 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
V. [TO THE SAME.]
The hevinly furie that inspyrd my spreit,Quhen sacred beughis war wont my brouis to bind,
With frostis of fashrie frozen is that heet;
My garland grene is withrit with the wind.
Ȝe knau Occasio hes no hair behind;
The bravest spreits hes tryde it treu, I trou;
The long forspoken proverb true I find,
“No man is man,” and man is no thing nou.
The cuccou flees befor the turtle dou;
The pratling pyet matchis with the Musis;
Pan with Apollo playis, I wot not hou;
The attircops Minervas office vsis.
These be the grievis that garris Montgomry gr[udge]
That Mydas, not Mecenas, is our judge.
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |