Poems (1830) :: :: University of Virginia Library

O hie eternall God of micht!
Of thy grit grace, grant us thy licht,
With hairt and mynd sinceir,
To leif efter thy lawis richt,
Now into this new yeir.

God keip our Quein, and grace hir send
This realme to guyde, and to defend;
In justice perseveir;
And of thir weiris mak an end;
Now into this new yeir.

God send grace to our Quein Regent,
Be law to mak sic punishment,
To gar limmeris forbeir
For till oppress the innocent;
Now into this new yeir.

Lord, schent all saweris of seditioune;
Remove all rancour and suspicioune,
Quhilk may this cuntrie deir;
Put all perturbaris to punitioune,
Now into this new yeir.

God send pastouris of veritie,
Be quhom we may instructit be
Our God to serve and feir;
And to set fuirth his word trewlie,
Now into this new yeir.

And tak away the ignorantis
Of Kirkmen that vyceis hauntis,
And leidis us arreir;
That baith guid lyfe and cunning wantis;
Now into this new yeir.

God give our Lordis temporall
Grace to give ane trew counsall,
This realme to guyde and steir;
To be obedient and loyall,
Now into this new yeir.

And tak away all grit oppressours,
Comoune menteinouris of transgressouris,
Moveris of stryfe and weir,
For theiffis and reveris intercessouris,
Now into this new yeir.

Lordis of the Seat, mak expeditioune,
Gar ever-ilk man mak restitutioune
Of wrangous land and geir;
And we sall eik your contributioune,
Now into this new yeir.

Men of law, I pray yow mend:
Tak na ill quarellis be the end
For proffeit may appeir;
Invent no thing to gar us spend
Our geir in this new yeir.

God grant our ladeis chastitie,
Wisdome, meiknes, and gravitie;
And haive na will to weir
Thair claithing full of vanitie,
Now into this new yeir.

Bot for to weir habuilyement
According to thair stait and rent;
And all thingis foirbeir
That may thair bairnes gar repent,
Now into this new yeir.

And send our burgess witt and skill
For to set fuirth the comouneweill;
With lawtie sell thair geir;
And to use mett and measure leill,
Now into this new yeir.

And all vaine wastouris tak away;
Regrattouris that takis doubill pay;
And wyne selleris our deir;
Dyvouris that drinkis all the day;
Now into this new yeir.

Grace be to gud burgess wyfis
That be leisome lawbour thryvis,
And dois vertew leir;
Thriftie, and of honest lyfis,
Now into this new yeir.

For some of thame wald be weill fed,
And lyk the Queinis ladeis cled,
Thocht all thair bairnes sould bleir:
I trow that sic sall mak ane red,
Of all thair pakkis this yeir.

God send the comounes will to wirk;
The grund to labour, and nocht irk,
To win gude quheit and beir;
And to bring fuirth baith staig and stirk,
Now into this new yeir.

And tak away thir ydill lownis,
Craimes crakeris, with cloutit gownis;
And sornaris that ar sweir;
And put thame in the gailyiounis,
Now into this new yeir.

I pray all staittis and degrei,
To pray to God continuallie,
His grace to grant us heir;
And send us peax and unitie
Now into this new yeir.

OF THE QUENIS MARYAGE TO THE DOLPHIN OF FRANCE.

The grit blythnes, and joy inestimabill,
For to sett fuirth we Scottis ar not abill;
Nor for to mak condign solemnitie,
For the guid newis, and tydingis comfortabill,
Of the contract of mariage honorabill,
Betwix the Queines maist nobill majestie,
And the greatest young Prince in Cristintie,
And alsua to us maist profitabill,
Of France the Dolphin, first sone of King Henrie.

All lustie vowaris, and hardie chevaleiris,
Go dress your hors, your harnes, and your geiris,
To rin at listis, to just, and to turnay;
That it may come into your ladeis earis
Quha in the feild maist valiantlie him beiris.
And ye, fair ladeis! put on your best array,
Requeist young men to ryd in your levray,
That, for your saik, thai may break twentie speiris
For luife of you, young lustie ladeis gay.

All burrows-townis ever ilk man you prayes,
To mak bainefyres, farseis, and clerk-playes
And, throw your rawis, carroul, daunce, and sing;

And at your croce gar wyne rin sundrie wayes;
As wes the custome in our eldaris dayes,
Quhen that they maid triumphe for ony thing:
And all your staires with tapestrie gar hing;
Castellis, schuit gunnis, schippis, and galeays,
Blaw up your trumpettis, and your drumis ding.

Preistis, and clerkis, and men of religioune,
With devote mynd gang in processioune,
And in your queiris sing with melodie:
To the great God mak intercessioune,
To send our Princess gude successioune
With her young Spous, to our utilitie;
That eftir hir may governe this cuntrie;
And us defend from all oppressioune;
And it conserve in law and libertie.

Ye lordis all, and barownes of renowne,
And all estaittis in this natioune,
Mak great triumphe; mak banquet, and gude cheir;
And ever-ilk man put on his nuptiall gowne:
Let it be sein into the burrows-towne
That in your coffaris hes lyin this monie yeir.
Sen that your Quein hes chosin hir ane feir,
Ane potent Prince for to mantein yowr crowne,
And interteinie yow in peax and weir.

Let all the warld, be your proceiding, see
That thair is faith, and trewthe in your cuntrie;
Luife, lawtie, law, and a gude conscience;

Concord, concurrand in peax and unitie;
Obedience to the authoritie;
Forsicht, provisioune, and experience;
Honour, manheid, justice, and prudence;
Quhilk, give ye haive, ye sall estemit be,
And be ilk man haldine in reverence.

O michtie Prince, and Spous to our Mistreiss!
Ressaive this realme in loive and heartliness;
Set furth our lawis, mantein our libertie;
Do equall justice bayth to mair and less;
Reward vertew; and punisch wickedness;
Mak us to leive in gude tranquillitie;
Defend our commounis; treat our nobilitie;
And be thy mein our commounweill increiss,
That we tak plessour to mak poleitie.

Scottis and Frenche, now leife in unitie,
As ye wer brothers borne in ane cuntrie,
Without all maner of suspicioune;
Ilk-ane to other keip trew fraternitie,
Defendand other baith be land and sie:
And give ony of evile conditioune,
Betwix you twa wad mak seditioune,
Scottis, or French, quhat man that ever he be,
With all rigour put him to punitioune.

O nobil Princes, and Moder to our Quein!
With all thy hairt to God lift up thy ein,
And give him thankis for grace he hes thé fend;

That he hes maid thé instrument, and mein,
With mariage to coupill in ane cheine
Thir tua realmis, other to defend:
Think weill wairit the tyme thow hes done spend;
And the travaile that thow hes done sustein;
Sen it is browcht now to sa gude ane end.

OF THE WYNNING OF CALICE.

Rejoyce, Hendrie, maist Christiane King of France!
Rejoyce, all peopill of that regioune!
That hes with manheid, and be ane happy chance,
Be thy Leiftennent trew, of grit renowne,
The Duik of Guiss, recoverit Calice towne;
The quhilk hes bein, twa hundreth yeirs bygaine,
Into the handis of Inglische natioune;
Quha never thocht be force it micht be tain.

But we may sé that mennis judgement
Is all bot vaine, quhen God pleisis to schaw
His michtie power; quha is omnipotent;
For quhen he pleasis, he gars princes knaw

That it is he alane quha rewlis aw;
And mannis help is all bot vanitie:
Think that it wes his hand that brak the waw;
Thairfoir give gloir to him eternallie.

Sa hie ane purpois for to tak in hand,
Quha gaive that Prince sa great audacitie?
To seige that towne, that sa stranglie did stand?
And quha gaive him sic substance and supplie?
And quha gaive him the end and victorie?
Quha bot great God, the guydar of all thingis?
That, quhen he pleasis, can princes magnifie;
And for thair sinnis translait realmes and kingis.

That nobill King wes greatlie till advance,
Quho, efter that his captaines of renoune
Had tynt ane feild, be hazard and mischance,
Yet tynt na curage for that misfortoune:
Bot, lyk ane michtie valiant campioun,
Be his Leiftennent, and nobill men of weir,
Tuik upon hand to seige that strongest toun,
Into the deadest tyme of all the yeir.

Thairfoir, ye all that ar of Scottis bluide,
Be blyth, rejoyce for the recovering
Of that strang toun; and of the fortoune gude
Of your maist tendir freind that nobill King;
Quhilk ay wes kynd in help and supporting
Of yow, be men, and mony copious;
And in his hand hes instantlie the thing
To yow, Scottis, that is maist precious.

Sen ye love God in thingis outwardlie,
In fyris, and processiouns generall;
Sua, in your hairtis, love him inwardlie;
Amend your lyfis; repent your sinnis all:
Do equaill ressoune, baith to grit and small;
And everie man do his vocatioune;
Than God sall grant yow, quhen ye on him call,
Of your fayis the dominatioune.

Sen God in the begynning of this yeir,
Unto that king sa gude fortoune hes send;
We pray to Him sic grace to grant us heir,
That we get Berwick our Merches for to mend;
Quhilk, gif we get, our Bordoures may defend
Againes Ingland, with His helpe and supplie;
And than I wald the weiris had ane end;
And we to leif in peace, and unitie.

OF THE ASSEMBLIE OF THE CONGREGATION.

Eternall God! O tak away thy scourge
From us Scottis for thy grit mercie;
Send us thy helpe, this land to cleange and purge
Of discord, and inamitie,
Betwix the leigis and authoritie,
That we may leife in peace, withouttin weir;
In lawtie, law, in luif and libertie,
With merrines, now into this new yeir.

Almichtie God, send us support and grace!
For of mannis help we ar all dispairit,
To mak concord that had sic tyme and space;
And nane, as yet, hes [eir] thair lawbor wairit;
As na man war that for his country carit:
Bot, and this stryfe and troubill perseveir,
He sall be saige that sall escape unsarit,
And not thole paine, now into this new yeir.

Think ye not schame, [ye] that are Scottis borne,
Lordis, and barrownis of authoritie,
That throw your slewth, this realme sould be forlorne;
Your grund destroyit; and your policie?
Sik wraik sall cum upon yow hastelie;
That ye sall say, Alace! we war ower sweir,

Quhill we had tyme that maid na unitie!
Amend it yet, now into this new yeir.

Trow ye to ly and lurk, and do na mair,
To see quhilk syde sall haive the victorie?
The quhilk at last sall not help yow ane hair:
Ryss up! Concure all! And thame rectifie,
Quhilk with reassone will never rewlit be;
Ye sall with force, withoutten fraud or feir,
Mak weir on thame, as comoune enemie;
And thame correct, now into this new yeir.

God grant his grace to the inferiouris
Of this puir realme, thair quiete to considder;
And till obey to thair superiouris,
So that our lordis and leigis do considder,
In peace and luive for to remaine togidder:
Sen we war quyt of all thir men of weir;
That all trew folk, from Berwyk to Balquhidder,
May leife in rest unreft in this new yeir.

The Queinis grace, gif that scho hes offendit
In hir office, let it reformit be:
And ye, all leigis, let your faill be mendit,
And with trew hairt serve the authoritie:
And ye, kirkmen, do ye your haill dewtie;
And all estaittis, syn and vyce forbeir;
The quhilk to do I pray the Trinitie,
To you send grace, now into this new yeir.

God! mak us now quyt of all heresie;
And put us ainis into the richt way:
In thy law may we sa instructed be,
That we be nocht begyllit everie day:
Ane sayis this; ane uther sayis nay;
That we wait nocht quhom to we sould adheir:
Chryst send to us ane rewle to keipe for ay,
Without discord now into this new yeir!

God send justice this land to rewll and guyde;
And put away thift, reif, and all oppressioune;
That all trew folk may suirlie gang, and ryde;
Without discord had parliament, and sessioune;
To gar trew folk bruik thair just possessioune:
And gif us grace, gude Lord! quhill we ar heir,
To ryis from syn, repentand our transgressioune;
And leif in joy now into this new yeir.

ON THE NEW YEIR.

In this new yeir I sie bot weir;
Na caus to sing:
In this new yeir I sie bot weir;
Na caus thair is to sing.

I cannot sing for the vexatioune
Of Frenche men, and the Congregatioune,
That hes maid troubill in this natioune,
And monie bair bigging.

In this new yeir, I sie bot weir, &c.

I haive na will to sing or daunse,
For feir of Ingland and of France:
God send thame sorow and mischance,
In caus of thair cuming.

In this new yeir, I sie bot weir, &c.

We are sa rewillit, rich and puire,
That we wait nocht quhair to be suire,
The Bordour as the Borrow-muire,
Quhair some perchance will hing.

In this new yeir, I sie bot weir, &c.

And yit I think it best that we
Pluck up our hairt, and mirrie be.
For thoch we wald ly down and die,
It will us helpe na thing.

In this new yeir, I sie bot weir, &c.

Lat us pray God to stainche this weir;
That we may leife withoutten feir,
In mirrines, quhill we ar heir:
And hevin at our ending.

In this new yeir I sie bot weir;
Na caus to sing:
In this new yeir I sie bot weir;
Na caus thair is to sing.

OF THE QUENIS ARRYVALE IN SCOTLAND.

Excellent Princes! potent, and preclair,
Prudent, peerles in bontie and bewtie!
Maist nobil Quein of bluid under the air!
With all my hairt, and micht, I welcum thé
Hame to thy native pepill, and cuntrie.
Beseikand God to gif thé grace to haive
Of thy leigis the hairtis faythfullie,
And thame in luife, and favour to receave.

Now sen thow art arryvit in this land,
Our native Princes, and illuster Queine!
I traist to God this regioune sall stand
Ane auld frie land, as it lang tyme has bein.
Quhairin, richt schoone, thair sall be hard and seine
Grit joy, justice, gude peax, and policie:
All cair, and cummer, baneist quyte and clein;
And ilk man leif in guid tranquillitie.

I am nocht meit, nor abill, forthe to set
How thow sall use discreitlie all thing heir:
Nor of ane Princes the dewtie and the det,
Quhilk I beleif thy heichnes hes per queir.
Bot, gif neid be, thair is anew can leir
Thy majestie, of thy awin natioune;

And gif thé counsall how to rewle and steir,
With wysdome, all belangand to thy crowne.

Yet I exhort thé to be circumspect
Of thy counsall in the electioune:
Cheis faythfull men of prudence and effect,
Quha will for wrang mak dew correctioune;
And do justice, without exceptioune;
Men of knawlege, gude lyfe, and conscience,
That will nocht failye for affectioune;
Bot of gude fame, and lang experience.

Quhilk, gif thow do, I hope that thow sall ring
Lang in this land in grit felicitie:
Will thow pleis God, he will thé send all thing
Is neidful to mantein thy royaltie;
Quha gif thé grace to guyde sa prudentlie,
That all thy doing be to his plesour;
And of Scotland to the commoditie,
Quhilk, under God, thow hes now in thy cure.

And gif thy Hienes plesis for to marie,
That thow haive help I pray the Trinitie
To cheis and tak ane husband without tarie,
To thy honour, and our utilitie;
Quha will, and may, mantein our libertie;
Repleit of wisdome and of godlienes;
Nobill, and full of constance and lawtie;
With guid successioune, to our quyetnes.

Madam, I wes trew servand to thy Mother,
And in hir favoure stude ay, thankfullie,
Of my estait als weill as ony other:
Prayand thy Grace I may ressavit be
In siklyk favour with thy Majestie;
Inclynand ay to me thy gracious eiris;
And, amang other servandis, thinke on me:
This last requeist I lernit at the freiris.

And thoch that I to serve be nocht sa abill
As I wes wont, becaus I may not see;
Yet in my hairt I sall be firme and stabill
To thy Hienes, with all fidelitie;
Ay prayand God for thy prosperitie;
And that I heir thy pepill, with hie voce,
And joyful hairt, cryand continuallie
Vive Marie tres-nobill Royne d'Escoss.

THE LAIRD OF LETHINGTOUNES COUNSELL TO HIS SON, BEAND IN THE COURT.

My Sone, in court gif thow pleisis remaine,
This my counsall into thy mynd imprent:
In thy speiking luik that thow be nocht vaine;
Behald and heir, and to thy toung tak tent;
Be no lyar, ellis thow art schent;
Found thé on treuth, gif thow wald weill betyde;
To governe all and reull be nocht our bent:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Be nocht ane scornar, nor fainyait flatterar,
Nor yet ane rounder of inventit taillis;
Of it thow heiris be nocht ane clatterar;
Fall nocht in plie for thyng that lyttil vallis:
Haive nocht to do with other mennis faillis:
Fra wicked men thow draw thé far on syde;
Thow art ane fuill gif thow with fuillis daillis:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Bewair quham to thy counsall thow reveill,
Sum may scheim trew, and yit dissemblaris be;
Be of thy promeis and conditioune leil;
Waist nocht thy guid in prodigalitie;

Nor put thyne honour into jeopardie;
With folk disfamit nather gang nor ryde;
With wilfull men to argue is follie:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Be no dyssar, nor playar at the cairtis,
Bot gif it be for pastyme, or small thing;
Be nocht blawin with windis of all airtis,
Constance in gude of wisdome is ane sign;
Be wyse, and tentie, in thy governing,
And try thame weill in quhame thow wilt confide;
Sum fair wordis will gif, wald see thé hing:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Attour all thingis ay to thy Prince be trew
In thocht, and deid, in worde, in wark, and sicht;
Fra tressonabill company eschew;
Thy Prince honour, and proffeit at thy micht;
Set ay fordwart the puir, baith day and nicht;
And lat na thing the commoune weill elyde;
And at all tyme mantein justice and richt:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Preiss nocht to be exaltit above uther,
For, gif thow do, thow salbe sair invyit;
Great perall is to tak on hand the ruther,
Quhill first that thy experience be tryit:
Think, at the last thy doing will be spyit,
Thocht thow with slicht wald cover it and hyde;

And all thy craft sall at the croce be cryit:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Thocht thow in court be with the heichest plaicit,
In honour, office, or in dignitie,
Think that sumtyme thow may be fra it chaissit;
As sum hes bein befoir, and yet may be;
Neidfull it is thairfoir to gang warlie,
That rakleslie thow snapper nocht, nor slyde;
Ken ay thyself best in prosperitie:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Bewar in giffing of ane hie counsall,
In materis grit, and counsall speciallie;
Quhilk, be the wirking of the warld, may faill,
Thocht it scheimis never sa appeirantlie:
Behald the warldis instabilitie;
That never still into ane stait dois byde;
Bot changing ay, as dois the moone and sie:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Gif with the pepill thow wald lovit be,
Be gentle, lawlie, and meik in thy estait;
For an thow be uncourteus, proude, and hie,
Than all the warld sall thé detest and haitt:
Flie fainying, flattering, falsheid, and dissait;
Invent nathing that may the realme devyde;
Or sall occasioun trouble, and debait:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Grund all thy doing upon suithfastnes;
And hald thé ay gude company amang;
Gather na geir with craft and wretchitnes;
Preiss nocht to conqueis ony thing with wrang;
Evill-gottine gudis lestys never lang;
Thocht all war thyne, within this warld sa wyde,
Thow sall fra it, or it fra thé sall gang:
He reulis weill, that weill in court can guyde.

Above all thingis, I thé exhort and pray,
To pleis thy God set all thy bussie cuire,
And syne thy Prince serve, luif weill, and obey;
And, as thow may, be helpand ay the puire;
Sen erthlie thingis will nocht ay endure,
Thairfoir in hevin ane place for thé provyde,
Quhair thair is joy, rest, gloir, and all plesour;
Onto the quhilk eternall God us guyde.

SATIRE ON THE AGE.

Quhair is the blythness that hes bein,
Bayth in brugh and landwart sein
Amang lordis, and ladies schein,
Dansing, singing, game, and play?
Bot weill I wat nocht quhat they mein;
All merriness is worne away.

For now I heir na worde of Yule,
In kirk, on cassay, nor in skuill;
Lordis lettis thair kitchingis cule,
And drawis thame to the Abbay;
And skant hes ane to keip thair mule;
All houshalding is worne away.

I saw no gysaris all this yeir,
Bot Kirkmen cled lyk men of weir,
That never cummis in the queir;
Lyk ruffianis is thair array;
To teitche and preitche that will not leir;
The kirk gudis thai waste away.

Kirkmen, affoir, wer gude of lyfe,
Preitchit, teichit, and staunchit stryfe;
Thai feirit nather sword nor knyf,
For luif of God, the faith to say:

All honorit thame, baith man and wyf;
Devotion wes nocht away.

Our fatheris wyse were, and discreit,
Thai had bayth honour, men, and meit:
With luif thai did thair tennentis treit;
And had aneuch in press to lay;
Thay wantit nather malt, nor quheit;
And mirrines wes nocht away.

And we hald nather Yule, nor Pace,
Bot seik our meit from place to place;
And we haive nather luk nor grace;
We gar our landis dowbill pay;
Our tennentis cry ‘Alace! Alace!
That routh and pittie is away!

Now we haive mair, it is weill kend,
Nor our forbearis had to spend;
Bot far les at the yeiris end;
And never hes ane mirrie day:
God will na ryches to us send,
Sua lang as honour is away.

We waist far mair now, lyk vaine fuillis,
We, and our paige, to turs our muillis,
Nor thai did than, that haid grit Yuillis;
Of meit and drink said never nay:
Thay had lang furmes quhair we haive stuillis;
And mirriness wes nocht away.

Of our wanthrift sum wyttis playes,
And sum thair wantoune vaine arrayis;
Sum the wyt on thair wyfes layes,
That in the court wald gang sa gay;
And care nocht quha the merchand payis,
Quhill pairt of land be put away.

The Kirkmen keipis na professioune;
The temporall men commitis oppressioune,
Puttand the puire from thair possessioune;
Na kynd of feir of God haive thay:
Thay cummar baith the kirk, and sessioune,
And chasis charitie away.

Quhen ane of thaime susteinis wrang,
We cry for justice, heid and hang;
Bot, when our neichbouris we our-gang,
We lawbour justice to delay;
Affectioune blindis us sa lang,
All equitie is put away.

To mak actis we haive sum feill;
God watt gif that we keip tham weill!
We cum to bar with jak of steill,
As we wald bost the judge and 'fray;
Of sic justice I have na skeill,
Quhair reull and ordour is away.

Our lawis ar lichtleit for abusioune;
Sumtyme is clokit with collusioune;

Quhilk causis of bluid the great effusioune,
For na man spairis now to slay:
Quhat bringis cuntreis to confusioune,
Bot quhair that justice is away?

Quha is the wyte, quha can schew us?
Quha, bot our nobillis, that sould know us,
And till honorabill deidis draw us!
Let never comouneweill decay;
Or els sum mischeif will befaw us,
And nobillnes we put away.

Put our awin lawis to executioune;
Upon transgressouris mak punitioune
To cruell folk seik na remissioune;
For peace and justice let us pray;
In dreid sum strange new institutioune
Cum, and our custome put away.

Amend your lyfis, ane and all,
And be war of ane suddan fall;
And pray to God, that maid us all,
To send us joy that lesteis ay;
And let us nocht to sin be thrall;
Bot put all vyce and wrang away.

SATIRE ON THE TOUN LADYES.

Sum wyfis of the burrows-toun
Sa wondir vane ar, and wantoun,
In warld thay watt not quhat to weir:
On claythis thay wair monye a croun;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair bodyes bravelie thay atyir,
Of carnall lust to eik the fyir;
I fairlie quhy thai have na feir
To gar men deime quhat thay desyre;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair gouns ar coistlie, and trimlie traillis;
Barrit with velvous, sleif, nek and taillis;
And thair foirskirt of silkis seir:
Of fynest camroche thair fuk-saillis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

And of fyne silk thair furrit cloikis,
With hingand sleivis, lyk geill poikis;
Na preiching will gar thame foirbeir
To weir all thing that sinne provoikis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair wylecots man weill be hewit,
Broudirit richt braid, with pasmentis sewit:
I trow, quha wald the matter speir,
That thair gudmen had caus to rew it,
That evir thair wyfis weir sic geir.

Thair wovin hois of silk ar schawin,
Barrit abone with tasteis drawin;
With gartens of ane new maneir;
To gar thair courtlines be knawin;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Sumtyme thay will beir up thair gown,
To schaw thair wylecot hingeand down;
And sumtyme bayth thay will upbeir,
To schaw thair hois of blak or broun;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair collars, carcats, and hals beidis;
With velvet hats heicht on thair heidis,
Coirdit with gold lyik ane younkeir,
Brouderit about with goldin threidis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair schone of velvot, and thair muillis;
In kirk ar not content of stuillis,
The sermon quhen thay sit to heir;
Bot caryis cuschingis lyik vaine fuillis:
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

I mein of thame thair honour dreidis;
Quhy sould thay nocht have honest weidis,
To thair estait doand effeir?
I mein of thame thair stait exceidis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

For sumtymes wyfis sa grave hes bein,
Lyik giglets cled wald nocht be sein:
Of burgess wyfis thoch I speak heir,
Think weill of all wemen I mein,
On vaneteis that waistis geir.

Thay say wyfis are so delicat
In feiding, feisting, and bankat,
Sum not content ar with sic cheir
As weill may suffice thair estait,
For newfangilnes of cheir, and geir.

And sum will spend mair, I heir say,
In spyce and droggis, on ane day,
Nor wald thair mothers in ane yeir:
Quhilk will gar monye pak decay,
Quhen thay sa vainlie waist thair geir.

Thairfoir, young wyfis speciallie,
Of all sic faultis hald yow frie;
And moderatly to leif now leir
In meit, and clayth accordinglie;
And nocht sa vainlie waist your geir.

Use not to skift athort the gait;
Nor na mum chairtis, air nor lait;
Be na dainser, nor this daingeir
Of yow be tane an ill consait,
That ye ar habill to waist geir.

Hant ay in honest cumpanie;
And all suspicious places flie:
Lat never harlot cum yow neir;
That wald yow leid to leicherie,
In houp to get thairfoir sum geir.

My counsall I geve generallie
To all wemen, quhat evir thay be;
This lessoun for to quin per queir;
Syne keip it weill continuallie,
Better nor onye warldlie geir.

Leif, burgess men, or all be loist,
On your wyfis to mak sic cost,
Quhilk may gar all your bairnis bleir:
Scho that may not want wyne and roist,
Is abill for to waist sum geir.

Betwene thame, and nobillis of blude,
Na difference bot ane velvous huid!
Thair camroche curcheis ar als deir;
Thair uther claythis ar als guid;
And thai als costlie in uther geir.

Bot, wald grit ladyis tak gud heid
To thair honour, and find remeid;
Thai suld thole na sic wyfis to weir,
Lyk lordis wyfis, ladyis weid,
As dames of honour in thair geir.

I speik for na despyt trewlie,
(My self am nocht of faultis frie,)
Bot that ye sould nocht perseveir
Into sic folische vanitie,
For na newfangilnes of geir.

Of burgess wyfis thoch I speik plaine,
Sum landwart ladyis ar als vain,
As be thair cleithing may appeir;
Werand gayer, nor thame may gain;
On ouir vaine claythis waistand geir.

ON THE MISERIES OF THE TYME.

O gracious God! Almichtie, and eterne!
For Jesus' saik, thy Sone, we ask at thé,
Us to defend, consarve us, and governe;
And tak fra us, Lord, for thy grit mercie,
Thir plaigis that appeiris presentlie;
Pest, povertie, and most unkyndlie weir;
Hunger, and dearthe, that now is lyk to be,
Throw deid of beistis, and skant of corne this yeir.

Bot, Lord, this cumis of thy just judgement,
For punischment of our iniquitie;
That never of our synnis will repent,
Bot perseveiris in impietie;
We ar sa sowpit in sensualitie;
Baith spirituall, and temporall estaite,
The peopill ar misguydit haillalie:
Nocht regneth now, bot troubill and debait.

Sumtyme the preistis thocht that thay did weill,
Quhone that thay maid thair beirdis, and schaif thair croune;
Usit round caps, and gownis to thair heill;
And mess and mateynis said of thair faschoune:
Thoch that all vyces rang in thair persoune,
Letcherie, gluttunnie, vain-gloire, and avarice;

With swerd and fyre, for zeill of religioune,
Of christiane peple oft maid sacrifice.

For quhilk God hes thame punischit richt scharplie;
Bot had thay left their auld abusioune,
And turnit thame fra vyce to God trewlie;
And syne forthocht thair wrang intrusioune
In to the kirk be fals elusione;
The word of God syn preitchit faithfullie;
Thay had nocht cum to sic confusioune,
Nor thoilit had as yit sic miserie.

Now is Protestantis rysin us amang,
Sayand, thay will mak reformatioun;
Bot yit as now ma vyces nevir rang,
As pryd, invy, fals dissimulatione;
Dissait, adulterie, and fornicatioune;
Thift, reif, slauchtir, oppressioun of the puir;
Of policie plaine alteratioune;
Of wrangous geir now na man takis cuir.

Thai think it weill, and thay the Paip do call
The Antechrist; and mess, idolatrie;
And syne eit flesche upon the frydayes all,
That thai serve God rycht than accordinglie;
Thocht in all thingis thai leif maist wickitlie:
Bot God commandit us his law to keip;
Fyrst honour him, and syne haive cheretie
With our neichtbouris; and for our sinnis weip.

Think weill that God, that puneist the papistis,
Is yit on lyve, and yow to punische abill,
As he did thame; that in your synnis insistis
As Godis word war haldin bot ane fabill:
Bot gif your hairt on God be ferme and stabill,
Thocht that his worde into your mouthe ye haive,
Except your lyf be thairto conformabill
In word, and wark; ye bot yourself dissaive.

I meine nocht heir of faythfull christianis;
Nor ministeris of Godis word trewlie;
Quha at the samen stedfastlie remanis,
In word, and wark, without hypocrisie:
Bot I do mene of thame allenarlie
That callit ar the fleschlie gospellaris;
Quha in thair wordis appeiris rycht godlie,
Bot yit thair warkis the plaine contrair declaris.

Bot, thocht of papistis, and protestantis, sum
Hes baith gane wrang, and Godis law transgrest;
Keip us, gude Lord, that never mair we cum
To sic errour; but grace to do the best:
That with all men thy trew fayth be confest;
That christiane folk may leif in unitie;
Vertu set up, and all vycis supprest,
That all the warld, gude Lord, may honour thé.

MISERIE THE FRUTE OF VYCE.

How sould our commoune weill indure?
God to offend we tak na cuir;
And nane preisis thair lyf to mend,
For na trouble that God will send;
As plaigis com be aventure.

Quhan darthe cumis, or pestilence,
We say it is be accidence;
And, gif weir cumis ony way,
The muivaris hes the wyte we say;
And cumis not be our offence.

And gif we muve the weir our sell,
We say we have ane gude quaréll;
And never will persaive, nor kna,
That God for syn will lat us fa
In to mischeif, and oft paréll.

The grit men say that the distress
Cumis for the pepillis wickitness;
The peple say, for the transgressioun
Of the grit men, and thair oppressioun:
Bot nane will thair awin syn confess.

TO KING JAMES VI.

Our Soverane Lord, in to thy tendir aige
Leir to serve God; him luif above all thing:
Thy Counsell chois of guid men just, and saige;
That ar expert, maist abill, and conding,
To gif ane faythfull counsell till ane king
How he sould rewl his realme, in peace and rest:
To luif Vertue; and all vycis doune thring;
Thame to releif that lang hes bein opprest.

Syne be thy Counsell gar it be provydit
How thow sall leif to thi royell estait:
And how thy nobill persoune sall be gydit,
In tyme to cum, and quha sall on thé wait,
To be thy gairde, and serve thé air and lait:
And quhat barrownis sall in thy court remaine,
Thair tyme about it to decoir all gait,
Of thy affairis to tak sum thocht and paine.

Thy propertie, and casualities,
And thay be put to thy utilitie,
Will hald thy hous and pay thy servandis fies,
And find all thing that neidful is to thé;
Gif thow will use na prodigalitie,
Nor vainlie waist the rentis of thy croune:

Now in thy youthe experience haif we—
Thy leifing haill neir brocht to confusioun.

Wes never king nor prince in this countrie
To leif upon that had sa greit ane rent,
To thy proffeit gif it weill gydit be,
And nocht in vaine consumit and mispent:
Thairfoir be ressoun thow sould be content
Till leif on it that to thi croun perteinis;
That on thy leigis taxation nor stent
Be never raisit be unlawfull menis.

Schir, at thy barrownis thir thrie thingis requyre,
Quhilk be ressoun can nocht denyit be:
First, to breik justice that nane sall thé desyre:
The secound is, that thow may use frilie
Thy awin leifing, sa it ma be trewlie
Put to sic profeitis as it guidlie may:
Thirdlie, that thai thé helpe and fortifie
Justice to do at all tymes, nycht and day.

Schir, gif na eiris to vaine flatteraris,
Quha at the lenthe will bot thé plaine dissaive:
Na credens gif to comoune clatteraris;
Nor in thy court na bakbytars resaive;
That will of thame, at quhom thai malice haive,
To thy Hienes mony lowd lesing make,
And gar thy grace ane wrang haitrent consaive
Aganes trew men, fra thé till hald thame bak.

Mycht sclaunderit men of thé get audiens,
Or war present quhan evill taillis ar tauld,
Thay sould sa weill defend thair innocens,
Thair honestie sa justifie thai wald,
As suld thame schame till lie that war so bald;
And gar thy grace sa ken the veritie,
That thow sould than for honest men thame hald:
And tratlane toungis have our lang leif to lie.

O royell Roy! thy realme ay rewll be rycht;
And be wise counsel gyd thy majestie:
About thy persoun haif, bayth day and nycht,
Godlie, guid men, of fame and honestie:
And do na thing in thy minoritie,
Be the persuasion of ill taillis nocht trew,
That, quhan thow cumis to thy majoritie,
Experience will gif thé caus to rew.

Young nobill King, and thy Counsel, I pray
This comoune-weil keip in tranquillitie;
Sa set it fuirth, it will incres ilk day:
To thy leiges do justice equallie,
Without respect to persoun, or pairtie:
That in this land na tuilye be, nor sturt:
And in sum caice thy grace may schawe mercie;
And speciallie quhair na partie is hurt.

I pray to God, the gyder of all thing,
Our Soverane saife fra dolour and decay,

And gif him grace to be the nobillest king
That in this regioun rang this monie day!
That he may tak our lang dolour away,
In his non-aige that we haif done susteine:
Falset and wrang be now baneist for ay,
That gud Justice amang us may be sene.

GUDE COUNSALS.

Luife vertew ower all and all vycis flie;
Wickitnes hait alwayes guidness imbrace;
Remuive rancour, and ay keip cherritie;
Proudness detaist, invy fra thé far chace;
Grediness never lat in thé tak place;
Be honorabill, and weill credens keip;
Besines not slouthe haivand tyme and space;
Trewlie serve God, and als for synnis weip.

Thir aucht lynes ye may begin at ony nuke ye will, and reid backward or forward, and ye sall fynd the lyk sentence and meter.

ON THE FOLYE OF ANE AULD MANIS MARYAND ANE YOUNG WOMAN.

Amang all folleis, ane great folye I find;
Quhen that ane man, past fyftie yeir of aige,
That in his vaine consait he growes sa blind
As for to join him selffe in maryage
With ane young lass, quhais bluid is yit in raige;
Thinkand that he may serve hir appetyte;
Quhilk and he faill than will scho him dispyte.

Still ageit men sould jois in morall taillis;
And nocht in taillis: For folye is to mary,
Fra tyme that baith thair strenthe and nature faillis;
And tak ane wyf to bring him selffe in tarye
For fresche Maii, and cauld Januarij,
Agreeis nocht upon ane sang in tune;
The tribbill wantis that sould be sang abune.

Men sould tak voyage at the larkis sang,
And nocht at evin, quhen passit is the day:
Efter mid-age the luifar lyes full lang,
Quhen that his hair is turnit lyart gray:
Ane auld gray beird till ane quhyte mouth to lay

In to ane bed, it is ane piteous sycht!
The ane cryes help! the uther hes no mycht.

Till haive bene merchand, bygaine monie ane yeir,
In Antwerp, Burges, and in town of Berrie;
Syne in to Deip for to tyne all his geir;
With vane conseat to puir himselffe, and herrie:
Grit perell is for to pas our the ferrie
In to ane laikand boit, nocht naillit fast;
To beir the saill nocht havand ane steife mast.

To tak ane mellein, that grit lawbour requyris;
Syne wantis grayth for to manure the land;
Quhair seid wantis, then men of teilling tyris;
Than cumis ane, findis it waist lyand,
Yokis his pleuch; teilleis at his awin hand:
Better had bene the first had never kend it,
Nor thoill that schame. And sa my tale is endit.

AGANIS OPPRESSIOUN OF THE COMOUNIS.

It is grit pitie for to sé
How the comounis of this cuntré,
For thift, and reif, and plaine oppressioune,
Can na thing keip in thair possessioune,
Quhairof that thai can mak ane lyfe:
Yit nane will puneis that transgressioune;
Till nocht be left till man nor wyfe.

Sum with deir ferme ar hirreit haill,
That wount to pay bot penny maill:
Sum be thair lordis ar opprest;
Put fra the land that thai possest:
Sair service hes sum hirreit sone:
For carriage als sum hes no rest;
Thocht thair awin wark sould ly undone.

Sum comounis, that hes bene weill stakit
Undir Kirkmen, ar now all wrakit;
Sen that the teynd, and the Kirk landis,
Came in grit temporall mennis handis:
Thai gar the tennentis pay sic sowmes,
As thai will ask; or, quha ganestandis,
Thai will be put sone fra thair rowmes.

The teynd, quhilk tennentis had befoir
Of thair awin mailingis, corne, and stoir,
Thair laird hes tane it our thair heid;
And gars thame to his yaird it leid:
Bot thair awin stok thai dar not steir,
Thoch all thair bairnis sould want breid,
Quhill thai have led thair teynd ilk yeir.

Sic extortioune and taxatioune
Wes never sene into this natioune,
Tane aff the comounis of this land,
Of quhilk sum is left waist liand,
Becaus few may sic chairgis beir:
Mony hes quhippis now in thair hand,
That wont to have bayth jak and speir.

Quhairthrow the haill comounité
Is brocht now to sic povertie;
For thai that had gude hors and geir,
Hes skantlie now ane crukit meir:
And for thair sadillis thai have soddis:
Thai have na weipenis worthe for weir;
Bot mone defend with stanes and cloddis.

Thairfore, my Lordis, I yow pray
For the puir comounis find sum way;
Your land to thame for sic pryce geif,
As on thair mailling thai may leif
Sufficientlie to thair estait:
Syne thame defend, that nane thame greif;
That thai may serve yow ayre and lait.

Riche comounis ar richt profitable,
Quhan thai, to serve thair lord, ar abill
Thair native cuntrie to defend
Fra thame that hurt it wald pretend;
For we will be ouir few ane nummer,
Gif comounis to the weir not wend;
Nobillis may not beir all the cummer.

Help the comounis bayth Lord and Laird!
And God thairfore sall yow rewaird;
And, gif ye will not thame supplie,
God will yow plaig thairfore justlie;
And your successioun, eftir yow,
Gif thai sall have na mair pitie
On the comounis, nor ye have now.

NA KYNDNES AT COURT WITHOUT SILLER.

Sumtyme to court I did repair,
Thairin sum errandis for to dress;
Thinkand I had sum freindis thair
To help fordwart my buseness;
Bot, nocht the les,
I fand nathing bot doubilness;
Auld kyndnes helpis nocht ane hair.

To ane grit court-man I did speir;
That I trowit my freind had bene,
Becaus we war of kyn sa neir;
To him my mater I did mene;
Bot, with disdene,
He fled as I had done him tene;
And wald nocht byd my taill to heir.

I wend that he, in word and deid,
For me, his kynsman, sould have wrocht;
Bot to my speiche he tuke na heid;
Neirnes of blude he sett at nocht;
Than weill I thocht,
Quhan I for sibnes to him socht,
It wes the wrang way that I geid.

My hand I put into my sleif,
And furthe of it ane purs I drew;
And said I brocht it him to geif;
Bayth gold and silver I him schew;
Than he did rew
That he unkindlie me misknew;
And hint the purs fest in his neif.

Fra tyme he gat the purs in hand,
He kyndlie cousin callit me,
And baid me gar him understand,
My buseness all haillalie;
And swair that he
My trew and faythfull freind sould be
In courte as I pleis him command.

For quhilk better it is, I trow,
Into the courte to get supplé,
To have ane purs of fyne gold fow;
Nor to the hiest of degré,
Of kyn to be,
Sa alteris our nobilitie
Grit kynrent helpis lytill now.

Thairfoir, my freinds, gif ye will mak
All courte men youris as ye wald,
Gude gold and silver with you tak;
Than to get help ye may be bald;
For it is tauld,
Kyndness of courte is coft and sald,
Neirness of kyn, na thing thai rak.

AGANIS THE DIVISIOUN OF THE LORDIS.

O loving Lord, that maid baith heavin and hell,
Fra us expell this crewell civile weir,
That all this yeir has done this cuntrie quell,
That nane can tell how thay sall keip thair geir,
Nor without fear quhar thay sall rest or duell.

Allace, this is ane miserabill lyfe,
Of sturt and stryffe, that na man can wot how
Keip ox or kow, the theiffes ar sa ryffe;
Yea evin to Fyffe thay ryd, the cuntrie throw
Rax thay, I trow thay sall wrak man and wyffe.

For thift, nor reif, nor men of evil conditioune,
Is na punitioune, nor for na wicked deid;
Bot deidlie feid give ye ask restitutioune;
Wrang intromissioune, now comis weill gude speid,
We haid gude neid of Justice the fruitioune.

Quhat is the caus of all this great confusioune,
Bot the divisioune of Lordis maist potent,
In land and rent; manie wrangous intrusioune,
And great effusioune, now of bluide innocent;
For punischment thair is bot abusioune.

Sum menis land and melling with Kirk geir,
Makis all this weir; discord makis additioune,
Sum sayes ambutioune that wald haive reull and steir,
Bot yit I fear men full of seditioune,
Hes sawin suspitioune, that credence is arair.

Inimitie is ane richt wicked seid,
Quhat deidlie feid it workis ye may sie;
Continuallie your lyfes ar in dreid;
Quhairfoir of neid your geir mane wasted be,
Gude unitie for that is best remeid.

God give his grace the Lordis till aggrie,
That we may sie some justice in this land;
Quhilk cannot stand and thay devyded be;
This to supplie guide men put to your hand,
Make ane suir band syne keip it faythfullie.

Ye Lordis all at God mercie imploir;
Discord vaine gloir is the caus of this mischeif;
All thift and reif ye mane answer thairfoir,
And it restoir, or hang rever or theife;
God send releife that wrang induir no moir.

I speik this to the Lordis of baith the sydis,
And all that rydis the cuntrie to oppress,
And puches puire menis guidis thame prydis,
And not confess that thay sall mak redress
Or thay possess the joy that God provydis.

COMPLAINT AGANIS THE LANG PROCES IN THE COURTS OF JUSTICE.

TO KING JAMES VI.

Sair is the recent murmour, and regrait,
Amang the leigis risin of the lait,
Throw all the cuntrie, bayth of rich and puir;
Plenand upon the Lordis of the Sait,
That thair lang proces may na man induir.

The Barrounis say, that they have far mair spendit
Upon the law, or thair mater wes endit,
Nor it wes wourth: Thairfoir richt sair thay rew
To found ane plie that ever thay pretendit;
Bot left it to thair airis to persew.

The puir folk say that thay, for falt of spending,
Man leif the law, it is sa lang in ending;
Lang proces thame to povertie hes brocht:
For of thair skayth be law can get na mending,
That thay ar faine to grie for thing of nocht.

Sum gives the wyte, that thair is on the Sessioun
Sum not sa cunning, nor of sa gud discretioun,
As thair befoir into that rowme hes bein;
Quhilk, doing justice, keipit thair professioun;
Of quhom thair wes na caus for to complein.

Now, ye that ar nocht of this Sait content,
Pas to the Prince; to him your caus lament;
And him exhort, and pray affectiouslie,
That in that Sait he wald na man present,
In tyme to cum, bot thay that ar worthie.

Gud cunning men, that ar wyss and discreit;
Practitianis gud; and for that senat meit,
Men of gud conscience, honestie, and fame;
That can with wit and treuth all materis treit;
And hes be prudence purchast ane gud name.

And syne gar call the Colledge of Justice,
All thair dependaris, and utheris that ar wyss,
And try the caus of law the langsumness;
And gar thame sone sum gud ordour devyis
To furder justice, and schorten the lang procés.

Bot gif this mater, unmendit be oursein,
The leigis can na greter scayth sustein;
For na man sall be suir of land or geir;
The trew and puir sall be oppressit clein;
And this Colledge sall not lang perseveir.

And gif this Sait of Senatouris gang doun,
The spunk of justice in this regioun,
I wait not how this realme sall rewlit be;
Better it wer gud reformatioun,
Nor let it perische so imprudentlie.

For gif this Sait of Justice sall not stand,
Then everie wicked man, at his awin hand,
Sall him revendge as he sall think it best;
Ilk bangeister, and limmer, of this land
With frie brydill sall do quhat him pleiss best.

Our Soverane Lord, to this materis have eie;
For it perteinis to thy majestie
This Colledge to uphauld, or lat it doun;
Bot, will thow it uphauld, as it sould be,
It will thé help for to mantein thy croun.

Causis ilk day so fast dois multiplie,
That with this Sait cannot ourtaken be;
Bot wald thy Hienes thairof eik the nummer
Of Senatouris, men cunning and godlie;
Wald monie mater end that makis cummer.

Schir, at thy gift is monye Abeceis,
Personagis, Provestreis, and Prebendareis,
Now sen doun is the auld religioun;
To eik sum lordis gif sum benefeis;
And sum to help the auld fundatioun.

Becaus the Lordis hes our litill feis,
Bot of uncertaine casualiteis,
Of quhilk thay never get payment compleit;
And now sic derthe is risin, all men sayis
What cost ane pound befoir, now costis thrie.

Schir, thou may gar, unhurt thy propertie,
The Sait of Justice weill advancit be;
Quhilk being done, thair daylie sall incress
Into this land gud peice, and policie;
And thow be brocht to honour, and richéss.

O loving Lord! support this cruell Sait;
And give thame grace to gang the neirest gait
Justice to do with expeditioun;
And bring all thing againe to gud estait,
Following the first gud institutioun.

AGANIS THE THEIVIS OF LIDDISDAILL.

Of Liddisdaill the commoun theifis
Sa pertlie steillis now and reifis,
That nane may keip
Hors, nolt, nor scheip; Nor yit dar sleip,
For thair mischeifis.

Thay plainlie throw the countrie rydis,
I trow the meikill devill thame gydis:
Quhair thay onsett,
Ay in thair gait, Thair is na yett,
Nor dure, thame bydis.

Thay leif richt nocht, quhairever thay ga,
Thair can na thing be hid thame fra;
For, gif men wald
Thair housis hald, Than waxe they bald
To burn and sla.

Thay theifis have neirhand herreit haill
Ettrick forest, and Lauderdaill;
Now ar they gane
In Lothiane; And spairis nane
That thay will waill.

Thai landis ar with stouth sa socht,
To extreme povertie ar brocht;
Thai wicked schrowis
Has laid the plowis; That nane, or few, is
That are left ocht.

Bot commoun taking of blak maill,
Thay that had flesche, and breid, and aill,
Now ar sa wraikit,
Maid puir and naikit; Fane to be staikit
With watter-caill.

Thai theifis that steillis, and tursis hame,
Ilk ane of thame hes ane to-name;
Will of the Lawis;
Hab of the Schawis: To mak bair wawis
Thay think na schame.

Thay spuilye puir men of thair pakis,
Thay leif thame nocht on bed, nor bakis;
Bayth hen, and cok,
With reill, and rok, The Landis Jok
All with him takis.

Thay leif not spendill, spoone, nor speit;
Bed, bowster, blanket, sark, nor scheit;
Johne of the Parke
Rypis kist, and ark; For all sic wark
He is richt meit.

He is weill kend, Johne of the Syde,
A gretar theif did never ryde;
He nevir tyris
For to brek byris; Our muir, and myris,
Our gude ane gyide.

Thair is ane, callit Clements Hob,
Fra ilk puir wyfe reiffis hir wob;
And all the laif
Quhatever thay haif; The deuil resave
Thairfoir his gob.

To sic grit stouth quha eir wald trow it
But gif sum greit man it allowit?
Rycht sair I rew
Thocht it be trew; Thair is sa few
That dar avow it.

Of sum grit men they have sic gait
That redy ar thame to debait;
And will up weir
Thair stolin geir; That nane dar steir
Thame, air nor lait.

Quhat causis theifis us our-gang,
Bot want of Justice us amang?
Nane takis cair,
Thocht all forfair; Na man will spair
Now to do wrang.

Of stouth thocht now thay cum gud speid,
That nather of men nor God hes dreid,
Yit, or I die,
Sum sall thame sie, Hing on a trie,
Quhill thay be deid.

ON THE WARLDIS WICKEDNES.

The Lord that raisit lyfe againe,
That deit for us on Gude Fryday,
Quha sufferit meikill woe and paine,
With Jewis that wer hard of fay;
Wer he amang us now this day,
He wald far mair thoill and sustein;
For now as I heir all men say,
Is the warst warld that ever was sein.

Ane Heroid rang into theis yeiris,
Ane murtherer of Innocentis;
Bot now he hes ane thowsand freiris,
For trewlie in thair intentis,
To rug and reif and tak up renttis,
The puire peopill oppressand cleine;
For the quhilk thing some sair repentis,
In this warst warld that evir was sein.

That tyme thair was bot ane Pilat,
Now is thair mae than fiftie score;
With as fair wordis of dissait,
As haid the other of befoir;
Sa fast into this warld thay soir,
To trew men dois meikill tein,
Thair traist ay kythess moir and moir,
As in this world it is now sein.

That tyme thair was bot ane Caiphas,
That did accuise our Lord Jhesu;
Bot now is monie mae alace,
The Innocentis for to persew:
Thair is bakbytteris now anew,
Bot of gude men thair is ouer quhein,
That will and can give counsall trew,
As in this warld it may be sein.

The tormentaris war than sa skant,
Chryst for to scourge skerce found wer sax;
Now of ane thowsand, not ane dois want,
Thair wicked number so dois wax,
To spoilyie puire men of thair pakis,
To reife can na man thame refraine,
Quhill that thay gar ane wuddie rax,
In this warst warld that ever was sein.

Thair was ane Judas in that tyme,
For silver did his maister sell;
Bot now is smitted with that cryme
Ane thowsand mae than I can tell,
That dois in this countrie duell,
Wald sell thair sawillis, as I wein,
For geir unto the divill of hell,
In this warst warld that ever was sein.

Peter to Annas hous him drest,
Quhair he his maister did deny;

Monie with mouth hes now confest,
Thay are of Chrystis company;
Bot and ye will thair warkis espy,
Ye sall sie thame befoir your eine,
Denyand Chryst all uttarlie,
As be thair lyfis may be sein.

Pilat let bot ane theife gang,
Quhen he put Jesus Chryst to deid;
Bot now fyve hundreth theifis strang,
At ainis will thair remissioune speid,
And trew folk can get na remeid,
Quhat wrang that ever thay susteine;
Quhilk garris monie beg thair bread
In this warst warld that ever was sein.

Fra Pilat fand of deid na caus
In Chryst, he wald haive lattin him ga;
I wald thay, that leidis our lawis,
And our Judges, wald do sa,
Compell na innocent to pay,
Nor thame convict be subtill mein,
Nor in thair syess put not thair fra,
Let na partialetie be sein.

Thairfoir Princes and Magestratis
And ye in court that office bear,
That for auctoretie debaittis,
To hurt the Innocent tak fear

For leid, suspitioune, or for geir;
From wrang proceiding ay abstein,
In dreid God ather hyne or heir,
His vengence gar on you be sein.

As Jewis war to Chryst unkynd,
For all his warkis and guidness,
His miracles put fuirth of mynd,
Quhen that to deid he did him dress;
Sua in this warld all thankfulness,
And all auld kyndnes that hes bein,
And all guide turnes mair and les,
Ar clein foryot and now our sein.

Apeirantlie now all men sayes,
That all Scottis ar in dispair,
Thinkand can they put aff thair dayes,
Quhat sall come efter they tak na cair;
Thocht all this regioune sould forfair,
Of thair will nocht want ane prein,
Quhilk will mak mony biggingis bare,
And ane waist countrie to be sein.

Quhair is the zeallous men and wyse,
Of kirk and of the temporall stait,
That in this realme hes been oft syse,
That wald tak travaill air and late
To stenche all troubill and debaitt,
And ane great perrell could prevein,

And now the Lordis to gang on gett
The comoune weill to be foirsein.

God mak us quyt of all blaspheimeris,
And of all men of evill conditioune;
God mak us quyt of all menteinieris,
Amongis us of seditioune,
And all raisseris of suspicioune;
Send us gude men to gang betwein,
The Lordis to mak unione,
That peace may in this land be sein.

God keip the Kingis Majestie,
And give him gracis manifold,
This land to keip in libertie;
In peace and justice to us hald,
Sua that na persone young nor auld,
Sall onie caus haive to complein,
That justice now is cost and sauld.
As other tymes hes bein sein.

ON THE WARLDIS INGRATITUDE.

This warld sa fals is, and unstabill;
Of gredines unsaceabill;
In all estaittis sic doubilness;
To find trew freindis few are abill,
For keipit is na auld kyndness.

Thocht ye do pleisour to greit men,
Thairfoir they will yow scantlie ken;
Gif ye have ocht with thame to dress,
Ye ar not abill to get ben,
For keipit is na auld kyndness.

Thocht ye have servit, monye ane yeir,
Ane lord, on your awin cost and geir;
And ye be fallin in distress,
Yow to releive he will be sueir,
And count na thing your auld kyndness.

Sum to thair nychbouris hes bene kynd,
That now thairof hes never mynd,
Bot nottit ar with newfangilness;
Of ingratnes it hes ane strynd,
That cannot keip na auld kyndness.

Sum to communiteis hes done
That ingratlie foryet it sone,
Sua full thay ar of fikilness;
Changing as oft as dois the mone;
And cairis nocht for auld kyndness.

Sum did for thame, in court and sessioun,
That now falslie, without discretioun,
In tyme of troubill and business,
Mellit with thair land, geir, and possessioun,
That schew to thame sa greit kyndness.

Thair is that sum man did resett,
With meit, and claythis, hes him bet;
That efter in court can get entress,
And wald nocht ken him, quhen thay met,
Of quhome he gat sa greit kyndness.

Thocht ye with courteouris hes bein
Acquentit lang be onye mein;
And ye thame charge with business,
Ar abill to misknaw yow clein,
And will foryet auld kyndness.

Sen in this warld, in na degree,
Is kyndnes, nor fidelitie,
Let us pray God, of his gudness,
To bring us to the hevins so hie,
Quhairin thair is perfyte kyndness.

COUNSALL IN TROUBILL.

Gif troubill comes be eventour,
And nocht throw thy misgovernance,
Than patientlie thow it induir,
Quhill God pleasis send better chance.

Trowbill sumtymes is profitabill,
And givis men intelligence,
To ken thair God makis thame abill,
And of thame selffe experience.

Behald the instabilitie
Of this false warld, and how it gais,
This day ane man set upoune hie,
To morrow set downe amang his fais.

Thow may sie great unfaythfulness
Intill all staittis ringand now;
Amang them in sick doubilnes,
That na man may ane uther trew.

For and thy bak be at the wall,
Or sum infortoune happine thé,
Than will thy quentance leif thé all,
How neir of bluid that ever thay be.

And give thow helping at thame craive
Thy kinsman will never know thé,
Nor yet mair pitie on thé haive,
Nor will the man that never saw thé.

Quhairfoir my counsall is trewlie,
How ever the warld ga up or downe,
Be glaid in hart ay lesomelie,
And just in thy vocatioune.

For thocht thow of this miserie,
And displeasour thy selffe wald slae,
Quhat kynd of gude will that do thé,
But greif thy freind, and glaid thy fae?

Thairfoir thank God quhat ever he send,
And to thy neichbouris do na wrang;
And ay thy just quarrell defend,
And never by the richt way gang.

Pray thow to God baith evin and morrow,
To keep ay cleine thy conscience,
Quhat ever come seill or sorrow,
To tak all thing in patience.

ANE BALLAT OF THE CREATIOUN OF THE WARLD, MAN HIS FALL AND REDEMPTIOUN,

MAID TO THE TONE OF THE BANKIS OF HELECON.

God be his word his wark began,
To forme the erth and hevin for man,
The sie and watter deip;
The sone, the mune, the starris bricht,
The day divydit frome the nicht,
Thair coursis for to keip;
The beistis that on the grund do mufe,
And fische in to the sie;
Fowlis in the air to flé abufe
Off ilk kynd creat hee;
Sum creiping, sum fleiting,
Sum fleing in the air,
So heichtly, so lichtly
In moving heir and thair.

Thir workis of grit magnificence,
Perfytit be his providence,
According to his will:
Nixt maid he man; to gif him gloir,
Did with his ymage him decoir,
Gaif paradice him till;

Into that garding hevinly wrocht,
With plesouris mony one,
The beistis of every kynd war brocht,
Thair names he sowld expone;
Thame nemming and kennyng,
As he list for to call;
For pleising and eising
Of man, subdewit thame all.

In hevinly joy man so possest,
To be allone God thocht not best,
Maid Eve to be his maik;
Bad thame incress and multiplie;
And eit of every fruct and trie
Thair plesour thay sowld taik,
Except the trie of gud and ill
That in the middis dois stand,
Forbad that thay sowld cum it till,
Or twiche it with thair hand;
Leist plucking or lucking
Baith thay and als thair seid,
Seveirly, awsteirly,
Sowld dye withowt remeid.

Now Adame and his lusty wyfe,
In paradyce leidand thair lyfe,
With plesowris infineit;
Wanting na thing sowld do them eiss

Ilk beist obeying thame to pleiss,
As thay cowld wiss in spreit:
Behald the serpent subtilly
Invyand manis estait,
With wickit craft and subtilty,
Eve temptit with dissait;
Nocht feiring bot speiring,
Quhy scho tuke not hir till,
In using, and chusing
The fruct of gud and ill?

Commandit us, scho said, the Lord,
Nowayis thairto we sowld accord,
Under eternall pane;
Bot grantit us full libertie
To eit of every fruct and trie,
Except that trie in plane:
No, no, not so, the serpent said,
Thow art dissavit thairin;
Eit ye thairof ye sall be maid,
In knawlege lyk to Him,
In semyng and demyng
Off every thing arricht,
Als dewly, als trewly,
As ye wer goddis of micht.

Eve with thir fals wordis thus allurit,
Eit of the fruct, and syne procurit
Adame the same to play:

Behald, said scho, how precious,
So delicat and delicious,
Besyd knawlege for ay:
Adame puft up in warldly gloir,
Ambitioun and of pryd,
Eit of the fruct; Allace, thairfoir,
And swa thay baith did slyd!
Neglecting, forgetting
The eternal Goddis command,
Quha scurgit and purgit
Thame quyt out of that land.

Quhen thay had eitin of that frute
Off joy than war thay destitut;
And saw thair bodyis bair;
Annone thay past with all thair speid,
Off leivis to mak thameselvis a weid,
To cleith thame, was thair cair.
During the tyme of innocence,
No syn nor schame thay knew,
Fra tyme thay gat experience,
Unto ane buss thay drew,
Abyding and hyding,
As God sowld nocht thame see,
Quha spyit and cryit,
Adame, quhy hyddis thow thee?

I being naikit, Lord, throw feir,
For schame I durst nocht to compeir,
And so I did refuse:

Had thow nocht eitin of that tré,
That knawlege had nocht bene in thé,
Nor yit no sic excuse;
This helper, Lord, thow gaif to me,
Has cawsit me transgress,
Sayd scho, the serpent subtilly,
Perswadit me no less,
Intreitting be eitting,
That we sould be perfyte,
Me sylit, begylit;
In him lyis all the wyte.

The Lord that evir jugeit richt,
Bringand his justice to the licht,
The serpent first did juge;
Becauss the woman thow begylit,
For evir thow sall be exylit
Said he without reffuge;
Betuix hir Seid and thy ofspring
Na peax nor rest sal be,
And hir Seid sall thy heid doun thring,
For all thy subtilty;
Abhorrit, deformit,
Thow on thy breist sall gang,
In feiding and leiding
Thy lyfe the beistis amang.

The Woman nixt for hir offence,
Did of the Lord ressaif sentence,
Her sorrow sall incress,

With wo and pane hir childrene beir,
Subdewit to man, undir his feir,
No liberty possess:
For Adamis falt he curst the erth,
That barane it sowld be,
Withowt labour sowld yeild na birth
Off coirnis, erb, nor tré;
Bot wirking and irking
For evir sowld remane,
And being in deing,
In erth return agane.

O crewall serpent vennemus,
Dispytfull and seditious,
The grund of all our cair,
Thow fals-bound slave unto the divill,
Thow first inventar of the evill,
Off bliss quhilk maid us bair;
O divillis slaive, did thow beleif,
Or how had thow sic grace,
Thairby for evir thow micht leif
Aboif in to that place:
Thy grudgeing gat scrudgeing,
And swa God lute thé sie
O dissavar no cravar,
Off his reward sowld be.

O dilicat dame, with eiris bent
That harknit to that fals serpent,
Thy banis we may sair ban;

Withowt excuse thow art to blame,
Thow justly hes obtenit that name,
The verry Wo of Man;
With teiris we may bewaill and greit
That wickit tyme and tyd,
Quhen Adame was caussit to sleip,
And thow tane of his syd.
No sleiping bot weiping
Thy seid hes fund sensyne
Thy eitting and sweitting,
Is turned to wo and pyne.

Adame thy pairt, quha can excuse,
With knawlege thow that did abuse
Thy awin felicitie:
The serpentis fals inventing,
The womanis sone consenting,
Was nocht sa wickitlie,
God did prefer thé to this day,
And thame subdewid to thé,
So all that thay cowld mene or say,
Sowld not haif movit thé
To brecking abjecking
That heich command of lyfe
Quhilk gydit provydit
Thé ay to leif but stryfe.

Behald the stait that man was in,
And als how it he tynt throw sin,
And loist the same for ay;

Yit God his promeiss dois performe,
Send his Sone of the Virgyn borne,
Oure ransome for to pay.
To that grit God let us gif gloir,
To us has bene so gude,
Quha be his deith did us restoir,
Quhairof we war denude;
Nocht karing nor sparing
His body to be rent,
Redemyng, releiving
Ws quhen we war all schent.

THE WARLD WORTH NA THOCHT.

Ye, that sumtym hes bene weill stakit,
Thocht of your geir sum be inlaikit,
And yourself into troubill brocht;
Of this fals warld tak never thocht.

To sum thair is bot littill left;
Bot, with grit wrang, ar planelie reft
With devillis lyms, that never docht.
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

Of houshold grayth sum richt skant war,
With utheris geir now planeist ar,
Better nor ever thair faderis bocht:
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

To reif thair neichtbour few now rakis
For feir of God, bot daylie takis
Fra thame that never aucht thame nocht:
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

Sum to thair freindis war sa faythles,
That, under colour of kyndnes,
Thame to destroy did all thay mocht:
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

Sum, that richt weill planeist hes beine,
Thair landis now ar wastit cleine,
With comoun theiffis, that leivis nocht:
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

Distroyit is the pollicie
For the maist pairt of this countrie;
To wrak the rest seir wayis ar socht:
Of this fals warld yit tak na thocht.

I hoip the tyme sall cum schortlie
Sall gar all wickit cumpanie
Repent the wrang that thay have wrocht;
For punissing thay sall tak thocht.

AGANIS THE WEIRIS.

At morning, in ane gairden grein,
I went allone to tak the air,
Quhair monie pleasant treis was sein,
And sundrie kynd of flouris fair;
Quhen I did walk and gang
Thir fair flouris amang,
Into my mynd thair came, with cair,
Ane thing that maid myne hairt full sair,
That lastet hes ourlang.

Quhen I think on the great mischeife
That rignis now in this countrie,
Withoutten hoip syne of releif
Unless that God, of his mercie
And his devyne poweir,
Stenche this unkyndlie weir;
Without the quhilk, appeirandlie,
This haill land will distroyit be
Richt hestalie I feir.

It is ane pitie to heir tell,
How the puire commounis of this land
Fra wrang cannot debait thair sell
Fra reife, and spoilyie of some band

Off suddarteis of some syde;
That nane dar gang nor ryd,
For trubling of some wicked hand,
I wait not how the realme sall stand,
And limmeris walk so wyd.

O Lord, quhair ar sa zellous men
That in this land hes bein oft syis,
That quhen thay sould persaive or ken
Ane troubill in the countrie ryis,
With wisdome and foirsicht
Thay wald set all thair micht,
Be great travaill, and wordis wyss,
Ane remedie wald schoine devyse
And set all thingis aricht.

Bot now thair is not ane, allace!
That I ken in this regioune,
That ather hes haip witt or grace
To mak concord and unioune.
Thairfor, God send remeid
And help us in our neid,
For monie hes inventioune
For to incres dissentioune
And foister deidlie feid.

The greatest caus of this discord
Is for our sinnis punischment;
With mouthe we say we loive the Lord,
And far fra him in our intent,

To speak of God delichtis
In doing him dispytis;
Reddie to reif ane man his rent,
Not dreidand Godis judgement
As fainyeit hypocreitis.

I ken nane now for Godis loive
To do ane wrang that will forbeir,
Nor yet will stoip for to remoive
His nichtbour baith fra land and geir,
And nathing by thay sett it
How wrangouslie thay gett it,
For of thair God thay haive no feir
To gar thair nichtbouris leif perqueir
Fra thay haive intrometted.

Ingland is glaid quhen it is tauld
Of Scottis the divisioune,
And for our folischnes thay hald
Our doingis in derissioune;
Bot wald we weill considder,
Thay hund us ay togidder,
Makand thair awin provisioune
For our great skaith and lesioune,
The gripe of thame is slidder.

Yet the ane pairt on thame dependis,
The other on France for thair supplie,
Ilk ane fra other thame defendis
As fra ane comoune enemie,

I pray God I heir tell
We grie amang our sell,
And syne, that all this haill countrie
Of France and Ingland baith wer frie,
With tham na mair to mell.

Quhen that the ane the other wraikis,
The quhilk will nocht be done lichtlie
Without travaill and manie straikis;
Bot quhat sall this work finallie,
Bot rais ane deidlie feid,
Of quhilk we have na neid;
In the mein tyme great policie
And guid cornes destroyit be,
And monie man ly deid.

Thairfoir, my Lordis, hald up your handis,
Thocht of your will ye want something,
Or be distroyit men and landis,
Quhilk will be huirtfull to the king;
For his weill it is maist
That ye aggrie in haist;
For quhen he is of aige to ring
Quhairon to leif sall find nathing,
Bot all the countrie waist.

God give the Lordis grace till aggrie,
And banische all seditioune,
Syne ay to leif in unitie
And quyt of all suspitioune;

And than to mak ane band
Ay in kyndness to stand,
Ilk man get restitutioune
And fullie intromissioune
Of thair awin geir and land.

I pray to God omnipotent
To send us peace, quhill we ar heir,
Ilk ane may leive upon thair rent
Or on thair craft withoutten fear,
And with sanct Paull I pray,
To tak thame schoine away
That caus is of this mortall weir,
And the first tydingis that I heir
That thay be laid in clay.

ON THE MALYCE OF POETIS.

Sum of the Poyettis, and Makaris, that ar now,
Of grit despyt and malice ar sa fow,
Sua that all lesingis, that can be inventit,
Thay put in writ, and garris thame be prentit;
To gar the peopill ill opinioun taik
Of thame, quhom of that thay thair ballatis maik.
With sclanderous wordis thay do all thing thay can
For to defame mony ane honest man,
In setting furthe thair buikis, and thair rymis,
Accusand sum of improbabill crymis:
And thocht that sum thair lybellis dois allow,
Yit few that will thair awin warkis avow.
And thocht that thay bakbytaris and blasphemaris,
Now at this tyme, has mony thair manteinaris,
The tym will cum that thay forthink sall it
That thay have put sic lesingis into writ:
To steill ane manis fame is gritter sin
Nor ony geir that is this warld within:
Thairfoir repent, ye Railaris, and restoir
To thame thair fame quhom ye sklandrit befoir:
To that effect apply your wordis, and deidis,
Ill bruit to tak furthe of the peopillis heidis:
Cry toung! I leid, throw all this natioune:
Mak buikis and rymis of recantatioune.

Sic alteratioune may cum in this land
May gar ane tak ane uther be the hand,
And say, Think on—ye made of me ane ballat,
For your rewarde now I sall brek your pallat.
Men sould bewar quhat thing thay said or did,
For it may cum to licht lang hes bene hid.
Thairfoire na man mak ballatis, nor indyte,
Of ill, detractioune, sklander, nor dispyte.
Put not in writ that God, or man, may greife.
All vertew love, and all vycis repreife.
Or mak sum myrrie toy, to gude purpoise,
That may the herar, or the redar baith rejoise:
Or sum fruitful and gude moralité:
Or plesand thingis, may stand with cherité.
Dispytful Poyettis sould not tholit be
In commounweillis, or godlie cumpanie:
That sorte ar redie ay to saw seditioune;
And put gude men into suspitioune.

MORAL VERSES.

Luik that nathing to syn thé tyce;
Bot grund thé ay upon justice;
Ay follow vertew, and flie vyce;
Of toung be trew:
Ay haitt all kynd of covatyce;
Waste nocht thy guidis at the dyce;
Flie fra all fuillis that ar nyce,
And thame eschew.

Hald thé in honest companie;
Thy persoune gyd ay honestlie;
And haunt na kynd of harlotrie:
Fra syn abstein:
Deill with all folkis faythfullie;
And use thé never for to lie;
Conqueis na guidis wrangouslie,
Be na fals mein.

To everie persoun do ressoune;
Keip ay fra melling with tressoune;
And tak in thank and guid sessoune
Quhat God will send:
Put na man, be oppressioune,
Furth of his richt possessioun;
To God mak intercessioune
For ane gude end.

PIOUS RYMES.

Sinnaris repent, that ye have spent
Your tyme in wickitnes;
Bot now be bent, with trew intent,
To leif in godlienes.

Your lyvis mend, and not offend
Your gracious God na mair;
Think on the end, how ye man wend
Away, nakit and bair.

Thairfoir ask grace, while ye have space,
At God, for your grit miss;
Sin fra yow chace; preis to that place
Quhair ay is joy and bliss.

Luif God ay best, all sin detest,
And fals hypocrisie;
Luif peace and rest, and nane molest;
Bot leif in cherritie.

Your God ay fear, follie forbeir,
On vertew follow ay;
Prydfull nocht be, use not to lie,
Advyss weill quhat ye say.

Keip ay kyndnes, and faithfulnes
To your freindis ilk ane;
Heitt gredines, and doubilnes,
Under traist dissaive nane.

Leif modestlie, leif honestlie,
Use nocht in sin to ly;
Nane in you sie crudelitie,
In malice nor invy.

TO BE PUT IN ONY PUBLIC HOUS.

Dreid God, and luif him faythfullie;
Haive fayth in Christ ay constantlie,
And with thy neichtbour cheretie;
For grace on God ay call:
Obey, and serve the Quene trewlie;
Keip justice peax and unitie;
Fra all sort of seditioune flie;
And do ressone to all.

Hait pryd, invy, and leicherie;
All yre, sweirnes, and gluttonie,
Averice and idolatrie;
All treassone and debaittis:
Luif vertew richt and honestie;
In cheritabill deidis exercit be;

All leiffome promeis keip justlie,
To all maner of staittis.

Keip yow fra prodigalitie,
Oppressioune, wrang, and crueltie;
And fra all vyce and vanitie,
And grund yow upone treuth:
Haunt gude and honest companie;
Use wyse counsale and gravitie;
Do all your materis discreitlie,
And of the puir haive reuth.

ADVYCE TO LESOM MIRRINESS.

Quhen I haive done considder,
This warldis vanitie,
So brukill and sa slidder,
Sa full of miserie;
Then I remember me,
That heir thair is no rest;
Thairfoir appeirantlie,
To be mirrie is best.

Let us be blyth and glaid,
My freindis all I pray;
To be pensive and sad,
Na thing it help us may;

Thairfoir put quyt away
All heviness of thocht;
Thocht we murne nicht and day,
It will availl us nocht.

It will not be our sorrow,
That will stoip Godis hand,
To strik baith evin and morrow,
Baith on the sie and land;
Sen nane may it gainestand,
Let us all be content,
To underly the wand,
Of Godis punischment.

Quhat God pleasis to do,
Accept it thankfullie;
Quhat paine he puttis us to,
Receive it pacientlie;
And give that we wald be
Releiveit of our paine,
For sin ask God mercie,
Offend Him nocht againe.

Give we will mak murning,
Sould be for our offence,
And not that God dois bring
On us for violence;
For ane dyveris pretence
For some he will puneis,

To proive thair patience,
And som for thair great miss.

Sen first the warld began,
Thair hes bein trubill ay,
For punischment of men,
And sall quhill domisday;
And sen we may not stay,
Quhat God pleis do us till,
Quhat he will on us lay,
Receive it with guid will.

For God will lay som scurge,
Quhill that the warld tak end,
Fra sin the warld to purge,
Will ay som plaigis send;
Bot quha will lyfe amend,
And preis to sin no moir;
Then God will him defend,
Fra everlasting cair.

Yet plainelie I concluide,
Into all wardlienes,
Nathing for man sa guide,
As lesom mirrines;
For thair is na riches,
Sa lang his lyfe can lenthe,
Conserve him fra seiknes,
And keip him in his strenthe.

Thairfoir with trew intent,
Let us at God ask grace,
Our sines to repent,
Quhill we haive tyme and space;
Syne bring us to that place,
Quhair joy is evermoir,
And sie God face to face,
In his eternall gloir.

AGANIS TRESSOUNE.

Treassoune is the maist schamefull thing,
That may in ony cuntrie ring,
And sould be heatted maist;
Bot now, in this unhappie tyme,
Swa manie ar smytted withe that cryme,
That few dar other trust.

Thair is sa manie subtill wyll
Ilk ane and other to beguyll,
Fra lawtie say thay keip;
For gridines of geir and land,
Thair will na kyndnes, bluid nor band,
Gar som thair credit keip.

Great number ar in dyverse landis,
That Prince and Magistrattis gainestandis,
Rebelland trewlie;

I will nocht speak in speciall,
Bot pray all in generall,
That wicked vyce to flie.

The deathe of Cristianes confortabill,
To Cristiane men maist profitabill,
Yet foull wes Judas pairt;
Men sould haive thame abominabill,
Abone all other detestabill,
That studeis in that airt.

Lyk as subjectis with trew intent,
Sould be leill and obedient
To thair superiouris;
Sua sould no Prince nor Magistrat,
Be craftie meanis and dissaitt,
Huirt thair inferiouris.

Quhilk give thay do, themselffe thay schame,
And thocht men dar not thame defame,
Yet God that seis all
May punische thame, within schort space,
And fra thair heiche and princelie place,
Give thame ane schamefull fall.

Thairfoir all subjectis I yow pray,
Loive your princes and thame obey,
Aganest thame work na treassoune;
Siclyk Princis and Magistrattis,

Wrake not your awin with fals conceittis,
Bot do tham richt and reassoune.

All ye that sould be Cristin men,
Your honour and your dewtie ken,
Quhat ye sould do to other;
For na proffeit ye may haive,
Your freind or neichtbour nocht dissaive,
Bot loive your Cristiane brother.

Sua I exhort yow all estaittis,
Ceis fra dissimilanttis and dissaittis,
And of fals punckis yow purge;
And ilk ane be to other trew,
Or els ye sall not esschew
Of God the mortall scuirge.

ADVYCE TO KYNDNESS.

It is ane mortall paine to heir or sie,
Of this fals warld the mutabilitie;
Fra weill to wo, fra treuth to doubilnes;
Fra perfyte lyfe, to fraud and fikkilnes;
Fra godlieness to sensualitie.

And fra honour to wardlie wretchednes,
And fra vertew to vyce and wickednes;
Fra all guide ordour to confusioune;
Fra law and justice to abusioune,
Fra trew meining to cullored craftines.

Fra policie to plaine distructioune;
Fra unitie to great divisioune;
Fra cheritie to malice and invy;
Fra clein leiving, in carnall lust to ly;
All evill is up, and all guidness is downe.

From nather honour faith nor conscience,
Nor gratitud done of benevolence,
Neirness of bluide, nor yet affinitie,
Can in this warld gar kyndnes keipit be,
As may be sein be plaine experience.

For Greidines now guydis all estaittis,
Instructand tham with covetous conseattis;
Sayand to som Quhy do ye want this land;
This tak, this steid, that lyis sa neir hand,
It for to gett I can find twentie gettis.

Quhen Gridines haid found some wicked way,
Then com Kyndness that purpois for to stay,
And said to him, that Gredines haid drest,
Be his counsall, his nichtbouris to molest,
Tent to my taill and heir quhat I sall say.

Quhy will ye now committ so great offence
Againest all reassone and guide conscience
To tyn your neichtbour, your kynsman, and your freindis,
For gredines of ony landis or teyndis,
And to the puire to do sik violence.

Then comes in Sir Gredines be lyfe,
Withe thir wordis ay Kyndnes to dryfe;
Quhat is scho this, can paint sa fair ane taill,
Sua far against your profeit and availl,
Get scho credence scho will stoip you to thryve.

And ye hir counsall ather do or heir,
Ye will not conqueiss ather meikill land or geir;
Put hir away and mell with hir na mair;
With that thay keist dame Kyndnes our the stair,
And Gredines haid hir ay areir.

Quhen dame Kyndnes wes rebuikit sa,
Than Cheretie and dame Pitie can ga,
And said, It is ane verie wicked deid
To tak thy neichtbouris melling over his heid,
And with great rigour banischit him thar fra.

And it is againis Godis command,
For to defyr your neichtbouris geir or land,
With violence to put ane puire man out;
God will yow plaig thairfoir, withoutten doubt,
Except ye mend ye sall not cheap his hand.

Then Gredines said, with ane stuirt-some cheir,
Quhat mickill divill broucht thir twa harlottis heir?
Fuirth at the doir he schoit thame quyt away;
And syn he said, Give ye wald cheir thir tway,
Ye wald not purches meikill land this yeir.

Allace! quhair is the warld that som hes sein,
Sik cheretie in all estaittis hes bein,
That na man wald for steiding tak nor teindis,
Displeis thair nichtbour, na puire man nor thair freindis,
Dame Kyndnes ay sa travillit thame betwein.

Thairfor I pray to God that is above,
Fra all our hairtis this Gredines remoive,
That everie man may, with Cheretie,
Of his awin renttis so contented be,
That we may leif into fraternall loive.

OF UNIONE AMANG THE LORDIS.

Ye Nobillis all, that sould this cuntrie guyd,
It to preserve, quhy do ye nocht provyde?
As of the comoune weill ye haive no cair,
For quhilk this realme is liklie to foirfair,

Throw your great negligence,
That makis na diffence
Fra skaith it for to keip;
Bot thoils it to be spilt,
Throw your great slewthe and gilt,
Quhilk garis monie weip.

It is the caus of your callamitie,
Amang yow Lordis of inimitie;
That ar devydit now in pairtis twa,
Persewand other as your mortall fae,
With maist unkyndlie weir;
For the quhilk thing I feir,
Without thair be som dres,
That all this land sall rew it
And enimies persewit,
Thay sall it sone oppres.

Is thair na wys and guide men of renowne,
Loiveand the comoune weill of this regioune,
That will upone thame paine and travaill tak,
Amang the Lordis guide unitie to mak;
And seik ane perfyte peace,
That may our sorrow ceis,
Ilk ane other assist,
Sic quyitnes to stabill,
That we may be mair abill,
Our fais to resist.

Better wer the Lordis for till aggrie,
Nor with strangeris to commer this cuntrie,
Give ony come we sall forthink it sair,
Us to oppres for na man thay will spair,
And nathing thay will want
That is quhair thay haint,
And littill for to pay;
Thay will not spair to spoulyie,
Or els thay will tuilyie,
Give ony thame gainesay.

For give that ye that dependis on the King,
For your support the Inglischmen in bring;
At lenth thairoff ye sall mak littill ruise
Think on the wordis king Edward spak to Bruice;
“Haive we nocht els to do,
Bot wine ane rowme you to!”
Quhilk put the Bruice to painis;
Give thay come heir I trow,
The same sall say to you,
And ye ask ocht againe.

And give it chance the Quenis syde to be,
With all strangeris command in hir supplie,
With Inglische men vanquest and put away,
Than will thay hald yow for ane fatall pray;
And quhat thay get in hand;
Castell, towne, or land;
Thay will it not restoir,

Bot keip it to thame sell,
And thinke thairin to dwell
As thay haive thocht befoir.

And give that ye that dependis on the Quein
French men bring in, hir quarrell to sustein;
Remember how thay playit yow befoir,
Ye wer richt red thay sould yow nocht restoir,
To your auld libertie;
Bot thocht that ye wald be
Subject ay tham to,
Give I sould trewlie wreit
Or ye wer of tham quyt,
Ye haid aneuch ado.

Thairfor my Lordis into your hairtis imprent,
To bring strangeris the inconvenient;
Thay help yow not for loive thay haive to yow,
Bot for thair awin great proffeit and thair prowe;
Ilk ane other to loive
Quhilk greatlie sould yow move;
And caus to aggrie;
And your awin weill considder,
Thairfoir knit yow togidder,
To keip your libertie.

And yie in hand quhilk hes the great strenthe,
Quhat it will serve I waitt not at the lenthe,

It may be wine, it may be tint be tressone,
Thairfoir apply yow ay to richt and ressone;
And of peace be content,
Thocht som of your intent,
Ye want for ever mair,
Ye are not suir I trow,
Quha will com releiffe yow
And ye be faggit sair.

Som ar dissembellit, yet proud in thair conseat,
Bot other spyis weill aneuche thair get,
Nather for Kingis nor Quenis auctoretie,
Thay stryfe bot for particularetie;
That cannot be content
Of thair awin land and rent
As thair fatheris befoir,
Bot give thay fill thair handis,
With other menis landis,
Geir, vittell, and stoir.

Ane other caus thair is of this seditioune
Amang the Lordis the vehement suspitioune,
The ane trewis gif that the other be
Abone thame put into auctoritie,
Thay sall haive caus to dreid,
Foirfaltis and auld feid,
That thay sall tak revenge,
Of this wicked conseat,
That nurischit hes debait,
God all this countrie cleange.

I pray to him that is of Lordis Lord,
Bring all our Lordis to ane perfyte concord,
And with thy grace thair spirittis all inspyre,
Amang thame kendill of cheretie the fyre;
All rancor and invy,
And faultis passit by,
To be foryettin ly;
That justice executioune
For wickednes punitioune,
May in this land be sein.

AGANIS DISCORD AMANG THE LORDIS.

My Lordis, sen abstinence is taine,
In the mein tym that concord may be drest,
Now tyn na tym, as ye haive done bygaine,
Since ye may haive conferring as ye list;
Do your power this realme to put to rest;
Let never weir againe among yow ryis,
Than all the warld will your proceiding pryis.

Thair will na bodie be againis this peace,
Bot gif it be of men of weir the bandis,
Quhilk fra all kynd of scaifrie cannot ceis,
And that bruikis utheris menis landis;
Fra wrangous geir that cannot keip their handis;

This sort of men wald haive na quyetnes,
For feir thay want somthing that thay posses.

Bot at that sort ye sould na counsall tak,
That hes na feir of God nor conscience
To use all thing, impediment may mak
To your concord, and yie give thame credence;
How thay proceid thair is experience,
For it is said that som men fair may rew
That in this land sa manie captaines grew.

For onie pleasour of thir gredie men,
This Comouneweill put not in jeopardie;
At your Conventioune gar the cuntrie ken,
That ye travill to mak tranquillitie;
And that ye are content for till aggrie,
All failzeis past to be foryet for evir,
I trow ye ken bot few that falted never.

Great is the skaith that comes of this weir,
Of slauchter, heirschipe, oppressioune and mischeife;
It is pitie the comounis for to heir,
How thay ar drest with thift and oppine reife,
Syn seis nane appeirance of releife;
Thir cruell crymes thay feir unpunischit be,
Sa lang as lestis this inanimitie.

Yet of all weir peace is the finall end,
Thairfoir aggrie my Lordis or it be war;

Thair is nathing bot peace that may this mend
And that ye wald this Comouneweill prefer,
To all causis that ar particular;
And for na privatt proffeit that may be,
Stop not to mak ane perfyt unitie.

The quhilk to do I pray the loving Lord,
To gif yow grace in sik abundance now,
That never mair be distance nor discord,
And sic justice be done this Kinrik throw
The quhilk may gar the rasch buis keip the cow,
And everie man bruik his awin land and geir,
All trew leigis to leive withoutten feir.

THE EVILLIS OF NEW-FOUND LAWIS.

Lord God how lang will this law lest,
Be quhilk some trew men ar opprest;
Of houssis and landis dispossest,
Without ane caus;
Som sair ar drest,
Som sair molest,
Be new fund lawis.

For laik of justice som gettis wrang,
And som be traitouris tyrrannis strang;
Som in the cessioune lyis our lang,

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And hulie speidis;
Sair is the sang
Puire folkis amang,
That justice neidis.

Be mein of court som gettis land,
Thinking that conqueis ay sall stand;
Thocht courtis hes bein changeand,
As dois the moone;
That som haiveand
Ane wark in hand,
And leif it soone.

Think ye that ar sa proud oppressouris,
Thocht ye in court haive intercessouris,
That God will thoill sa great transgressouris
Unpunischit be,
For Godis disgressouris
And wrang possessouris
Repent sall ye.

In haist I counsall yow thairfoir,
All gottin wrangouslie restore,
Or ye sall not come to the gloir
Of heavenis impire;
Bot ever moir,
Tormented soir,
In hellis fyre.

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Lord punische thame that ay pretendit
For to do wrang, or to defend it,
In haist let tham be apprehendit,
And thoill the law;
Or gar thame mend it,
Quhom thay offendit
In deid or saw.

And ye that hes the law to leid,
Without favour, freindschip, or feid,
Ay forder justice to proceid
Indifferentlie;
Your proces speid,
Help thame hes neid,
Quhat ever thay be.

AGANIS COVETYCE.

Great paine it is to behauld and sie,
Into this realme the great cupiditie;
For this fals warld the poepill hes sa blindit,
To thair intent thay trew it ever bindit;
All haill thair hairtis covetice ar growin,
Thay seik aneuch, bot thay sall never find it,
Quhill that they come ather to hell or hevin.

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With gredines ar infected all estaittis,
For to seik land and geir thay seek all gettis;
And cuiris not to gett it wrangouslie,
Be fraud or for force, or with subtilitie;
To find proffeit thay leif na thing unsocht,
Somtyme not spair to us crudeletie,
To thair purpois give that may help thame ocht.

Some to get land or geir will nurische stryffe;
Som to get will of ane wreched lyf;
Som will nocht spair for favour nor for feid,
To tak thair nichtbouris roumes our thair heid,
Quhilk thay and thairis hes bruikit this lang tyme;
And som wald haive thair nichtbour put to deid,
To get thair land for ane invented cryme.

Som gatheris geir and hes nocht grace to spend it;
Som dois wrang and hes no will to mend it;
Som leivis all thair dayes wickedlie,
To reiv the puire richt few hes now pitie;
And thair is manie ane that litill cairis
To put baith saull and lyf in jopardie
To mak ane meikill conqueis to thair airis.

Som waitt not weill quhat thair airis will be;
Nor quhat will come of thair posteritie;
For som may be great fuillis naturall;
Som may be waistouris and mak quyt of all,
Som great drunkard and spend thair thrist at wyn;

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Som may commit sic deidis criminall,
That may thame baith geir and landis tyn.

Thairfoir I thinke it is ane great follie,
For to mak any conqueis wrangouslie;
Syn waitt not give thay bruikit lang them sell,
And quha sall brukit efter cannot tell;
To conqueis lairg som hes great wrangis wrocht,
And put them sell in danger of the hell,
And in short tyme thair conqueis turne to nocht.

I counsall all thairfoir to be content
Of just conqueis with ane sufficient rent;
Quha hes maist land is nocht the best at eis,
Quha meikill hes the mae thay haive to pleis;
And with monie thair deidis salbe spyit;
It is nocht best ane heich estait to cheis,
The grytest ar with moniest invyit.

Som hes bein great and fallen fra hie estait,
The greatest now may gang the samyn gait;
And thay crave God in thair governament;
Mony ar now that hes aneuche of rent,
Yet to get land and geir thay never rest,
Thair greidie hartis can never be content,
Lyk as this warld and thay sould ever rest.

Yet I do not forbid all uitterlie,
To mak conqueis sua it be done justlie;

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First to mak himselffe ane honest lyfe,
To help thair bairnes freindis and wyfe;
And as thay may the puir to help hes neid,
Syn weill provyd thait thair fallow na stryfe,
For thair conqueis efter that thay be deid.

All yie that has bein given to gredines,
Of all your unjust conqueis mak redres;
And it restor to tham it did belang,
And thinke thair is ane God to punische wrang;
At quham of our misdeidis ask mercie,
For somtyme yie fra land and geir sall gang,
In all your warkis remember ye man die.

This taill is trew and suirer nor the Bass,
Malorum radix cupiditas.

LAMENT FOR THE DISORDERIS OF THE CUNTRIE.

O Lord our sine hes done the tein,
That plaigit thus hes this cuntrie;
I trow wes never hard nor sein,
In Scotland greatter miserie:
Great evill in to this land we sie,
A slauchter, heirschipe, thift and reif;
Distructioune of all pollicie,
And all manner of maist mischeife.

105

Now wardlie wisdome is dissaitt,
And falset haldin policie;
Richt few from guyll can now debaitt,
So great is the hypocrisie:
Som will speik fair and freindfullie,
For proffeit wald dissaive thair brother;
Sua ryff is infidelitie,
Ane kinsman skant may trow ane other.

Amang the Lordis syn the great stryfe,
Misreull in all this regioune;
Quhilk hes gart monie lois thair lyffe,
And trubillit burges and barroune:
Craftismen and comonis ar put doune,
Be thift, reif, and continuall weir;
Neir herreit is our principall towne,
Our merchandis daylie waistand geir.

All this is for our punischment,
Becaus our God we will not know;
Ay breakand his commandiment,
Lyk as of him we stand na aw:
Monie ar Goddis word will schaw,
That ar far contrair in thair deidis;
And cuiris not againes the law,
To tak that ony man posseidis.

Fra som is taine baith hous and land,
Wrangouslie as the maner schawis;

106

Quhom doing wrang thay never fand,
Bot for all cryme will byd the lawis:
Baith of thair deidis and thair sawis,
Yet ar thay spoulyeit of thair rent;
Quha hes this done the great God knowis,
Quha grant thame grace for to repent.

Som hes thair place brunt in gleid;
Thair guidis spoulyeit haillalie;
Thair servantis slain, sum brunt to deid,
Tham selffes tain uncourteouslie,
And haldin in captivitie;
Quha wald haive for ane messive bill,
Obeyit the auctoritie,
And count at my Lord Regentis will.

Alace, it is ane cairfull cace,
That our Lordis cannot aggrie;
Quhilk for to do give thay had grace,
Wald stench his great iniquitie:
Ane thing thair is that troubillis me,
Thocht som waild fain mak guide concord,
Yet ay for ane thair is tuentie,
To hund muteine and saw discord.

Bot we sould rather all lament,
Thir plaigis perturbing us sa sair;
And of our sines us repent,
Withe firme purpois to sine na mair;

107

Syn pray to God baith lait and air,
To tak fra us this cruell scurge,
And fra his mercie stainche our cair,
And of all weir this countrie purdge.

My Lordis all that ar devydit,
Could ye aggrie it wer the best;
And gar this realme be godlie gydit,
All thing to be with wisdome drest;
Than better micht ye put to rest,
This land that now is fuirthe of ordour,
And thame releife that ar opprest,
The theifis stanch and rewll the bordour.

Sen ye ar of ane natioune all,
Ilk ane of other haive pitie;
Ye wait not yit quhat may befall,
Sik chanche hes bein richt hastelie,
May gar yow thinke that unitie,
Sall to yow all be profitabill,
And neidfull that ye freindis be,
Ye ken your courtis ar never stabill.

Quha ever gett the upper hand,
Of thair reward thay know nathing;
Nor yet how lang that thay sall stand,
To haive the rewll of Quein or King:
And speciallie quhen thay ar young,
Thairfoir ye sould tak richt guide gaird,

108

Of lestand feid how on yow bring,
Uncertaine syn of your rewaird.

O Lord, sik grace send to us heir,
All Scottis men for to aggrie,
Ilk ane to bruik thair land and geir,
That tham pertenis richteouslie:
Syn perfyte justice we may sie,
In courtis, consistorie, and sessioune,
Craftis men and comounis may peaciablie,
Thair loving wine without oppressioune.

ON THE TROUBILLOUS TYMES.

Mair mischivous and wicked warld,
Nor thair is now saw nane I trow;
The cuntrie now is quyt our harld,
Now in this troubillous tyme.

Loive thame quhair sumtyme hes bein
Maist pollicie tranquillitie;
Great suirtie for King or Quein,
Befoir this troubillous tyme.

Be men of weir is waisted haill,
With thift and reife, weir and mischeife;

109

Greatter releife in Liddisdaill,
Now in this troubillous tyme.

The towne quhairin to dwell wes best;
Withoutten feir richest of geir,
With men of weir richt sair opprest;
Now in this troubillous tyme.

Thairfoir all men be now of guid will,
And fast ye preis to make guid peace;
This tyme to ceis Godis bluid to spill,
Now in this troubillous tyme.

And sen som abstinens is taine,
Na tyme our sie bot blissit be,
This haill cuntrie to mak at ane,
And stenche this troubillous tym.

That it be sa we hartlie pray,
To God above for Chrystis loive;
And to remoive this plaig away,
And this mischivous troubellous tym.

110

HOW THY HOUS MAY LEST LANG.

Give thow desyre thy hous lang lestand,
And successouris bruik thy land,
Above all thing loive God and feir;
Intromet not with wrangous geir,
Nor conqueis nathing wrangouslie;
With thy neichtbour keip cheritie;
Obey dewlie thy magistrat;
Exceid in nathing thyne estait;
Oppress not, bot support the puire;
To help the commoune weill tak cuire;
Use na dissaitt, nor mell with treassoune,
And to all men do richt and ressoune;
Baith into word and deid be trew;
All kynd of wickedness eschew;
Sla na man nor thairto consent;
Be not cruell nor patient;
Allya ay in som guide place,
With nobill honest godlie race;
Hait huirdome and all vyces flie;
Be humbill, haunt guide companie;
Help thy freindis, and do na wrang,
And God sall gar thy hous lest lang.

111

MORAL ADVYCES.

Ground thé ay on guidness,
Reull thé withe richteousness,
In tyme do thay business,
And cheis ay the best:
Press ye not to oppress,
Help ay the fatherless,
Haive na pryd nor prudness,
This warld will not rest.

In troubill tak patience,
Keip clein thy conscience,
To God do reverence,
Be to thy Prince trew:
Keip ay weill thy credence,
Tyn not through negligence,
Proceid ay with proudence,
Ydilnes eschew.

Exceid not thy degrie,
Do all thingis justlie,
Haive God befoir thy ey,
Quhair evir yow gang:
Guyd thy selffe honestlie,
Haunt in guide companie,

112

Of the puire haive pitie,
And do nane wrang.

At experience leir,
Folische speiking forbeir,
With measour spend thy geir,
Na guide turne delay;
Use na ryetous cheir,
Do thy neichtbour na deir,
Godis word glaidlie heir,
And syne it obey.

CAUSES WHICH BRING REALMES TO RUIN.

Of God the misknowledge,
Of sine the great usage,
Na punischment for vyce,
The wanting of justice,
Invy and gredines,
Debait and unkyndnes,
Oppressioune of the puire,
Of comoune weill na cuire,
Pryd and weir intestein,
Bringis realmes to ruin.

113

THE BLIND BARONIS COMFORT.

Blind man be blyth, althocht that thow be wrangit;
Thocht Blythe be herreit, tak no melancholie;
Thow sall be blyth, quhan that thay sall be hangit,
That Blythe hes spulyeit sa maliciouslie:
Be blyth, and glaid, that nane persaive in thé
That thy blythnes consistis into richess;
Bot thow art blyth, that thow eternallie
Sall ring with God in eternal blythness.

Thocht thay have spulyeit Blythe of guidis and geir,
Yet have thay thieves left lyand still the land;
Quhilk to transport was nocht in thair poweir,
Nor yit will be, thocht na man thame gainestand:
Thairfoir be blythe, the tym may be at hand
Quhen that Blythe sall be yit, with Godis grace,
As weill plenneist, as ever thay it fand;
Quhill sum sall rew the rinning of that race.

Ay to be blyth ay outwardlie appeir,
That be na man it may persavit be
That thow pansis for tynsall of thy geir,
Lest thy unfrendis, that ar proud and hie,
Be blyth and glaid of thy adversitie:
Thairfoir be stout, and gar thame understand,

114

For loss of geir thow takest na suffrie;
For yit be glad thow hes aneuch of land.

Be blyth, and glad, than ay in thy intent,
For lesum blythnes is ane happie thing;
Be thow nocht blyth, quhat vaileth land or rent?
And thow be blythe is caus of lang leiving:
Be thow nocht blyth, thocht that thow war an king,
Thy lyf is nocht bot cair without blythness;
Thairfoir be blyth, and pray to God us bring
Till his blythness, and joy that is endless.

SOLACE IN AGE.

Thocht that this warld be verie strange,
And theiffis hes done my rowmis range,
And teynd my fauld;
Yet wald I leif, and byde ane change,
Thocht I be auld.

Now me to spoulyie sum men nocht spairis;
To tak my geir na captaine cairis,
Thay ar sa bald;
Yet tym may com, may mend my sairis,
Thocht I be auld.

115

Sum now, be force of men of weir,
My hous, my landis, and my geir,
Fra me thay hald;
Yit, as I may, sall mak gude cheir,
Thocht I be auld.

Sa weill is kend my innocence,
That I will nocht for myne offence,
Flyte lyk ane skald;
Bot thank God, and tak patience;
For I am auld.

For eild, and my infirmitie,
Warme claythis ar bettir far, for me
To keip fra cauld;
Nor in dame Venus chamber be,
For I am auld.

Of Venus play past is the heit;
For I may not the misteris beit
Of Meg, nor Mald;
For ane young lass I am not meit,
I am sa auld.

The fairest wenche in all this toun,
Thocht I hir had in hir best goun,
Rycht braivlie brald;
With hir I micht not play the loun,
I am sa auld.

116

My wyf sumtyme wald taillis trow,
And mony leisingis weill allow,
War of me tald:
Scho will not eyndill on me now,
And I sa auld.

My hors, my harneis, and my speir,
And all uther, my hoisting geir,
Now may be sald;
I am not abill for the weir,
I am sa auld.

Quhan young men cumis fra the grene,
Playand at the fute-ball had bene,
With broken spald;
I thank my God, I want my ene,
And am sa auld.

Thocht I be sweir to ryd or gang,
Thair is sumthing, I've wantit lang,
Fane have I wald;
Thame punysit that did me wrang,
Thocht I be auld.

117

PLEASOURIS OF AIGE.

Pastym with godlie company,
Now in this warld is best for me;
Sen that I am of sua great aige,
All displeasour for to aswadge,
Guide is to luike on Godis buik,
Quhair may be fund,
The perfectioune of religioune,
Of faith the ground.

All pleasour vaine I will refuis,
For my pastym the bybill use;
Thocht I be auld and may not sie,
I sall it gar be read to me;
Quhair I sall leir quhair to forbear,
All wickedness,
Vyce to refuis, vertew to use,
With godlieness.

To reid or heir the holie wreit,
Trew knowledge sall I get in it,
How I sall haive me at all houris,
Baith to my God and nichtbouris;
Instructand me sa patientlie,
My trubill beir;

118

Syn to repent with trew intent
Quhill I am heir.

Sen in this earth I find no rest,
Rejoice in God I think it best,
Quha in this lyf gaive me his grace;
Syn bring me to that resting place,
Quhair joy and gloir ar evirmoir,
Peace and concord;
To that ilk joy do me convoy
Jesus our Lord.

FINIS.