Classic Poem

1

Suppose I had ingyne angelicall,
With sapience more than Salamonicall,
I not quhat mater put in memorie.
The poetis auld, in style heroycall,
In breve subtell termes rethorycall,
Of everilke mater, tragedie and storie,
So ornatlie, to thare heych laude and glorie,
Haith done indyte; quhose supreme sapience
Transcendith far the dull intellygence

2

Of poetis now, in tyll our vulgare toung.
For quhy? The bell of rethorick bene roung
Be Chawceir, Goweir, and Lidgate laureate.
Quho dar presume thir poetis tyll impung,
Quhose sweit sentence throuch Albione bene soung?
Or quho can, now, the workis cuntrafait
Of Kennedie, with termes aureait,
Or of Dunbar, quhilk language had at large,
As maye be sene in tyll his Goldin Targe ?

3

Quintyng, Mersar, Rowle, Henderson, Hay, and Holland,
Thocht thay be ded, thar libells bene levand,
Quhilkis, to reheirs, makeith redaris to rejose.
Allace for one, quhilk lampe wes of this land!
Of eloquence the flowand balmy strand,
And, in our Inglis rethorick, the rose.
As, of rubeis, the charbunckle bene chose,
And, as Phebus dois Synthia presell,
So Gawane Dowglas, byschope of Dunkell,

4

Had, quhen he wes in to this land on lyve,
Abufe vulgare poetis prerogatyve,
Boith in pratick and speculatioun.
I saye no more. Gude redaris may discryve
His worthy workis, in nowmer mo than fyve,
And speciallye the trew translatioun
Of Virgill, quhilk bene consolatioun
To cunnyng men, to knaw his gret ingyne
Als weill in naturall science as devyne.

5

And in the courte bene present, in thir dayis,
That ballattis brevis lustellie, and layis,
Quhilks tyll our prince daylie thay do present.
Quho can say more than schir James Inglis says,
In ballatts, farses, and in plesand playis?
Bot Culrose hes his pen maid impotent.
Kyde, in cunnyng and pratick rycht prudent,
And Stewarte, quhilk disyrith one staitly style,
Full ornate werkis daylie dois compyle.

6

Stewart of Lorne wyll carpe rycht curiouslie;
Galbreith, Kynlouch, quhen thay lyst tham applie
In to that art, ar craftie of ingyne.
Bot now, of lait, is starte upe haistelie
One cunnyng clerk quhilk wrytith craftelie,
One plant of poetis, callit Ballentyne,
Quhose ornat workis my wytt can nocht defyne.
Gett he in to the courte auctoritie
He wyll precell Quintyng and Kennetie.

7

So thocht I had ingyne (as I have none),
I watt nocht quhat to wryt, be sweit Sanct Jhone.
For quhy? In all the garth of eloquence
Is no thyng left bot barrane stok and stone.
The poleit termes ar pullit, everilk one,
Be thir forenamit poetis of prudence.
And sen I fynd non uther new sentence,
I sall declare, or I depart yow fro,
The complaynt of ane woundit papingo.

8

Quharefor, because myne mater bene so rude
Of sentence, and of rethorike denude,
To rurall folke myne dyting bene directit,
Far flemit frome the sycht of men of gude.
For cunnyng men, I knaw, wyll soune conclude,
It dowe no thyng bot for to be dejectit.
And quhen I heir myne mater bene detractit,
Than sall I sweir I maid it bot in mowis,
To landwart lassis quhilks kepith kye and yowis.

Heir endis the Prolong. And followis the Complaynt.

9

Quho clymmit to hycht, perforce his feit mon faill.
Expreme I sal that be experience,
Geve that yow pleis to heir one pieteous taill,
How one fair bird, be faitell violence,
Devorit was and mycht mak no defence
Contrare the deth, so failyeit naturall strenth,
As efter I sall schaw yow, at more lenth.


10

One papyngo, rycht plesand and perfyte,
Presentit was tyll our moist nobyll kyng,
Of quhome his grace one lang tyme had delyte.
More fair of forme, I wat, flew never on wyng!
This proper bird he gave in governyng
To me (quhilk wes his simpyll servetoure),
On quhome I did my delygence and cure

11

To lerne hir language artificiall,
To play Platfute , and quhissill Fute before .
Bot of hir inclynatioun naturall
Scho countrafaitit all fowlis, les and more.
Of hir curage, scho wald, without my lore,
Syng lyke the merle, and crawe lyke to the coke,
Pew lyke the gled, and chant lyke the laverock,

12

Bark lyk ane dog, and kekell lyke ane ka,
Blait lyk ane hog and buller lyke ane bull,
Gaill lyke ane goik and greit quhen scho wes wa,
Clym on ane corde, syne lauch and play the fule:
Scho mycht have bene ane menstrall agane Yule.
This blyssit bird wes to me so plesande,
Quhare ever I fure I bure hir on my hande.

13

And so befell, in tyll ane myrthfull morrow,
In to my garth I past me to repose,
This bird and I, as we wer wount aforrow,
Amang the flowris, fresche, fragrant and formose.
My vitale spretis dewlie did rejose
Quhen Phebus rose and rave the cloudis sabyll,
Throuch brychtnes of his beamys amyabyll.

14

Without vapour wes weill purificate
The temperat air, soft, sober and serene.
The erth, be Nature so edificate
With holsum herbis, blew, quhyte, reid, and grene,
Quhilk elevate my spretis frome the splene.
That day Saturne, nor Mars, durst not appeir,
Nor Eole, of his cove, he durst nocht steir.

15

That daye, perforce, behuffit to be fair,
Be influence and cours celestiall.
No planete presit for to perturbe the air,
For Mercurious, be movying naturall,
Exaultit wes, in to the throne tryumphall
Of his mantioun, unto the fyftene gre,
In his awin soverane signe of Virginee.

16

That day did Phebus plesandlie depart
Frome Geminie and enterit in Cancer.
That daye, Cupido did extend his dart.
Venus, that daye, conjunit with Jupiter.
That daye Neptunus hid hym, lyke one sker.
That daye dame Nature, with gret besynes,
Fortherit Flora to keyth hir craftynes,

17

And retrograde wes Mars in Capricorne,
And Synthea in Sagitter assesit.
That daye dame Ceres, goddes of the corne,
Full joyfullie Johane Upponland applesit;
The bad espect of Saturne wes appesit.
That daye, be Jono, of Jupiter the joye,
Perturband spretis causing to hauld coye.

18

The sound of birdis surmontit all the skyis
With melodie of notis musycall;
The balmy droppis of dew Tytane updryis
Hyngande upone the tender twystis small;
The hevinlie hew and sound angelicall
Sic perfyte plesoure prentit in myne hart
That with gret pyne frome thyne I mycht depart.

19

So, styll amang those herbis amyabyll,
I did remane one space for my pastance,
Bot wardlie plesour bene so variabyll,
Myxit with sorrow, dreid and inconstance,
That thare in tyll is no contyneuance.
So mycht I saye. My schorte solace, allace,
Was drevin in dolour in one lytill space.

20

For in that garth, amang those fragrant flouris
Walkyng allone, none bot my bird and I,
Onto the tyme that I had said myne houris,
This bird I sett upon one branche me bye.
Bot scho began to speill rycht spedalie,
And in that tree scho did so heych ascende,
That, be no waye, I mycht hir apprehende.

21

" Sweit bird," said I, " be war! Mont nocht over hie.
Returne in tyme! Perchance thy feit may failye!
Thou art rycht fat, and nocht weill usit to fle.
The gredie gled I dreid scho the assailye!"
" I wyll", said scho, " ascend, vailye quod vailye.
It is my kynd to clym, aye, to the hycht:
Of fedther and bone I watt weill I am wycht."

22

So, on the heychast lytill tender twyste,
With wyng displayit scho sat full wantounlie.
Bot Boreas blew one blast, or ever scho wyst,
Quhilk braik the branche, and blew hir, sodantlie,
Doun to the ground, with mony cairfull crye.
Upon ane stob scho lychtit on hir breist.
The blude ruschit out and scho cryit for a preist.

23

God wat gyff than my hart wes wo begone
To see that fowle flychter amang the flouris,
Quhilk, with gret murnyng, gan to mak hir mone:
" Now cumyng ar", said scho, " the faitall houris.
Of bitter deth now mon I thole the schouris.
O dame Nature, I pray the of thy grace,
Len me layser to speik, one lytill space,

24

For to complene my fait infortunate,
And so dispone my geir or I depart,
Sen of all conforte I am desolate,
Allone, except the Deth, heir with his darte,
With aufull cheir, reddy to peirs myne hart."
And with that word, scho tuke one passioun,
Syne flatlyngis fell and swappit in to swoun.

25

With sory hart, peirst with compassioun,
And salt teris distellyng frome myne eine,
To heir that birdis lamentatioun
I did aproche, onder ane hauthorne grene,
Quhare I mycht heir and se and be unsene.
And quhen this bird had swounit twyse or thryse,
Scho gan to speik, sayng on this wyse:

26

" O fals Fortune, quhy hes thou me begylit?
This day at morne, quho knew this cairfull cace?
Vaine hope in the my reasoun haith exilit,
Havyng sic traist in to thy fenyeit face.
That ever I wes brocht in to the court, allace!
Had I in forrest flowin amang my feris,
I mycht full weill have levit mony yeris.

27

Prudent counsell, allace, I did refuse,
Agane reassoun usyng myne appetyte.
Ambitioun did so myne hart abuse
That Eolus had me in gret dispyte.
Poetis, of me, haith mater to indyte,
Quhilk clam so heych, and wo is me thairfore,
Nocht doutyng that the deth durste me devore.

28

This daye, at morne, my forme and feddrem fair
Abufe the prude pacoke war precellande,
And nowe one catyve carioun, full of cair,
Baithand in blude doun from my hart distelland,
And in myne eir the bell of deith bene knelland.
O fals warld, fy on thy felicitie!
Thy pryde, avaryce and immundicitie!

29

In the I see no thyng bene permanent:
Of thy schort solace, sorrow is the ende.
Thy fals infortunate gyftis bene bot lent.
This day ful prude, the morne no thyng to spend.
O ye that doith pretende aye tyll ascend,
My fatale ende have in rememberance
And yow defende frome sic unhappy chance."

30

Quhydder that I wes strickin in extasie,
Or throuch one stark imagynatioun,
Bot it apperit in myne fantasie
I hard this dolent lamentatioun.
Thus dullit in to desolatioun,
Me thocht this bird did breve, in hir maneir,
Hir counsale to the kyng, as ye sall heir.

Heir followis the first Epystill of the Papyngo direct to Kyng James the Fyft.

31

" Prepotent prince, peirles of pulchritude,
Glore, honour, laude, tryumphe and victorie
Be to thy heych excellent celsitude,
With marciall dedis, dyng of memorie.
Sen Atropus consumit haith my glorie,
And dolente deith, allace, mon us depart,
I leif to the my trew unfenyeit hart,

32

To gydder with this cedull subsequent,
With moist reverent reconmendatioun.
I grant thy grace gettis mony one document
Be famous fatheris predicatioun,
With mony notabyll narratioun
Be plesande poetis, in style heroycall,
Quhou thow suld gyde thy seait imperiall.

33

Sum doith deplore the gret calamitieis
Of divers realmes transmutatioun;
Sum pieteouslie doith treait of tragedeis,
All for thy graces informatioun.
So I intend, but adullatioun,
In to my barbour rusticall indyte,
Amang the reste, schir, sum thyng for to wryte.

34

Soverane, consave this simpyll similytude
Of officiaris servyng thy senyeorie:
Quho gydis thame weil gettis of thy grace gret gude;
Quho bene injuste, degradit ar of glorie
And cancillat out of thy memorie,
Providyng syne more plesand in thare place.
Beleve rycht so sall God do with thy grace.

35

Considder weill, thow bene bot officiare
And vassall to that kyng incomparabyll.
Preis thou to pleis that puissant prince preclare.
Thy ryche rewarde salbe inestimabyll,
Exaultit heych in glore interminabyll
Abone archangels, virtus, potestatis,
Plesandlie placit amang the principatis.

36

Of thy vertew, poetis perpetuallie
Sall mak mentioun unto the warld be endit;
So thou excers thyne office prudentlie,
In hevin and erth thy grace salbe commendit.
Quharefor, afeir that he be nocht offendit,
Quhilk hes exaultit the to sic honour,
Of his peple to be one gouvernour,

37

And in the erth haith maid sic ordinance.
Under thy feit, all thyng terrestryall
Ar subject to thy plesour and pastance,
Boith fowle and fysche and bestis pastorall.
Men to thy servyce, and wemen, thay bene thrall.
Halkyng, hountyng, armes, and leiffull amour
Preordinat ar, be God, for thy plesour;

38

Maisteris of museik, to recreat thy spreit,
With dantit voce and plesande instrument:
Thus may thou be of all plesouris repleit,
So, in thyne office, thou be deligent.
Bot be thou found sleuthfull or negligent,
Or injuste in thyne exicutioun,
Thou sall nocht faill devine puneissioun.

39

Quharefor, sen thou hes sic capacitie
To lerne to playe so plesandlie and syng,
Ryde hors, ryn speris with gret audacitie,
Schute with hand bow, crosbow and culveryng,
Amang the rest, schir, lerne to be ane kyng.
Kyith on that craft thy pringnant fresche ingyne,
Grantit to the be influence divine.

40

And, sen the diffinitioun of ane kyng
Is for to have of peple governance,
Addres the first, abufe all uther thyng,
Tyll put thy bodye tyll sic ordinance
That thyne vertew thyne honour may avance;
For quhou suld prencis governe gret regionis,
That can nocht dewlie gyde thare awin personis?

41

And geve thy grace wald leif rycht plesandlie,
Call thy counsale, and cast on thame the cure,
Thare juste decretis defend and fortyfie.
But gude counsale may no prince lang indure;
Wyrk with counsale, than sall thy work be sure.
Cheis thy counsale of the moste sapient,
Without regarde to blude, ryches, or rent.

42

Amang all uther pastyme and plesour,
Now, in thy adolescent yeris yeing,
Wald thou, ilk day, studie bot half one hour
The regiment of princelie governyng,
To thy peple it war ane plesand thyng.
Thare mycht thou fynd thyne awin vocatioun,
Quhou thou suld use thy sceptour, swerd, and croun.

43

The cronecklis to knaw, I the exhorte,
Quhilk may be myrrour to thy majestie.
Thare sall thou fynd boith gude and evyll reporte
Of everilk prince efter his qualytie.
Thocht thay be dede, thare deidis sall nocht dee:
Traist weill thou salbe stylit, in that storie,
As thou deservis putt in memorie.

44

Request that roye quhilk rent wes on the rude,
The to defend frome dedis of defame,
That no poyte reporte of the bot gude.
For princes dayis induris bot ane drame:
Sen first kyng Fergus bure ane dyadame,
Thou art the last king, of fyve score and fyve,
And all ar dede, and none bot thou on lyve.

45

Of quhose number, fyftie and fyve bene slane,
And moist parte in thare awin misgovernance.
Quharefor, I the beseik my soverane,
Consydder of thare lyvis the circumstance.
And, quhen thou knawis the cause of thare mischance,
Of vertew than exault thy salis on hie,
Traistyng to chaip that faitale destanie.

46

Trait ilk trew barroun as he war thy brother,
Quhilk mon, at neid, the and thy realme defende.
Quhen suddantlie one doith oppresse one uther
Lat justice myxit with mercy thame amende.
Have thou thare hartis, thou hes yneuch to spend,
And be the contrar, thou arte bot Kyng of Bone,
Frome tyme thyne hereis hartis bene from the gone.

47

I have no laser for to wryt at lenth,
Myne hole intent ontyll thyne excellence,
Decressit so I am in wytt and strenth.
My mortall wounde doith me sic violence,
Peple of me maye have experience:
Because, allace, I wes incounsolabyll,
Now mon I dee, on catyve myserabyll."

Heir followis the secunde Epistyl of the Papyngo, directit to hir Brether of Courte.

48

" Brether of court, with mynd precordial,
To the gret God, hartlie I commend yow.
Imprent my fall in your memoriall,
Togidder with this cedul that I send yow.
To preis over heych, I pray yow not pretend yow.
The vaine ascens of court quho wyll consydder:
Quho sittith moist hie sal fynd the sait most slidder.

49

So ye that now bene lansyng upe the ledder,
Tak tent in tyme, fassinnyng your fingaris faste.
Quho clymith moist heych moist dynt hes of the woder
And leist defence aganis the bitter blast
Of fals Fortune, quhilk takith never rest,
Bot moste redouttit daylie scho doun thryngis,
Nocht sparing papis, conquerours, nor kyngis.

50

Thocht ye be montit upe abone the skyis,
And hes boith kyng and court in governance,
Sum was als heych, quhilk now rycht lawly lyis,
Complanyng sore the courtis variance.
Thare preterit tyme may be experience,
Quhilk, throuch vaine hope of courte, did clym so hie,
Syne wantit wyngis quhen thay wend best to flie.

51

Sen ilke court bene untraist and transitorie,
Cheangyng als oft as woddercok in wynd,
Sum maikand glaid and uther sum rycht sorie,
Formaste this day, the morne may go behyind,
Lat not vaine hope of court your reasone blyind.
Traist weill, sum men wyll gyf you laud, as lordis,
Quhilk wald be glaid to se yow hang in cordis.

52

I durst declare the myserabilitie
Of divers curtis, war nocht my tyme bene schort.
The dreidfull cheange, vaine glore and vilitie,
The painfull plesour, as poetis doith reporte,
Sum tyme in hope, sum tyme in disconforte,
And how sum men dois spend thair youthed haill
In court, syne endis in the hospytaill.

53

Quhou sum in court bene quyet counsalouris,
Without regarde to commoun weill or kyngis,
Castyng thare cure for to be conquerouris,
And quhen thay bene heych rasit in thare ryngis,
How cheange of court tham dulfully doun thringis,
And quhen thay bene frome thair estait deposit,
Quhou mony, of thare fall, bene rycht rejosit.

54

And quhou fonde, fenyeit fulis and flatteraris
For small servyce optenith gret rewardis;
Pandaris, pykthankis, custronis, and clatteraris,
Loupis up frome laddis, sine lychtis amang lardis;
Blasphematours, beggaris and commoun bardis,
Sum tyme in court hes more auctoritie
Nor devote doctouris in divinitie.

55

Quhou in sum countre bene barnes of Baliall,
Full of dissimilit, payntit flatterrie,
Provocande, be intoxicat counsall,
Prencis tyll huredome and tyll hasardrie.
Quho dois in prencis prent sic harlotrie,
I saye for me, sic peirte provocatouris
Sulde puneist be, abufe all strang tratouris.

56

Quhate travers, troubyll and calamitie
Haith bene in courte, within thir houndreth yeris!
Quhat mortall cheangis, quhat miseritie,
Quhat nobyll men bene brocht upon thair beris!
Trast weil, my freinds, follow yow mon your feris.
So sen in court bene no tranquillytie,
Sett nocht on it your hole fielycite.

57

The courte cheangeith, sumtyme with sic outrage,
That few or none may makyng resistance,
And sparis nocht the prince more than the paige,
As weill apperith be experience.
The Duke of Rothasay mycht mak no defence,
Quhilk wes pertenand roye of this regioun,
Bot dulefully devorit in presoun.

58

Quhat dreid, quhat dolour, had that nobyll kyng,
Robart the thride, frome tyme he knew the cace
Of his two sonnis dolente departyng;
Prince David deyid and James captyve, allace!
Tyll trew Scottis men quhilk wes a cairful cace.
Thus may ye knaw the courte bene variand,
Quhen blude ryall the cheang may not ganestand.

59

Quho rang in court more hie and tryumphand
Nor Duke Murdoke, quhil that his day indurit?
Was he nocht gret Protectour of Scotland?
Yit, of the court he was nocht weill assurit.
Itt cheangit so, his lang servyce wes smurit.
He and his sonne, fair Walter, but remede,
Forfaltit war, and put to dulefull dede.

60

Kyng James the first, the patroun of prudence,
Gem of ingyne and peirll of polycie,
Well of justice and flude of eloquence,
Quhose vertew doith transcende my fantasie
For tyll discryve, yit quhen he stude moste hie,
Be fals exhorbitant conspiratioun,
That prudent prince wes pieteouslie put doun.

61

Als, James the secunde, roye of gret renoun,
Beand in his superexcelland glore,
Throuch reakles schuttyng of one gret cannoun
The dolent deith, allace, did hym devore!
One thyng thair bene, of quhilk I marvell more:
That Fortune had at hym sic mortall feid,
Throuch fyftie thousand, to waill him by the heid.

62

My hart is peirst with panes for to pance
Or wrytt that courtis variatioun
Of James the thrid, quhen he had governance —
The dolour, dreid and desolatioun,
The cheange of court and conspiratioun —
And quhou that Cochrame, with his companye,
That tyme in courte clam so presumpteouslye.

63

It had bene gude tha beirnes had bene unborne,
Be quhome that nobyll prince wes so abusit.
Thay grew as did the weid abufe the corne,
That prudent lordis counsall wes refusit,
And held hym quyet, as he had bene inclusit.
Allace! That prince, be thare abusioun,
Was fynalie brocht to confusioun.

64

Thay clam so heych and gat sic audience
And with thare prince grew so familiar,
His germane brother mycht get no presence.
The Duke of Albanie, nor the Erle of Mar,
Lyke baneist men was haldin at the bar,
Tyll in the kyng thare grew sic mortall feid
He flemit the Duke and patt the Erle to dede.

65

Thus Cochrame, with his catyve companye,
Forsit thame to flee, bot yit thay wantit federis.
Abufe the heych cederis of Libanye
Thay clam so heych, tyll thay lape ovir thair ledderis;
On Lawder bryge syne keppit wer in tedderis.
Stranglit to deith, thay gat none uther grace,
Thair king captyve, quhilk wes ane cairful cace.

66

Tyl putt in forme that fait infortunat,
And mortall cheange, perturbith myne ingyne.
My wytt bene waik, my fyngaris faitegate
To dyte or wryte the rancour and rewyne,
The civyll weir, the battell intestyne;
How that the sonne, with baner braid displayit,
Agane the fader in battell come arrayit.

67

Wald God that prince had bene that day confortit
With sapience of the prudent Salomone,
And with the strenth of strang Sampsone supportit,
With the bauld oste of gret Agamenone!
Quhat suld I wys, remedie was thare none:
At morne, ane king, with sceptour, sweird and croun,
Att evin, ane dede, deformit carioun.

68

Allace! Quhare bene that rycht redoutit roye,
That potent prince, gentyll king James the feird?
I pray to Christe his saule for to convoye;
Ane greater nobyll rang nocht in to the eird.
O Atropus, warye we maye thy weird!
For he wes myrrour of humylitie,
Lode sterne, and lampe of libiralytie.

69

Duryng his tyme, so justice did prevaill,
The savage Iles trymblit for terrour.
Eskdale, Ewisdale, Liddisdale and Annerdale
Durste nocht rebell, doutyng his dyntis dour,
And of his lordis had sic perfyte favour.
So, for to schaw that he aferit no fone,
Out throuch his realme he wald ryde hym, alone.

70

And, of his courte, throuch Europe sprang the fame
Of lustie lordis and lufesum ladyis ying,
Tryumphand tornayis, justyng and knychtly game,
With all pastyme accordyng for one kyng.
He wes the glore of princelie governyng
Quhilk, throuch the ardent lufe he had to France,
Agane Ingland did move his ordinance.

71

Of Flodoun feilde the rewyne to rovolfe,
Or that moste dolent daye for tyll deplore,
I nyll, for dreid that dolour yow dissolfe,
Schaw how that prince, in his tryumphand glore,
Distroyit was. Quhat nedeith proces more?
Nocht be the vertew of Inglis ordinance,
Bot be his awin wylfull mysgovernance.

72

Allace! That daye, had he bene counsalabyll,
He had obtenit laude, glore, and victorie,
Quhose pieteous proces bene so lamentabyll.
I nyll at lenth it put in memorie,
I never red, in tragidie nor storie,
At one jornaye, so mony nobyllis slane
For the defence and lufe of thare soverane.

73

Now brether, marke, in your remembrance,
Ane myrrour of those mutabiliteis.
So may ye knaw the courtis inconstance,
Quhen prencis bene thus pullit frome thair seis.
Efter quhose deith, quhat strainge adversiteis,
Quhat gret mysreule, in to this regioun rang
Quhen our yong prince could noder spek nor gang.

74

During his tender youthe and innocence
Quhat stouith, quhat raif, quhat murthur and myschance!
Thair wes not ellis bot wrakyng of vengeance.
In to that court thare rang sic variance,
Divers rewlaris maid divers ordinance:
Sum tyme our Quene rang in auctoritie,
Sum tyme the prudent Duke of Albanie;

75

Sum tyme the realme was reulit be regentis,
Sum tyme, lufetenentis, ledaris of the law.
Than rang so mony inobedientis,
That few, or none, stude of ane uther aw.
Oppressioun did so lowde his bugyll blaw
That none durst ryde, bot in to feir of weir;
Joke Uponeland that tyme did mys his meir.

76

Quho was more heycht in honour elevate
Nor was Margareit, our heych and mychtie princes?
Sic power was to hir appropriate:
Of king and realme scho wes governores.
Yit, come one cheange, within ane schorte proces,
That peirle preclare, that lusty plesand quene,
Lang tyme durst nocht in to the court be sene.

77

The archebischop of Sanct Andrus, James Betoun,
Chancellare and primate in power pastorall,
Clam, nyxt the kyng, moste heych in this regioun.
The ledder schuke, he lape, and gat one fall.
Auctoritie, nor power spirituall,
Ryches, freindschip, mycht not that tyme prevail
Quhen dame Curia began to steir hir taill.

78

His heych prudence prevalit hym nocht ane myte,
That tyme the courte bair hym sic mortall feid.
As presoneir, thay keipt hym in dispyte,
And sum tyme wyst not quhare to hyde his heid,
Bot dissagysit lyke Jhone the Raif he raid.
Had nocht bene Hope bair hym sic companye,
He had been stranglit be malancolye.

79

Quhat cummer and cair wes in the court of France
Quhen kyng Francose wes takin presoneir?
The Duke of Burboun, amyd his ordinance,
Deit at ane straik, rycht bailfull brocht on beir;
The court of Rome, that tyme, rane all aureir
Quhen Pape Clement wes put in strang presoun,
The nobyll citie put to confusioun.

80

In Ingland, quho had greter governance
Nor thare tryumphand courtly cardinall?
The commoun weill, sum sayis, he did avance,
Be equale justice boith to gret and small.
Thare wes no prelate to hym paregall.
Inglismen sayis, " Had he roung langer space,
He had deposit Sanct Peter of his place."

81

His princely pompe, nor papale gravitie,
His palyce ryall, ryche, and radious,
Nor yit the flude of superfluitie
Of his ryches, nor travell tedious,
Frome tyme dame Curia held hym odious,
Prevalit hym not, nor prudence moste profound.
The ledder braik and he fell to the ground.

82

Quhare bene the douchty Erlis of Dowglas
Quhilkis ryallie in to this regioun rang?
Forfalt and slane. Quhat nedith more proces?
The Erle of Marche wes merschellit tham amang;
Dame Curia thame dulefullie doun thrang.
And now, of lait, quho clam more heych amang us
Nor did Archebalde, umquhyle the Erle of Angous?

83

Quho with his prince wes more familiar,
Nor, of his grace, had more auctoritie?
Was he nocht gret wardane and chancellar?
Yit, quhen he stude upon the heychest gre,
Traistyng no thyng bot perpetuitie,
Was suddanlie deposit frome his place.
Forfalt and flemit, he gat non uther grace.

84

Quharefor, traist nocht in tyll auctoritie,
My deir brother, I praye yow hartfullie.
Presume nocht in your vaine prosperitie.
Conforme your traist in God alluterlie,
Syne serve your prince with enteir hart trewlie,
And quhen ye se the court bene at the best,
I counsall yow, than draw yow to your rest.

85

Quhare bene the heych tryumphant court of Troye?
Or Alexander, with his twelf prudent peris?
Or Julius, that rycht redoutit roye?
Agamenone, moste worthy in his weris?
To schaw thare fyne, my frayit hart aferis:
Sum murdreist war, sum poysonit pieteouslie,
Thare cairfull courtis dispersit dulefullie.

86

Traist weill, thare is no constant court bot one,
Quhar Christ bene kyng, quhose tyme interminabyll
And heych tryumphand glore beis nevir gone.
That quyet court, myrthfull and immutabyll,
But variance standith aye ferme and stabyll.
Dissimilance, flattry, nor fals reporte,
In to that court sall never get resorte.

87

Traist weill, my freindis, this is no fenyeit fare,
For quho that bene in the extreme of dede,
The veritie, but doute, thay sulde declare,
Without regarde to favour, or to fede.
Quhill ye have tyme, deir brother, mak remade.
Adew, for ever. Of me ye get no more,
Beseikand God to bryng yow to his glore.

88

Adew, Edinburgh, thow heych tryumphant toun,
Within quhose boundis rycht blythfull have I bene.
Of trew merchandis the rute of this regioun,
Moste reddy to resave court, king, and quene.
Thy polecye and justice may be sene.
War devotioun, wysedome, and honestie,
And credence tynt, thay mycht be found in the.

89

Adew, fair Snawdoun, with thy touris hie,
Thy Chapell Royall, park, and tabyll rounde.
May, June and July walde I dwell in the,
War I one man, to heir the birdis sounde,
Quhilk doith agane thy royall roche redounde.
Adew Lythquo, quhose palyce of plesance
Mycht be one patrone in Portingall or France.

90

Fair weill, Falkland, the fortrace of Fyfe,
Thy polyte park, under the Lowmound law.
Sum tyme in the I led ane lustye lyfe;
The fallow deir, to see thame raik on rawe!
Courte men, to cum to the thay stand gret awe,
Saynd thy burgh bene of all burrowis baill,
Because in the thay never gat gude aill."

Heir followis the Commonyng betuix the Papingo and hir Holye Executouris.

91

The pye persavit the papingo in paine.
He lychtit doun and fenyeit him to greit.
" Sister," said he, " alace, quho hes yow slane?
I pray yow mak provisione for your spreit.
Dispone your geir and yow confes compleit.
I have power, be your contritioun,
Of all your mys to geve yow full remissioun.

92

" I am", said he, " one channoun regulare,
And of my brether pryour principall.
My quhyte rocket my clene lyfe doith declare,
The blak bene of the deith memoriall.
Quharefor, I thynk your gudis naturall
Sulde be submyttit, hole, in to my cure:
Ye knaw I am ane holye creature."

93

The revin come rolpand quhen he hard the rair.
So did the gled, with mony pieteous pew,
And fenyeitlye thay contrafait gret cair.
" Syster," said thay, " your raklesnes we rew.
Now best it is, our juste counsall ensew,
Sen we pretend to heych promotioun,
Religious men of gret devotioun."

94

" I am ane blak monk", said the ruclande revin.
" So," said the gled, " I am ane holy freir,
And hes power to bryng yow quyke to hevin.
It is weill knawin my conscience bene full cleir.
The blak Bybill pronunce I sall, perqueir,
So tyll our brether ye wyll geve sum gude;
God wat geve we hes neid of lyves fude."

95

The papyngo said, " Father, be the rude,
Howbeit your rayment be religious lyke,
Your conscience, I suspect, be nocht gude.
I did persave quhen prevelye ye did pyke
Ane chekin frome ane hen, under ane dyke."
" I grant", said he. " That hen was my gude freind,
And I that chekin tuke, bot for my teind:

96

Ye knawe the faith be us mon be susteind.
So, be the Pope, it is preordinate
That spirituall men suld leve upon thair teind,
Bot weill wat I, ye bene predestinate,
In your extreme, to be so fortunate
To have sic holy consultatioun.
Quharefore, we mak yow exhortatioun:

97

Sen dame Nature hes grantit yow sic grace,
Layser to mak confessioun generall,
Schaw furth your syn, in haist quhil ye haif space,
Syne, of your geir mak one memoriall.
We thre sall mak your festis funerall,
And with gret blys, bury we sall your bonis,
Syne trentalls twenty trattyll, all at onis.

98

The reukis sall rair, that men sall on thame rew,
And crye Conmemoratio Animarum .
We sall gar cheknis cheip, and geaslyngis pew,
Suppose the geis and hennis suld crye alarum.
And we sall serve Secundum Usum Sarum ,
And mak yow saif (we fynd Sanct Blase to borgh),
Cryand for yow the cairfull corrynogh.

99

And we sall syng, about your sepulture,
Sanct Mongois matynis and the mekle creid,
And syne devotely saye, I yow assure,
The auld Placebo bakwart and the beid,
And we sall weir for yow the murnyng weid,
And thocht your spreit with Pluto war profest,
Devotelie sall your derigie be addrest."

100

" Father," said scho, " your facunde wordis fair,
Full sore I dreid, be contrar to your dedis.
The wyffis of the village cryis with cair
Quhen thai persave your muow ovirthort thar medis.
Your fals consait boith duke and draik sore dreidis.
I marvell, suithlie, ye be nocht eschamit
For your defaltis, beyng so defamit.

101

It dois abhor my pure perturbit spreit
Tyll mak to yow ony confessioun.
I heir men saye ye bene one ypocrite,
Exemptit frome the senye and the sessioun.
To put my geir in your possessioun
That wyll I nocht, so help me dame Nature,
Nor of my corps I wyll yow geve no cure.

102

But had I heir the nobyll nychtingall,
The gentyll ja, the merle, and turtur trew,
My obsequees and feistis funerall
Ordour thay wald, with notis of the new.
The plesand pown, moste angellyke of hew,
Wald God I wer this daye with hym confest,
And my devyse dewlie be hym addrest.

103

The myrthfull maveis, with the gay goldspink;
The lustye larke, wald God thay war present!
My infortune, forsuith, thay wald forthink,
And conforte me, that bene so impotent.
The swyft swallow, in prattick most prudent,
I wate scho wald my bledyng stem, belyve,
With hir moste verteous stone restringityve."

104

" Compt me the cace, under confessioun,"
The gled said proudlye to the papingo,
" And we sall sweir, be our professioun,
Counsall to keip and schawit to no mo.
We the beseik, or thow depart us fro,
Declare to us sum causis reasonabyll
Quhy we bene haldin so abhominabyll.

105

Be thy travell, thow hes experience.
First beand bred in to the Orient,
Syne be thy gude servyce and delygence
To prencis maid, heir in the Occident,
Thow knawis the vulgare pepyllis jugement;
Quhare thow transcurrit the hote meridionall,
Syne nyxt the Poill, the plage septemtrionall.

106

So, be thyne heych ingyne superlatyve,
Of all countreis thow knawis the qualiteis.
Quharefore, I the conjure, be God of lyve,
The veritie declare, withouttin leis,
Quhat thow hes hard, be landis or be seis,
Of us kirkmen, boith gude and evyll reporte,
And quhou thay juge. Schaw us, we the exhorte."

107

" Father," said scho, " I, catyve creature,
Dar nocht presume with sic mater to mell;
Of your caces, ye knaw I have no cure.
Demand thame quhilk in prudence doith precell.
I maye nocht pew, my panes bene so fell.
And als, perchance, ye wyll nocht stand content
To knaw the vulgare pepyllis jugement.

108

Yit wyll the deith alyte withdrawe his darte,
All that lyis in my memoryall
I sall declare, with trew unfenyeit hart.
And first I saye to yow, in generall,
The commoun peple sayith ye bene all
Degenerit frome your holy prematyvis,
As testyfeis the proces of your lyvis.

109

Of your peirles, prudent predicessouris,
The beginnyng, I grant, wes verray gude:
Apostolis, martyres, virgines, confessouris,
The sound of thair excellent sanctitude
Was hard over all the warld, be land and flude,
Plantyng the faith, be predicatioun,
As Christe had maid to thame narratioun.

110

To fortyfie the faith, thay tuke no feir,
Afore prencis precheing full prudentlie.
Of dolorus deith, thay doutit nocht the deir,
The veritie declaryng, ferventlie,
And martyrdome thay sufferit pacientlie.
Thay tuke no cure of land, ryches, nor rent;
Doctryne and deid war boith equevolent.

111

To schaw at lenth thair workis wer gret wunder:
Thare myracklis, thay wer so manifest;
In name of Christe, thay halit mony hounder,
Rasyng the dede, and purgeing the possest,
With perverst spretis quhilks had bene opprest.
The crukit ran, the blynd men gat thare ene,
The deiff men hard, the lypper war maid clene.

112

The prelatis spowsit wer with Povertie,
Those dayis quhen so thay flurisit in fame;
And with hir generit lady Chaistitie,
And dame Devotioun, notabyll of name.
Humyll thay war, simpyll, and full of schame.
Thus, Chaistitie and dame Devotioun
War principall cause of thare promotioun.

113

Thus thay contynewit in this lyfe devyne
Aye tyll thare rang, in Romes gret cietie,
Ane potent prince, was namit Constantyne,
Persavit the kirk had spowsit povertie.
With gude intent and movit of pietie,
Cause of divors he fande betuix thame two,
And partit thame, withouttin wordis mo.

114

Syne, schortlie, with ane gret solempnitie,
Withouttin ony dispensatioun,
The kirk he spowsit with dame Propirtie,
Quhilk haistalye, be procliamatioun
To Povertie gart mak narratioun,
Under the pane of peirsyng of her eine,
That with the kirk scho sulde no more be seine.

115

Sanct Sylvester, that tyme, rang Pope in Rome,
Quhilk first consentit to the mariage
Of Propirtie, the quhilk began to blome,
Taking on hir the cure, with heych corrage.
Devotioun drew hir tyll one heremytage
Quhen scho considerit lady Propirtie
So heych exaultit in to dignitie.

116

O Sylvester, quhare was thy discretioun?
Quhilk Peter did renounce thow did resave.
Androw and Jhone did leif thare possessioun,
Thar schippis and nettis, lyinnes, and all the lave;
Of temporall substance no thing wald thay have
Contrarius to thare contemplatioun,
Bot, soberlye, thare sustentatioun.

117

Jhone the Baptist went to the wyldernes;
Lazarus, Martha and Marie Magdalane
Left heretage and guddis, more and les,
Prudent Sanct Paule thocht propertie prophane:
Frome toun to toun he ran in wynde and rane,
Upon his feit techeing the word of grace,
And never was subjectit to ryches."

118

The gled said, " Yit I heir no thyng bot gude.
Proceid schortlye, and thy mater avance."
The papyngo said, " Father, be the rude,
It wer to lang to schaw the circumstance
Quhow Propertie, with hir new alyance,
Grew gret with chylde, as trew men to me talde,
And bure two dochteris, gudlie to behalde.

119

The eldest dochter named was Ryches,
The secunde syster, Sensualytie,
Quhilks did incres, within one schorte proces
Preplesande to the spiritualytie,
In gret substance and excellent bewtie.
Thir ladyis two grew so within few yeris
That in the warld wer non mycht be thare peris.

120

This royall Ryches and lady Sensuall,
Frome that tyme furth tuke hole the governance
Of the moste part of the stait spirituall.
And thay, agane with humyll observance,
Amorouslie thare wyttis did avance,
As trew luffaris, thare ladyis for to pleis.
God wate geve, than, thare hartis war at eis!

121

Soune thay foryet to study, praye, and preche;
Thay grew so subject to dame Sensuall,
And thocht bot paine pure pepyll for to teche.
Yit thay decretit, in thare gret counsall,
Thay wald no more to mariage be thrall,
Traistyng, surely, tyll observe chaistytie.
( " And all begylit! " quod Sensualytie.)

122

Apperandlye, thay did expell thare wyffis,
That thay mycht leif at large, without thirlage,
At libertie to lede thare lustie lyffis,
Thynkand men thrall, that bene in mariage
(For new faces provokis new corrage).
Thus chaistytie thay turne in to delyte:
Wantyng of wyffis bene cause of appetyte.

123

Dame Chaistitie did steill away for schame,
Frome tyme scho did persave thare proviance;
Dame Sensuall one letter gart proclame,
And hir exilit Italy and France.
In Inglande couthe scho get none ordinance.
Than to the kyng and courte of Scotlande
Scho markit hir, withouttin more demande.

124

Traistyng in to that court to get conforte,
Scho maid hir humyll supplycatioun.
Schortlye, thay said, scho sulde get na supporte,
Bot bostit hir, with blasphematioun,
" To preistis go mak your protestatioun!
It is " , said thay, " mony one houndreth yeir
Sen Chaistitie had ony entres heir. "

125

Tyrit for travell, scho to the preistis past,
And to the rewlaris of religioun.
Of hir presens, schortlye, thay war agast,
Sayand thay thocht it bot abusioun
Hir to resave. So, with conclusioun,
With one avyce, decretit and gave dome:
Thay walde resset no rebell out of Rome.

126

" Sulde we resave that Romanis hes refusit
And baneist Inglande, Italye and France?
For your flattrye, than wer we weill abusit!
Passe hyne, " said thay, " and fast your waye avance.
Amang the nonnis go seik your ordinance,
For we have maid aith of fidelytie
To dame Ryches and Sensualytie. "

127

Than paciently scho maid progressioun
Towarde the nonnis, with hart syching ful sore.
Thay gaif hir presens, with processioun,
Ressavand hir with honour, laud, and glore,
Purposyng to preserve hir ever more.
Of that nowellis, come to dame Propertie,
To Ryches and to Sensualytie,

128

Quhilks sped thame at the post, rycht spedalye,
And sett ane seage, proudlye, about the place.
The sillye nonnis did yeild thame haistelye,
And humllye of that gylt askit grace,
Syne gave thair bandis of perpetuall peace.
Ressavand thame, thay kest up wykketis wyde.
Than Chaistytie walde no langer abyde.

129

So, for refuge, fast to the freris scho fled,
Quhilks said thay wald of ladyis tak no cure."
" Quhare bene scho now?" than said the gredy gled.
" Nocht amang yow," said scho, " I yow assure.
I traist scho bene upon the Borrow Mure
Besouth Edinburgh, and that rycht mony menis,
Profest amang the systeris of the Schenis.

130

Thare hes scho found hir mother, Povertie,
And Devotioun, hir awin syster carnall,
Thare hes scho found faith, hope and charitie,
Togidder with the verteous cardinall.
Thare hes scho found ane convent yit unthrall
To dame Sensuall, nor with ryches abusit,
So quietlye those ladyis bene inclusit."

131

The pyote said, " I dreid, be thay assailyeit,
Thay rander thame, as did the holy nonnis."
" Doute nocht", said scho. " For thay bene so artalyeit,
Thay purpose to defend thame with thair gounnis.
Reddy to schute, thay have sax gret cannounnis,
Perseverance, Constance, and Conscience,
Austerytie, Laubour, and Abstynance.

132

To resyste subtell Sensualytie
Strongly thay bene enarmit, feit and handis,
Be abstynence, and keipith povertie
Contrar Ryches, and all hir fals servandis.
Thay have ane boumbard, braissit up in bandis,
To keip thare porte in myddis of thare clois,
Quhilk is callit " Domine custodi nos".

133

Within quhose schote thare dar no enimeis
Approche thare place, for dreid of dyntis doure.
Boith nycht and daye thay wyrk lyke besye beis
For thare defence, reddye to stand in stoure,
And hes sic watcheis on thare utter toure
That dame Sensual with seage dar not assailye,
Nor cum within the schote of thare artailye."

134

The pyote said, " Quhareto sulde thay presume
For to resyste sweit Sensualytie,
Or dame Ryches, quhilkis reularis bene in Rome?
Ar thay more constant, in thare qualytie,
Nor the prencis of spiritualytie,
Quhilkis plesandlye, withouttin obstaikle,
Haith thame resavit in thare habitakle?

135

Quhow lang, traist ye, those ladyis sall remane
So solyter, in sic perfectioun?"
The papingo said, " Brether, in certane,
So lang as thay obey Correctioun,
Cheisyng thare heddis be electioun
Unthrall to Ryches or to Povertie,
Bot as requyrith thare necessitie.

136

O prudent prelatis, quhare was your prescianis,
That tuke on hand tyll observe chaistytie
But austeir lyfe, laubour, and abstenance?
Persavit ye nocht the gret prosperitie,
Apperandlye, to cum of propertie?
Ye knaw gret cheir, gret eais, and idelnes,
To lychorie was mother and maistres."

137

" Thow ravis unrockit," the ravin said, " be the rude,
So to reprove Ryches, or Propertie.
Abraham and Isaac war ryche and verry gude,
Jacobe and Josephe had prosperitie."
The papingo said, " That is verytie.
Ryches, I grant, is nocht to be refusit,
Providyng, alwaye, it be nocht abusit."

138

" Than," said the ravin, " one replycatioun."
Syne said, " Thy reasone is nocht worth ane myte,
As I sall preve, with protestatioun,
That no man tak my wordis in dispyte.
I saye the temporall prencis hes the wyte,
That in the kirk sic pastours dois provyde
To governe saulis, that not tham selfis can gyde.

139

Lang tyme efter the kirk tuke Propertie,
The prelatis levit in gret perfectioun,
Unthrall to Ryches or Sensualytie,
Under the Holy Spreitis protectioun,
Orderlye chosin, be electioun,
As Gregore, Jerome, Ambrose and Augustyne,
Benedic, Barnerd, Clement, Cleit and Lyne.

140

Sic pacient prelatis, enterit be the porte,
Plesand the peple be predicatioun.
Now, dyke lowparis dois in the kirk resort,
Be symonie, and supplycatioun
Of prencis be thare presentatioun;
So sillye saulis, that bene Christis scheip,
Ar gevin to hungre, gormande wolfis to keip.

141

No marvell is, thocht we religious men
Degenerit be, and in our lyfe confusit:
Bot sing and drynk, none uther craft we ken.
Our spirituall fatheris hes us so abusit.
Agane our wyll, those treukouris bene intrusit:
Lawit men hes now religious men in curis;
Profest virgenis in keipyng of strong huris.

142

Prencis, prencis! Quhar bene your heych prudence
In dispositioun of your beneficeis?
The guerdonyng of your courticience
Is sum cause of thir gret enormyteis.
Thare is one sorte, watand lyke houngre fleis
For spirituall cure (thocht thay be no thing abyll)
Quhose gredie thristis bene insaciabyll.

143

Prencis, I pray yow be no more abusit,
To verteous men havyng so small regarde.
Quhy sulde vertew, throuch flattrye, be refusit,
That men for cunnyng can get no rewarde?
Allace, that ever one braggar, or ane barde,
Ane hure maister, or commoun hasarture
Sulde, in the kirk, get ony kynde of cure!

144

War I one one man worthy to weir ane croun,
Aye quhen thare vakit ony beneficeis,
I suld gar call ane congregatioun:
The principall of all the preliceis,
Moste counnyng clerkis of universiteis,
Moste famous fatheris of religioun,
With thare advyse, mak dispositioun.

145

I sulde dispone all offices pastorallis
Tyll doctours of devynitie or jure,
And cause dame Vertew pull up all hir salis,
Quhen counnyng men had in the kirk moist cure;
Gar lordis send thare sonnes, I yow assure,
To seik science, and famous sculis frequent,
Syne thame promove, that war moste sapient.

146

Gret plesour war to heir ane byschope preche:
One dane, or doctour in divinitie,
One abbote, quhilk could weill his convent teche;
One persoun, flowyng in phylosophie.
I tyne my tyme, to wys quhilk wyll nocht be!
War nocht the precheing of the beggyng freris,
Tynt war the faith amang the seculeris.

147

As for thare precheing,' quod the papingo,
" I thame excuse. For quhy? Thay bene so thrall
To Propertie, and hir ding dochteris two,
Dame Ryches and fair lady Sensuall,
Thay may nocht use no pastyme spirituall.
And in thare habitis thay take sic delyte,
Thay have renuncit russat and roploch quhyte,

148

Cleikand to thame skarlote and crammosie,
With menever, martrik, grice and ryche armyne.
Thare lawe hartis exaultit ar so hie,
To se thare papale pompe it is ane pyne.
More ryche arraye is now, with frenyeis fyne,
Upon the bardyng of ane byscheopis mule
Nor ever had Paule or Peter agane Yule.

149

Syne fair ladyis, thare chene may not eschape,
Dame Sensuall so sic seid haith in tham sawin.
Les skaith it war, with lycence of the Pape,
That ilke prelate one wyfe had, of his awin,
Nor se thar bastardis ovirthort the cuntre blawin.
For now, be thay be weill cumin from the sculis,
Thay fall to work as thay war commoun bullis!"

150

" Pew", quod the gled. " Thow prechis all in vaine.
Ye seculare folkis hes of our cace no curis."
" I grant", said scho. " Yit men wyll speik agane
Quhow ye haif maid a hundreth thousand huris
Quhilkis nevir hade bene, war not your lychorus luris,
And geve I lee, hartlye I me repent;
Was never bird, I watt, more penitent."

151

Than scho hir schrave, with devote contynance,
To that fals gled, quhilk fenyeit hym one freir.
And quhen scho had fulfyllit hir pennance,
Full subtellye at hir he gan inqueir:
" Cheis yow", said he, " quhilk of us brether heir
Sall have of all your naturall geir the curis;
Ye knaw none bene more holye creaturis."

152

" I am content", quod the pure papingo,
" That ye, freir gled, and corby monk, your brother,
Have cure of all my guddis and no mo,
Sen at this tyme, freindschip I fynd non uther."
" We salbe to yow trew, as tyll our mother,"
Quod thay and sweir tyll fulfyll hir intent.
" Of that", said scho, " I tak ane instrument."

153

" The pyote said, " Quhat sall myne office bee?"
" Ovirman", said scho, " unto the tother two."
The rowpand revin said, " Sweit syster, lat se
Your holy intent, for it is tyme to go."
The gredie gled said, " Brother do nocht so.
We wyll remane and haldin up hir hede
And never depart frome hir, tyll scho be dede."

154

The papingo thame thankit tenderlye
And said, " Sen ye have tane on yow this cure,
Depart myne naturall guddis equalye
That ever I had, or hes of dame Nature.
First, to the howlet, indegent and pure,
Quhilk on the daye, for schame, dar nocht be sene,
Tyll hir I laif my gaye galbarte of grene.

155

My brycht depurit ene, as christall cleir,
On to the bak ye sall thame boith present
(In Phebus presens, quhilk dar nocht appeir),
Of naturall sycht scho bene so impotent.
My birneist beik I laif, with gude entent,
Onto the gentyll, pieteous pillycane,
To helpe to peirs hir tender hart in twane.

156

I laif the goik, quhilk hes no sang bot one,
My musyke with my voce angelycall,
And to the guse, ye geve quhen I am gone,
My eloquence, and toung rethoricall.
And tak and drye my bones, gret and small,
Syne close thame in one cais of ebure fyne,
And thame present onto the phenix, syne,

157

To birne with hir, quhen scho hir lyfe renewis.
In Arabye ye sall hir fynde, but weir,
And sall knaw hir be hir moste hevinly hewis,
Gold, asure, gowles, purpour, and synopeir;
Hir dait is for to leif fyve houndreth yeir.
Mak to that bird my commendatioun.
And als, I mak yow supplycatioun,

158

Sen of my corps I have yow gevin the cure,
Ye speid yow to the court, but tareyng,
And tak my hart, of perfyte portrature,
And it present onto my soverane kyng;
I wat he wyll it clois in to one ryng.
Commande me to his grace, I yow exhorte,
And of my passioun mak hym trew reporte.

159

Ye thre my trypes sall have, for your travell,
With luffer and lowng, to part equale amang yow,
Prayand Pluto, the potent prince of hell,
Geve ye failye, that in his feit he fang yow.
Be to me trew, thocht I no thyng belang yow;
Sore I suspect your conscience be to large."
" Doute nocht", said thay. " We tak it with the charge."

160

" Adew, brether", quod the pure papingo.
" To talking more I have no tyme to tarye.
Bot sen my spreit mon fra my body go,
I recommend it to the quene of farye,
Eternallye in tyll hir court to carye,
In wyldernes, among the holtis hore."
Than scho inclynit hir hed and spak no more.

161

Plungit in tyll hir mortall passioun,
Full grevouslie scho gryppit to the ground.
It war to lang to mak narratioun
Of sychis sore, with mony stang and stound.
Out of hir wound the blude did so abound,
One coumpas round was with hir blude maid reid.
Without remaid thare wes no thyng bot dede.

162

And be scho had " In manus Tuas " said,
Extinctit wer hir naturall wyttis fyve.
Hir hed full softlye on hir schulder laid,
Syne yaild the spreit, with panes pungityve.
The ravin began rudely to ruge and ryve
Full gormondlyke, his emptie throte to feid.
" Eait softlye, brother", said the gredy gled.

163

" Quhill scho is hote, depart hir evin amang us.
Tak thow one half and reik to me ane uther;
In tyll our rycht, I wat, no wycht dar wrang us."
The pyote said, " The feinde resave the fouther!
Quhy mak ye me stepbarne and I your brother?
Ye do me wrang, schir gled, I schrew your harte."
" Tak thare", said he, " the puddyngis for thy parte!"

164

Than wyt ye weill, my hart wos wounder sair,
For to behalde that dolent departyng,
Hir angell fedderis fleyng in the air.
Except the hart, was left of hir no thyng.
The pyote said, " This pertenith to the kyng,
Quhilk, tyll his grace, I purpose to present."
" Thow", quod the gled, " sall faill of thy entent."

165

The ravin said, " God nor I rax in ane raipe
And thow get this tyll other kyng or duke!"
The pyote said, " Plene I nocht to the pape,
Than in ane smedie I be smorit with smuke!"
With that the gled the pece claucht in his cluke,
And fled his way; the lave, with all thare mycht,
To cheace the gled, flew all out of my sycht.

166

Now have ye hard this lytill tragedie,
The sore complent, the testament and myschance
Of this pure bird, quhilk did ascend so hie;
Beseikand yow excuse myne ignorance
And rude indyte, quhilk is nocht tyll avance.
And to the quair, I geve commandiment:
Mak no repair quhare poetis bene present.

167

Because thow bene but rethorike so rude,
Be never sene besyde none uther buke,
With kyng nor quene, with lord, nor man of gude.
With coit unclene, clame kynrent to sum cuke:
Steil in ane nuke quhen thay lyste on the luke.
For smell of smuke, men wyll abhor to beir the.
Heir I mansweir the; quhairfor, to lurke go leir the!