Alexander Montgomerie :: An Anthology of 16th and Early 17th Century Scots Poetry

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Alexander Montgomerie

[Befoir the Greeks durst enterpryse]

Before the Greeks durst enterpryse

In armes to Troy toun to go,

They set a counsell sage and wyse

Apollos ansueir for to kno

Hou they suld speid and haif succes

In that so grit a busines.

Then did they send the wysest Grekis

To Delphos, vhare Apollo stode,

Quha, with the teiris upon thair cheeks

And with the fyrie flammis of wod

And all such rites as wes the guyse,

They made that grit god sacrifyce.

Quhen they had endit thair requests

And solemnely thair service done,

And drunke the vyne, and kild the beists,

Apollo made them ansueir soon

Hou Troy and Trojans haiv they suld,

To use them hailly as they wold:

Quhilk ansueir maid thame not so glad

That thus the victors they suld be

As evin the ansuer that I had

Did gritly joy and comfort me

Quhen lo! thus spak Apollo myne:

'All that thou seeks, it sall be thyne.'

[Lyk as the Dum Solsequium]

Lyk as the dum

Solsequium,

With cair overcum

And sorou, vhen the sun goes out of sight,

Hings doun his head,

And droups as dead,

And will not spread,

Bot louks his leavis throu langour of the nicht,

louks: closes

Till foulish Phaeton ryse,

With vhip in hand,

To cleir the cristall skyis,

And light the land;

Birds in thair bour

Luiks for that hour,

And to thair prince ane glaid good-morou givis;

Fra thyn, that flour

List not to lour,

lour: look enticing

Bot laughis on Phebus lousing out his leivis;

So fairis with me:

Except I be

Vhair I may se

My lamp of licht, my lady and my love.

Fra scho depairts

Ten thousand dairts,

In syndrie airts,

Thirlis throu my hevy hart, but rest or rove;

Thirlis: pierces

My countenance declairs

My inward grief;

Good hope almaist dispairs

To find relief.

I die, I duyn,

duyn: dwindle

Play does me pyn;

I loth on eviry thing I look (alas)

Till Titan myne

Upon me shyne,

That I revive throu favour of hir face.

Fra she appeir

Into hir spheir,

Begins to cleir

The dauing of my long desyrit day;

Then Curage cryis

On Hope to ryse,

Fra he espyis

My noysome nicht of absence worne auay.

noysome: grievous

No wo vhen I aualk

May me impesh;

impesh: hinder

Bot on my staitly stalk

I florish fresh.

I spring, I sprout,

My leivis ly out,

My colour changes in ane hartsum heu.

No more I lout,

Bot standis up stout,

As glade of hir, for vhom I only greu.

O happie day,

Go not auay.

Apollo, stay

Thy chair from going doun into the west:

Of me thou mak

Thy zodiak,

That I may tak

My plesur, to behold vhom I love best.

Thy presence me restores

To lyf from death;

Thy absence also shores

shores: threatens

To cut my breath.

I wish in vane

Thee to remane,

Sen primum mobile sayis aluayis nay;

At leist thy wane

Turn soon agane:

Fareweill, with patience perforce, till day.

[Hay! nou the day dauis]

Hay! nou the day dauis;

The jolie cok crauis;

Nou shroudis the shauis

Throu Natur anone.

The thissell-cok cryis

On lovers vha lyis:

Nou skaillis the skyis;

skaillis: clears out

The nicht is neir gone.

The feildis overflouis

With gouans that grouis,

gouans: daisies

Quhair lilies lyk lou is,

Als rid as the rone.

The turtill that treu is,

With nots that reneuis,

Hir pairtie perseuis --

The night is neir gone.

Nou hairtis with hyndis

Conforme to thair kyndis;

Hie tursis thair tyndis

tursis: tossestyndis: antlers

On grund vhair they grone.

Nou hurchonis with hairis

hurchonis: hedgehogs

Ay passis in pairis,

Quhilk deuly declaris

The night is neir gone.

The sesone excellis

Thrugh sueetnes that smellis;

Nou Cupid compellis

Our hairtis echone,

On Venus vha vaikis,

vaikis: wakes

To muse on our maikis,

Syn sing for thair saikis,

The night is neir gone.

All curageous knichtis

Aganis the day dichtis

The breist plate that bright is

To feght with thair fone.

fone: opponents

The stoned steed stampis

Throu curage and crampis,

Syn on the land lampis:

The night is neir gone.

The freikis on feildis

freikis: fellows

That wight wapins weildis

With shyning bright shieldis,

As Titan in trone --

Stiff speiris in reistis

Over cursoris cristis

cursoris: stallionscristis: crests

Ar brok on thair breistis:

The night is neir gone.

So hard ar thair hittis

Some sueyis, some sittis,

And some perforce flittis

On grund vhill they grone.

Syn groomis that gay is

On blonkis that brayis

blonkis: steeds

With suordis assayis:

The night is neir gone.

[An Admonitioun to Ȝoung Lassis]

A bony 'No' with smyling looks agane

I wald ȝe leirnd, sen they so comely ar:

As touching 'ȝes', if ȝe suld speik so plane,

I might reprove ȝou to haif said so far --

Noght that ȝour grant in ony wayis micht gar

gar: cause

Me loth the fruit that curage ocht to chuse,

Bot I wald only haif ȝou seme to skar,

skar: take fright

And let me tak it, fenȝeing to refuse,

And warsill, as it war against ȝour will,

warsill: wrestle

Appeiring angrie, thoght ȝe haif no yre;

For haif, ȝe heir, is haldin half a fill.

I speik not this as trouing for to tyre,

Bot as the forger, vhen he feeds his fyre,

forger: blacksmith

With sparks of water maks it burne more bald:

So sueet denyall doubillis bot desyr,

And quickins curage fra becumming cald.

Wald ȝe be made of, ȝe mon mak it nyce,

nyce: reserved

For dainties heir ar delicat and deir,

Bot plentie things ar prysde to lytill pryce:

Then thoght ȝe hearken, let no wit ȝe heir,

Bot look auay and len thame ay ȝour eir,

For folou love, they say, and it will flie.

Wald ȝe be lovd, this lessone mon ȝe leir:

Flie vhylome love, and it will folou thee!

[The Perversitie of his Inclinationes throu Love]

My fansie feeds upon the sugred gall;

Against my will my weill does work my wo;

weill: happiness

My cairfull chose does chuse to keep me thrall;

My frantik folie fannis upon my fo:

fannis: fawns

My lust alluirs my licorous lippis to taist

licorous: eager

The bait vharin the suttle hook is plaic't.

My hungry hope doth heap my hevy hap;

My syndrie sutes procuris the mair disdane;

My stedfast steppis ȝit slydis into the trap;

My tryed treuth intanglis me in trane:

trane: trap

I spy the snair, and will not bakuards go

My resone 3eelds, and ȝit sayis na thairto.

In plesand path I tred upon the snaik;

My flamming thrist I quench with venemous wyne;

In daintie dish I do the poyson tak;

My langour bids me rather eit nor pyne:

I sau, I sett; no flour nor fruit I find;

I prik my hand, ȝit leavis the rose behind.

[Melancholie, grit deput of Dispair]

Melancholie, grit deput of Dispair

With painfull pansing comis apace,

pansing: pondering

Acompanyde with Cair,

Quhais artalȝie is Anguish, shooting sair,

Of purpose to perseu the place

Vhair Plesvr maid repair.

Presuming to prevaill,

A muster grit they mak:

Amids thair battell, bitter Bail

Displayis his baner blak,

Quhais colours do declair

To signifie bot smart,

Quharin is painted cold Dispair,

Quha wrings a hoples harte;

Quhilk armes on far so uglie ar,

And ay convoyd with Dolour and with Duil,

That Hope micht skar, if they come nar,

And fray ane hairt perhaps out of his huill.

huill: skin

For sighis and sobbis of shooting hes not ceist

Quhill they haif brasht the buluark of my breist,

And cryis, 'Go to, the hous is win;

Melancholie, cum in!'

Thoght Rigour then be rekles rash,

Ȝit Curage bydis the brash;

brash: assault

And then the hairt vhilk never ȝeild

Of Constancie hes maid his sheild,

Quharon thair shaftis and sharpest shottis

Lyk hailstanes aff ane studie stottis;

studie: anvilstottis: rebounds

Ȝit pairties proudlie baith pretend

The victorie in end,

And so the tyme but treuis they spend,

To assaill and to defend.

The rendring reid, vhilk bouis with everie blast,

rendring: bending

In stormis bot stoupis, vhen strongest treis

[Ar to the ground down cast],

Bot ȝit the rok, vhilk firmer is and fast

Amidst the rage of roring seas,

He nevir grouis agast;

The busteous blast he byds,

With watring wauis and huge,

Quhilk ramping over his rigging ryds

Bot can not caus him budge.

Quhat reks then of the reid,

Or of the trees vhat reks?

The rok remanes a rok indeid,

Quhilk nather bouis nor breks:

So sall my harte with patient parte

Remane a rok, all rigour to resist,

And sall not start to suffer smart

For ane, quhom to obey I count me blist.

Ȝea, thoght I had a hundreth thousand hairts,

And eviry hairt peirc't with als mony dairts,

And evirie dairt thairof also

Als mony shafts and mo,

And eviry shaft thairof must needs

To haif als mony heeds,

And evirie head als mony huikis,

And evirie huik als mony fluiks,

fluiks: barbs

And evirie fluik in me war fast,

So long as breath of lyf micht last,

I suld not seme, for shame, to shrink

For hir of death to drink,

Quhais angels ees micht ay, I think,

Revive me with a wink.

The Secreit Prais of Love

As evirie object to the outward ee

Dissaivis the sight, and semis as it is sene

Quhen not bot shap and cullour ȝit we se,

For no thing els is subject to the ene,

As stains and trees appeiring gray and grene,

Quhais quantities upon the sight depends,

Bot qualities the cunning [sense transcends];

Even sa, vha sayis they sie me as I am

(I mene a man, suppose they sie me move),

Of ignorance they do tham selfis condam.

By syllogisme this properly I prove:

Quha sees, by look, my loyaltie in love,

Quhat hurt in hairt, vhat hope or hap I haiv?

Quhilk ressone movis the senses to consaiv.

Imaginatione is the outuard ee

To spy the richt anatomie of mynd,

Quhilk, by some secreit sympathie, may see

The force of love, vhilk can not be defynd,

Quhairthrou the hairt, according to his kynd,

Compassionat, as it appeiris plane,

Participats of plesur or of pane.

Of hevins or earth, some simlitude or shape,

By cunning craftismen, to the ees appeir;

Bot vho is he can counterfutt the ape,

Or paint a passion palpable, I speir,

Quhilk enters by the organ of the eir,

And bot vhen it is pithilie exprest? --

And ȝit, I grant the gritest pairt is gest.

Suppose the hevins be huge for to behold,

Contening all within thair compas wyde,

The starris be tyme, thoght tedious, may be told,

Becaus within a certain bounds they byd;

The carde the earth from waters may devyde,

carde: chart

Bot vho is he can limit love, I wene,

Quhom nather carde nor compas can contene?

Quhat force is this, subduing all and sum?

Quhat force is this, that maks the tygris tame?

Quhat force is this, that na man can ovir cum?

Quhat force is this, that rightlie nane can name?

Quhat force is this, that careis sik a fame?

A vehemency that words can not reveill,

Quhilk I conclude to suffer, and conceill.

The Poets Legacie

Ressave this harte, vhois constancie wes sik

Quhill it wes quick, I wot ȝe never kneu

A harte more treu within a stomok stik,

Till tym the prik of jelousie it sleu;

Lyk as my heu by deidly signis furthsheu,

Suppose that feu persavd my secreit smart.

Lo, heir the hairt that ȝe ȝour self ovirthreu:

Fairweill, adeu, sen death mon us depart.

Bot, lo! hou first my legacy I leiv:

To God I give my spirit in hevin so hie;

My poesie I leave my prince to preiv,

preiv: judge

No richt can reiv him of my rhetorie;

reiv: deprive

My bains to be bot bureit vhair I die;

I leiv to thee the hairt wes nevir fals,

About thy hals to hing, vhare thou may sie:

hals: neck

Let thyn to me, then, be so constant als.

Remember vhair I said, once eftirnone,

Or March wer done, that thou thy cheeks suld weet,

And for me greet, or endit war that mone:

I sie over soon my prophesie compleit.

O Lady sueet, I feir we never meet;

I feill my spreet is summond from above

For to remove: nou welcome windin sheet;

Death givis decreet that thou must lose thy love.

This sentence som thing I persaiv too sair,

To meit na mair with thee, my love, alace!

God give the grace, that na unkyndlie cair

Do the dispair, nor thy gude fame deface.

Give patience place; considder weill the cace:

This is the race that every man must rin,

Thoght I begin, vha had no langer space.

Thee to imbrace, God if I micht win!

Sen for thy saik Death with his darte me shot,

That I am bot a carioun of clay,

carioun: dead body

Quha quhylome lay about thy snauie throt,

Nou I must rot, vha some tym stoud so stay.

stay: erect

Quhat sall I say? This warld will auay;

Anis on a day I seimd a semely sight.

Thou wants the wight that never said the nay:

Adeu for ay, this is a lang guid nicht!

[To his Maistres]

Bright amorous ee, vhare Love in ambush [lyes];

Cleir cristal tear distilde at our depairt;

Sueet secreit sigh more peircing nor a dairt;

Inchanting voce, beuitcher of the wyse;

Quhyt ivory hand, vhilk thrust my finger[s pryse]:

I challenge ȝou, the causers of my smarte,

As homiceids and murtherers of my harte,

In Resones court to suffer ane assyse.

Bot, oh! I fear -- ȝea rather, wot I weill --

To be repledgt ȝe plainly will appeill

repledgt: withdrawn from jurisdiction

To Love, whom Resone never culd command.

Bot since I can not better myn estate,

Ȝit, vhill I live, at leist I sall regrate

regrate: lament

Ane ee, a teir, a sigh, a voce, a hand.

Thyne ee the glasse vhare I beheld my hairt;

Myn ee the windo throu the vhilk thyn ee

May see my hairt, and thair thy self espy

In bloody colours hou thou painted art.

Thyne ee the pyle is of a murth[erers dairt;]

pyle: point

Myn ee the sicht thou taks thy levell by

To shute my hairt, and nevir shute aury:

aury: awry

Myn ee thus helpis thyn ee to work my smarte.

Thyn ee consumes me lyk a flamming fyre;

Myn ee most lyk a flood of teirs do run.

Oh, that the water, in myne ee begun,

Micht quench the burning fornace of desyre!

Or then the fyr els kindlit by thyn ey

The flouing teirs of sorrou micht mak dry!

So suete a kis ȝistrene fra thee I reft,

In bouing doun thy body on the bed,

That evin my lyfe within thy lippis I left.

Sensyne from thee my spirits wald never shed;

shed: part

To folou thee it from my body fled,

And left my corps als cold as ony kie.

Bot vhen the danger of my death I dred

To seik my spreit I sent my harte to thee,

Bot it wes so inamored with thyn ee

With thee it myndit lykuyse to remane:

So thou hes keepit captive all the thrie,

More glaid to byde then to returne agane.

Except thy breath thare places had suppleit,

Even in thyn armes thair doutles had I deit.

Issobell Yong: By loving so

I trou ȝour love by loving so unsene;

Unsene siklyk I languish for ȝour love;

Ȝour love is comely, constant, chaste and clene;

And clene is myne, experience sall prove;

Prove vhen ȝe pleis, I mynd not to remove;

Remove vho may, if Destinies decreit;

decreit: judgement

Decreit is givin by Hymen high above;

Above all bands that blissed band is sweet;

Sueit is that ȝok, so mutuall and meet;

And meit it war we met, if that we might;

We might perhaps our purpois then compleit:

Compleit it quickly, Reson thinks it right.

Right beiring rule, the righteous suld rejose:

Rejose in God, and on His will repose.

[Away, vane world]

Auay, vane world, bewitcher of my hairt;

My sorouis shauis my sins maks me to smart.

Ȝit will I not dispair,

Bot to my God repair;

He has mercy ay;

Thairfor will I pray:

He hes mercy ay and louis me,

Thoght by His humbling hand He provis me.

Auay, auay! Too long thou hes me snaird!

I will not tyne more tyme; I am prepaird

Thy subtill slychts to flie,

Vhilks hes allured me:

Tho they sueitly smyle,

Smoothly they begyle;

Tho they sueitly smyle, I feir thame.

I find thame fals; I will forbeir thame.

Once more, auay! shauis loth the world to leave,

Bids oft adeu with it that holds me slave.

Loth am I to forgo

This sueet alluring fo:

Sen thy wayis ar vane,

Sall I the retane?

Sen thy wayis ar vane, I quyt thee;

Thy plesuris sall no more delyt me.

A thousand tymis auay! Oh, stay no more!

Sueit Chryst, conduct, leist subtile sin devore!

Without Thy helping hand

No man hes strenth to stand:

Tho I oft intend

All my wayis to mend,

Tho I oft intend, strength fails ay;

The sair assaults of sin prevailis ay.

Quhat sal I say? Ar all my plesurs past?

Sall worldly lustis nou tak thair leiv at last?

Ȝea, Chryst, these earthly toyes

Sall turne in hevinly joyes.

Let the world be gone;

I'll love Chryst allone.

Let the world be gone, I cair not.

Chryst is my love alone, I feir not.

The First Psalme

Weill is the man,

Ȝea, blissed than,

By grace that can

Escheu ill counsell and the godles gait,

That stands not in

The way of sin,

Nor does begin

To sitt with mockers in the scornefull sait;

Bot in Jehovahis lau

Delyts aricht,

And studies it to knaw

Both day and nicht;

For he sall be

Lyk to the trie

Quhilk plantit by the running river grouis,

Quhilk frute does beir

In tym of ȝeir,

Quhais leaf sall never fade nor rute sall louis.

His actionis all

Ay prosper sall,

Quhilk sall not fall

To godles men bot as the chaffe or sand,

Quhilk day by day

Winds dryvis away;

Thairfor I say

The wicked in the Judgment sall not stand,

Nor sinners ryse na mair

Vhom God disdanes,

In the assembly vhair

The just remanes.

For why? The Lord

Doth beir record;

He knauis the richteous conversation ay,

And godles gaits,

Quhilk He so haitis,

Sall doutles perish and decay aluay.

Psalme XXIII

The Lord most hie,

I know, will be

Ane heyrd to me;

I cannot long have stresse, nor stand in neede.

He makes my leare

leare: knowledge

In feelds so fare,

That without care

I doe repose, and at my pleasure feede.

He sueetlie me convoyes

To pleasant springes,

Where nothing me annoyes,

But pleasure bringes;

He gives my minde

Peace in such kinde

That feare of foes nor force can not me reave.

By Him I am lead

In perfite tread,

And, for His name, He will me never leave.

Though I should stay,

Even day by day,

In deadlie way,

Ȝet would I be assurde, and fear no ill.

For quhy, Thy grace

In every place

Doth me imbrace;

Thy rod and shiphirds-crook comforts me still.

In despyte of my foe

My table growes.

Thow balmes my head with joy;

My cuppe overfloues:

Kindnesse and grace,

Mercie and peace,

Shall follow me, for all my wretched dayes;

Then endles joy

Shall ne convoy

To Heaven, where I with Thee shall be alwaies.

[Come, my children dere]

Come, my children dere, drau nere me,

To my Love vhen that I sing;

Mak ȝour ears and hairts to heir me,

For it is no eirthly thing,

Bot a love

Far above

Other loves all, I say,

Vhich is sure

To indure

Vhen as all things sall decay.

O my Lord and Love most loyal,

Vhat a prais does thou deserve!

Thoght thou be a prince most royal,

With thy angels thee to serve,

Ȝit a pure

Creature

Thou hes lovit al thy lyfe;

Thou didst chuis

The refuis

Of the world to be thy wyfe.

Whill I did behold the favor

Of his countenance so fair;

Whill I smellit the sueet savor

Of his garments rich and rair,

'Oh!' I said,

'If I had

To my Love, ȝon prince of glore,

For my chose

Wold I lose

Other loves I lovd befor.'

Vhill I did these words besyd me,

With a secreit sigh, confes,

Lo, my Lord and Love espyd me,

And dreu neir me vhair I wes;

Then a ring

Did he thring

thring: thrust

On my finger, that wes fyne.

'Tak,' quod He,

'This to the,

For a pledge that I am thyne.'

'Nou thou hes that thou desyrit,

Me to be thy Lord and Love,

All the thing that thou requyrit,

To the heir, I do approve:

Ȝit agane,

For my pane,

Only this I crave of thee:

For my pairt

Keep thy hairt

As a virgin chaist to me.'

[O my soul, therfor repent the

Of the love thou hadst before;

Let His countenance content the,

Since He is the King of glore.

So shall He

Be to the

All the being that thou wouldst have:

In His love

Shall thou prove

Quhat thy heart can voise or crave.]

[High architectur, vondrous vautit rounds]

High architectur, vondrous vautit rounds;

Huge host of Hevin in restles rolling spheers;

Firme fixit polis whilk all the axtrie beirs;

Concordant discords, suete harmonious sounds;

Boud zodiak [circles,] belting Phebus bounds;

Celestiall signis, of moneths making ȝeers;

Bright Titan, to the tropiks that reteirs,

Quhais fyrie flammis all Chaos face confounds;

Just balanced ball, amidst the hevins that hings;

All creaturs that Natur creat can

To serve the use of most unthankfull man --

Admire ȝour Maker, only King of Kings.

Prais Him, o man, His mervels that remarks,

Quhais mercyis far exceidis His wondrous warks.

A Ladyis Lamentatione

Vhom suld I warie bot my wicked weard,

warie: curseweard: fortune

Vha span my thriftles thrauard fatall threed?

thriftles: unprofitablethrauard: preverse

I wes bot skantlie entrit in this eard,

Nor had offendit vhill I felt hir feed.

feed: enmity

In hir unhappy hands sho held my heed,

And straikit bakuard wodershins my hair;

Syne prophecyed I suld aspyre and speed,

Quhilk double sentence wes baith suith and sair,

For I wes matchit with my match and mair:

No worldly woman nevir wes so weill.

I wes accountit Countes but compair

Quhill fickle Fortun whirld me from hir vheell:

Rank and renoun in lytill roum sho ranged,

And Lady Lucrece in a Cressede changed.

Melpomene, my mirthles murning Muse,

Wouchsaiv to help a wrechit woman weep,

Vhose chance is cassin that sho can not chuse

cassin: cast

Bot sigh and sobbe and soun, vhen sho suld sleep.

More hevynes within my hairt I heep

Nor cative Cresside, vhair sho lipper lay:

Dispair hes dround my hapeless hope so deep

My sorrie song is, oh and welaway!

Even as the oul that dar not sie the day

For feir of foulis that then about do proull,

So am I nou, exyld from honour ay,

Compaird to Cresside and the ugly oull.

Fy, lothsome lyfe! Fy, death, that dou not serve me,

Bot quik and dead a bysin thow must preserve me.

bysin: harlot

Lord, for my missis micht I mak amends,

By putting me to penance as thou pleasd!

Good God! forgive offenders that offends,

And heall the hurt of sik as are diseasde.

Hou soon they murne, with mercy thou art measde,

measde: pacified

As thou hes said, and surely so it semes:

Suppose my silly saull with sin be seasde,

Ȝit the reversiones rests that it redemes.

Destroy me not, that so of the estemes,

My suete Redemer; let me never die,

Bot blink on me even with Thy blisful beames,

And mak ane other Magdelene of me.

Forgive my gylt, sen nane bot God is gude;

So with Peccavi Pater I conclude.

To His Majestie

Schir, clenge ȝour cuntrie of thir cruell crymis:

Adultries, witchcraftis, incests, sakeles bluid.

sakeles: innocent

Delay not, but as David did betymis,

betymis: promptly

Ȝour company of such men soon secluid.

Out with the wicked; garde ȝou with the gude:

Of mercy and of judgment sey to sing.

sey: try

Quhen ȝe suld stryk, I wald ȝe understude;

Quhen ȝe suld spair, I wish ȝe were bening.

Chuse godly counsel, leirne to be a king:

Beir not thir burthenis longer on ȝour bak.

Jumpe not with justice for no kynd of thing;

Jumpe: play

To just complantis gar gude attendance tak.

gar: cause

Thir bluidy sarks cryis alwayis in ȝour eiris:

sarks: shirts

Prevent the plague that presently appeirs!

The Oppositione of the Court to Conscience

The Court and Conscience wallis not weill;

wallis: agree

These tua can nevir weill accord:

Quha leivis in Court and halds him leill,

Lang or that lyf mak him a lord;

And Conscience stenȝies if he steill:

stenȝies: stings

So Court and Conscience walis not weill.

The Court some qualities requyrs

Quhilk Conscience can not bot accuse;

And specially, sik as aspyris

Mon honest adulation wse;

I dar not say, and doubly deill:

Bot Court and Conscience wals not weill.

First thou mon preis thy prince to pleis,

Thoght contrare Conscience he commands,

With Mercuris mouth and Argos eis,

And with Briarius hundreth hands;

And seme vhatsoever he sayis to seill.

So Court and Conscience wallis not weill.

Syn evirie minioun thou man mak

minioun: (low-born) courtier

To gar thame think that thou art thairs,

Houbeit thou be behind thair bak

No furtherer of thair effairs,

Bot mett thame moonshyn ay for meill:

So Court and Conscience wallis not weill.

To pleis men vhen thou art imployde,

Give glorifluikims in thair face;

glorifluikims: flattery

Quhilks wald be cunningly convoyde,

To gar thame haif the griter grace,

To mak thame fonde that hes no feill:

feill: understanding

So Court and Conscience walis not weill.

To Robert Hudsone

My best belovit brother of the band,

I grein to sie the sillie smiddy smeik:

grein: long

This is no lyfe that I live upaland

On rau rid herring reistit in the reik,

reik: smoke

Syn I am subject somtyme to be seik,

And daylie deing of my auld diseis.

Eit breid, ill aill, and all things are ane eik;

This barme and blaidry buists up all my bees.

barme: yeasty frothblaidry: insubstantial foodbees: whims

Ȝe knau ill guyding genders mony gees,

gees: fancies

And specially in poets: for example,

Ȝe can pen out tua cuple and ȝe pleis.

Ȝourself and I, old Scot and Robert Semple:

Quhen we ar dead, that all our dayis bot daffis,

daffis: waste with fooling

Let Christian Lyndesay wryt our epitaphis.

With mightie maters mynd I not to mell,

As copping courts, or comonwelthis, or kings:

copping: high

Quhais craig ȝoiks fastest, let tham sey thame sell;

craig: neckȝoiks: (?) itches

My thoght culd nevir think vpon sik things.

I wantonly wryt under Venus wings;

In Cupids court ȝe knau I haif bene kend,

Quhair Muses ȝit som of my sonets sings,

And shall do aluayis to the worlds end.

Men hes no caus my cunning to commend,

That it suld merit sik a memorie;

Ȝit ȝe have sene his Grace oft for me send

Quhen he took plesure into poesie.

Quhill tyme may serve, perforce I must refrane,

That pleis his Grace, I come to court agane.

I feid affectione vhen I sie his Grace,

To look on that vhairin I most delyte;

I am a lizard, fainest of his face,

And not a snaik, with poyson him to byte;

Quhais shapes alyk, thoght fashions differ quyt:

The one doth love, the other hateth still.

Vhare some taks plesur, others tak despyte;

One shap, one subject, wishis weill and ill:

Even so will men (bot no man judge I will)

Baith love and loth, and only bot ane thing.

I can not skan these things above my skill:

Love vhom they lyk, for me, I love the King,

Vhose Highnes laughed som tym for to look

Hou I chaist Polwart from the chimney nook.

Remembers thou in Esope of a taill?

A loving dog wes of his maister fane;

To faun on him wes all his pastym haill.

His courteous maister clappit him agane.

clappit: patted

By stood ane asse, a beist of blunter brane:

Perceiving this, bot looking to no freet,

freet: omen

To pleis hir maister with the counterpane,

counterpane: equivalent

Sho clambe on him with hir foull clubbit feet.

To play the messan thoght sho wes not meit,

Sho meinit weill, I grant; hir mynd wes guid,

meinit: lap-dog

Bot vhair sho troude hir maister suld hir treit,

They battound hir vhill that they sau hir bluid.

So stands with me, vho loves with all my hairt

My maister best: some taks it in ill pairt.

Bot sen I sie this proverbe to be true,

'Far better hap to court, nor service good',

Fairueill, my brother Hudsone nou to ȝou,

Vho first fand out of Pegase fut the flood,

And sacred hight of Parnase mytred hood,

From vhence som tyme the son of Venus sent

Tua severall shaftis vher he of Delphos stood,

With Penneus dochter hoping to acquent.

Thy Homers style, thy Petrarks high invent

Sall vanquish death, and live eternally;

Quhais boasting bou, thoght it be aluayis bent,

Sall neuer hurt the sone of Memorie.

Thou onlie brother of the Sisters Nyne,

Shau to the King this poor complaint of myne.

To the Lords of the Session

Quhare bene ȝe, brave and pregnant sprits, becum?

Quik vive inventionis, ar ȝe worne auay?

vive: lively

I am assuird by simpathie that sum

Wald never wish that cunning suld decay.

If ony be, ȝour Lordships must be thay,

Whose spreits ȝour weeds of verteu hes you spun;

Then mak the poet pensioner, I pray,

And byde be justice, as ȝe haif begun.

Sen I haif richt, vhy suld I be ovirrun?

Incurage me, and able I can carpe:

Hald evin the weyis; the victory is wun,

As I confyde in King and solid Sharpe,

Quhom I culd len a lift, your Lordships knauis,

War they in love, as I am in the lauis.

Alace, my Lords, hou long will ȝe delay

To put the poets pensione out of plie?

out of plie: out of court

Ȝon shifting sophists hes no thing to say;

Their feckles flyting is not worth a flie.

Mak Bishop Betone vhat they lyk to be;

He must perforce be ather quik or deid.

If he be deid, the mater maks for me;

If he be quik, then they can cum no speid.

By consequence, it can not but succeid,

For laik of forces they must tyn the feild;

tyn: lose

And, for the bishope, I defy his feid,

Ȝok vhen we will, I hope to gar him ȝeild

So, good my Lords, I crave no more of ȝou,

Bot shift me not vhill ȝe haif slane my sou.

How long will ȝe the poets patience prove?

Shaip ȝe to shift him lyk a pair of cartis?

Look up, my Lords: thair is a Lord above

Quha seis the smallest secreit of ȝour hairts.

He understands ȝour offices and ȝour airts;

He knauis vhat is committit to ȝour cure;

He recompencis as ȝe play your pairts,

Once, soon or syne, ȝour Lordships must be sure,

For He respects no princes more then pure.

Quhat evir ȝe do then, hald the ballance evin;

Sa to do justice I ȝou all conjure

As ȝe will merit ather hell or hevin.

Deserv not de (before ȝour Lordships) fames;

For I may able enternize ȝour names.

My Lords, late lads, nou leidars of our lauis;

Except ȝour gouns, some hes not worth a grote.

Ȝour colblak conscience all the cuntrey knauis;

Hou can ȝe live, except ȝe sell ȝour vote?

Thoght ȝe deny, thair is aneu to note

How ȝe for justice jouglarie hes usit:

jouglarie: juggling

Suppose ȝe say ȝe jump not in a jote,

jote: small amount

God is not blind; He will not be abusit.

The tym sall come vhen ȝe sall be accusit,

For mony hundreth ȝe haif herryit heir;

Quhare ȝe sall be forsakin and refusit,

And syn compeld at plotcok to appeir.

plotcok: the Devil

I hope in God at lenth, thoght it be late,

To sie sum sit into dirk Hellis gate!

To his Majestie, for his Pensioun

Help, Prince, to vhom, on vhom not, I complene,

Bot on, not to fals Fortun, ay my fo;

Quha but, not by a resone reft me fro;

reft: siezed

Quho did, not does, ȝit suld my self sustene.

Of crymis, not cairs, since I haif kept me clene,

I thole, not thanks thame, Sir, vho servd me so;

thole: suffer

Quha heght, not held to me, and mony mo,

heght: promised

To help, not hurt, bot hes not byding bene.

Sen will, not wit, to lait vhilk I lament,

Of sight, not service, shed me from ȝour Grace.

With, not without ȝour warrand, ȝit I went,

In wryt, not words: the papers ar in place.

Sen chance, not change, hes put me to this pane,

Let richt, not reif, my pensioun bring agane!

If lose of guids, if gritest grudge or grief,

If povertie, imprisonment or pane,

If for guid will ingratitude agane,

If languishing in langour but relief,

If det, if dolour, and to become deif,

If travell tint, and labour lost in vane,

travell: labour

Do properly to poets appertane,

Of all that craft my chance is to be chief!

With August, Virgill wauntit his reuard,

And Ovids lote als lukles as the lave;

Quhill Homer livd, his hap wes wery hard,

Ȝit vhen he died, sevin cities for him strave:

Thoght I am not lyk one of thame in arte,

I pingle thame all perfytlie in that parte!

pingle: resemble

If I must begge, it sall be far fra hame;

If I must want, it is aganis my will;

I haif a stomok, thoght I hold me still,

To suffer smart, bot not to suffer shame.

In spyt of Fortun, I sall flie with fame:

Sho may my corps, bot not my curage kill:

My hope is high, houbeit my hap be ill,

And kittle aneugh, and clau me on the kame.

kittle: ticklish

Wes Bishop Betoun bot restord agane,

To my ruin reserving all the rest,

To recompence my prisoning and pane!

To worst is ill, if this be bot the best.

Is this the frute, Sir, of your first affectione,

My pensioun perish under your protectione?

Adeu, my King, court, cuntrey, and my kin;

Adeu, sweit Duke, vhose father held me deir;

Adeu, companiones, Constable and Keir:

Thrie treuar hairts, I trou, sall never tuin.

If byganes to revolve I suld begin,

My tragedie wald cost ȝou mony a teir

To heir hou hardly I am handlit heir,

Considring once the honour I wes in.

Shirs, ȝe haif sene me griter with his Grace,

And with 3our umquhyle Maister, to, and myne,

umquhyle: former, late

Quha thoght the poet somtyme worth his place,

Suppose ȝe sie they shot him out sensyne.

sensyne: later

Sen wryt, nor wax, nor [worth] is not a word,

I must perforce ga seik my fathers suord.