To the Richt High Lodvvik Duke of Lenox :: :: University of Virginia Library

First in my visioun I saw,
Montains and Muris, orecled with snaw,
And all the bewis maid bair,
And syne I thocht, I saw gret Seis,
Quhois michtie force, Neptvn dois meis,
As Dominator thair:
The Iland Egeos, I did se,
Neptvnvs hallowit hill,
Quhilk stands into the Grecian Se,
Quhair fluds dois flow and fill:
Besyde thair, maist wyde thair,
Mount Locas micht be seene,
With Scillia, and Dosina,
Quhair grows the marbell greene.

Erix that monstrus mountaine hie,
Quhois hauture hes na quantitie,
As Poets dois report,
This michtie mountaine, micht be seene,
Quhairon thair stands, ane Temple scheene,
Weill buildit thair athort:
This Tempill did the Troians found,
To Venvs, as we read,
The stains thairof war marbell sound,
Lyke to the Lamer bead:

This muldrie, and buldrie,
Was maist magnificall,
Maist royall, and ioyall,
Trim and pontificall.

Quhair I sat musing mine alone,
OLympus mont of Macedone,
I thocht stud me before,
Mont Emus, thair apeird to me,
Quhair Orphevs leird his harmonie,
And melodiuell lore:
I saw the riuer Tagus to,
Quhair goldin sands did schyne,
Quhair that the Nymphs hes ay ado,
With all the Musis nyne:
As Nerides, and Driades,
Twa Nymphs, of gret renoun,
With Cleo, and Crato,
Till Helicone wer boun.

The Rochis repercust and rang,
Quhair that the Tritons plaid and sang,
On trumpis tresexcellent,
Thair Pan plaid on his pleasant pype,
And Orphevs on his Harpe sicklike,
Ane pretty instrument:
That sound wes so celestiall,
And so melodius,
Aboue all things terrestriall,
The maist iucundius:
Maist sweitest, and meitest,
For wearie men like me,
Quhois noying to ioying,
Wes changit suddenlie.

Sick mirthfull menstrellie wes thair,
I wait that neuer man saw mair,

Into so schort a space,
I musit, and I merueld syne,
To se that hie triumphant tryne,
Of peopill in that place:
Than curiously I did inquire,
At ane quho stud me by,
Quho Prences was, or had impire,
Of that maist fralik fry:
A maid than, me said than,
I sall you tell bedeene,
Our maistres, and goddes,
Venvs that lustie Queene.

Quhair boun ye to my frend, sche sais,
Astonishtly me thinke ye gais,
Tell me quhat mouis your mynd,
Gif ze gang wrang, I sall you gyde,
Apearandly thou wanderst wyde,
I se weill be your synd:
For this place is maist perrillus,
And dangerous indeid,
And thir mountains are maruellus,
Quhair all Wyldbeists dois breid:
Maist terribill, and horribill,
Is this wanhappy gait,
Sick dangers, puts strangers,
Into ane stakren stait.

Gif thou go fordward, thou sall se,
Neritos with his rochis hie,
Quhair Gyants hes thair hyuis
Thair rochis thou sall se anew,
Quhair Hercvles the lyon slew,
As Virgil weill descryuis:
Into thir pairts, thair nane repairs,
Except it be our sels,
For heir belangs, our haill affairs,

As I haue tauld the els:
Bot we than, ye se than,
Nane may mak hanting heir,
Vnles now, expres now,
To daith thay wald apeir.

Heir is the pairt thou may espy,
Quhair Cacvs, in his caue dois ly,
That monster maist seueir,
Vpoun his zet deid heidis ar hung,
Of agit folke, and children young,
Quho had bene walken heir:
This Cacvs, lyis not heir alon,
Bot mony Gyants mea,
The ofspring zit of Gerion
Quhome Hercvles did flea,
Pocessis, and dressis,
Thir placis as thay pleis,
Tormenting, and shenting,
Mens blud of all degreis,

I can not tell quhat thou sall do,
Bot take gud tent, quhair thou gangs to,
The danger dois draw neir,
The Gyants heir are conuocat,
Agains pure pepill to combat,
Quho hapins to cum heir:
Euin as the blyndman gangs beges,
In houering far behynd,
So dois thou dandill in distres,
Quhilk I feir thou sall fynd:
Bewar now, ore far now,
To pas into this place,
Consydring, quhat fydring,
Lyis in your gait alace.

As hils humectat are with dew,

Avroras teirs for to renew,
Quhilk Tytan dois distell,
With sackles blud, quhilk heir is shed,
So are thir placis haill orespred,
Lamentabill to tell:
Ane pepill maist hyronius,
Rustik, ignare, and rud,
And na ways Elimosnius,
Bot buriours in blud:
All hours ay, in bours ay,
Exspecting for thair pray,
With gredur, but dredur,
Awaiting in the way.

I wish to God, gif thou wer than,
Transformd in portrait of a Swan,
As Iove did quhen he dred,
With fedret wings to fle on hie,
So that thou micht in safetie be,
And from all dangers fred:
Gif that thou culd discryue the cairt,
The way thou wald go richt,
Or siluer Dian, do depairt,
The regent of the nicht,
To fle syne, on he syne,
Out throw the cluddie air,
As bounting, vp mounting,
Aboue the feilds so fair.

Thir catif miscreants, I mene,
As buriours hes euer bene,
Wordie to vilipend,
The practise of thair pariceid,
And barbrus cruell homiceid,
Is not till vs vnkend:
Quhairfore my frend, it is my will,
Sum vtherway ye wynd,

For execrabill curst and ill,
Thir catifs are of kynd:
Surprysing, and vysing,
Pure Pilgrims how to trap,
Still lurking, in wurking,
Sum mater of mishap.

At lenth, this Pilgrim spake againe,
Except with me, that ye remaine,
For feir my corps will cule,
Swa feiring, thair for to be left,
He of his senses was bereft,
Besottit like ane fule:
Macrobivs Qyntvs of Corinth,
Quho did descend to hell,
In ane mair troublus Laborinth,
Not intricat him sell:
Nor I now, quhairby now,
Experience teichis plaine,
Intrusit, and vsit,
With pepill maist prophane.

Before I come into this cair,
Perplexitie and gret dispair,
With troubill, stryfe and tene,
Wald I had bene deuord with daith,
Els in the entrels of the earth,
Intombit till haue bene:
Och Atrapvs, quhair is thy knyfe,
Quhy hes thou me misusd,
Into relenting of my life,
Quhilk hes bene so abusd:
Wald God now, the rod now,
Of daith, wald me deuore,
That deing, my being,
Micht heir remaine no more.

Better I neuer had bene borne,
Nor liue in sic a life forlorne,
Byrning in flams of fier,
My dolor daylie aggrauats.
And cairs so me inuironats,
That deith I do desire:
Quhen I relat my lyfe alace,
My watrie eies distels,
Considdring my maist cairfull cace,
All plesours that expels:
O deid now, with speid now,
Cum peirs me with thy dairt,
I griue heir, to liue heir,
Sen ans I must depairt.

Seing na ischew till eschew,
My dolour daylie did renew,
Sic madnes did me moue,
Euin as ane persoun in dispair,
My greif aggregis mair and mair,
Without remorse or roue.
Then I begoud to exclamat,
The Gods into my greif,
And quhyls Apollo imprecat,
To send me sum releif:
Howbeid than, in neid than,
I at thir Gods socht grace,
In vaine zit, my paine zit,
Gat na relief alace.

Apollo had compleit his cure,
And so the clouds wer all obscure,
For Phæbvs cast no licht,
Avrora raise with sanguine hew,
And so Diana bad adew,
The Regent of the nicht:
With this begoud to cleir the skyse,

Amangs the mountains, gret and grim,
I socht this Goddes gay:
Quhair I mont Caucasis did clym,
Quhair snaw remains for ay:
Dispairdly, vncairdly,
I hasert ouer the hill,
Allowing, and trowing,
To haue obteind my will.

Gret wes the hasert, quhilk I tuke,
Gif to the voyage, ye wald luke,
And all the perils pen,
Amang sick monstrous animals,
I mene the cruell canibals,
Quha feids on flesch of men:
Thir barbrus pepill, war nor Moirs,
Thair Iove, dois not extoll,
Bot sum the Dælphin torche adoirs,
And sum the artik poll:
Securely, vnsurely,
Still sleping into syn,
Offending, but mending,
Sick is the race thay ryn.

Than did I dascan with my sell,
Quhidder to heuin or vnto hell,
Thir persouns suld pertene,
Quho na wais hes regard of God,
Bot as wyldbeists, dois ryn abrod,
Delyting into tene:
I in my mynd againe did pance,
How all wes done in sleuth,
In blindnes and in ignorance,
But knawledge of the truth:
Deploring, and soring,
Thair ignorant estaits,
Quhilk marknes, and darknes,

Pairtlie thair deids debaits.

Than iudge, quhat dois to sick belang,
As knawis the richt way be the wrang,
And zit the same forbeirs,
Or can we call thame christians richt,
That seis the glorious glancing licht,
Syne to the mirke reteirs:
Sum are like lyons in effect,
Baith barbarus and rud,
And sum like woluis, without respect,
Seking thair nichbours blud:
Sick men than, ye ken than,
Amangs our selfs we se,
As bregers, and tygers,
Delyts in blud to be.

Ze that your lands delapidats,
And all your actions agitats,
In sick prophane affairs,
Ze Bludsheders and buriours all,

homo homini Lupus

Iust Canibals, men may you call,
As weill your deids declairs:
Thou bluddy man that dois abuse,
Thy glore bot, and thy grace,
Quhat can thou find for thy excuse,
At the tribunall place:
Thy scusis, and rusis,
Sall serue for na effect,
Bot rather, sall further,
Thy knaifre to detect.

Into that terribill conflict,
Sick feirfull pains my hart did prick,
As na man micht abyde,
Thair wandring in the corners cauld,
My Nymph, I na wais culd behauld,

Amangs the mountains wyd:
Feir pat my hart in sick a flocht,
It did me mutch mischeif,
And ay the mair of hir I thocht,
The greter grew my greif:
Quhyls wissing, hir missing,
Out of my mynd to go,
Yit sadnes, and madnes,
Did agrauat my wo.

The mair ye stop the streame within,
With gretter force the flud will ryn,
As I may weill compair,
Sick fantasie on hir I set,
The fainer I wald hir forzet,
Remembrie grew the mair:
O Nymph, quod I, now to me tell,
Quhy hes thou done this deid,
Into absenting of thy sell,
Fra me in gretest neid:
Draw neir me, and heir me,
Pure catife quhair I cry,
Beseiking, with speiking,
Sum answer to reply.

Euin as the fish dois take delyte,
Vpon the fishers bait to byte,
Put thairupon expres,
Euin so perchance, I seik the thing,
Quhilk may redound to my maling,
Distruction and distres:
Quhyls luking comfort to resaue,
Quhyls luking for a skelp,
Quhyls dreiding sche suld me disaue,
Quhyls houping for hir help:
Perplexit, and vexit,
Betwixt hope and dispair,
Quhyls transing, quhyls pansing,

How till eschew the snair.

My spreit supirs and sichs maist sair,
Quhen I rement me euer mair,
How godles men begins,
For till associat thame sels,
With sick as pietie repels,
And dois delyte in sins:
Gif in your counsals, ye conclud,
Far placis for to se,
Ken weill, your company be gud,
So sall ye happy be:
Gret sorrows, and thorrows,
Ill company procuris,
Forese than, with me than,
This troubill that induris.

Incace men wald record in mynd,
Quhat hes bene wrackit and reuynd,
By siclike menis alace,
Or gif thay wald in mynd incall,
The saying Salamonicall,
Concerning sick a cace:
Or zit the danger vnderstud,
Or culd the perrils ken,
Ill company thay wald seclud,
And hant with honest men:
Atend ye, and mend ye,
That loups before ye luke,
In venter, ye enter,
Quhair ye resaue rebuke.

Intill astonishment I stud,
For I na outgait vnderstud,
My mynd wes so resolued,
And in my mynd oftimes did think,
How till elaps, from this precink,

Quhairin I wes inuolued:
Quhyls lipning comfort to consaue,
Quhyls lipning ill alace,
In hart and mynd, ye may persaue,
No sympathy hes place:
Quhylis dowting, quhylis showting,
That sche my voce micht heir,
In haist now, this gaist now,
Before me did apeir.

In monstrus maner, sche come thair,
As Crvsa did, that dame so fair,
Efter sche wes deceist,
The gifts quhilk did hir corps decore,
And forme, quhairin sche wes before,
Is alterd in a beist:
Can this be thou, that stands me by,
Into ane beists estait,
Sche answers me, this same is I,
That gydit thee the gait:
Perhap now, my chap now,
Will make the for to feir,
Bot dreid not, thou neid not,
Na danger sall the deir.

Than did I cry with loud alace,
Quhair is thy fair and fragrant face,
With thy gold glitring hair,
Quhair are thy cumly christall eis,
And corall lips, beneth thy breis,
With bodie debonair:
Thy cumly corps, from end to end,
So clenly wes inclosd,
That Momvs nocht culd discommend,
So weill thou wes composd:
Thy trymnes, and nymnes,
Is turnd to vyld estait,

Thy grace to, and face to,
Is alterd of the lait.

I at this spreit, begoud to speir,
Quhilk in my presence did apeir,
Desiring it to tell,
Gif it that power, had of God,
Quho in his richt hand halds the rod,
Or of the deuill in hell:
The pairt of Prothevs, thou dois play,
Quho quhyli wes changst in myst,
And culd transforme him selfe I say,
In ony schape he list:
Are ye than, as he than,
Declair the truth to me,
Or Tysephon, or Mageron,
Ane of the furies thre.

Or art thou cumd of Phocames,
Or of the monster Odites,
By Mopsis, schot to deid,
Or art thou of Euriplis toun,
Quhair wyfis wairs horns vpon thair croun,
As Oxin on thair heid:
Or dwels thou in the Horison,
Aboue all earthly bounds,
Or in the mount of Cocheron,
Quhair echo ay resounds:
In Achyron, or Flagiton,
Thois twa infernall fluds,
Repairs thou, or fairs thou,
With Diabolyk bruds.

Or come thou from dame Thetis lap,
Quhair stout Achil resau'd his schap,
As ancient Poets pens,
Or com thou from Neptvns feild,

Quhair Titan nichtlie hes his beild,
As common pepill kens:
Quhair Phalemon repairs expres,
The sonne of Ivno Queene,
With auld Colantvs hes exces,
Neptvnvs courtiours kene:
Remane ye, or trane ye,
On see so far of schore,
Or vse ye, or muse ye,
With them reherst before.

Thocht strange this purpos will apeir,
That mortal men demand or speir,
At spreits that be vnclene,
Lat na man maruell in his mynd,
For God that al things hes inclynd,
Permits thir things I mene:
He is the Lord of Sea, and land,
Quha dantons all indeid,
And hes the bridle in his hand,
Quhilk halds them by the heid:
Comanding, thair standing,
Thair actions, and exces,
His richt now, and micht now,
Comands thame more and les.

Nor maruel not, thocht I demand,
The veritie til vnderstand,
Concerning spreits that be,
How sum are hingand in the air,
Sum in the earth and fields so fair,
And sum into the See:
This Royall King of all renoun,
Knawis quhat he hes ado,
For quhen that Lvcifer fell doun,
Thir spreits descendit to:
Thy glore now, the more now,

Is kend ô potent God,
In schawing, and blawing,
Thy potent power abrod.

Concerning spreits, quhairof I spake,
Sum lyis into the Limbo lake,
Perplexit with wo and pane,
Sum lyis belaw, and sum aboue,
This is na paradox I proue,
The mater is maist plane:
O thou gret God, our onlie scheild,
In quhome we do rejose,
Conduct vs to Elisian feild,
Quhair gud spreits dois repose:
That we ay, may be ay,
Conductit be thy grace,
In purenes, and surenes,
In Heuin to haue our place.

FINIS.

BE HONOR I LEVE.