Classic Poem

1

The holie man, Job, ground of patience,
In his greit trubill trewlie did report,
Quilk I persave now be experience,
That mennis lyfe in eirth bene wounder short.
My youth is gane and eild now dois resort,
My time is gane. I think it but ane dreame.
Yit efter deith remane sall my gude fame.

2

I persave shortlie that I man pay my det.
To me in eirth no place bene permanent.
My hart on it no mair now will I set,
Bot, with the help of God omnipotent,
With resolute mind go mak my testament,
And tak my leif at cuntriemen and kyn
And all the warld. And thus I will begyn.

3

Thrie lordis to me salbe executouris:
Lindesayis all thrie, in surname of renoun.
Of my testament thay sall have hail the cure
To put my mind till executioun.
That surname failyeit never to the croun;
Na mair will thay to me, I am richt sure,
Quhilk is the caus I give them the cure.

4

First, David, Erll of Craufuird, wise and wicht,
And Johne, Lord Lindesay, my maister speciall.
The thrid salbe ane nobill travellit knicht
Quhilk knawis the coistis of feistis funeral,
The wise Sir Walter Lindesay, they him cal,
Lord of S. Johne and knicht of Torfichane;
Be sey and land ane vailyeand capitane.

5

Thocht age hes maid my bodie impotent,
Yit in my hart hie courage doeth precell,
Quhairfoir I leif to God, with gude intent,
My spreit, the quhilk he hes maid immortall,
Intill his court perpetuallie to dwell
And nevir moir to steir furth of that steid
Till Christ discend, and judge baith quick and deid.

6

I yow beseik, my lordis executouris,
My geir geve till the nixt of my kynrent.
(It is weill kend I never tuik na cures
Of conquessing of riches, nor of rent.)
Dispone as ye think maist expedient:
I never tuik cure of gold more than of glas;
Without honour, fy, fy, upon riches!

7

I yow requeist my freindis, ane and all,
And nobill men of quhome I am descendit,
Faill not to be at my feist funerall,
Quhilk throw the warld I traist salbe commendit.
Ye knaw how that my fame I have defendit
During my life unto this latter hour,
Quhilk suld to yow be infinit plesour.

8

First, of my bowellis, clenge my bodie clene,
Within and out, syne wesche it weill with wyne.
Bot honestie see that nothing be sene,
Syne clois it in ane coistlie carvit schryne
Of cedar treis, or of cyper fyne.
Anoynt my corps with balme delicious,
With cynamome and spycis precious.

9

In twa caissis, of gold and precious stanis,
Inclois my hart and toung richt craftelie.
My sepulture, syne, gar mak for my banis,
Into the tempill of Mars triumphandlie,
Of marbill stanis carvit richt curiouslie,
Quhairin my kist and banis ye sall clois
In that triumphand tempill to repois.

10

Mars, Venus and Mercurius: all thre
Gave me my natural inclinatiounis,
Quhilk rang the day of my nativitie,
And sa thair hevinlie constellatiounis
Did me support in monie natiounis.
Mars maid me hardie, like ane feirs lyoun,
Quhairthrow I conqueist honour and renoun.

11

Quho list to knaw the actis bellical,
Let thame go reid the legend of my life.
Thair sall thai find the deidis martiall,
How I have stand in monie stalwart strife
Victoriouslie, with speir, sheild, sword and knife.
Quhairfoir to Mars, the god armipotent,
My corps incloisit ye do till him present.

12

Mak offering of my toung rhetoricall
Till Mercurius, quhilk gaif me eloquence,
In his tempill to hing perpetuall.
I can mak him na better recompence,
For quhen I was brocht to the presence
Of kings, in Scotland, Ingland, and in France,
My ornate toung my honour did avance.

13

To fresche Venus, my hart ye sall present,
Quhilk hes to me bene ay comfortabill
And in my face sic grace scho did imprent
All creatures did think me amiabill.
Wemen to me scho maid sa favorabill,
Wes never ladie that luikit in my face
Bot, honestlie, I did obtene hir grace.

14

My freind, Sir David Lyndsay of the Mont,
Sall put in ordour my processioun.
I will that thair pas formest in the front,
To beir my penseil, ane wicht campioun.
With him, ane band of Mars his religioun
(That is to say, in steid of monkis and freiris),
In gude ordour ane thowsand hagbutteris.

15

Nixt them, ane thowsand futemen in ane rout,
With speir and sheild, with buckler, bow, and brand,
In ane luferay, young stalwart men and stout.
Thridlie in ordour, thair sall cum ane band
Of nobill men, abill to wraik thair harmes,
Thair capitane with my standart in his hand,
On bairdit hors ane hundreth men of armes.

16

Amang that band my baner salbe borne,
Of silver schene, thrie otteris into sabill,
With tabroun, trumpet, clarioun, and horne,
For men of armes verie convenabill.
Nixt efter them, ane campioun honorabill
Sall beir my basnet with my funerall.
Syne, efter him, in ordour triumphall,

17

My arming, sword, my gluifis of plait, and sheild,
Borne be ane forcie campioun or ane knicht
Quhilk did me serve in monie dangerous feild.
Nixt efter him, ane man in armour bricht,
Upon ane jonet, or ane cursour wicht,
The quhilk salbe ane man of greit honour,
Upon ane speir to beir my coit armour,

18

Syne, nixt my beir sall cum my corspresent
(My bairdit hors, my harnes and my speir,
With sum greit man of my awin kynrent),
As I wes wont on my bodie to beir
During my time quhen I went to the weir,
Quhilk salbe offerit with ane gay garment
To Mars his priest, at my interrement.

19

Duill weidis I think hypocrisie and scorne,
With huidis heklit doun ovirthort thair ene.
With men of armes my bodie salbe borne.
Into that band see that no blak be sene.
My luferay salbe reid, blew and grene,
The reid for Mars, the grene for freshe Venus,
The blew for lufe of god, Mercurius.

20

About my beir sall ryde ane multitude,
All of ane luiferay of my cullouris thrie;
Erles and lords, knichtis, and men of gude,
Ilk barroun beirand in his hand on hie
Ane lawrer branche in signe of victorie,
Becaus I fled never out of the feild,
Nor yit as presoner unto my fois me yeild.

21

Agane that day, faill not to warne and call
All men of musick and of menstrallie
About my beir, with mirthis musicall,
To dance and sing with hevinlie harmonie,
Quhais plesant sound redound sall in the sky.
My spreit, I wait, salbe with mirth and joy,
Quhairfoir, with mirth my corps ye sal convoy.

22

This beand done and all thing reulit richt,
Than plesantlie mak your progressioun,
Quhilk I beleif salbe ane plesant sicht.
Se that ye thoill na preist in my processioun
Without he be of Venus professioun.
Quhairfoir, gar warne al Venus chapel clarks,
Quhilk hes bene most exercit in hir warkis.

23

With ane bischop of that religioun,
Solemnitlie gar thame sing my saull mes,
With organe, timpane, trumpet, and clarion;
To shaw thair musick, dewlie them addres.
I will that day be hard no hevines:
I will na service of the Requiem ,
Bot Alleluya , with melodie and game.

24

Efter the evangell and the offertour,
Throw all the tempill gar proclame silence.
Than to the pulpet gar ane oratour
Pas up, and schaw in oppin audience,
Solempnitlie, with ornate eloquence,
At greit laser the legend of my life,
How I have stand in monie stalwart strife.

25

Quhen he hes red my buik fra end till end,
And of my life maid trew narratioun,
All creature, I wait, will me commend
And pray to God for my salvatioun.
Than efter this solempnizatioun
Of service, and all brocht to end,
With gravitie than with my bodie wend,

26

And clois it up into my sepulture,
Thair to repois till the greit Judgement,
The quhilk may not corrupt, I yow assure,
Be vertew of the precious oyntment
Of balme, and uther spyces redolent.
Let not be rung for me that day saull knellis,
Bot greit cannounis gar them crak for bellis.

27

Ane thousand hakbuttis gar schute, al at anis,
With swesche talburnis and trumpettis awfullie.
Lat never spair the poulder nor the stanis,
Quhais thundring sound redound sall in the sky,
That Mars may heir, quhair he triumphandlie
Abone Phebus is situate full evin,
Maist awfull god under the sternie hevin.

28

And syne, hing up above my sepulture
My bricht harnes, my sheild, and als my speir,
Togidder with my courtlie coit armour
(Quhilk I wes wont upon my bodie beir
In France, in Ingland, being at the weir),
My baner, basnet, with my temperall,
As bene the use of feastis funerall.

29

This beand done, I pray yow, tak the pane
My epitaphe to writ, upon this wyis,
Abone my grave, in goldin letteris fyne:
" The maist invincibill weiriour heir lyis,
During his time quhilk wan sic laud and pryis,
That throw the hevinis sprang his nobil fame.
Victorious William Meldrum wes his name."

30

Adew, my lordis, I may na langer tarie.
My Lord Lindesay, adew abone all uther.
I pray to God and to the Virgine Marie
With your lady to leif lang in the Struther.
Maister Patrik, with young Normand, your brother;
With my ladies, your sisteris, al adew.
My departing I wait weill ye will rew.

31

Bot maist of all, the fair ladies of France,
Quhen thai heir tell but dout that I am deid,
Extreme dolour wil change thair countenance
And for my saik will weir the murning weid.
Quhen thir novellis dois into Ingland spreide,
Of Londoun than the lustie ladies cleir
Will for my saik mak dule and drerie cheir.

32

Of Craigfergus, my dayis darling, adew.
In all Ireland of feminine the flour.
In your querrell twa men of weir I slew
Quhilk purposit to do yow dishonour.
Ye suld have bene my spous and paramour,
With rent and riches for my recompence,
Quhilk I refusit throw youth and insolence.

33

Fair weill, ye lemant lampis of lustines
Of fair Scotland, adew my ladies all.
During my youth, with ardent besines,
Ye knaw how I was in your service thrall.
Ten thowsand times adew, abone thame all,
Sterne of Stratherne, my ladie soverane,
For quhom I sched my blud with mekill pane.

34

Yit wald my ladie luke, at evin and morrow,
On my legend at lenth, scho wald not mis
How for hir saik I sufferit mekill sorrow.
Yit give I micht at this time get my wis,
Of hir sweit mouth, deir God, I had ane kis.
I wis in vane. Allace, we will dissever.
I say na mair. Sweit hart, adew for ever.

35

Brether in armes, adew, in generall.
For me, I wait, your hartis bene full soir.
All trew companyeounis into speciall,
I say to yow, adew, for evermoir,
Till that we meit agane with God in gloir.
Sir curat now gif me, incontinent,
My crysme, with the holie sacrament.

36

My spreit hartlie I recommend,
In manus Tuas, Domine.
My hoip to the is till ascend,
Rex, quia redemisti me.
Fra syn resurrexisti me ,
Or ellis my saull had bene forlorne.
With sapience docuisti me .
Blist be the hour that thow wes borne.