Classic Poem

False titlaris now growis up full rank,
nocht ympit in the stok of cheretie,
howping at thair lord to gett grit thank;
Than haif no dreid on thair nybouris to lie
Than sowld ane lord awyse him weill, I se,
Quhen ony taill Is brocht to his presence,
Gif it be groundit in to Veretie,
or he thairto gif haistely creddence.

Ane worthy lord sowld wey ane taill wyslie,
the tailltellar, and quhome of it is tald;
gif it be said for luve, or for Invy,
and gif the tailisman abyd at It he wald;
Than eftirwart the pairteis sowld be cald
for thair excuse To mak lawfull defence:
Than sowld ane Lord the ballance evinly hald,
and gif not at the first haistie creddence.

It is no wirschep for ane nobill Lord,
for the fals tailis To put ane trew man doun,
And gevand creddence to the first recoird,
he will not heir his excusatioun;
The tittillaris so in his heir can roun,
The Innocent may get no awdience;
Ryme as it may, thair is na ressoun
To gif till taillis hestely creddence.

Thir teltellaris oft tymes dois grit skaith,
and raissis mortall feid and discrepance,
and makis Lordis with thair serwandis wreith,
and baneist be withowt[in] cryme perchance.
It is the grund of stryf and all distance,
moir perrellus than ony pestillence,
Ane lord in flatterreris to haif plesance,
Or to gif lyaris hestely creddence.

O thow wyse Lord, quhen cumis a flatterrer
The for to pleiss, and hurt the Innocent,
will tell ane taill of thy familiar,
Thow sowld the pairteis call Incontinent,
And sitt doun sadly in to Jugement,
and serche the causs weill, or thow gif sentence,
or ellis heireftir, in cais thow may repent,
That thow to tailis gaif so grit creddence.

O wicket tung, sawand dissentioun,
of fals taillis to tell That will not tyre,
Moir perrellus Than ony fell pusoun,
The pane of hell thow sall haif to thi hyre.
Richt swa thay sall that hes Joy or desyre
To gife his Eir To heird with patience;
for of discord It kendillis mony fyre,
Throwcht geving talis hestely creddence.

Bakbyttaris to heir it is no bowrd,
For thay ar excommunicat in all place;
Thre personis severall he slayis with ane wowrd—
him self, The heirar, and the man saiklace.
Within ane hude he hes ane dowbill face,
Ane bludy tung, undir a fair pretence.
I say no moir; bot god grant Lordis grace,
To gife to taillis nocht hestely creddence.