The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie Edited by James Cranstoun |
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II. |
III. |
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V. |
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VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
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XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
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XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | ||
LXII. THE POETS APOLOGIE TO THE KIRK OF EDINBURGH.
I wonder of ȝour Wisdomes, that ar wyse,That baith miskennis my method and my Muse;
Quhen I invey, such epithets I wse,
That evin Alecto laughing at me lyis.
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Nor ȝon couhorne, vhereof ȝe me accuse;
For fra the Fureis me with fyr infuse,
Quhom Bautie byts, he deir that bargan byis;
For if I open wp my anger anes,
To plunge my pen into that stinking Styx,
My tongue is lyk the lyons; vhair it liks,
It brings the flesh, lyk bryrie, fra the banes:
I think it scorne, besyd the skaith and sklander,
To euin an ape with aufull Alexander.
The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | ||