Classic Poem

Sumtyme to court I did repair,
Thairin sum errands for to dres;
Thinkand I had sum freindis thair
To help fordwart my beseynes.
Bot, not the les,
I fand nathing bot doubilnes.
Auld kyndnes helpis not ane hair.

To ane grit court-man I did speir;
That I trowit my friend 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 not byd my teill 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 yeid.

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 beseynes all haillalie.
And swair that he
My trew and faythfull freind suld be
In courte as I ples him comand.

For quhilk better it is, I trow,
Into the courte to get supple,
To have ane purs of fyne gold fow;
Nor to the hiast of degre
Of kyn to be.
Sa alters our nobilitie.
Grit kynrent helpis lytil now.

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