Chapter VI: Part 6

And of fyne silk thair furrit cloikis,
With hingand[1116] sleivis, lyk geill poikis[1117];
Na preiching will gar thame forbeir
To weir all thing that sinne provoikis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair wylecots man[1118] weill be hewit,
Broudirit[1119] richt braid, with pasmentis sewit[1120]:
I trow, quha wald the matter speir[1121],
That thair gudmen had caus to rew it
That evir thair wyfis weir sic geir.

Thair wovin hois of silk ar schawin,
Barrit abone with tasteis drawin[1122];
With gartens of ane new maneir,
To gar thair courtlines be knawin;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Sumtyme thay will beir up thair gown
To schaw thair wylecot hingeand down,
And sumtyme bayth thay will upbeir
To schaw thair hois of blak or broun;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair collars, carcats, and hals beidis[1123],
With velvet hats heicht[1124] on thair heidis,
Coirdit with gold lyik ane younkeir[1125],
Brouderit about with goldin threidis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

Thair schone of velvot, and thair muillis[1126];
In kirk ar not content of stuillis,
The sermon quhen thay sit to heir;
Bot caryis cuschingis lyik vaine fuillis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

I mein[1127] of thame thair honour dreidis;
Quhy sould thay nocht have honest weidis,
To thair estait doand effeir[1128]?
I mein of thame thair stait exceidis;
And all for newfangilnes of geir.

For sumtymes wyfis sa grave hes bein,
Lyik giglets cled wald nocht be sein.
Of burgess wyfis thoch I speak heir
Think weill[1129] of all wemen I mein,
On vaniteis that waistis geir.

Thay say wyfis ar so delicat
In feiding, feisting, and bankat,
Sum not content ar with sic cheir
As weill may suffice thair estait,
For newfangilnes of cheir and geir.

And sum will spend mair, I heir say,
In spyce and droggis on ane day
Than wald thair mothers in ane yeir;
Quhilk will gar monye pak[1130] decay,
Quhen thay sa vainlie waist thair geir.

Thairfoir, young wyfis speciallie,
Of all sic faultis hald yow frie,
And moderatly to leif now leir[1131]
In meit, and clayth[1132] accordinglie;
And nocht sa vainlie waist your geir.

Use not to skift athort the gait[1133],
Nor na mum chairtis, air nor lait[1134];
Be na dainser, nor this daingeir
Of yow be tane an ill consait
That ye ar habill[1135] to waist geir.

Hant[1136] ay in honest cumpanie,
And all suspicious places flie;
Lat never harlot cum yow neir,
That wald yow leid to leicherie,
In houp to get thairfoir sum geir.

My counsall I geve generallie
To all wemen, quhat-evir thay be,
This lesson for to quin per queir[1137],
Syne keip it weill continuallie
Better nor onye warldlie geir.

Leif[1138], burgess men, or all be loist,
On your wyfis to mak sic cost,
Quhilk may gar all your bairnis bleir[1139]:
Scho that may not want wyne and roist
Is abill for to waist sum geir.

Betwene thame and nobillis of blude
Na difference bot ane velvous huid!
Thair camroche curcheis[1140] ar als deir;
Thair uther claythis ar als guid;
And thai als costlie in uther geir.

Bot, wald grit ladyis tak gud heid
To thair honour, and find remeid,
Thai suld thole[1141] na sic wyfis to weir,
Lyk lordis wyfis, ladyis weid,
As dames of honour in thair geir.

I speik for na despyt trewlie,
(My-self am nocht of faultis frie),
Bot that ye sould nocht perseveir
Into sic folische vanitie
For na newfangilnes of geir.

Of burgess wyfis thoch I speik plaine,
Sum landwart[1142] ladyis ar als vain,
As be thair cleithing may appeir;
Werand[1143] gayer nor thame may gain--
On ouir[1144] vaine claythis waistand geir.

[1108] wondrous.

[1109] know.

[1110] spend.

[1111] novelty.

[1112] to add to.

[1113] marvel.

[1114] many.

[1115] “Of finest cambric their foc’sles,” an allusion to the actual turret which formed the forecastle of ancient ships of war, to which the high breast-trimming of ladies’ dresses probably presented some likeness.

[1116] hanging.

[1117] jelly bags.

[1118] Their under-petticoats must.

[1119] Broidered.

[1120] sewed with stripes of lace or silk.

[1121] enquire.

[1122] Barred above with drawn head-pieces. _O. Fr._ teste, tête.

[1123] necklaces and throat beads.

[1124] set high.

[1125] young person. Perhaps Dutch _jonker_.

[1126] sandals anciently worn by persons of rank.

[1127] lament.

[1128] doing what is becoming.

[1129] Be assured.

[1130] many a parcel, fortune.

[1131] learn.

[1132] clothe.

[1133] to glide across the street.

[1134] no mumming cards (playing cards with figures) early or late.

[1135] able.

[1136] Frequent.

[1137] to con by heart.

[1138] Leave off.

[1139] aspersion.

[1140] cambric kerchiefs.

[1141] suffer.

[1142] country.

[1143] Wearing.

[1144] over.

NA KYNDNES AT COURT WITHOUT SILLER.

Sumtyme to court I did repair,
Thairin sum errandis for to dress[1145],
Thinkand I had sum freindis thair
To help fordwart my buseness:
Bot, nocht the les,
I fand nathing bot doubilness;
Auld kyndnes helpis nocht ane hair.

To ane grit court-man I did speir[1146],
That I trowit my friend had bene
Becaus we war of kyn sa neir;
To him my mater I did mene[1147];
Bot, with disdene,
He fled as I had done him tene[1148],
And wald nocht byd my taill to heir.

I wend[1149] that he in word and deid
For me, his kynsman, sould have wrocht;
Bot to my speiche he tuke na heid;
Neirnes of blude he sett at nocht.
Than weill I thocht
Quhan I for sibnes[1150] to him socht[1151]
It wes the wrang way that I geid[1152].

My hand I put into my sleif,
And furthe of it ane purs I drew,
And said I brocht it him to geif[1153].
Bayth gold and silver I him schew;
Than he did rew
That he unkindlie me misknew;
And hint[1154] the purs fest in his neif.[1155]

Fra tyme he gat the purs in hand
He kyndlie ‘Cousin’ callit me,
And baid me gar him understand
My buseness all haillalie,
And swair that he
My trew and faythfull friend sould be
In courte as I pleis him command.

For quhilk, better it is, I trow;
Into the courte to get supplé[1156],
To have ane purs of fyne gold fow[1157],
Nor to the hiest of degre
Of kyn to be.
Sa alteris our nobilitie:
Grit kynrent[1158] helpis lytill now.

Thairfoir, my freindis, gif ye will mak
All courte men youris as ye wald,
Gude gold and silver with you tak;
Than to get help ye may be bald;
For it is tauld
Kyndness of courte is coft and sald[1159];
Neirnes of kyn na-thing thai rak[1160].

[1145] attend to.

[1146] inquire.

[1147] complain.

[1148] made him angry.

[1149] deemed.

[1150] kinship.

[1151] made my way.

[1152] went.

[1153] give.

[1154] seized.

[1155] fist.

[1156] help.

[1157] full.

[1158] kindred.

[1159] bought and sold.

[1160] reck.

ON THE FOLYE OF ANE AULD MANIS MARYAND ANE YOUNG WOMAN.

Amang all folleis ane great folye I find,
Quhen that ane man past fyftie yeir of aige
That in his vaine consait he growes sa blind
As for to join him-selffe in maryage
With ane young lass quhais bluid is yet in raige,
Thinkand that he may serve hir appetyte;
Quhilk and he faill than[1161] will scho him dispyte.

Still ageit men sould jois[1162] in morall taillis,
And nocht in taillis: for folye is to mary
Fra tyme that baith thair strenthe and nature faillis,
And tak ane wyf to bring him-selffe in tarye[1163];
For fresche Maii and cauld Januarij
Agreeis nocht upon ane sang in tune,
The tribbill wantis that sould be sang abune[1164].

Men sould tak voyage at the larkis sang,
And nocht at evin quhen passit is the day.
Efter mid-age the luifar[1165] lyes full lang,
Quhen that his hair is turnit lyart[1166] gray.
Ane auld beird till ane quhyte mouth to lay
In-to ane bed, it is ane piteous sycht:
The ane cryes help! the uther hes no mycht.

Till haive bene merchand bygaine monie ane yeir
In Antwerp, Burges, and in town of Berrie,
Syne in-to Deip for to tyne[1167] all his geir
With vane conseat to puir[1168] himselffe, and herrie[1169].
Grit perell is for to pas our the ferrie
In-to ane laikand boit[1170] nocht naillit fast,
To beir the saill nocht havand ane steife mast.

To tak ane mellein[1171] that grit lawbour requyris,
Syne wantis grayth[1172] for to manure the land;
Quhair seid wantis then men of teilling tyris;
Than cumis ane, findis it waist lyand,
Yokis his pleuch, teilleis[1173] at his awin hand.
Better had bene the first had never kend it[1174]
Nor thoill[1175] that schame. And sa my tale is endit.

[1161] Of which if he fail then.

[1162] joy.

[1163] vexation.

[1164] above.

[1165] lover.

[1166] partly, _lit._ greyish.

[1167] lose.

[1168] impoverish.

[1169] harry, ruin.

[1170] leaking boat.

[1171] farm.

[1172] substance.

[1173] tills.

[1174] known it.

[1175] suffer.

AGANIS THE THEIVIS OF LIDDISDAILL.

Of Liddisdaill the commoun theifis
Sa pertlie[1176] steillis now and reiffis[1177],
That nane may keip
Hors, nolt, nor scheip,
Nor yit dar sleip
For thair mischeifis.

Thay plainlie throw the countrie rydis;
I trow the meikill[1178] devill thame gydis:
Quhair thay onsett
Ay in thair gait[1179]
Thair is na yett[1180]
Nor dure thame bydis[1181].

Thay leif richt nocht[1182]; quhairever thay ga
Thair can na-thing be hid thame fra;
For, gif men wald
Thair housis hald,
Than waxe they bald
To burn and slay.

Thay theifis have neirhand herreit haill[1183]
Ettrick forest and Lauderdaill;
Now ar they gane
In Lothiane,
And spairis nane
That thay will waill[1184].

Thai landis ar with stouth sa socht[1185]
To extreme povertie ar brocht;
Thai wicked schrowis[1186]
Has laid[1187] the plowis,
That nane or few is
That are left ocht[1188].

Bot commoun taking of blak-maill,[1189]
Thay that had flesche and breid and aill
Now ar sa wraikit[1190],
Maid puir and naikit,
Fane to be staikit[1191]
With watter-caill[1192].

Thai theifis that steillis and tursis[1193] hame,
Ilk ane of thame hes ane to-name--
Will of the Lawis,
Hab of the Schawis.
To mak bair wawis[1194]
Thay think na schame.

Thay spuilye[1195] puir men of thair pakis[1196];
Thay leif thame nocht, on bed nor bakis;
Bayth hen and cok,
With reill and rok[1197],
The Landis Jok
All with him takis.

Thay leif not spendill, spoone, nor speit,
Bed, bowster, blanket, sark, nor scheit;
Johne of the Parke
Rypis kist[1198] and ark;
For all sic wark
He is richt meit.

He is weill kend, Johne of the Syde;
A gretar theif did never ryde:
He nevir tyris
For to brek byris;
Our muir and myris
Our gude ane gyide[1199].

Thair is ane, callit Clements Hob,
Fra ilk puir wyfe reiffis hir wob[1200],
And all the laif[1201],
Quhatever thay haif:
The deuil resave
Thairfoir his gob[1202]!

To sic grit stouth quha-eir wald trow it
But gif sum greit man it allowit?
Rycht sair I rew,
Thocht it be trew,
Thair is sa few
That dar avow it.

Of sum grit men they have sic gait[1203]
That redy ar thame to debait[1204],
And will up weir[1205]
Thair stolin geir,
That nane dar steir[1206]
Thame, air nor lait.

Quhat causis theifis us our-gang[1207]
Bot want of justice us amang?
Nane takis cair
Thocht all forfair[1208]:
Na man will spair
Now to do wrang.

Of stouth thocht now thay cum gud speid
That nather of men nor God hes dreid,
Yit, or I die,
Sum sall thame sie
Hing on a trie
Quhill[1209] thay be deid.

[1176] boldly.

[1177] rob.

[1178] great.

[1179] path.

[1180] gate.

[1181] abides, withstands.

[1182] They leave quite nothing.

[1183] almost wholly harried.

[1184] choose.

[1185] with theft so wasted.

[1186] Those wicked villains.

[1187] rendered inactive.

[1188] aught.

[1189] Blackmail was the yearly sum paid by farmers on the Highland and English borders to some powerful chieftain like Rob Roy or Johnnie Armstrong, who in return undertook to make good any losses by depredation.

[1190] wrecked.

[1191] accommodated.

[1192] broth made without meat.

[1193] carry off.

[1194] walls.

[1195] despoil.

[1196] stores.

[1197] reel and distaff.

[1198] Searches chest.

[1199] Too good a guide.

[1200] robs her web.

[1201] rest.

[1202] stomach.

[1203] such access.

[1204] to make contention for.

[1205] herd, protect.

[1206] stir.

[1207] oppress.

[1208] Though all perish.

[1209] Till.

ADVYCE TO LESOM MIRRINESS.

Quhen I haive done considder
This warldis vanitie,
So brukill and sa slidder[1210],
Sa full of miserie;
Then I remember me
That heir thair is no rest;
Thairfoir appeirantlie
To be mirrie is best.

Let us be blyth and glaid,
My freindis all, I pray.
To be pensive and sad
Na-thing it help us may.
Thairfoir put quyt away
All heviness of thocht:
Thocht we murne nicht and day
It will availl us nocht.

It will not be our sorrow
That will stoip Godis hand,
To strik baith evin and morrow
Baith on the sie and land.
Sen nane may it gainestand[1211]
Let us be all content
To underly the wand
Of Godis punischment.

Quhat God pleasis to do
Accept it thankfullie;
Quhat paine he puttis us to
Receive it pacientlie.
And give[1212] that we wald be
Releveit of our paine,
For sin ask God mercie,
Offend Him nocht againe.

Give we will mak murning,
Sould be for our offence,
And not that God dois bring
On us for violence,
For ane dyveris pretence;
For some He will puneis
To proive thair patience,
And som for thair great miss[1213].

Sen first the warld began
Thair hes bein trubill ay
For punischment of men,
And sall quhill domisday.
And sen we may not stay
Quhat God pleis do us till,
Quhat He will on us lay
Receive it with guid will.

For God will lay som scurge
Quhill that the warld tak end;
Fra sin the warld to purge
Will ay som plaigis send.
Bot quha will lyfe amend,
And preis[1214] to sin no moir,
Then God will him defend
Fra everlasting cair.

Yet plainelie I concluide,
Into all wardlieness
Nathing for man sa guide
As lesome[1215] mirrines;
For thair is na riches
Sa lang his lyfe can lenthe,
Conserve him fra seiknes,
And keip him in his strenthe.

Thairfoir with trew intent
Let us at God ask grace
Our sines to repent
Quhill we haive tyme and space;
Syne bring us to that place
Quhair joy is evermoir,
And sie God face to face
In His eternall gloir.

[1210] So brittle and slippery.

[1211] withstand.

[1212] if.

[1213] fault.

[1214] strive.

[1215] lawful.

ALEXANDER SCOT.

Of several poets who owe the preservation of their works and memory entirely to the writer of the Bannatyne Manuscript, the chief is Alexander Scot. Pinkerton termed him the Anacreon of old Scottish poetry, and placed him at the head of the ancient minor poets of his country--a judgment in which succeeding critics have uniformly agreed.

As with many other of these ancient singers, almost nothing is certainly known of the facts of Scot’s life, the little information we possess consisting almost wholly of deduction from the poet’s works themselves. Dr. Laing was inclined to set his birth about the year 1520, and quoted a precept of legitimation from the Privy Seal Register of 1549 as possibly concerning him. This precept, if proved to refer to the poet, would declare him a natural son of Alexander Scot, prebendary of the Chapel Royal of Stirling. The presumption, however, is somewhat slight. From the refrain of “The Justing at the Drum” it has been inferred that he resided in the neighbourhood of Dalkeith, near Edinburgh. One of his pieces, in the opinion of Lord Hailes, expresses the “Lament of the Maister of Erskyn,” who was killed at Pinkie-cleugh in 1547, and from this and other allusions it is gathered that Scot began writing at least so early as 1545, while, of course, none of his extant verse can be of later date than 1568, the year in which Bannatyne compiled his MS. The general strain of the poems declares Scot to have been a layman; from the occurrence of several legal terms in his work it has been suggested that he was a jurist; and from expressions such as that in “Ane New Yeir Gift to the Quene Mary,” in which he prays God to give the young ruler grace “to punisch papistis and reproche oppressouris,” it seems clear that he favoured the principles of the Reforming party. On only one point of his personal history, however, entire certainty exists. The colophon of his poem “To luve vnluvit” expressly states that the piece was written “quhen his wyfe left him.” From two of his compositions, “Luve preysis,” and “Vp, helsum hairt,” it might be gathered that his lady was of higher rank than himself, a fact which, if true, might account for his wedded unhappiness. Perhaps he was one of those whose love, too complete and obvious, fails to exact adequate return. This possibility, indeed, he seems to have discovered, as in more than one of his later poems he sorrowfully counsels something of reserve and self-restraint as the best policy of the lover. His experience had also the effect of opening his eyes to the shortcomings of the other sex, and induced him to allude to these in lines of biting satire. A passage in a poem of his contemporary Montgomerie informs us that Scot lived to advanced years. In a sonnet to Robert Hudson, written about the year 1584, the author of “The Cherrie and the Slae” refers to “old Scot” as still alive.

With a few exceptions, the poems of Scot[1216] are all of the amatory kind, and, taken together, form a fairly complete comment on the pains, the pleasures, and the arts of love. His longest composition, the “New Yeir Gift to Quene Mary” sheds much curious light upon the social conditions of 1562; and in “The Justing at the Drum,” an imitation of “Chrystis Kirk on the Grene,” he has followed the initiative of Dunbar and Lyndsay, and in a quaint strain of humour has burlesqued the practice of the tourney. Of the general tenor of his work the lines of Allan Ramsay may be taken as a fair description.

Licht-skirtit lasses, and the girnand wyfe,
Fleming and Scot haif painted to the lyfe.
Scot, sweit-tungd Scot, quha sings the Welcum hame
To Mary, our maist bony Soverane Dame.
How lyflie he and amorous Stuart sing
Quhen lufe and bewtie bid them spred the wing![1217]

[1216] As already stated, the preservation of all the extant compositions attributed to Scot is owed to Bannatyne’s MS. From this several pieces were printed by Ramsay, Hailes, Pinkerton, and Sibbald, in their several collections. The poems were first gathered into one volume by Laing, who printed an octavo edition of one hundred copies for private circulation at Edinburgh in 1821. Another edition, of seventy copies, by Alexander Smith, was printed at Glasgow in 1882. And in 1887 a modernised version of considerable merit by William M’Kean, “based mainly on Laing’s collection,” and not containing all the author’s work, was printed at Paisley.

[1217] _Memorials of George Bannatyne_, Edin. 1829, p. 47.

Exhibiting mastery of a surprising variety of stanza forms, his verse possesses an ease and finish unsurpassed in his time. Here and there he flashes out in a terse aphoristic style, as when he gives his views on womankind--

Thay wald be rewit, and hes no rewth;
Thay wald be menit, and no man menis;
Thay wald be trowit, and hes no trewth;
Thay wiss thair will that skant weill wenys.

Not less is he at home in paradox:

For nobillis hes nocht ay renown,
Nor gentillis ay the gayest goun;
Thay cary victuallis to the toun
That werst dois dyne.
Sa bissely to busk I boun,
Ane-vthir eitis the berry doun
That suld be myne.

And for expression of downright democratic sentiment, the author of “A man’s a man for a’ that” might have written the lines--

For quhy? as bricht bene birneist brass
As siluer wrocht at all dewiss,
And als gud drinking out of glass
As gold, thocht gold of grittar pryss.

But, apart from its poetic fascination, a peculiar interest attaches to the work of the man who struck the first distinctly modern note in Scottish poetry. Breaking away from the conventional forms of the old makars, Alexander Scot wrote in a direct, natural fashion, and but for their rich quaintness of expression and their antique language, many of his pieces might almost be the work of a poet of the nineteenth century. The form of his work, its aptness to turn upon some single thought or situation, and its general tendency to direct expression of personal feeling and experience, entitle him to be considered the earliest of the more distinctly lyrical poets of Scotland.

THE JUSTING AND DEBAIT VP AT THE DRUM BETUIX WILLIAM ADAMSONE AND JOHINE SYM.

The grit debait and turnament
Off trewth no toung can tell,
Wes for a lusty lady gent[1218],
Betuix twa freikis[1219] fell.
For Mars the god armipotent
Wes nocht sa ferss him-sell,
Nor Hercules, that aikkis vprent,
And dang[1220] the devill of hell,
With hornis;
Vp at the Drum[1221] that day.

Doutles wes nocht so duchty deidis
Amangis the dowsy peiris[1222],
Nor yit no clerk in story reidis
Off sa tryvmphand weiris[1223];
To se so stowtly on thair steidis
Tha stalwart knychtis steiris[1224],
Quhill bellyis bair for brodding[1225] bleidis
With spurris als scherp as breiris[1226],
And kene,
Vp at the Drum that day.

Vp at the Drum the day wes sett,
And fixit wes the feild
Quhair baith thir noble chiftanis mett
Enarmit vndir scheild.
Thay wer sa haisty and sa hett[1227]
That nane of thame wald yeild,
Bot to debait or be doun bett
And in the quarrell keild
Or slane,
Vp at the Drum that day.

Thair wes ane bettir and ane worss,
I wald that it wer wittin[1228];
For William wichttar wes of corss[1229]
Nor Sym, and bettir knittin.
Sym said he sett nocht by his forss,
Bot hecht[1230] he sowld be hittin,
And[1231] he micht counter Will on horss;
For Sym wes bettir sittin
Nor Will,
Vp at the Drum that day.

To se the stryfe come yunkeirs[1232] stowt,
And mony galyart[1233] man;
All denteis deir wes thair but dowt,
The wyne on broich[1234] it ran.
Trumpettis and schalmis[1235] with a schowt
Playid or the rink[1236] began,
And eikwall juges satt abowt
To se quha tynt or wan[1237]
The feild,
Vp at the Drum that day.

With twa blunt trincher speiris squair
It wes thair interpryiss,
To fecht with baith thair facis bair
For lufe, as is the gyiss[1238].
Ane freynd of thairis throw hap come thair,
And hard the rumor ryiss,
Quha stall away thair styngis[1239] baith clair,
And hid in secreit wayiss,
For skaith[1240],
Vp at the Drum that day.

Strang men of armes and of micht
Wer sett thame for to sidder.
The harraldis cryd “God schaw the rycht!”
Syne bad thame go togidder.
“Quhair is my speir?” sayis Sym the knycht;
“Sum man go bring it hidder.”
Bot wald thay tary thair all nycht,
Thair lanciss come to lidder[1241]
And slaw,
Vp at the Drum that day.

Syme flew als fery as a fowne[1242];
Doun fra the horss he slaid,
Sayis, “He sall rew my staff hes stowin[1243],
For I sal be his deid[1244].”
William his vow plicht to the powin[1245],
For favour or for feid[1246];
“Als gude the tre had nevir growin,
Quhairof my speir wes maid,
To just!”
Vp at the Drum that day.

Thir vowis maid to syn and mone[1247],
Thay raikit[1248] baith to rest,
Thame to refress with thair disione[1249]
And of thair armour kest.
Nocht knawing of the deid wes done,
Quhen thay suld haif fairin best,
The fyre wes pischt out lang or none[1250]
Thair dennaris suld haif drest
And dicht[1251],
Vp at the Drum that day.

Than wer thay movit owt of mynd
Far mair than of beforne.
Thay wist nocht how to get him pynd[1252]
That thame had drevin to skorne.
Thair wes no deth mycht be devynd,
Bot ethis[1253] haif thay sworne,
He suld deir by be[1254] thay had dynd,
And ban that he wes borne
Or bred;
Vp at the Drum that day.

Than to Dalkeith thai maid thame boun,
Reidwod[1255] of this reproche.
Thair wes baith wyne and vennisoun,
And barrellis ran on broche.
Thay band vp kyndness in that toun,
Nane fra his feir to foche[1256];
For thair wes nowdir lad nor loun[1257]
Micht eit are baikin loche[1258],
For fowness[1259],
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Syne eftir denner raiss the din,
And all the toun on steir[1260].
William wes wyiss, and held him in,
For he wes in a feir[1261].
Sym to haif bargan cowld nocht blin[1262],
But bukkit Will on weir[1263];
Sayis, “Gife thow wald this lady win,
Cum furth and brek a speir
With me!”
Vp at Dalkeyth that day.

This still for bargan Sym abyddis,
And schowttit Will to schame.
Will saw his fais on bath the syddis;
Full sair he dred[1264] for blame.
Will schortly to his horss he slydis,
And sayis to Sym be name,
“Bettir we bath wer byand hyddis[1265]
And weddir[1266] skynnis at hame,
Nor heir;”
Vp at Dalkeyth that day.

Now is the growme[1267] that wes so grym
Rycht glaid to leif in lie[1268].
“Fy, theif, for schame!” sayis littill Sym,
“Will thow nocht fecht with me?
Thow art moir lerge of lyth[1269] and lym
Nor I am, be sic thre[1270].”
And all the feild cryd fy on him,
Sa cowartly tuk the fle[1271]
For feir,
Vp at Dalkeyth that day.

Than every man gaif Will a mok[1272],
And said he wes our meik[1273].
Sayis Sym, “Send for thy broder Jok;
I sall nocht be to seik.
For wer ye foursum[1274] in a flok,
I compt yow nocht a leik,
Thocht I had rycht nocht bot a rok[1275],
To gar your rumpill reik[1276]
Behynd!”
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Thair wes rycht nocht[1277] bot haif and ga;
With lawchter lowd thay lewche[1278]
Quhen thay saw Sym sic curage ta[1279],
And Will mak it sa twche[1280].
Sym lap on horsbak lyk a ra[1281],
And ran him till a huche[1282],
Sayis “William, cum ryd doun this bra[1283],
Thocht ye suld brek ane bwche[1284],
Fo lufe!”
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Sone doun the bra Sym braid[1285] lyk thunder,
And bad Will fallow fast.
To grund for fersness he did funder
Be he midhill had past.
William saw Sym in sic a blunder,
To ga he wes agast;
For he affeird[1286] it wes na winder
His cursour suld him cast
And hurt him,
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Than all the yunkerris bad Will yeild
Or doun the glen to gang[1287].
Sum cryd the koward suld be keild;
Sum doun the hewche he thrang[1288].
Sum ruscht, sum rummyld[1289], sum reild[1290];
Sum be the bewche[1291] he hang.
Thair avairis[1292] fyld vp all the feild,
Thay wer so fow and pang[1293]
With drafe[1294],
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Than gelly[1295] Johine come in a jak[1296]
To feild quhair he wes feidit[1297],
Abone[1298] his brand ane bucklar blak,
Baill fell the bern that bedit[1299].
He slippit swiftly to the slak[1300],
And rudly doun he raid it.
Befoir his curpall[1301] wes a crak
Culd na man tell quha maid it,
For lawchter,
Vp at Dalkeith that day.

Be than the bowgill gan to blaw;
For nycht had thame ourtane.
“Allaiss!” said Sym, “for falt of law,
That bargan get I nane.”
Thuss hame with mony crak and flaw[1302]
Thay passid every ane;
Syne pairtit at the Potter raw,
And sindry gaitis[1303] ar gane,
To rest thame,
Within the toun that nicht.

L’ENVOY.

This Will wes he begyld the may,
And did hir marriage spill.
He promeist hir to lat him play,
Hir purposs to fulfill.
Fra[1304] scho fell fow[1305] he fled away,
And come na mair hir till:
Quhairfoir he tynt[1306] the feild that day,
And tuk him to ane mill,
To hyd him,
As coward fals of fey[1307].

[1218] a lady comely and neat.

[1219] stout fellows.

[1220] beat.

[1221] The Drum was a house belonging to Lord Somerville, situated between Dalkeith and Edinburgh.

[1222] _douze pairs_, the twelve peers of Charlemagne.

[1223] wars.

[1224] stir, move.

[1225] pricking, spurring.

[1226] briers.

[1227] hot.

[1228] known.

[1229] was stronger of body.

[1230] promised.

[1231] If.

[1232] youngsters. (Perhaps Dutch _jonker_, young nobleman.)

[1233] sprightly.

[1234] foam.

[1235] cornets.

[1236] course.

[1237] lost or won.

[1238] fashion.

[1239] pikes.

[1240] hurt.

[1241] too sluggishly.

[1242] as active as a fawn.

[1243] stolen.

[1244] death.

[1245] pledged to the peacock.

[1246] feud.

[1247] sun and moon.

[1248] ranged.

[1249] breakfast. O. Fr. _desjune_.

[1250] ere noon.

[1251] prepared.

[1252] pained, punished.

[1253] oaths.

[1254] by the time that.

[1255] Anger-mad, furious.

[1256] from his companion to fetch.

[1257] neither lad nor knave.

[1258] a baked loach.

[1259] fullness, drunkenness.

[1260] astir.

[1261] in company.

[1262] from having combat could not desist.

[1263] incited Will to war.

[1264] dreaded.

[1265] buying hides.

[1266] wether.

[1267] the groom, the gallant.

[1268] to live in peace.

[1269] joint.

[1270] by three such.

[1271] flight.

[1272] jibe.

[1273] over meek.

[1274] four together.

[1275] distaff.

[1276] to make your rump smoke.

[1277] nothing at all.

[1278] laughed.

[1279] take.

[1280] do it so reluctantly.

[1281] roe.

[1282] steep bank.

[1283] declivity.

[1284] limb.

[1285] rushed.

[1286] feared.

[1287] go.

[1288] thrust.

[1289] rumbled.

[1290] rolled.

[1291] limb, bough.

[1292] belongings.

[1293] full and crammed.

[1294] malt liquor, _lit._ grains.

[1295] worthy.

