
In-to his hand, and on the flure he stert,
Sumthing effrayit, thocht stalwart was his hart.
Than to the Freir said Symone verry sone,
“Now tell me, maister, quhat ȝe will haif done.”
“No thing,” he said, “bot hald ȝow cloiss and still;
Quhat evir I do tak ȝe gud tent thairtill,
And neir the dur ȝe hyd ȝow prevely,
And quhen I bid ȝow stryk, strek hardely,
In to the nek se that ȝe hit him richt.”
“That sall I warrand,” quod he, “with all my micht.”
Thuss on the flure I leif him standand still,
Bydand his tyme; and turne agane I will,
How that the Freir did take his buke in hy,
And [turnit] our the levis full besely,
Ane full lang space, and quhen he had done swa,
Towart the troch withowttin wordis ma
He gois belyfe, and on this wyiss sayis he,
“Ha, how, Hurlybass, now I coniure the,
That thow vpryss and sone to me appeir,
In habeit blak in liknes of a freir;
Owt of this troch, quhair that thow dois ly,
Thow rax the sone, and mak no dyn nor cry;
Thow tumbill our the troch that we may se,
And vnto ws thow schaw the oppinlie;
And in this place se that thow no man greif,
Bot draw thy handis boith in to thy sleif,
And pull thy cowll doun owttour thy face;
Thow may thank God that thow gettis sic a grace;
Thairfoir thow turss the to thyne awin ressett,

303

Se this be done and mak no moir debait;
In thy depairting se thow mak no deray
Vnto no wicht, bot frely pass thy way;
And in this place se that thow cum no moir,
Bot I command the, or ellis the charge befoir;
And our the stair se that thow ga gud speid;
Gif thow dois nocht on thy awin perrell beid.”
With that the Freir, that vnder the troch lay,
Raxit him sone, bot he wes in a fray,
And vp he raiss, and wist na bettir wayn,
Bot of the troch he tumlit our the stane;
Syne fra the samyn quhairin he thocht him lang,
Vnto the dur he preisit him to gang,
With hevy cheir and drery countenance,
For nevir befoir him hapnit sic a chance.
And quhen Freir Robert saw him gangand by,
Vnto the Gudman full lowdly cowd he cry,
Stryk, stryk herdely, for now is tyme to the.
With that Symone a felloun flap lait fle,
With his burdoun he hit him on the nek;
He wes sa ferce he fell owttour the sek,
And brak his heid vpoun ane mustard stane.
Be this Freir Johine attour the stair is gane
In sic wyiss, that mist he hes the trap,
And in ane myr he fell, sic wes his hap,
Wes fourty futis of breid vndir the stair;
Ȝeit gat he vp with clething nothing fair;
Full drerelie vpoun his feit he stude,
And throw the myre full smertly than he ȝude,
And our the wall he clam richt haistely,
Quhilk round abowt wes laid with stanis dry:
Off his eschaping in hairt he wes full fane,

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I trow he salbe laith to cum agane.
With that Freir Robert stert abak and saw
Quhair the Gudman lay sa woundir law
Vpoun the flure, and bleidand wes his heid;
He stert to him, and went he had bene deid,
And clawcht him vp withowttin wordis moir,
And to the dur delyverly him bure;
And fra the wind wes blawin twyiss in his face,
Than he ourcome within a lytill space;
And than Freir Robert franyt at him fast,
Quhat ailit him to be so soir agast.
He said, “Ȝone Freir hes maid me thus gait say.”
“Lat be,” quod he, “the werst is all away;
Mak mirry, man, and se ȝe mvrne na mair,
Ȝe haif him strikin quyt owttour the stair.
I saw him slip, gif I the suth can tell,
Doun our the stair, in till a myr he fell;
Bot lat him go, he wes a graceles gaist,
And boun ȝow to ȝour bed, for it is best.”
Thus Symonis heid vpoun the stane wes brokin,
And our the stair the Freir in myre hes loppin,
And tap our taill he fyld wes woundir ill;
And Alesone on na wayiss gat hir will.
This is the story that hapnit of that Freir,
No moir thair is, bot Chryst ws help most deir.

Finis.

