Classic Poem

To Edinburgh about vj. houris at morne,
As I was passand pansand out the way
Ane bony boy was soir makand his mone,
His sory sang was oche and wallaway,
That euer I sould byde to se that day,
Ane King at euin with Sceptur Sword and Crown
At morne but ane deformit lumpe of clay,
With tratouris strang sa cruellie put downe.
Than drew I neir sum tythingis for to speir,
And said my freind quhat makis the sa way
Bludie bothwell hes brocht our King to beir,
And flatter and fraude with dowbill Dalyday.
I studeit still and nathing could I say,
My minde was full of admiratioun,
My bony boy tell me without delay,
The Kingis maneris forme and fassioun,
Narratioun shir gif I do tell,
His cruell murther ze will call monsterous:
For in meiknes he did all men excell,
And vnto na man was he odious,
To meit his marrow he was audatious,
On sturdie steid with craftie feat of weir,
Mars favourit him as fair Ascanius,
Æneas Sone that weill ane steid could steir.
In deidis he soulde haue bene lyke Deiphœbus
Had feinzeit Fortoun fauourit him to Ring:
Or Theseus or gentill Julius,
In gentill featis ferand for ane King.
Dartis about him swyftlie could he fling,
And rin ane rais and shortlie turne ane steid:
Cunning of crosbow cutthrot and culuering,
Ane flaine lat fle with bow in tyme of neid.
In gamis glaid he was rycht weill asswetit,
Rycht featlie on the fluire alswa could dance
Bot Dalila vnto him was vanlatit,
Quhilk causit him oft to be sad and pance.
Zit neuer did sho se his maik in France,
Off royall bluid to fang to be hir feir:
Not her fyrst spous for all his great puissance,
In portratour and game mycht be his peir.
Cunning of Clergy of musick meruelous,
The louing leid of Latine could declair:
Sangis set with diuers tunis expres,
With Instrument maist sweit into the eir.
With hundis hunt he could baith Da and Deir
The faid also rycht feitlie could he set,
Ane gay gois Halk vpone his hand to beir,
Ane Falcowne fle to se he thocht delyte.
With Romaine hand he could weill leid ane pen,
And storyis wryte of auld antiquitie,
Nobill himself, and Nobill of Ingyne,
And louit weill concord and vnitie,
He swoumit in the fluidis of Poetrie,
And did exerse the science liberall:
The facund Phrase did vse of oratrie,
His gude Ingyne was rycht celestiall.
In pulchritude to Paris perigall
With browis brent and twinkland Cristell eine:
Off face formois and vult heroycall,
He mycht haue bene ane marrow to ane Quene,
At ten houris on Sonday lait at euin,
Quhen Dalila and Bothwell bad gudnycht:
Off hir finger fals sho threw ane Ring,
And said my Lord ane taikin I zow plycht.
Scho did depairt than with ane vntrew traine,
And than in haist ane culuering they leit crak:
To teiche thair feiris to knaw the appoint tyme,
About the Kingis lugeing for to clap.
To dance that nycht they said sho sould not slak,
With leggis lycht to hald the wedow walkane
And baid fra bed vntill sho hard the crak,
Quhilk was anesigne that hir gude Lord was slane.
And Maddie meinis sho did in Setoun sing
Full weill was her that day that sho was fre:
And into joy and out of tray and tene,
So frely fred from all aduersitie.
O Stewartis stout ha benedicitie.
War ze not Royis in this Regioun
And ay did vse Justice and equitie,
And now zour glas of honestie is run.
Unles ze now sharplie shuit out zour handis
And trewlie try the gyltie of this blude:
Ze wilbe repuite Lowreis ouer all landis,
And fais to Christ deit on the Rude.
My Lordis thairfoir I think for zow gude,
The tresoun try and puneis equallie:
Lat not your landis defylit be with blude,
And gif ze do God shaw his Maiestie.
Quhen Davie deit our Quene rycht potentlie
Into this Realme did rais ane ryall rout;
Out of this Regioun Lordis gart sho flie,
Tresoun to try sho was that tyme maist stout
But sho is slak to try this tresoun out,
And to him Dauy was na perigall
Dauy and his, thair state was wont shone clout,
Our cumly King was of the blude royall.
For dowbill Dauy sho did zow expell,
Think on thairfoir quhill ze haue sic ane cryme,
And ze defend the cruell Jesabell
Than Baallis Priestis will cal zow verray kynde
Now euerie Dowglas of ane hartsum mynde,
Thinke on dame Margaret sumtyme in the towre,
And of young Charles prudent of Ingyne.
I pray God lat them se ane ioyfull houre.
O ze that dois profes Godis worde deuyne,
Se that ze sclander not his haly Name:
Remember Jesus Judas put to pyne,
For slak regaird of Godlynes and blame.
God he is all that layis ane stumling stane,
Quhilk may the cause be of our britheringis fall,
Restoir againe zour foule polluted fame
Gif ze fauoure Christ Jesus trew Gospell.
The buik of Josua as I did reid,
And thairin ane exampill did I find
How Acan tuik the excommunicat guid
All Israell war threitnit for that sin.
The fauour of God be na way could he win,
Quhill trewlie tryit war faultouris of the faill:
Quhome Josua in flambis fell did burne
And then did ceis God's wrath celestiall.
Gif God was wrath at ane small pegrall stouth.
And for ainis fault ane multitude did shoir,
Gif diligence to mak the giltie couth,
Or he will do to zow as he befoir.
Ze knaw zour cryme is wors ane greit daill moir,
Nor hunders twa of sicklis silver fyne,
To pull ane King fra his hie potent gloir
Quhome God did place be ordinance dewyne.
O ze that to our Kirk hes done subscriue
Thir Ecanis try alsweill traist I may
Gif ze do not the tyme will cum belive
That God to zow will rais sum Josuay,
Quhilk sall zour bairnies gar sing wallaway,
And ze your selfis be put downe with shame:
Remember on the ugsum latter day
Quhen ze rewaird sall ressaif for zoure blame.
I ken rycht weill ze knaw zour dewtie,
Gif ze do not purge zow ane and all,
Than sall I wryte in prettie poetrie
In Latine leid in style Rethoricall.
Quhilk throw all Europe sall ring lyke ane bell,
In the contempt of zour malignitie.
Fy fle fra Clitemnestra fell
For sho was neuer lyke Penolopie.
With Clitemnestra I do not fane to fletche,
Quhilk slew hir spous the greit Agamemnon:
Or with ony that Mynos wyfe dois matche,
Semiramus quha brocht hir gude Lord downe.
Quha dow abstene fra litigatioun,
Or from his paper hald aback the pen:
Except he hait our Scottis Natioun,
Or than stand vp and traitouris deidis commend.
Now all the wois that Ouid in Ibin
Into his pretty lytill buik did wryte,
And mony mo be to our Scottis Quene,
For sho the cause is of my wofull dyte.
Sa mot hir hart be fillit full of syte,
As Herois was for Leanderis deth:
Hirself to slay for wo quha thocht delyte,
For Henryis saik to lyke, our Quene war laith.
The doloure als that peirsit Diddis hart,
Quhen King Enee from Carthage tuik the flycht.
For the Quhilk cause vnto ane brand sho start
And slew hirself quhilk was ane sory sycht.
Sa mot sho die as did Creusa brycht,
The worthie wyfe of dowchtie Duik Jason:
Quha brint was in ane garment wrocht be flycht
Off Medea throw incantation.
Hir lauchter lycht be lyke to trim Thysbie,
Quhen Pyramus sha fand deid at the well:
In langour lyke vnto Penolopie,
For vlyssis quho lang at Troy did dwell:
Hir duilsum deith be wars than Jesabell,
Quhome throw ane windo suirlie men did thraw.
Quhais blude did laip the cruell hundis fell,
And doggis could hir wickit bainis gnaw.
War I ane hund, o gif sho war ane hair,
And I ane cat and sho ane lyttill mous
And sho ane bairne and I ane wylde wod bair,
I ane firrat and sho Cuniculous.
To hir I sal be ay contrarius,
Quhill to me Atropus cut the fatell threid:
And feill deithis dartis dolorus,
Than sall our Spirits be at mortall feid.
My Spirit hir Spirit sal douke in Phlegethon
Into that painfull fylthie flude of hell:
And thame in Styx and Lethee baith anone,
And Cerberus that cruell hund sa fell.
Sall gar hir cry with mony zout and zell,
O wallaway that euer sho was borne
Or with tresoun be ony maner mell,
Quhilk from all blis sould cause hir be forlorne.
War John Bochas on lyue as he is deid,
Worthy workis wold wryte in hir contempt:
Alsweill of tresoun as of womanheid,
Thairto his pen wald euer mair be bent.
Hir for till shame and bludie Bothwell shent,
And wold the counsall craif his warysoun,
The quhilk King James the fyrst in Parliament,
Gaif to his Father for ane hie tresoun,
Quha did forfault him of his land and rent,
And his leuing annext to the Crown:
And to hir shame, and to hir greit contempt,
Quhen that he come vnto ane strange natioun.
Than sould he mak declaratioun,
The causis all of his sory banishment,
To be for trasoun done vnto the Crowne,
Gif I do lie reid the Act of Parliament.
My bony boy thy murning dois me harme,
Bot thy sweit figureit speiche dois me delyte
In poetrie I traist zow be na barne,
Quhilk dois reheirs the Poetis auld indyte.
At thir traytouris I find thow hes dispyte,
And I ane Menstrell is and can sing:
Wald thow in Poetrie thy mater wryte
In thair dispyte thy scellat sall I ring.
Albeit my hart be fillit full of syte,
And mony troublis tumbland in my mynde,
Zit vnder neth this hauthorne sal I wryte
Or my forwereit body preis to dyne
In Poetrie narratioun of the cryme,
Quhilk thow may sing except that thow be red,
In Inglis toung quhan will gif place and tyme,
And than in Latine leid I think to spred,
My veirsis prompt in style Rethoricall,
Quhilk pass sall to the Tane of Tartarie
And Peirs sall erthe and air Etheriall,
The wickit works done in Britannie.
My bony boy quod I fair mot the fa
With that he rais and reikit me this bill:
And tuik gude nycht and shuik our handis twa,
Sa we departit soir against my will.