Thir riveris and thir watteris kepit war
By ane Charon, a grislie ferriar,
Terrible of schap, and sluggert of array:
Apon his chin feill cannos haris gray,
Lyart feltat tatis; with birnand ene reid,
Like tua fire blesis fixit in his heid.
His smotterit habit, our his schulderis lidder,
Hang prevagely knyt with a knot togiddir.
Hymself the cobil did with his bolm furth schow,
And, quhen hym list, halit wp salis fow.
This ald hasard careis our fludis hoit
Spretis and figuris in his irn hewit boit,
Allthocht he eildit was, or step in age,
Als fery and als swippir as a page;
For in a god the age is fresche and grene,
Infatigable and immortale as thai mene.
Thiddir to the bray swarmit all the rout
Of deid gaistis, and stud the bank about;
Baith matrouns, and thair husbandis, all yferis,
Ryall princis, and nobill chevaleris,
Small childrin, and goung damicellis unwed,
And fair springaldis laitlie deid in bed,
In fader and in moderis presens laid on beir.
Als gret number thiddir thikkit in feir,
As in the first frost eftir hervist tyde,
Levis of treis in the wod doith slyde;
Or birdis flokkis our the fludis gray,
Onto the land scikand the nerrest way,
Quhom the cald sesoun cachis our the see,
Into sum benar realm and warm countre.
Thair stud thai praying sum support to gett,
That thai mycht with the formast our be sett,
And gan wphevin petuuslie handis tuay,
Langing to be apon the forthir bray.