The Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount ... Edited by Douglas Hamer |
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OF YE MOST MISERABYL AND MOST TERRABILL DISTRUCTIOUN OF IERUSALEM. |
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 | The Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount |  |
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OF YE MOST MISERABYL AND MOST TERRABILL DISTRUCTIOUN OF IERUSALEM.
COUR[TIOUR].Father (said I) declare to me,
Induryng this ferd Monarchie
The maist Infortune that befell.
EXPE[RIENCE].
My Sonne (said he) that sall I tell.
The moist and manyfest misarie
Became apon the gret Cetie
Ierusalem, quhen it wes supprest,
As storyis makis manifest.
Bot, as the Scripture doith deuyse,
Ierusalem wes distroyit twyse.
First, for the gret Idolatrye
Quhilk thay commyttit in Iowrye.
The honour aucht to God allone
Thay gaif Figuris of stoke and stone.
Affore Christis Incarnatioun
Come this first desolatioun,
Fyue hundreth ȝeris, four score, and ten,
In Cronicles as thow may ken.
Quhow Nabuchodonosor, kyng,
That famous Citie did doun thryng;
Thare Kyng, with peple mony one,
Brocht thame, all bound, to Babilone,
Quhare thay remanit Presoneris
The space of thre score and ten ȝeris.
And that first desolatioun
Wes callit the Transmigratioun.
Wes no man left, in all thare landis,
Bot Purellis lauborand with thare handis,
Tyll mychtie Cyrus, king of Pers,
As Daniell heth done rehers,
Wes mouit, be God, for tyll restore
The Iowis quhare that thay wer afore.
The moist and manyfest misarie
Became apon the gret Cetie
Ierusalem, quhen it wes supprest,
As storyis makis manifest.
Bot, as the Scripture doith deuyse,
Ierusalem wes distroyit twyse.
First, for the gret Idolatrye
Quhilk thay commyttit in Iowrye.
The honour aucht to God allone
Thay gaif Figuris of stoke and stone.
Affore Christis Incarnatioun
Come this first desolatioun,
Fyue hundreth ȝeris, four score, and ten,
In Cronicles as thow may ken.
Quhow Nabuchodonosor, kyng,
That famous Citie did doun thryng;
Thare Kyng, with peple mony one,
Brocht thame, all bound, to Babilone,
Quhare thay remanit Presoneris
The space of thre score and ten ȝeris.
And that first desolatioun
Wes callit the Transmigratioun.
Wes no man left, in all thare landis,
Bot Purellis lauborand with thare handis,
313
As Daniell heth done rehers,
Wes mouit, be God, for tyll restore
The Iowis quhare that thay wer afore.
Geue I neglect, I wer to blame,
The last Sege of Ierusalem,
Quhose rewyne wes most miserabyll,
And for to tell rycht terrabyll.
Wes neuer, in erth, Cetie nor toun,
Gatt sic extreme distructioun.
The townis of Tyre, Tebes, nor Troye,
Thay sufferit neuer half sic noye.
The Emprioure Uespasiane
He did deuyse that Sege, certane.
The last Sege of Ierusalem,
Quhose rewyne wes most miserabyll,
And for to tell rycht terrabyll.
Wes neuer, in erth, Cetie nor toun,
Gatt sic extreme distructioun.
The townis of Tyre, Tebes, nor Troye,
Thay sufferit neuer half sic noye.
The Emprioure Uespasiane
He did deuyse that Sege, certane.
Thare wes the Prophesie compleit
Quhilk Christ spake on mont Olyueit.
Quhen he Ierusalem beheld,
The teris frome his eine disteld.
Seand, be Diuyne prescience,
The gret distructioun and vengence
Quhilk wes to cum on that Cetie,
His hart wes persit with Petie,
Sayand: Ierusalem, and thow knew
Thy gret rewyne, sore wald thow rew.
For no thyng I can to the schaw,
The veritie thow wyll nocht knaw,
Nor hes in consydderatioun
Thy holy visitatioun.
Thy peple wyll no way considder,
Quham gadtherit I wald haif to gidder,
As errand scheip bene with thare hirdis,
Or as the Hen gadderis her byrdis
Under hir wyngis, tenderlye,
Quhilk thay refusit dispitfullye.
Quharefor sall cum that dulefull day,
That no remedy mak thow may:
Thy Dungiounis sall be dung in schounder,
So that the warld sall on the wounder;
Thy tempyll, now most tryumphand,
Sall be tred doun amang the sand.
And, as he said, so it befell,
As heir efter I sall the tell.
Quhilk Christ spake on mont Olyueit.
Quhen he Ierusalem beheld,
The teris frome his eine disteld.
Seand, be Diuyne prescience,
The gret distructioun and vengence
Quhilk wes to cum on that Cetie,
His hart wes persit with Petie,
Sayand: Ierusalem, and thow knew
Thy gret rewyne, sore wald thow rew.
For no thyng I can to the schaw,
The veritie thow wyll nocht knaw,
Nor hes in consydderatioun
Thy holy visitatioun.
Thy peple wyll no way considder,
Quham gadtherit I wald haif to gidder,
As errand scheip bene with thare hirdis,
Or as the Hen gadderis her byrdis
Under hir wyngis, tenderlye,
Quhilk thay refusit dispitfullye.
Quharefor sall cum that dulefull day,
That no remedy mak thow may:
Thy Dungiounis sall be dung in schounder,
So that the warld sall on the wounder;
314
Sall be tred doun amang the sand.
And, as he said, so it befell,
As heir efter I sall the tell.
COUR[TIOUR].
Schaw me (said I) with circumstance,
The speciall cause of that myschance.
EXPE[RIENCE].
(Quod he) as scripture doith conclude,
For scheddyng of the saikles blude
Off Prophetis quhilkis God to thame send,
And, als, because that thay myskend
Iesu, the Sonne of God Souerane,
Quhen he amang thame did remane.
For all the Myraklis that he schew,
Maliciouslye thay hym mysknew;
Thocht, be his gret power diuyne,
The walter cleir he turnit in wyne,
And, be that self power and mycht,
To the blynde borne he gaif the sycht,
And gaif the crukit men thair feit,
And maid the lypir haill compleit.
He halit all, and rasit the dede,
Ȝit held thay hym at mortall fede.
Because he schew the veritie,
Thay did conclude that he sulde de.
For scheddyng of the saikles blude
Off Prophetis quhilkis God to thame send,
And, als, because that thay myskend
Iesu, the Sonne of God Souerane,
Quhen he amang thame did remane.
For all the Myraklis that he schew,
Maliciouslye thay hym mysknew;
Thocht, be his gret power diuyne,
The walter cleir he turnit in wyne,
And, be that self power and mycht,
To the blynde borne he gaif the sycht,
And gaif the crukit men thair feit,
And maid the lypir haill compleit.
He halit all, and rasit the dede,
Ȝit held thay hym at mortall fede.
Because he schew the veritie,
Thay did conclude that he sulde de.
The Byschoppis, princis of the preistis,
They grew so boildin, in thare breistis,
The Scrybis, the Doctouris of the law,
Off God nor man quhilkis stude none aw,
On Christ Iesu to wyrk vengeance.
Rycht so, the fals Pharesiance,
Ane Sect of fenȝeit Religioun,
Deuysit his confusioun,
And send thare seruandis, at the last,
And with strang cordis thay band hym fast,
Syne scurgit hym, boith bak and syde,
That none for blude mycht se his hyde.
Thare wes nocht left ane penny breid
Unwoundit, frome his feit tyll heid.
In maner of dirisioun,
Thay plett for hym ane creuell croun
Off prunȝeand thornis scharpe and lang,
Quhilk on his hewinlye heid thay thrang,
Syne gart hym, for the gretter lack,
Beir his awin Gallous, on his back,
Tyll the vyle place of Caluare,
Quhare mony ane thousand man mycht se.
They grew so boildin, in thare breistis,
The Scrybis, the Doctouris of the law,
Off God nor man quhilkis stude none aw,
On Christ Iesu to wyrk vengeance.
Rycht so, the fals Pharesiance,
Ane Sect of fenȝeit Religioun,
Deuysit his confusioun,
315
And with strang cordis thay band hym fast,
Syne scurgit hym, boith bak and syde,
That none for blude mycht se his hyde.
Thare wes nocht left ane penny breid
Unwoundit, frome his feit tyll heid.
In maner of dirisioun,
Thay plett for hym ane creuell croun
Off prunȝeand thornis scharpe and lang,
Quhilk on his hewinlye heid thay thrang,
Syne gart hym, for the gretter lack,
Beir his awin Gallous, on his back,
Tyll the vyle place of Caluare,
Quhare mony ane thousand man mycht se.
That Innocent thay tuke, perforce,
And platt hym bakwart to the Croce.
Throuch feit and handis gret nalis thay thryst,
Tyll blude aboundantlye out bryst.
Without grunschyng, clamor, or crye,
That pane he sufferit patientlye.
And, for agmentyng of his grefis,
Thay hangit hym betuix two thefis,
Quhare men mycht se the bludy strandis
Quhilkis sprang furth of his feit and handis.
Frome thornis, thristit on his heid,
Ran doun the bulryng stremis reid.
In the presens of mony one man,
That blude royall on roches ran.
Schortly to say, that heuinlye Kyng
In extreme dolour thare did hyng,
Tyll he said Consumatum est;
With A loude crye, he gaif the gaist.
Quhen he wes dede, thay tuke one dart,
And peirst that Prence outthrouch the hart,
Fra quham thare ran walter and blude.
The erth than trymblit, to conclude.
And platt hym bakwart to the Croce.
Throuch feit and handis gret nalis thay thryst,
Tyll blude aboundantlye out bryst.
Without grunschyng, clamor, or crye,
That pane he sufferit patientlye.
And, for agmentyng of his grefis,
Thay hangit hym betuix two thefis,
Quhare men mycht se the bludy strandis
Quhilkis sprang furth of his feit and handis.
Frome thornis, thristit on his heid,
Ran doun the bulryng stremis reid.
In the presens of mony one man,
That blude royall on roches ran.
Schortly to say, that heuinlye Kyng
In extreme dolour thare did hyng,
Tyll he said Consumatum est;
With A loude crye, he gaif the gaist.
Quhen he wes dede, thay tuke one dart,
And peirst that Prence outthrouch the hart,
Fra quham thare ran walter and blude.
The erth than trymblit, to conclude.
Phebus did hyde his beymes brycht,
That throuch the warld thare wes no lycht.
The gret vaill of the tempyll raue.
The dede men rais out of thare graue,
And in the Cetie did appeir,
As in the Scripture thow may heir.
Than Ioseph of Abaramathie,
Did bury hym rycht honestlie.
Bot ȝit he rose, full gloriouslye,
On the thrid day, tryumphandlye.
With his Disciplis, in certane,
Fourtye dayis he did remane;
Efter that, to the heuin ascendit.
Thir Iowis no thyng thare lyfe amendit,
Nor gaif no credens tyll his sawis,
As at more lenth the storye schawis,
Bot creuellye thay did oppres
All men that Christis name did profes,
And persecutit mony one.
Thay presonit boith Peter and Ihone,
And Stewin thay stonit to the dede.
Frome Iames the les thay straik the hede.
This wes the cause, in conclusioun,
Off thare creuell confusioun.
That throuch the warld thare wes no lycht.
316
The dede men rais out of thare graue,
And in the Cetie did appeir,
As in the Scripture thow may heir.
Than Ioseph of Abaramathie,
Did bury hym rycht honestlie.
Bot ȝit he rose, full gloriouslye,
On the thrid day, tryumphandlye.
With his Disciplis, in certane,
Fourtye dayis he did remane;
Efter that, to the heuin ascendit.
Thir Iowis no thyng thare lyfe amendit,
Nor gaif no credens tyll his sawis,
As at more lenth the storye schawis,
Bot creuellye thay did oppres
All men that Christis name did profes,
And persecutit mony one.
Thay presonit boith Peter and Ihone,
And Stewin thay stonit to the dede.
Frome Iames the les thay straik the hede.
This wes the cause, in conclusioun,
Off thare creuell confusioun.
The prudent Iow, Iosephus, sayis
That he wes present in those dayis,
And, in his buke, makith mentioun,
Quhow, efter Christis Ascentioun
The space of twa and fourty ȝeris,
Began those creuell mortall weris,
The secund ȝeir of Uespasiane,
Quhare mony takin wer and slane.
Iosephus planely doith conclude,
Wes neuer sene sic one multytude,
Affore that tyme, in to the toun,
Quhilk come for thare confusioun.
Thare gret Infortune so befell,
That all the Princis of Israell
Conuenit agane the tyme of Peace,
Bot tyll returne thay had no grace
The bald Romanis, with thare Chiftane,
Tytus, the Sonne of Uespasiane,
Thare Army ouer Iudea spred.
Than all men to the Ciete fled,
Beleuand thare to get releif;
Bot all that turnit to thare myscheif.
That he wes present in those dayis,
And, in his buke, makith mentioun,
Quhow, efter Christis Ascentioun
The space of twa and fourty ȝeris,
Began those creuell mortall weris,
The secund ȝeir of Uespasiane,
Quhare mony takin wer and slane.
Iosephus planely doith conclude,
Wes neuer sene sic one multytude,
Affore that tyme, in to the toun,
Quhilk come for thare confusioun.
Thare gret Infortune so befell,
That all the Princis of Israell
Conuenit agane the tyme of Peace,
Bot tyll returne thay had no grace
317
Tytus, the Sonne of Uespasiane,
Thare Army ouer Iudea spred.
Than all men to the Ciete fled,
Beleuand thare to get releif;
Bot all that turnit to thare myscheif.
The Romanis lappit thame about,
That be no waye thay mycht wyn out.
Sax Moneth did that Sege indure,
Quhare loste wer mony one creature,
Quhilkis thare in misary did remane,
Tyll thay wer takin all, or slane.
Duryng the tyme of this assailȝe,
Thare meit, and drynk, and all did failȝe.
For thare wes sic ane multytude
That thousandis deit for falt of fude.
Necessitie gart thame eit, perforsse,
Dog, Catt, and Rattone, Asse, and horsse.
Ryche men behuffit tyll eait thare gold,
Syne deit of hunger mony fold.
Sic hunger wes, without remeid
The quik behufit tyll eit the deid.
The fylth of Closettis mony eit;
To lenth thare lyfe thay thocht it sweit.
That be no waye thay mycht wyn out.
Sax Moneth did that Sege indure,
Quhare loste wer mony one creature,
Quhilkis thare in misary did remane,
Tyll thay wer takin all, or slane.
Duryng the tyme of this assailȝe,
Thare meit, and drynk, and all did failȝe.
For thare wes sic ane multytude
That thousandis deit for falt of fude.
Necessitie gart thame eit, perforsse,
Dog, Catt, and Rattone, Asse, and horsse.
Ryche men behuffit tyll eait thare gold,
Syne deit of hunger mony fold.
Sic hunger wes, without remeid
The quik behufit tyll eit the deid.
The fylth of Closettis mony eit;
To lenth thare lyfe thay thocht it sweit.
The famous Ladyis of the toun,
For falt of fude, thay fell in swoun.
Quhen thay mycht gett none vther meit,
Thay slew thare propir Bairnis to eit.
Bot all for nocht: dispytfullye,
Thare awin sowldiouris, full gredelye,
Reft thame that flesche most misarabyll,
And thay, with murnyng lamentabyll,
For extreme hunger, ȝald the spreit.
Thare wes the Prophesie compleit,
As Christ affore maid narratioun,
The day of his grym Passioun.
Quhen that the Ladyis for hym murnit,
Full pietuouslye he to thame turnit,
And said: douchterris, murne nocht for me;
Murne on ȝour awin posteritie.
Within schort tyme sall cum the day
That men of this Ciete sall say,
Quhen thay ar trappit in the snair,
Blyst be the wamb that neuer bair.
The baren papis, than, thay sall blys;
That dulefull day ȝe sall nocht mys.
This prophesie it come to pas,
That day, with mony lowde allas.
Sic sorrowfull lamentatioun
Wes neuer hard in that natioun.
Seand those lustye Ladyis sweit
Deand for hunger in the streit,
Thare husbandis nor thare chyldring
Mycht geue to thame na conforting,
Nor ȝit releif thame of thare harmis,
Bot atheris deand in vtheris armis.
Efter this wofull Indigence,
Amang thame rose sic Pestilence,
Quhare in thare deit mony hounder,
Quhilk tyll declare it wer gret wounder.
For falt of fude, thay fell in swoun.
Quhen thay mycht gett none vther meit,
Thay slew thare propir Bairnis to eit.
Bot all for nocht: dispytfullye,
Thare awin sowldiouris, full gredelye,
Reft thame that flesche most misarabyll,
And thay, with murnyng lamentabyll,
For extreme hunger, ȝald the spreit.
Thare wes the Prophesie compleit,
As Christ affore maid narratioun,
The day of his grym Passioun.
Quhen that the Ladyis for hym murnit,
Full pietuouslye he to thame turnit,
318
Murne on ȝour awin posteritie.
Within schort tyme sall cum the day
That men of this Ciete sall say,
Quhen thay ar trappit in the snair,
Blyst be the wamb that neuer bair.
The baren papis, than, thay sall blys;
That dulefull day ȝe sall nocht mys.
This prophesie it come to pas,
That day, with mony lowde allas.
Sic sorrowfull lamentatioun
Wes neuer hard in that natioun.
Seand those lustye Ladyis sweit
Deand for hunger in the streit,
Thare husbandis nor thare chyldring
Mycht geue to thame na conforting,
Nor ȝit releif thame of thare harmis,
Bot atheris deand in vtheris armis.
Efter this wofull Indigence,
Amang thame rose sic Pestilence,
Quhare in thare deit mony hounder,
Quhilk tyll declare it wer gret wounder.
And, for fynall conclusioun,
Those weirlyke wallis thay dang doun.
Prince Tytus, with his Chewalrye,
With sound of trompe, Tryumphandlye,
He enterrit in that gret Ciete.
Bot tyll declare I thynk piete
The panefull clamour horrabyll,
Off woundit folk most miserabyll.
Thare wes nocht ellis bot tak and slay,
For thare mycht no man wyn away.
The strandis of blude ran throuch the stretis
Off dede folk trampit vnder fetis.
Auld Wedowis in the preis wer smorit;
Ȝoung Uirginis, schamefully deflorit;
The gret Tempyll of Salamone,
With mony A curyous caruit stone,
With perfyte pynnakles on hycht,
Quhilkis wer rycht bewtyfull and wycht,
Quhare in ryche Iowellis did abound,
Thay ruscheit rudlye to the ground,
And sett, in tyll thare furious yre,
Sancta Sanctorum in to fyre,
And, with extreme confusioun,
All thare gret Dungionis thay dang doun.
Those weirlyke wallis thay dang doun.
Prince Tytus, with his Chewalrye,
With sound of trompe, Tryumphandlye,
He enterrit in that gret Ciete.
Bot tyll declare I thynk piete
The panefull clamour horrabyll,
Off woundit folk most miserabyll.
Thare wes nocht ellis bot tak and slay,
For thare mycht no man wyn away.
The strandis of blude ran throuch the stretis
Off dede folk trampit vnder fetis.
Auld Wedowis in the preis wer smorit;
Ȝoung Uirginis, schamefully deflorit;
The gret Tempyll of Salamone,
With mony A curyous caruit stone,
319
Quhilkis wer rycht bewtyfull and wycht,
Quhare in ryche Iowellis did abound,
Thay ruscheit rudlye to the ground,
And sett, in tyll thare furious yre,
Sancta Sanctorum in to fyre,
And, with extreme confusioun,
All thare gret Dungionis thay dang doun.
Thare bursin wer the boildin breistis
Off Byschoppis, princis of the preistis.
Thare takin wes the gret vengeence
On fals Scrybis and Pharisience.
All thare payntit Ipocrasie
That tyme, mycht mak thame no supplie.
That day thay dulefullye repentit
That to the deith of Christe consentit:
Thocht it wes oure Saluatioun,
Itt wes to thare Dampnatioun,
The vengeance of the blude saikles,
Frome Abell tyll Zacharies,
That day apon Ierusalem fell.
Bot tiddius it wer to tell
The gret extreme confusioun,
And of blude sic effusioun.
Wes neuer slane so mony ane man,
At one tyme, sen the warld began.
The Iowis, that day, gat thare desyre,
Quhilk thay did aske, in to thare yre,
As bene in Scripture specifyit,
The day quhen Christe wes Crucifyit.
Quhen Ponce Pylat, the precedent,
Said to thame, I am Innocent
Off the Iust Blude of Christ Iesus,
Thay cryit, his Blude lycht vpon ws,
And on our Generatioun.
Thay gat thare Supplicatioun.
That day, with mony cairfull cry,
Thare blude wes sched aboundantly.
Off Byschoppis, princis of the preistis.
Thare takin wes the gret vengeence
On fals Scrybis and Pharisience.
All thare payntit Ipocrasie
That tyme, mycht mak thame no supplie.
That day thay dulefullye repentit
That to the deith of Christe consentit:
Thocht it wes oure Saluatioun,
Itt wes to thare Dampnatioun,
The vengeance of the blude saikles,
Frome Abell tyll Zacharies,
That day apon Ierusalem fell.
Bot tiddius it wer to tell
The gret extreme confusioun,
And of blude sic effusioun.
Wes neuer slane so mony ane man,
At one tyme, sen the warld began.
The Iowis, that day, gat thare desyre,
Quhilk thay did aske, in to thare yre,
As bene in Scripture specifyit,
The day quhen Christe wes Crucifyit.
Quhen Ponce Pylat, the precedent,
Said to thame, I am Innocent
Off the Iust Blude of Christ Iesus,
Thay cryit, his Blude lycht vpon ws,
And on our Generatioun.
Thay gat thare Supplicatioun.
That day, with mony cairfull cry,
Thare blude wes sched aboundantly.
320
Iosephus wryttith, in his buke,
His Cronicle quho lyste to luke,
Duryng that creuell Sege, certane,
Wer alewin hundreth thowsand slane;
Off Presonaris, weill tauld and sene,
Foure score of thousandis, and sewintene.
Out of the land thay did expell
All the peple of Israell,
And, for thare gret Ingratytude,
Thay leif ȝit vnder Seruytude.
Thare is no Iow, in no cuntre,
Quhilk hes one fute of propertie,
Nor neuer had, withouttin weir,
Sen this day fyuetene hundreth ȝeir,
Nor neuer sall, I to the schaw,
Tyll that thay turne to Christis law.
His Cronicle quho lyste to luke,
Duryng that creuell Sege, certane,
Wer alewin hundreth thowsand slane;
Off Presonaris, weill tauld and sene,
Foure score of thousandis, and sewintene.
Out of the land thay did expell
All the peple of Israell,
And, for thare gret Ingratytude,
Thay leif ȝit vnder Seruytude.
Thare is no Iow, in no cuntre,
Quhilk hes one fute of propertie,
Nor neuer had, withouttin weir,
Sen this day fyuetene hundreth ȝeir,
Nor neuer sall, I to the schaw,
Tyll that thay turne to Christis law.
Sum sayis that Iowis mony fald
Wer thretty for ane penny sald;
As Iudas sauld the Kyng of Glore
For thretty pennyis, and no more.
Wer thretty for ane penny sald;
As Iudas sauld the Kyng of Glore
For thretty pennyis, and no more.
Efter that mony wer myscheuit,
Quhen nouellis past quhow lang thay leuit
Apone thare Gold, withouttin doute,
Thay slyt thare bellyis, to sers it oute.
The rest in Egypt thay did sende,
Presonaris to thare lyuis ende.
Tytus tuke, in his cumpanye,
Gret nummer of the most worthye.
With hym to Rome he led thame bound,
Syne creuelly did thame confound,
His victory for tyll decore,
And for agmentyng of his glore.
Gart put thame in to publict placis,
Quhare all folk mycht behald thare facis;
Syne with wyld Lyonis creuellye
He gart deuore thame dulefullye.
Quhen nouellis past quhow lang thay leuit
Apone thare Gold, withouttin doute,
Thay slyt thare bellyis, to sers it oute.
The rest in Egypt thay did sende,
Presonaris to thare lyuis ende.
Tytus tuke, in his cumpanye,
Gret nummer of the most worthye.
With hym to Rome he led thame bound,
Syne creuelly did thame confound,
His victory for tyll decore,
And for agmentyng of his glore.
Gart put thame in to publict placis,
Quhare all folk mycht behald thare facis;
Syne with wyld Lyonis creuellye
He gart deuore thame dulefullye.
This hie, Tryumphand, mychtie toun
At Pasche wes put to confusioun,
Because that in the tyme of Peace
Thay Crucifyit the Kyng of grace.
Sum hes this mater done indyte
More Ornatly than I can wryte,
Quharefor I speik of it no more.
Onely to God be laude and glore.
At Pasche wes put to confusioun,
321
Thay Crucifyit the Kyng of grace.
Sum hes this mater done indyte
More Ornatly than I can wryte,
Quharefor I speik of it no more.
Onely to God be laude and glore.
FINIS.
| The Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount | |