Satirical poems of the reformation

My Lordis, now, gif ȝe be wyse,
Knaw weil the grace yt God hes sēd ȝow;
Gif to that leuing Lord all pryse;
Pray that from dainger he defend ȝow,
And na way lat ȝoure fais offend ȝow,
Bot gif ȝow counsell and curage
Bauldlie togidder all to bend ȝow,
That ȝe do nouther swerue nor swage.

Think it is nouther strenth nor fors,
That hes set ȝow a fuite befoir:
Think weill that nouther men nor hors
Off sic ane act sould get the gloir:
Bot he that ringis euer moir
Hes luikit on ȝoure quarrell rycht:
Gif him all thankis now thairfoir,
And pryse his name with all ȝour micht.

I grant ȝour interpryse was gude,
Ȝour purpose worthy till allow;
Bot I considder how it stude,
And how the cais is cumin now.

Had thay keipit thame self fra ȝow,
And langer taryit in thair strenth,
Thocht ȝour curage was gude, I trow,
Ȝe had ȝit irkit at the lenth.

Think weil thair wit was thame bereft,
Quhē fulishlie thay tuik the plane;
Think thay war to thair foly left,
Quhen thay in feild come ȝow agane;
Think weill ȝe aucht for to be faine,
But bluid, to win the vpper hand,
Quhair nouther mā was hurt nor slane,
To get the Jewell in ȝour hand.

Sen ȝe it haue, thairof be suire,
Or els ȝe ar rycht far to blame;
Gif ȝe hir till eschaip enduire,
Think ȝe sall haue baith skaith & shame.
Quha babishlie bourdis with his dame,
It war weill wairit he gat his quhippis;
Think neuer agane to dwell at hame,
Gif ȝe lat ga that is in ȝour grippis.

Gif sho had not cum in the feild,
For to defend the tratoure kene,
And not laubourit, with speir and sheild,
His wickit quarrell to sustene,
Ȝe had done wrang, as sum men mene,
Hir to withald agane hir will;
Bot now, quhill trew tryall be sene,
Sho moste be keipit or all will spill.

Pas fordwart in ȝour interpryse,
Reuenge in haist the cruell act;
Spair not to gif thame all ane syse,
Quhome ȝe beleif the King did sact.

Be bauld and na way turne abak,
Spair nouther midling, greit, nor small;
With wysdome syne gude tryall tak,
And cause sum ane confes thame all.

Proclaime that all quha ocht dois knaw,
To mak probatioun euident,
With diligence thay cum and shaw
In oppin and in place patent,
That sinners shortlie may be shent
And gude men fred from all defame:
Sen God hes to ȝow power lent,
Gif ye be lashe ye ar to blame.

The heid traytoure, quhair euer he be,
Gif ye haue fors, se ye persew;
Thocht he fra hoill to hoill do fle,
At last he can not weill eschew.
Lat him be slaine your King that slew,
Bring ainis his fylthie lyfe till end;
Quha wickitlie this beir did brew,
Wa worth the tyme that sho him kend!

Syne on your self ye tak gud keip,
And lat na ennimeis heir resort;
Be walkryfe and fall not on sleip,
Baith day & nycht gar walk your port.
Lat gude quarrell your hartis comfort:
The wark is greit ye haue on hand;
Think weill it is not play nor sport,
Bot outher man ye die or stand.

For Godis saik, aboue all thing,
Keip clene your handis fra wrāgus geir;
Gif ye wald haue his trew blissing,
Schaw first that ye the Lord do feir.

Exerce your selfis in gentill weir,
And fle from fylthie auarice,
Quhilk is, as I in Scriptuire leir,
The verray ruite of euerie vice.

Ȝour brether of the Nobill race
With all meiknes desyre concur;
And your querrell in this cace,
Quhilk I dout not, will be ane spur,
So that your pride cause thame not stur,
Bot your gude gyding thame alluire:
To cause thame enter, mak ane duire,
Gif ye do swa, ye may be suire.

Tak Godis quarrell als in hand,
And purge vs from Ipocrasie,
And than ye sall haue in your band
The townis and communitie.
Prouyde als for the Ministerie;
Reforme the Justice gif ye can;
Than sall tryumph your memorie
Aboue all sen this Realme began.

Sen Fergus first come in this land,
Sic gude beginning neuer was sene,
That gentilnes, at thair awin hand,
Sa iust ane quarrell did sustene.
Reuoltis hes bene ma nor fyftene,
And Princes in strang presoun set:
Quhair all from bluid was keipit clene,
Skantlie can I exampill get.

Think thā ȝe wil performe the work
That now dois your beginning blis,
And thocht your ennimeis seme stark,
He will cause thame thair purpose mis:

That all war ane, faine wald I wis;
Bot ȝit thocht sum againis yow faill,
This actioun haill sa honest is,
With Godis grace it sall preuaill.

Lat na man throuch yow harmit be,
And than ye sall na hartis tyne;
Gif euerie ane his awin degre;
Excluid na man out of his lyne.
Set all at rest, and efter syne
With all the rest concur togidder,
To mak ane ordour gude and fyne,
As your wisdomis can best considder.

Keip weil your Prince, & for him pray
That God indew him with his grace,
That he incres may day be day,
To be the best of all his race:
The trew Religioun syne imbrace;
Fra vice to vertew tak the traine,
His pepill weill in perfyte peace,
And lang in helth with thame remaine.

All vitious wycht fra him exclude;
Be walkryfe, wyse, and diligent:
Gif ony be wald him na gude,
Lat thame na way be thair present.
To teich him vertew tak gude tent;
Lat not his ȝoutheid be infectit:
Greit is the gift God hes yow lent;
Sair sall ye rew gif ye neglect it.

And thus yow shortlie till exhort,
My Lordis all, I thocht it gude;
For men oftyme of meinest sort,
That raknit war of ressoun rude,

Seing the cais and how it stude,
Hes geuin gude counsall to the wyse:
So wald I now, and, to conclude,
God blis you and your interpryse.

Finis.

Imprentit at Edinburgh be Robert Lekpreuik.

University of Virginia Library

V. Heir followis ane Exhortatioun to the Lordis.