The Works of Sir David Lindsay of the Mount :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nocht Lang ago, efter the hour of pryme,
Secreitly sittyng in myne Oratorie,
I tuk ane Buke, tyll occupye the tyme,
Quhare I fand mony Tragedie and storie,
Quhilk Ihone Bochas had put in memorie,
Quhov mony Prencis, Conquerouris, and kingis
War dulfullie deposit frome thare ryngis;

Quhov Alexander, the potent Conquerour,
In Babilone was poysonit pieteouslie;
And Iulius, the mychtie Emperiour,
Murdreist at Rome, causles and creuellie;
Prudent Pompey, in Egypt schamefullie
He murdreist was; quhat nedith proces more?
Quhose Tragideis war pietie tyll deplore.

I sittyng so, vpon my Buke redyng,
Rycht suddantlie afore me did appeir
Ane woundit man, aboundantlie bledyng,
With vissage paill, and with ane dedlye cheir,

131

Semand ane man of two and fyftie ȝeir,
In Rayment reid, clothit full curiouslie,
Off vellot, and of Saityng Crammosie.

With febyll voce, as man opprest with paine,
Soiftlye he maid me supplycatioun,
Sayand, my freind, go reid, and reid againe
Geue thow can fynde, by trew Narratioun,
Off ony paine lyke to my Passioun:
Rycht sure I am, war Ihone Bochas on lyue,
My tragedie at lenth he wald discryue.

Sen he is gone, I pray the tyll indyte
Off my Infortune sum Rememb[e]ra[n]ce,
Or, at the leist, my Tragedie to wryte,
As I to the sall schaw the Circumstance,
In teirmes breue, of my vnhappy chance,
Sen my beginnyng tyll my faitell ende,
Quhilk I wald tyll all creature war kende.

I not, said I, mak sic memoriall,
Geue of thy name I had Intelligence.
I am Dauid, that cairfull Cardinall,
Quhilk doith appeir (said he) to thy presens,
That vmquhyle had so gret preeminens.
Than he began his dedis tyll indyte,
As ȝe sall heir; and I began to wryte.

THE TRAGEDIE.

I, Dauid Betone, Umquhyle Cardinall,
Off nobyl blude, be lyne, I did discend:
Duryng my tyme, I had no perigall,
Bot now is cum, allace, my faitell end.
Aye, gre by gre, vpwarte I did ascende,
Swa that in to this realme did neuer ryng
So gret one man as I, vnder ane kyng.

132

Quhen I was ane ȝoung Ioly gentyll man,
Prencis to serue I sett my hole intent.
First, tyll ascende, at Arbroith I began,
Ane Abasie of gret ryches and rent;
Off that estait ȝit was I nocht contente:
To get more ryches, Dignitie, and glore,
My hart was set: allace, allace, tharefore.

I maid sic seruyce tyll our Souerane kyng,
He did Promoue me tyll more hie estait,
One Prince, abufe all preistis for tyll ryng,
Arschibyschope of Sanctandrous consecrat.
Tyll that honour quhen I wes Eleuate,
My prydefull hart was nocht content at all,
Tyll that I create wes one Cardinall.

Ȝit praist I tyll haue more auctor[it]ie,
And, fynalie, was chosin Chancelare,
And, for vphalding of my dignitie,
Was maid Legate: than had I no compare.
I purcheist, for my proffect singulare,
My Boxsis and my Threasure tyll auance,
The Byschopreik of Merapose, in France.

Off all Scotland I had the Gouernall;
But my awyse, concludit wes no thyng:
Abbot, Byschope, Archibyschope, Cardinall,
In to this Realme no hiear could I ryng,
Bot I had bene Pape, Emperour, or Kyng.
For schortnes of the tyme, I am nocht abyll
At lenth to schaw my actis honorabyll.

For my moste Princelye Prodigalytie
Amang prelatis in france, I bure the pryse:
I schew my Lordlye Lyberalytie,
In Banketting, playng at cartis, and Dyse:
In to sic wysedome I was haldin wyse,
And sparit nocht to playe with Kyng nor knycht,
Thre thousand crownis of gold, vpon ane nycht.

133

In France I maid seir honest Uoyagis,
Quhare I did Actis ding of Remembrance.
Throuch me war maid Tryumphand Mariagis,
Tyll our Souerane boith proffet and plesance.
Quene Magdalene, the first Dochter of france,
With gret ryches, was in to Scotland brocht:
That mariage, throch my wysedome, wes wrocht.

Efter quhose deith, in france I paste agane:
The secunde Quene homwart I did conuoye,
That Lustye princes, Marie de Lorane,
Quhilk wes resauit with gret tryumphe & Ioye.
So seruit I our rycht Redouttit Roye.
Sone efter that, Harye, of Ingland Kyng,
Off our Souerane desyrit ane commonyng.

Off that metyng our Kyng wos weill content,
So that in ȝorck was sett boith tyme and place:
Bot our Prelatis nor I wald neuer consent
That he sulde se Kyng Harye in the face;
Bot we wer weill content, quhowbeit his grace
Had salit the sey, to speik with ony vther,
Except that kyng, quhilk was his mother brother.

Quhair throch thar rose gret weir & mortal stryfe,
Gret heirschippis, honnger, darth, and desolatioun:
On ather syde did mony lose thare lyfe.
Geue I wald mak ane trew Narratioun,
I causit all that trybulatioun:
For tyll tak peace I neuer wald consent,
Without the kyng of france had bene content.

Duryng this weir war takin presoneris,
Off nobyll men, fechtyng full furiouslie,
Mony one Lorde, Barrone, and Bachileris,
Quhar throuch our king tuke sic melancolie
Quhilk draue hym to the dede, rycht dulefullie.
Extreme Dolour ouirset did so his hart,
That frome this lyfe, allace, he did depart.

134

Bot, efter that boith strenth and speche wes lesit,
Ane paper blank his grace I gart subscryue,
In to the quhilk I wrait all that I plesit,
Efter his deth, quhilk lang war tyll discryue.
Throuch that wrytting I purposit, belyue,
With supporte of sum Lordis beneuolens,
In this Regioun tyll haue Preemynens.

As for my Lord, our rychteous Gouernour,
Geue I wald schortlie schaw the veritie,
Tyll hym I had no maner of fauour.
Duryng that tyme, I purposit that hee
Suld neuir cum to none Auctoritie:
For his supporte, tharefor, he brocht amang ws,
Furth of Ingland, the nobyll Erle of Angous.

Than was I put abak frome my purpose,
And suddantlie caste in captyuitie,
My prydefull hart to dant, as I suppose,
Deuysit by the heych Diuinitie.
Ȝit in my hart sprang no humylitie:
Bot now the word of God full weill I knaw;
Quho dois exault hym self, God sall hym law.

In the meine tyme, quhen I wes so subiectit,
Ambassaldouris war sent in to Ingland,
Quhare thay boith peace and mariage contractit;
And, more surelie for tyll obserue that band,
War promeist diuers pleagis of Scotland.
Off that contract I wes no way content,
Nor neuir wald thare to geue my consent.

Tyll Capytanis that kepit me in waird,
Gyftis of gold I gaue thame, gret plentie;
Rewlaris of court I rychelie did rewaird,
Quhare throuch I chapit frome Captyuitie:
Bot, quhen I was fre, at my libertie,
Than, lyke ane Lyone lowsit of his Caige,
Out throuch this realme I gan to reil and rage.

135

Contrare the Gouernour and his companie
Oft tymes maid I insurrextioun,
Purposyng for tyll haue hym haistelie
Subdewit on to my correctioun,
Or put hym tyll extreme subiectioun.
Duryng this tyme, geue it war weill dissydit,
This realme by me was vterlie deuydit.

The Gouernour purposyng to subdew,
I rasit ane oyste of mony bald Baroun,
And maid ane raid quhilk Lythgow ȝit may rew;
For we distroyit ane myle about the town.
For that I gat mony blak malysoun:
Ȝit, contrare the Gouernouris intent,
With our ȝoung Princes, we to Steruilyng went.

For heygh contemptioun of the Gouernour,
I brocht the Erle of Lennox furth of France:
That lustie Lord, leuand in gret plesour,
Did loce that land and honest ordinance.
Bot he and I fell soune at variance,
And throch my counsall was, within schort space,
Forfaltit and flemit; he gat none vther grace.

Than, throuch my prudens, pratyke, and ingyne,
Our Gouernour I causit to consent,
Full quyetlie to my counsale inclyne;
Quhareof his Nobyllis war nocht weill content.
For quhy I gart dissolue, in plane Parliament,
The band of peace contra[c]tit with Ingland,
Quharthroch com harme & heirschip to scotland.

That peace brokin, arrose new mortall weris,
Be sey and land sic reif without releif,
Quhilk to report my frayit hart afferis.
The veritie to schaw, in termes breif,
I was the rute of all that gret myscheif.
The south countre may saye, it had been gude
That my Noryce had smorde me in my cude.

136

I wes the cause of mekle more myschance,
For vphald of my glore and dignitie,
And plesour of the potent Kyng of france.
With Ingland wald I haue no vnitie:
Bot, quho consydder wald the veritie,
We mycht full weill haue leuit in peace and rest,
Nyne or ten ȝeris, and than playit lowis or fast.

Had we with Ingland kepit our contrackis,
Our nobyll men had leuit in peace and rest,
Our Marchandis had nocht lost so mony packis,
Our commoun peple had nocht bene opprest;
On ather syde all wrangis had been redrest.
Bot Edinburgh, sen syne, Leith, and Kyngorne,
The day and hour may ban that I was borne.

Our Gouernour, to mak hym to me sure,
With sweit and subtell wordis I did him syle,
Tyll I his Sone and Air gat in my cure.
To that effect, I fand that crafty wyle,
That he no maner of waye mycht me begyle:
Than leuch I, quhen his liegis did allege
Quhow I his Sone had gottin in to plege.

The Erle of Angus and his Germane brother,
I purposit to gar thame lose thare lyfe;
Rycht so tyll haue distroyit mony vther;
Sum with the fyre, sum with the sword and knyfe;
In speciale mony gentyll men of fyfe;
And purposit tyll put to gret Torment
All fauoraris of the auld and new Testament.

Than euery freik thay tuke of me sic feir,
That tyme quhen I had so gret Gouernans,
Gret Lordis, dreidyng I sulde do thame deir,
Thay durst nocht cum tyll court but assurans:
Sen syne thair hes nocht bene sic varians.
Now, tyll our Prince Barronis, obedientlie,
But assurance thay cum, full courteslie.

137

My hope was moste in to the kyng of france,
To gyddir with the Popis holynes,
More nor in God, my worschipe tyll auance.
I traistit so in to thare gentylnes,
That no man durste presome me tyll oppres:
Bot, quhen the day come of my faitell hure,
Far was frome me thare supporte and succoure.

Than, to preserue my ryches and my lyfe,
I maid one strynth, of wallis heych and braid;
Sic ane Fortres wes neuer found in fyfe;
Beleuand thare durst no man me inuaid.
Now fynd I trew the saw quhilk Dauid said:
Without God of ane hous be maister of wark,
He wyrkis in vaine, thocht it be neuer so stark.

For I was, throuch the hie power Diuine,
Rycht dulefulliye doung down amang the asse,
Quhilk culd not be throch mortal mannis ingyne:
Bot, as Dauid did slay the gret Gollyasse,
Or Holopharne be Judeth keillit wasse,
In myd amang his tryumphant Armye,
So was I slane in to my cheiff Cietie.

Quhen I had gretest Dominatioun,
As Lucifer had in the heuin Impyre,
Came, suddantlyie, my Depryuatioun,
Be thame quhilk did my dolent deith conspyre.
So creuell was thare furious byrnand Yre,
I gat no tyme, layser, nor lybertie,
To saye In Manus Tuas Domine.

Behald my Faitell Infylicitie.
I beand in my strenth Incomparabyll,
That dreidfull Dungioun maid me no supple,
My gret ryches, nor rentis proffitabyll.
My Syluer work, Iowellis inestimabyll,
My Papall pompe, of gold my ryche threasure,
My lyfe, and all, I loste in half ane hour.

138

To the peple wes maid ane Spectakle
Off my dede and deformit Carioun.
Sum said it wes ane manifest Myrakle;
Sum said it was Diuine Punitioun,
So to be slane, in to my strang Dungeoun.
Quhen euery man had Iugit as hym lyste,
Thay Saltit me, syne cloist me in ane kyste.

