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Poems of John Stewart of Baldyneiss

From the MS. in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh: Edited by Thomas Crockett

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TO HIS AWIN MAISTRES.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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136

TO HIS AWIN MAISTRES.

Vith spreit opprest, Quhan I haid done depart
from my Renownit Dian maist formose,
Quhais companie did reconfort my hart,
for plesours past to panse vas my repose.
In this estate, vncertane quhat to chose,
Dame fortoune led me solitar alon
In to ane garth, Quhair fouth of flours vprose
Depaint vith hews of monie pretius ston;
Sum Rubie Reed, And Sum lyk topas scheine,
Sum Iassink hewit, And sum as sapheir blew,
In valeis fair all cled vith emerauld greine,
Quhois blossums clein maist seimlie schaddows schew;
sum purpour fyn, And sum of cramsie hew,
Sum quhyt, Sum van, broune, blae, and violat,
Vith holsum smell my sensis to renew
All glorious gilt in glansing aureat.
I did espy thair perfyt properteis,
Rycht curabill for all contagius thing;
Than said I thus, “O floras tapestreis,
Great vertew rair ȝour qualiteis dois bring,
Bot ȝit, helas, no vertew sic dois spring
Vithin ȝour verdeur as may ons remeed
The maladie of luif quhilk dois me vring
Vith dalie dolor duynyng to the deed.”

137

Soft vas the seson, Blomit vas the meid,
Apollo brycht his baneir so desplayt,
That Eolus durst not approtche for dreid:
Thair euerie trie agains him stuid arrayt.
Dianas troup mycht bathe tham vneffrayt
In ane depurit siluer spring past by,
Quhais christall streams maist purefeit essayt
To sound maist sueit beneth the sproutand spray.
The osile and the mawes meed great beir,
Quhois suggurit throts did monie nots out bring,
fair Philomela also did I heir,
Quhill all the rocks did vith the Echo ring:
And vther birdis merelie did sing
On tender tuists about me quhair I sat,
And sum surmonting in the air did spring
Vith heawenlie vocis hicher eleuat.
The christall skyis vith color cleir celest
Maist cleinlie glistrit sched in siluer slops:
The bussie bies thair doucest honie drest,
Rycht blythlie buming on the flurist crops,
Decorit all vith daintie balmie drops,
As perle preclair, or Proper opals fyne,
All tuinkling on the flouris tender tops,
Quhill birnand Tytan vith his vult deuyne
Drank vp for drouthe that recent liquor sueit,
Ascending in his Royal gouldine chair.
“Helas,” thocht I, “God gif I var, repleit
Vith mycht as thow, O fyrie Phebus fair,
Than suld I sie my ladie maist Preclair,
Vith quham my thrallit hart dois ay remaine;
for heir all confort turns me vnto cair
Be laik of hir, So that I most complaine

138

That tractiwe Dictane is ane souueraine cuir
for to pull bak againe the deedlie dart
from sauuage deir, Bot I sic duill Induir,
That nothing suir may eise my painfull part.
I froune, I fant, I freise, I flam, I smart,
Vpheyst vith hoip, And drounit in despair;
The onlie Reullar of my martrit hart
Is absent now, quha may confort my cair.”