305

II. [DOUN BY ANE REVER AS I RED.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Doun by ane rever as I red,
Outthrow a forrest that wes fair,
Thynkand how that this warld wes maid;
Sa suddanly away we fair,
That kingis and lordis sall haif no mair,
Fra tyme that thay be bund on beir;
Thus spak a fowll, I ȝow declair,
“Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

I marvellit quhat that bird sowld be
That wes so fair, with fedderis gent;
Scho bownid hir nocht to fle fra me,
But satt, and tald me hir intent,—
“Off thy misdeidis thow the repent,
And of thy synnys confess the cleir,
For Deid he hes his bow ay bent;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“Fra he begyn to schute his schot,
Thow wat nocht quhen that it will licht;
He spairis the nocht, in schip, nor bot,
In coive, nor craig, na castell wicht;
Bot as the sone that schynis bricht,
Owtthrwch the glass that is so cleir,
To lenth thy lyfe thow hes no micht;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

306

“Gif ony man his lyfe micht lenth,
I wat it had bene Salamone;
Of all wisdome he had the strenth,
He knew the vertew of erb and stone;
He cowld nocht for him self dispone
Attour his dait, to leif a ȝeir;
Ane wysar wicht wes never none;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“Quhairto sowld I thir sampillis say?
Thow hes sene mo than I can tell,
Off lordis in to this land perfay,
Sum wyse, sum wicht, sum forss, sum fell,
Thay dowttit nowthir hevin nor hell,
Thay wer so wicht, withowttin weir;
Now with thair sawle we will nocht mell;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“And gif thow beis ane marchand man,
And wynnis thy living be the see,
Spend pairt of the gude [that] thow wan,
And keip the ay with honestie;
Fra thow be gane, I tak on me,
Thy wyfe will haif ane vthir feir,
Thy dalie sample thow may se;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“Or gif thow hes a benefice,
Preiss nevir to hurde the kirkis gude;
Do almouss deidis to peure alwayss,
In to this warld; to win the rude
Thow mon be bwreit in thy hude,
Thy windene scheit is nocht in weir,
Thy airis ar of eild to dwid;
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

307

“I say this be a preist of pryd,
That wes full wanton of his will;
Gold and siluer lay him besyd,
The fremmit thairof thair baggis can fill;
All that thay prayit for him wes ill,
For now thay drink and makis gud cheir;
Wyismen said, he did nane skill:
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“And of this preist I will speik mair,
That had sa mekle of warldis wrack,
Off all his freindis, less and mair
He wald nocht mend thame worth ane plack;
Quhill Deid he hint him be the back,
That he micht nowdir stand nor steir,
And lute him nocht his testment mack:
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

“Sen for no wisdome, nor no strenth,
Nor for no richess in this erd,
That ony man his lyf may lenth,
Naythir for freyndschip agane wanewerd;
I tak on hand fra thow be berd,
Thy sectouris spendis thy gudis cleir:
Thow may say that a fowle the lerd:
Do for thy self quhill thow art heir.”

308

III. [FANE WALD I LUVE, BOT QUHAIR ABOWT?]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Fane wald I luve, bot quhair abowt?
Thair is so mony luvaris thairowt,
That thair is left no place to me;
Quhairof I hovit now in dowt,
Gif I sowld luve, or lat it be.

Sa mony ar thair ladeis treitis
With triumphand amowres balleitis,
And dois thair bewteis pryiss so he,
That I find nocht bot daft consaitis
To say of luve; bot lat it be.

Sum thinkis his lady lustiest,
Sum haldis his lady for the best,
Sum sayis his luve is A per se;
Bot sum, forswth, ar so opprest
With luve, wer bettir lat it be.

Sum for his ladyis luve lyis seik,
Suppois scho comptis it nocht a leik;
And sum drowpis down as he wold die;
Sum strykis down a threid bair cheik
For luve, war bettir lat it be.

Sum luvis lang and lyis behind,
Sum luvis and freindschip can nocht fynd,

309

Sum festnit is, and ma nocht fle;
Sum led is lyk the belly blynd
With luve, wer bettir lat it be.

Thocht luve be grene in gud curage,
And be difficill till asswage,
The end of it is miserie:
Misgovernit ȝowth makis gowsty age;
Forbeir ȝe nocht, and lat it be.

Bot quha perfytly wald imprent,
Sowld fynd his luve moist permanent,
Luve God, thy prince, and freind, all thre;
Treit weill thy self, and stand content,
And latt all vthir luvaris be.

310

IV. FAINE WALD I, WITH ALL DILIGENCE.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Faine wald I, with all diligence,
Ane sang mak, plesand of sentence,
To everie mannis appetyte;
Bot thairin failȝes my science:
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

For, thocht sevin ȝeir I war avysit,
And with my wittis all devysit,
Ane singulare thing to put in dyte;
It suld with sum men be dispysit:
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

And thocht I say in generale,
Sum sall it tak in speciale;
And of sum folk I suld have wyte,
Quham I did never offend nor sall:
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

Wryte I of liberalitie,
Of gentrice, or nobilitie,
Than will thay say I flatter quyte,
Sa few ar of that facultie;
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

And, gif I wryte of wretchitnes,
Than is it war than ever it wes;

311

For thay will say that I bakbyte;
So thik that surname dois incres;
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

Wryte I nocht eftir all mennis mynd,
Suppois that pairt be evil inclynd,
The making is nocht wourthe ane myte;
Is nane so hable, heir to Ynde,
That eftir all mennis will can wryte.

Grit danger is in the endyting;
Gif lytil rewarde be in wryting,
Bettir war leif my paper quhyte,
And [tak] me to vthir delyting:
Thus wait I nocht quhairof to wryte.

312

V. [GIF ȜE WALD LUFE AND LUVIT BE.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Gif ȝe wald lufe and luvit be,
In mynd keip weill thir thingis thre,
And sadly in thy breist imprent;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

For he that pacience can nocht leir,
He sall displesance haif, perqueir,
Thocht he had all this warldis rent;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

For quha that secreit can nocht be,
Him all gud falloschip sall fle,
And credence nane sall him be lent;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

And he that is of hairt vntrew,
Fra he be kend, fair weill, adew.
Fy on him, fy! his fame is went;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

Thus he that wantis ane of thir thre,
Ane luvar glaid may neuir be,
Bot ay in sum thing discontent;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

313

Nocht with thy toung thy self discure
The thingis that thow hes of nature;
For, giff thow dois, thow suld repent;
Be secreit, trew, and pacient.

Finis.

314

VI. ANE LITTILL INTERLUD OF THE DROICHIS PART OF THE [PLAY].
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Hiry, hary, hubbilschow!
Se ȝe not quha is cum now,
Bot ȝit wait I nevir how,
With the quhirle wind?
A sargeand out of Sowdoun land,
A gyane strang for to stand,
That with the strenth of my hand
Beiris may bind.

Bot ȝit I trow that I vary,
I am bot ane Blynd Hary,
That lang hes bene with the fary
Farlyis to fynd;
And ȝit gif this be not I,
I wait it is the spreit of Gy,
Or ellis fle be the sky,
And lycht as the lynd.

[The God of most magnificence
Conserf this fair presens,
And saif this amyable audiens
Grete of renoune.

315

Prowest, baillies, officeris,
And honerable induellaris,
Marchandis and familiaris
Of all this fair towne.]

Quha is cum heir bot I,
A bawld, busteous bellomy,
Amang ȝow all to cry a cry,
With ane michty soun?
That generit am of gyanis kynd,
Fra the strong Hercules be strynd,
Off all the Occident and Ynd,
My elderis woir the croun.

My foir grandschir, hecht Fyn Mackcowll,
That dang the Devill and gart him ȝowll,
The skyis raind quhen he wald [scowle]
He trublit all the air:
He gat my gudschir Gog Magog;
He, quhen he dansit, the warld wald schog;
Ten thowsand ellis ȝeid in his frog
Off Heland plaidis and mair.

And ȝit he wes of tendir ȝowth;
Bot eftir he grew mekle at fowth,
Ellevin myle wyd mett was his mowth,
His teith wes ten myle squair.
He wald vpoun his tais vp stand,
And tak the starnis doun with his hand,
And sett thame in a gold garland
Aboif his wyvis hair.

316

He had a wyf was mekle of clift,
Hir heid wan heichar nor the lift;
The hevin reirdit quhen scho wald rift;
The lass was na thing sklendir:
Scho spatt Lochlomound with hir lippis;
Thundir and fyreflawcht flaw fra hir hippis;
Quhen scho was crabbit the sone thold clippis;
The Feynd durst nocht offend hir.

For cawld scho tuke the fevir cartane,
For all the claith in France and Bartane,
Wald not be to hir leg a gartane,
Thocht scho was ȝoung and tendir;
Vpoun a nicht heir in the north,
Scho tuke the gravall and staild Craig Gorth,
And pischit the grit watter of Forth,
Sic tyd ran eftir hend hir.

Ȝit ane thing writtin of hir I fynd,
In Yrland quhen scho blew behind,
At Norway coist scho raisit the wynd,
And grit schippis drownit thair.
Scho fischit all the Spanȝie seyis,
With hir sark lap betuix hir theyis;
Thre dayis saling betuix hir kneyis
It was estemid and mair.

The hingand brayis on adir syde
Scho powtterit with hir lymmis wyde;
Lassis micht leir at hir to stryde,
Wald ga to luvaris lair.

317

Scho markit to the land with mirth;
Scho pischit fyve quhailis in the Firth,
That croppin war in hir geig for girth,
Walterand amang the wair.

My fader, mekle Gow McMorne,
Owt of his moderis wame was schorne;
For littilnes scho was forlorne,
Siche ane kemp to beir:
Or he of aige was ȝeiris thre,
He wald step over the occiane sie;
The mone sprang nevir abone his kne,
The hevins had of him feir.

Ane thowsand ȝeir is past fra mynd,
Sen I was generid of his kynd,
Far furth in the desertis of Ynd,
Amang lyoun and beir:
Worthie King Arthour and Gawane,
And mony a bawld berne of Bartane,
Ar deid and in the weiris ar slane,
Sen I cowld weild a speir.

Sophie and the Sowdoun strang,
With weiris that hes lestit lang,
Owt of thair boundis hes maid me gang,
And turne to Turky tyte.
The King of Francis grit army
Hes brocht in derth in Lumbardy,
That in the cuntre he and I
Can nocht dwell baith perfyte.

318

Swadrik, Denmark, and Norraway,
Nor in the Steiddis I dar nocht ga;
Thair is nocht thair bot [tak] and slae,
Cut throppillis and mak quyte.
Yrland for evir I haif reffusit,
All wyismen will hald me excusit,
For nevir in land quhair Eriche was vsit,
To dwell had I dellyte.

[Quharfor in Scotland come I heir
With ȝow to byde and perseveir,
In Edinburgh quhar is meriast cheir,
Plesans, disport and play,
Quhilk is the lampe and A per se
Of this regioun in all degre
Of welefair and of honeste
Renoun and riche aray.]

I haif bene formest evir in feild,
And now sa lang I haif borne scheild,
That I am crynit in for eild
This littill, as ȝe may sie.
I haif bene banest vndir the lynd
This lang tyme, that nane cowld me fynd,
Quhill now with this last eistin wynd,
I am cum heir perdie.

My name is Welth, thairfoir be blyth,
I am cum confort ȝow to kyth;
Suppois wrechis will waill and wryth,
All darth I sall gar die;

319

For certanelie, the trewth to tell,
I cum amang ȝow for to dwell,
Far fra the sound of curphour bell
To dwell thinkis nevir me.

[Sen I am Welth cumyn to this wane,
Ȝe noble merchandis ever ilkane
Address ȝow furth with bow and flane
In lusty grene lufraye,
And follow furth on Robyn Hude,
With hartis coragious and gud,
And thocht that wretchis wald ga wod,
Of worschipe hald the way.

For I and my thre feres aye,
Weilfair, Wantoness and Play,
Sall byde with ȝou in all affray,
And cair put clene to flicht,
And we sall dredless ws address
To banis derth and all distress
And with all sportis and meryness
Ȝour hartis hald evir on hicht.]

Now sen I am suche quantetie
Off gyanis cum, as ȝe may sie,
Quhair wilbe gottin a wyfe to me
Off siclyk breid and hicht?
In all this boure is nocht a bryde
Ane houre I wait dar me abyde,
Ȝit trow ȝe ony heir besyde,
Micht suffir me all nicht.

320

[With ȝou sen I mon leid my lyf
Gar sers baith Louthiane and Fyf
And vale to me a mekle wyf,
A gret ungracious gan,
Sen scho is gane the Gret Forlore]
[Of Babylon, that I full yore
Espousit quhan we tocher store
Fra gud Sanct Dawy wan.]

Adow, fair weill! for now I go,
Bot I will nocht lang byd ȝow fro;
Chryst ȝow conserve fra every wo,
Baith madin, wyf and man;
God bliss thame, and the Haly Rude,
Givis me a drink sa it be gude;
And quha trowis best that I do lude,
Skynk first to me the can.

Finis off the Droichis Pairt of the Play.

321

VII. [IN ALL OURE GARDYN GROWIS THARE NA FLOURIS.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

BALADE.

In all oure gardyn growis thare na flouris,
Herbe nor tree that frute hes borne this ȝere,
The levys are doun schakyn with the schouris,
The fynkle fadit in oure grene herbere;
The birdis that bene wount to syngen here,
In all this May vnese has songin thrise;
And all of Dangere is our gardenere;
And Gentrise is put quite out of seruice.

Quhat that I mene be this I dar noght speke,
For I na dare, my hert it is so sare,
Na neuer sall I me revenge na wreke,
Bot on myself, althogh I suld forfare;
Saufand beaute I can prise na mare
Of hyr, that was wont to be gudeliest;
And suth it is, and sene in all our quhare,
No erdly thing bot for a tyme may lest.

Sen in this warld thare is no sekernes,
Bot pas mon all, and end mon every thing,
I tak my leve at all vnstedfastnes. [OMITTED]

322

VIII. [JERUSALEM REIOSS FOR JOY.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Jerusalem reioss for joy,
Jesus the sterne of most bewte
In the is rissin, as rychtous roy,
Fro dirknes to illumyne the;
With glorius sound of angell gle,
Thy Prince is borne in Baithlem,
Quhilk sall the mak of thraldome fre;
Illuminare Jerusalem!

With angellis licht, in legionis,
Thow art illumynit all about;
Thre Kingis of strenge regionis
To the ar cumin with lusty rout,
All drest with dyamantis but dout,
Reverst with gold in every hem;
Sounding attonis with a schout,
Illuminare Jerusalem!

The regeand tirrant that in the rang,
Herod, is exilit and his ofspring
The land of Juda, that josit wrang;
And rissin is now thy richtouss King.
So he, so mychtie is and ding,
Quhen men his gloriuss name dois nem,
Hevin, erd, and hell makis inclynyng:
Illumynare Jerusalem!

323

His cummyng knew all element;
The air be sterne did him persaife;
The watter, quhen dry he on it went;
The erd, that trymlit all and raife;
The sone, quhen he no lichtis gaif;
The croce, quhen it wes done contem;
The stanis, quhen thay in pecis claif:
Illumynare Jerusalem!

The deid him knew that raiss vpricht,
Quhilk lang tyme had the erd lyne vndir;
Crukit, and blynd declarit his micht,
That helit of thame so mony hundir;
Nature him knew, and had grit wundir,
Quhen he of wirgyn wes born but wem;
Hell, quhen thair ȝettis wer brokin asundir
Illumynare Jerusalem!

Finis.

324

IX. [NOW GLAIDITH EUERY LIFFIS CREATURE.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Now glaidith euery liffis creature,
With bliss, and confortable glaidness,
The hevynnis King is cled in our nature,
Ws fro the deth with ransoun for to redress;
The lamp of joy, that chasis all dirkness,
Ascendit to be the warldis licht,
Fro euery baill our boundis for to bless,
Borne of the glorius Virgyn Mary bricht.

Abone the radius hevin etheriall,
The court of sterris, the courss of sone and mone,
The potent Prince of joy imperiall,
The he surmonting Empriour abone,
Is cummyn fra his mychtie Faderis trone
In erd, with ane inestimable licht,
And is, of angellis with a sweit intone,
Borne of the most chest Virgyn Mary bricht.

Quho euir in erd hard so blyth a story,
Or tithing of sa grit felicite,
As how the garthe of all grace and glory
For luve and mercy hes tane humanite;
Makar of angellis, man, erd, hevin, and se,
And to ourcum our fo, and put to flicht,
Is cumin a bab, full of benignite,
Borne of the most chest Virgyn Mary bricht.

325

The souerane Senȝour of all celsitude,
That sittis abone the ordour cherubin,
Quhilk all thing creat, and all thing dois includ,
That neuir sall end, na neuir moir did begin,
But quhome is nocht, fra quhome no tyme dois rin,
With quhome all gud is, with quhome is euery wicht,
Is with his woundis cum for to wesche our syn;
Borne of the most chest Virgyn Mary bricht.

Quhairfoir sing all with confort and glaidnes,
And cast away all cair and cuvatice;
Devoyd all wo, and leif in merines;
Exerce vertew, and banyss euery vice;
Dispyss fortun, richt rynis on synk and sise;
And, in the honour of his blisfull mycht,
All welcum we the Prince of Paradice,
Borne of the most chest Virgyn Mary bricht.

Finis.

326

X. [O LUSTY FLOUR OF ȜOWTH, BENYNG AND BRICHT.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O lusty flour of ȝowth, benying and bricht,
Fresch blome of bewty, blythfull, brycht, and schene,
Fair lufsum lady, gentill and discret,
Ȝung brekand blosum, ȝit on the stalkis grene,
Delytsum lilly, lusty for to be sene,
Be glaid in hairt and expell haviness;
Bair of bliss, that evir so blytht hes bene,
Dewoyd langour, and leif in lustiness.

Brycht sterne at morrow that dois the nycht hyn chase,
Of luvis lychtsum lyfe and gyd,
Lat no dirk clud absent fro ws thy face,
Nor lat no sable frome ws thy bewty hyd,
That hes no confort quhair that we go or ryd,
Bot to behald the beme of thi brychtness;
Baneiss all baill, and into bliss abyd;
Dewoyd langour, and leif in lustiness.

Art thow plesand, lusty, ȝoing and fair;
Full of all vertew and gud conditioun,
Rycht nobill of blud, rycht wyiss and debonair,
Honorable, gentill, and faythfull of renoun,
Liberall, lufsum, and lusty of persoun,

327

Quhy suld thow than lat sadness the oppress?
In hairt be blytht and lay all dolour doun;
Dewoyd langour, and leif in lustiness.

I me commend, with all humilitie
Vnto thi bewty blisfull and bening,
To quhome I am, and sall ay scherwand be,
With steidfast hairt, and faythfull trew mening,
Vnto the deid, without depairting;
For quhais saik I sall my pen address
Sangis to mak for thy reconforting,
That thow may leif in joy and lustiness.

O fair sweit blossum, now in bewty flouris,
Vnfaidit bayth of cullour and vertew,
Thy nobill lord that deid hes done devoir,
Faid nocht with weping thy vissage fair of hew;
O lufsum lusty lady, wyse, and trew,
Cast out all cair, and confort do incress,
Exyll all sichand, on thy scherwand rew!
Dewoyd langour, and leif in lustiness.

Finis.

328

XI. [THE STERNE IS RISSIN OF OUR REDEMPTIOUN.]
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun
In Baithlem, with bemes blyth and bricht;
The Sone of God in erd he schewin him boun,
Amang his angellis with a glorius licht,
As hevynnyis Lord of maieste and mycht!
Cum mortall kingis, and fall on kneis doun
Befoir the King of lestand lyfe and lycht:
The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun.

All empriouris, kingis, princis, and preleittis,
Heir nakit borne, and nvreist vp with noy,
Leif all ȝour wofull truble and debaittis,
Cum, luke on the eternall King of joy;
Ly all on grufe, befoir that hich grand Roy,
That only King of euery regioun,
Off Perce, of Ynd, of Egipt, Grece, and Troy:
The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun.

Inclyne befoir the Cristin Conquerour,
Of every kith, and kinryk vndir sky,
The he makar, the mychte Saluatour,
The meik Redimar most to magnify;
With reverend feir doun on ȝour facis ly,

329

And on this day in his laudatioun,
Aue Redemptor Jesu! all ȝe cry;
The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun.

We may nocht in this vale of bale abyd,
Ourdirkit with the sable clud nocturn;
The Sterne of glory is rissyn ws to gyd,
Abone the speir of Mars and of Saturn;
Abone Phebus, the radius lamp divrn,
To the superne eternall regioun,
Quhair noxiall skyis may mak no sogeorn;
The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun.

All follow we the Sterne of most brichtnes,
With the thre blisfull orientall kingis,
The sterne of day, voyder of dirknes,
Abone all sterris, planeitis, speiris, and singis;
Beseiking him, fra quhome all mercy springis,
Ws to ressaue, with mirth of angell soun,
In to the hevin quhair the Imperiall ringis:
The Sterne is rissin of our redemptioun.

Finis Natiuitatis Dei.