Classic Poem

THE FIRST VISIOUN .

Before my face, this night, to me appeir'd
My silent Muse in sorow all confound;
And, [all] dismay'd, this question at me speir'd;
" Quhy do we not his glorious praise resound?
" Quhose goodnes we beyond our hope hes found:
" Quhose favour hes surmounted our desert:
" And, as he dois in pouir maist abound,
" So to our ayd the same he dois convert".
" O Muse " , quod I, " even with a willing hairt
" I sall fulfill this chairge with bent desyre;
" So that to me your furye ye impart,
" And thir my verses with lern'd skill inspyre.
" For, sen I sould the maist renoum'd commend;
" Ye lykwyse ought your ayde and help extend.

THE SECOND VISIOUN .

Thus as I spak I saw the Muses nyne,
With harps in hand, about me sone repair;
Sa that thair hymns, and voces, maist devyne,
By simpathie resounded in the air.
" Sing! Let us sing; and by our songs declair
" His worthie STOCK , bayth valiant, stout, and wyse,
" From quhilk hes sprung, (of Muses all the cair,
" Yea of the Gods, from quhom all grace dois ryse,)
" His FATHER deir, quha neir his burial lyes;
" Ane Homer auld of everlasting fame.
" A judge maist just: a lord quha hes the pryse
" For conscience pure, and ane unspotted name.
" Of princes lov'd, in honour lang he livis,
Quhose memorie his learned sones revivis.

THE THRID VISIOUN .

And heir they stay'd till they had drawn thair breath;
Than they begun with schiller toons of joy.
Auterpe sang, " His fame surviveth death."
And Clio said, " No force sall him destroy."
Thalia spak, " Lat us our sangs employ
" To blaise his praise, and eternise his gloire."
Polhymna sayde, " I will and sall convoy
" His consell-wit, quhilk he hes in great store,
" Through all the warld. And will him sa decore
" That, as he now surpassis with his Prence
" In grace and love all others, so before
" He sall thame pass in CREDIT BUT OFFENCE .
" Lang sall he live in joy, in bliss, and helth:
" And on his bak sall leane this comounwelth.

THE FOURT VISIOUN .

As they did end, than Ovide from exyle
Of Pontus cam, quhair he till death remain'd,
Induiring cauld, and hounger, all that quhyle,
Conseum'd with woe Augustus him disdain'd.
" Alace," said he, " in vayne have I complain'd
" For to asuage Augustus" yre, and wrath.
" And thought that thou in presoun wes detain'd,
" Yea happy thow, quho favour'd is [ere] death.
" Thy Monarch, and thy great Augustus, hath
" Extend his grace, at thy good lord's requeist.
" Quhose honour thou, till waisted be thy breath,
" Sall keip in mynde within thy thankful breist.
" Thou sall his glore with his desairts proclame,
" And celebrat within the kirk of Fame.