The Poems of James VI. of Scotland :: :: University of Virginia Library

The dyuers falls, that Fortune geuis to men,
By turning ouer her quheill to their annoy,
When I do heare them grudge, although they ken
That olde blinde Dame delytes to let the ioy
Of all, suche is her vse, which dois conuoy
Her quheill by gess: not looking to the right,
Bot still turnis vp that pairt quhilk is too light.

Thus quhen I hard so many did complaine,
Some for the losse of worldly wealth and geir,
Some death of frends, quho can not come againe;
Some losse of health, which vnto all is deir,
Some losse of fame, which still with it dois beir
Ane greif to them, who mereits it indeid:
Yet for all thir appearis there some remeid.

For as to geir, lyke chance as made you want it,
Restore you may the same againe or mair.
For death of frends, althought the same (I grant it)
Can noght returne, yet men are not so rair,
Bot ye may get the lyke. For seiknes sair
Your health may come: or to ane better place
Ye must. For fame, good deids will mend disgrace.

Then, fra I saw (as I already told)
How men complaind for things whilk might amend,
How Dauid Lyndsay did complaine of old
His Papingo, her death and sudden end,
Ane common foule, whose kinde be all is kend.
All these hes moved me presently to tell
Ane Tragedie, in greifs thir to excell.

For I complaine not of sic common cace,
Which diuersly by diuers means dois fall:
But I lament my Phœnix rare, whose race,
Whose kynde, whose kin, whose offspring, they be all
In her alone, whome I the Phœnix call.
That fowle which only one at onis did liue,
Not liues, alas! though I her praise reviue.

In Arabie cald Fœlix was she bredd
This foule, excelling Iris farr in hew.
Whose body whole, with purpour was owercledd,
Whose taill of coulour was celestiall blew,
With skarlat pennis that through it mixed grew:
Her craig was like the yallowe burnisht gold,
And she herself thre hundreth yeare was old.

She might haue liued as long againe and mair,
If fortune had not stayde dame Naturs will:
Six hundreth yeares and fourtie was her scair,
Which Nature ordained her for to fulfill.
Her natiue soile she hanted euer still,
Except to Egypt whiles she tooke her course,
Wherethrough great Nylus downe runs from his sourse.

Like as ane hors, when he is barded haile,
An fethered pannach set vpon his heid,
Will make him seame more braue: Or to assaile
The enemie, he that the troups dois leid,
Ane pannache on his healme will set in deid:
Euen so, had Nature, to decore her face
Giuen her ane tap, for to augment her grace.

In quantitie, she dois resemble neare,
Vnto the foule of mightie Jove, by name
The AEgle calld: oft in the time of yeare,
She vsde to soir, and flie through diuers realme,
Out through the Azure skyes, whill she did shame
The Sunne himself, her coulour was so bright,
Till he abashit beholding such a light.

Thus whill she vsde to scum the skyes about,
At last she chanced to sore out ower the see
Calld Mare Rubrum: yet her course held out
Whill that she past whole Asie. Syne to flie
To Europe small she did resolue: To drie
Her voyage out, at last she came in end
Into this land, ane stranger heir vnkend.

Ilk man did maruell at her forme most rare.
The winter came, and storms cled all the feild:
Which storms, the land of fruit and corne made bare,
Then did she flie into an house for beild,
VVhich from the storms might saue her as an sheild.
There, in that house she first began to tame,
I came, syne tooke her furth out of the same.

Fra her I gat, yet none could gess what sort
Of foule she was, nor from what countrey cum:
Nor I my self: except that be her port,
And glistering hewes I knew that she was sum
Rare stranger foule, which oft had vsde to scum
Through diuers lands, delyting in her flight;
Which made vs see, so strange and rare a sight.

Whill at the last, I chanced to call to minde
How that her nature, did resemble neir
To that of Phœnix which I red. Her kinde,
Her hewe, her shape, did mak it plaine appeir,
She was the same, which now was lighted heir.
This made me to esteme of her the more,
Her name and rarenes did her so decore.

Thus being tamed, and throughly weill acquent.
She toke delyte (as she was wount before)
What tyme that Titan with his beames vpsprent,
To take her flight, amongs the skyes to soire.
Then came to her of fowlis, a woundrous store
Of diuers kinds, some simple fowlis, some ill
And rauening fowlis, whilks simple onis did kill.

And euen as they do swarme about their king
The hunnie Bees, that works into the hyue:
VVhen he delyts furth of the skepps to spring,
Then all the leaue will follow him belyue,
Syne to be nixt him bisselie they striue:
So, all thir fowlis did follow her with beir,
For loue of her, fowlis rauening did no deir.

Such was the loue, and reuerence they her bure,
Ilk day whill euen, ay whill they shedd at night.
Fra time it darkned, I was euer sure
Of her returne, remaining whill the light,
And Phœbus rysing with his garland bright.
Such was her trueth, fra time that she was tame,
She, who in brightnes Titans self did shame.

By vse of this, and hanting it, at last
She made the foules, fra time that I went out,
Aboue my head to flie, and follow fast
Her, who was chief and leader of the rout.
When it grew lait, she made them flie, but doubt,
Or feare, euen in the closse with her of will,
Syne she her self, perkt in my chalmer still.

When as the countreys round about did heare
Of this her byding in this countrey cold,
Which not but hills, and darknes ay dois beare,
(And for this cause was Scotia calld of old,)
Her lyking here, when it was to them told,
And how she greind not to go backe againe:
The loue they bure her, turnd into disdaine.

Lo, here the fruicts, whilks of Inuy dois breid,
To harme them all, who vertue dois imbrace.
Lo, here the fruicts, from her whilks dois proceid,
To harme them all, that be in better cace
Then others be. So followed they the trace
Of proud Inuy, thir countreyis lying neir,
That such a foule, should lyke to tary heir.

Whill Fortoun at the last, not onely moued
Inuy to this, which could her not content,
Whill that Inuy, did sease some foules that loued
Her anis as semed: but yet their ill intent
Kythed, when they saw all other foules still bent
To follow her, misknowing them at all.
This made them worke her vndeserued fall.

Thir were the rauening fowls, whome of I spak
Before, the whilks (as I already shew)
Was wount into her presence to hald bak
Their crueltie, from simple ones, that flew
With her, ay whill Inuy all feare withdrew.
Thir ware, the Rauin, the Stainchell, & the Gled,
With other kynds, whome in this malice bred.

Fra Malice thus was rooted be Inuy,
In them as sone the awin effects did shaw.
VVhich made them syne, vpon ane day, to spy
And wait till that, as she was wount, she flaw
Athort the skyes, syne did they neir her draw,
Among the other fowlis of dyuers kynds,
Although they were farr dissonant in mynds.

For where as they ware wount her to obey,
Their mynde farr contrair then did plaine appeare.
For then they made her as a commoun prey
To them, of whome she looked for no deare,
They strake at her so bitterly, whill feare
Stayde other fowlis to preis for to defend her
From thir ingrate, whilks now had clene miskend her.

When she could find none other saue refuge
From these their bitter straiks, she fled at last
To me (as if she wolde wishe me to iudge
The wrong they did her) yet they followed fast
Till she betuix my leggs her selfe did cast.
For sauing her from these, which her opprest,
Whose hote pursute, her suffred not to rest.

Bot yet at all that servd not for remeid,
For noghttheles, they spaird her not a haire.
In stede of her, yea whyles they made to bleid
My leggs: (so grew their malice mair and mair)
Which made her both to rage and to dispair,
First, that but cause they did her such dishort:
Nixt, that she laked help in any sort.

Then hauing tane ane dry and wethered stra,
In deip dispair, and in ane lofty rage
She sprang vp heigh, outfleing euery fa:
Syne to Panchaia came, to change her age
Vpon Apollos altar, to asswage
With outward fyre her inward raging fyre:
Which then was all her cheif and whole desyre.

Then being carefull, the event to know
Of her, who homeward had returnde againe
Where she was bred, where storms dois neuer blow,
Nor bitter blasts, nor winter snows, nor raine,
Bot sommer still: that countray doeth so staine
All realmes in fairnes. There in haste I sent,
Of her to know the yssew and event.

The messinger went there into sic haste,
As could permit the farrnes of the way,
By crossing ower sa mony countreys waste
Or he come there. Syne with a lytle stay
Into that land, drew homeward euery day:
In his returne, lyke diligence he shew
As in his going there, through realmes anew.

Fra he returnd, then sone without delay
I speared at him, (the certeantie to try)
What word of Phœnix which was flowen away?
And if through all the lands he could her spy,
Where through he went, I bad him not deny,
But tell the trueth, yea whither good or ill
Was come of her, to wit it was my will.

He tolde me then, how she flew bak againe,
Where fra she came and als he did receit,
How in Panchaia toun, she did remaine
On Phœbus altar, there for to compleit
With Thus and Myrrh, and other odours sweit
Of flowers of dyuers kyndes, and of Incens
Her nest With that he left me in suspens.

Till that I charged him no wayes for to spair,
But presently to tell me out the rest.
He tauld me then, How Titans garland thair
Inflamde be heate, reflexing on her nest,
The withered stra, which when she was opprest
Heir be yon fowlis, she bure ay whill she came
There, syne aboue her nest she laid the same.

And syne he tolde, how she had such desyre
To burne herself, as she sat downe therein.
Syne how the Sunne the withered stra did fyre,
Which brunt her nest, her fethers, bones and skin
All turnd in ash. Whose end dois now begin
My woes: her death makes lyfe to greif in me.
She, whome I rew my eyes did euer see.

O deuills of darknes, contraire vnto light,
In Phœbus fowle, how could ye get such place,
Since ye are hated ay be Phœbus bright?
For still is sene his light dois darknes chace.
But yet ye went into that fowle, whose grace,
As Phœbus fowle, yet ward the Sunne him sell.
Her light his staind, whome in all light dois dwell.

And thou (ô Phœnix) why was thow so moued
Thou foule of light, be enemies to thee,
For to forget thy heauenly hewes, whilkis loued
Were baith by men and fowlis that did them see?
And syne in hewe of ashe that they sould bee
Conuerted all: and that thy goodly shape
In Chaos sould, and noght the fyre escape?

And thow (ô reuthles Death) sould thow deuore
Her? who not only passed by all mens mynde
All other fowlis in hewe, and shape, but more
In rarenes (sen there was none of her kynde
But she alone) whome with thy stounds thow pynde:
And at the last, hath perced her through the hart,
But reuth or pitie, with thy mortall dart.

Yet worst of all, she liued not half her age.
Why stayde thou Tyme at least, which all dois teare
To worke with her? O what a cruell rage,
To cut her off, before her threid did weare!
VVherein all Planets keeps their course, that yeare
It was not by the half yet worne away,
VVhich sould with her haue ended on a day.

Then fra thir newis, in sorrows soped haill,
Had made vs both a while to holde our peace,
Then he began and said, Pairt of my taill
Is yet vntolde, Lo here one of her race,
Ane worme bred of her ashe: Though she, alace,
(Said he) be brunt, this lacks but plumes and breath
To be lyke her, new gendred by her death.

L'envoy.

Apollo then, who brunt with thy reflex
Thine onely fowle, through loue that thou her bure,
Although thy fowle, (whose name doeth end in X)
Thy burning heat on nowayes could indure,
But brunt thereby: Yet will I the procure,
Late foe to Phœnix, now her freind to be:
Reuiuing her by that which made her die.

Draw farr from heir, mount heigh vp through the air,
To gar thy heat and beames be law and neir.
That in this countrey, which is colde and bair,
Thy glistring beames als ardent may appeir
As they were oft in Arabie: so heir
Let them be now, to make ane Phœnix new
Euen of this worme of Phœnix ashe which grew.

This if thow dois, as sure I hope thou shall,
My tragedie a comike end will haue:
Thy work thou hath begun, to end it all.
Els made ane worme, to make her out the laue.
This Epitaphe, then beis on Phœnix graue.
Here lyeth, vvhome too euen be her death and end
Apollo hath a longer lyfe her send.

FINIS.