I laye vnburyit sewin monethtis and more,
Or I was borne to closter, kirk, or queir,
In ane mydding, quhilk paine bene tyll deplore,
Without suffrage of Chanoun, Monk, or freir.
All proude Prelatis at me may Lessonis leir,
Quhilk rang so lang, and so tryumphantlie,
Syne, in the dust, doung doun so dulefullie.

TO THE PRELATIS.

O ȝe My Brether Prencis of the Preistis,
I mak ȝow, hartly, Supplycatioun
Boith nycht and day reuolfe, in to ȝour breistis,
The Proces of my Depriuatioun.
Consydder quhat bene ȝour Uocatioun;
To follow me I pray ȝow nocht pretend ȝow,
Bot reid at lenth this Sedull that I send ȝow.

Ȝe knaw quhow Iesu his Disciplis sent,
Ambassaldouris, tyll euery Natioun,
To schaw his law and his commandiment
To all peple, by Predycatioun:
Tharefor I mak to ȝow Narratioun,
Sen ȝe to thame ar verray Successouris,
Ȝe aucht tyll do as did ȝour Predicessouris.

Quhow dar ȝe be so bauld tyll tak on hand
For to be Herraldis to so gret one Kyng,

139

To beir his Message boith to burgh and land,
Ȝe beand dum, and can pronunc[e] no thyng,
Lyke Menstralis that can nocht play nor sing.
Or quhy suld men geue to sic Hirdis hyre,
Quhilk can not gyde thare scheip about the myre?

Schame ȝe nocht to be Christis seruaturis,
And, for ȝour fee, hes gret Temporall landis,
Syne of ȝour office can nocht take the curis,
As Cannone Law & Scripture ȝow commandis.
Ȝe wyll not want teind cheif, nor offrandis,
Teinde woll, teind lamb, teind calf, teind gryce, and guse;
To mak seruyce ȝe ar all out of vse.

My deir brether, do nocht as ȝe war wount;
Amend ȝour lyfe, now, quhill ȝour day Induris:
Traist weill, ȝe sall be callit to ȝour count
Off euerilk thyng belanging to ȝour curis.
Leif hasarttrie, ȝour harlottrie, and huris,
Remembring on my vnprouisit dede;
For efter deith may no man mak remede.

Ȝe Prelatis, quhilkis hes thousandis for to spende,
Ȝe send ane sempyll freir for ȝow to preche.
It is ȝour craft, I mak it to ȝow kend,
Ȝour selfis, in ȝour Templis, for to teche.
Bot farlye nocht, thocht syllie freris fleche;
For, and thay planelie schaw the veritie,
Than wyll thay want the Byschope charitie.

Quharefor bene gewin ȝow sic Royall rent,
Bot for tyll fynd the peple Spirituall fude,
Prechand to thame the auld and new testament?
The law of God doith planelye so conclude.
Put nocht ȝour hope in to no wardly gude,
As I haue done: behauld, my gret threasoure
Maid me no helpe, at my vnhappye houre.

140

That day quhen I was Byschope consecrat,
The gret Byble wes bound apon my bak:
Quhat wes tharein lytill I knew, god wat,
More than ane beist berand ane precious pak.
Bot haistelie my conuenent I brak;
For I wes oblyste, with my awin consent,
The law of God to preche with gude intent.

Brether, rycht so, quhen ȝe wer consecrat,
Ȝe oblyste ȝow all on the sammyn wyse.
Ȝe may be callit Byschoppis countrafait,
As Gallandis buskit for to mak ane gyse.
Now thynk I, Prencis ar no thyng to pryse,
Tyll geue ane famous office tyll ane fule;
As quho walde putt ane Myter on ane Mule.

Allace, and ȝe that sorrowfull sycht hade sene,
Quhow I laye bulrand, baithit in my blude,
To mend ȝour lyfe it had occasioun bene,
And laif ȝour auld corruptit conswetude:
Failȝeing thare of, than, schortlie I conclude,
Without ȝe frome ȝour rebaldrye arryse,
Ȝe sall be seruit on the sammyn wyse,

TO THE PRENCIS.

Imprudent Prencis, but discretioun,
Hauyng, in erth, power Imperiall,
Ȝe bene the cause of this Transgressioun:
I speik to ȝow all in to generall,
Quhilk doith dispone all office spirituall,
Geuand the saulis, quhilkis bene Chrystis scheip,
To blynd Pastouris but conscience, to keip.

Quhen ȝe, Prencis, doith laik ane officiar,
Ane Baxster, Browster, or ane maister Cuke,

141

Ane trym Tailȝeour, ane counnyng Cordonar,
Ouir all the land at lenth ȝe wyll gar luke
Most abyll men sic officis tyll bruke;
Ane Browster quhilk can brew moste hoilsum aill,
Ane cunnyng Cuke quhilk best can cessone caill,

Ane Tailȝeour quhilk hes fosterit bene in france,
That can mak garmentis on the gayest gyse.
Ȝe Prencis bene the cause of this myschance,
That, quhen thare doith vaik ony benefyse,
Ȝe aucht tyll do apone the sammyn wyse,
Gar sears and seik, baith in to burgh and lande,
The law of God quho best can vnderstande.

Mak hym Byschope that prudentlie can preche,
As dois pertene tyll his vocatioun;
Ane Persone quhilk his Parisone can teche.
Gar Uicaris mak dew Mynistratioun,
And als I mak ȝow supplycatioun,
Mak ȝour Abbotis of rycht Religious men,
Quhilk Christis law can to thare Conuent ken;

Bot not to rebaldis new cum frome the roste,
Nor of ane stuffat stollin out of ane stabyll,
The quhilk in to the scule maid neuer na coste,
Nor neuer was tyll Spirituall science abyll,
Except the cartis, the dyce, the ches, and tabyll,
Off Rome rakaris, nor of rude Ruffianis,
Off calsay Paikaris, nor of Publycanis,

Nor to Fantastyke fenȝeit flatt[err]aris,
Most meit to gather mussillis in to Maye,
Off Cowhubeis, nor ȝit of clatterraris,
That in the kirk can nother sing nor saye,
Thocht thay be clokit vp in clerkis arraye,
Lyke doytit Doctoris new cum out of Athenis,
And mummyll ouer ane pair of maglit matenis.

142

Nocht qualyfeit to bruke ane benefyse,
Bot throuch schir Symonis solystatioun,
I was promouit on the sammyn wyse,
Allace, throuch Prencis supplycatioun,
And maid, in Rome, throuch fals narratioun,
Byschope, Abbote, bot no Religious man:
Quho me promouit I now thare banis ban.

Quhowbeit I was Legat and Cardinall,
Lytill I knew tharein quhat sulde be done;
I vnderstude no science spirituall,
No more than did blynd Alane of the mone.
I dreid the Kyng that syttith heych abone,
On ȝow Prencis sall mak sore punischement,
Rycht so, on ws, throuch rychteous Iugement:

On ȝow, Prencis, for vndescreit geuyng
Tyll Ignorantis, sic officis tyll vse;
And we, for our Inoportune askyng,
Quhilk sulde haue done sic dignitie refuse.
Our Ignorance hes done the warld abuse,
Throuch Couatyce of ryches and of rent.
That euer I was ane Prelate I repent.

O Kyngis, mak ȝe no cair to geue, in cure,
Uirginis profest in to Religioun,
In tyll the keipyng of ane commoun hure?
To mak, thynk ȝe nocht gret diresioun,
Ane woman Persone of ane parisoun,
Quhare thare bene two thousand saulis to gyde,
That frome Harlots can not hir hyppis hyde?

Quhat and Kyng Dauid leuit in thir dayis,
Or out of heuin quhat and he lukit down,
The quhilk did found so mony fair Abbayis.
Seand the gret Abhominatioun
In mony abayis of this Natioun,
He wald repent, that Narrowit so his boundis
Off ȝeirly rent thre score of thousand poundis.

143

Quharefor I counsayle eueryilk christinit kyng
With in his realme mak Reformatioun,
And suffer no mo Rebaldis for to ryng
Abufe Christis trew Congregatioun:
Failȝeying thareof, I mak Narratioun
That ȝe Prencis and Prelatis, all at onis,
Sall bureit be in hell, Saule, blude, and bonis.

That euer I brukit Benefice I rew,
Or to sic hycht so proudely did pretend.
I man depart: tharefor, my freinds, adew;
Quhare euer it plesith God, now man I wend.
I praye the tyll my freindis me Recommend,
And failȝe nocht at lenth to put in wryte
My Tragedie, as I haue done Indyte.

FINIS.