[1296] jacket of mail.

[1297] held at feud.

[1298] Above.

[1299] Woe befell the man that awaited it.

[1300] gap, opening between hills.

[1301] crupper.

[1302] with many a boast and fib.

[1303] ways.

[1304] From the time when.

[1305] full.

[1306] lost.

[1307] faith.

HENCE, HAIRT.

Hence, hairt, with hir that most depairte,
And hald thé with thy souerane;
For I had lever want ane harte
Nor haif the hairt that dois me pane.
Thairfoir go, with thy lufe remane,
And lat me leif thus vnmolest;
And se that thou cum nocht agane,
Bot byd with hir thow luvis best.

Sen scho that I haif scheruit lang[1308]
Is to depairt so suddanly,
Address[1309] thé now, for thow sall gang
And beir thy lady cumpany.
Fra scho be gon, hairtles am I;
For quhy? thow art with hir possest;
Thairfoir, my hairt, go hence in hy[1310],
And byd with hir thow luvis best.

Thocht this belappit[1311] body heir
Be bound to scheruitude and thrall,
My fathfull hairt is fre inteir,
And mynd to serf my lady at all[1312].
Wald God that I wer perigall[1313],
Vnder that redolent ross to rest;
Yit at the leist, my hairt, thow sall
Abyd with hir thow lufis best.

Sen in your garth[1314] the lilly quhyte
May nocht remane amang the laif[1315],
Adew the flour of haill[1316] delyte,
Adew the succour that ma me saif!
Adew the fragrant balmé suaif[1317],
And lamp of ladeis lustiest!
My faythfull hairt scho sall it haif,
To byd with hir it luvis best.

Deploir, ye ladeis cleir of hew,
Hir abscence, sen scho most depairte;
And specialy ye luvaris trew
That woundit bene with luvis darte.
For sum of yow sall want ane parte
Als weill as I; thairfoir at last
Do go with myn, with mynd inwart,
And byd with hir thow luvis best.

[1308] served long.

[1309] Prepare.

[1310] haste.

[1311] beleaguered.

[1312] wholly.

[1313] per-equal, _i.e._ quite worthy.

[1314] garden.

[1315] rest.

[1316] whole.

[1317] kiss.

OPPRESSIT HAIRT INDURE.

Oppressit hairt indure
In dolour and distress,
Wappit without recure[1318]
In wo remidiless.
Sen scho is merciless,
And caussis all thy smert,
Quhilk suld thy dolour dress[1319],
Indure, oppressit hairt.

Perforss tak paciens,
And dre[1320] thy destany.
To lufe but recompens
Is grit perplexitie.
Of thyne aduersitie
Wyt[1321] thy-self and no mo,
For quhen that thow wes fre
Thow wald nocht hald thé so.

Thow langit ay to prufe
The strenth of luvis lair[1322],
And quhat kin[1323] thing wes lufe,
Quhilk now settis[1324] thé so sair.
Off all thy wo and cair
It mendis thé nocht to mene[1325]:
Howbeid thow suld forfair[1326],
Thy-self the causs hes bene.

Quhen thow wes weill at eiss,
And subiect to no wicht,
Thow hir for lufe did cheiss[1327]
Quhilk settis thy lufe at licht;
And thocht thow knew hir slicht[1328]
Yit wald thow [nocht] refrane,
Thairfoir it is bot rycht
That thow indure the pane.

Bot yit my corpss, allace,
Is wrangusly opprest
Be thé in-to this cace,
And brocht to grit wanrest[1329].
Quhy suld it so be drest[1330]
Be thé, and daly pynd[1331],
Quhilk still it ay detest?
Thy wantoun folich mynd.

The blenkyne[1332] of ane e
Ay gart thé goif and glaik[1333];
My body bad lat be,
And of thy siching slaik[1334].
Thow wald nocht rest, bot raik[1335],
And lair[1336] thé in the myre;
Yit felyeit thow to faik[1337]
That thow did maist desyre.

Thocht thow do murn and weip,
With inwart spreit opprest,
Quhen vthir men takis sleip
Thow wantis the nychtis rest.
Scho quhome thow luvis best
Off thé takis littill thocht,
Thy wo and grit wanrest
And cair scho countis nocht.

Thairfoir go hens in haist,
My langour to lament,
Do nocht my body waist,
Quhilk nevir did consent.
And thocht thow wald repent
That thow hir hes persewit.
Yit man[1338] thow stand content,
And drynk that thow hes brewit.

[1318] Enwrapped without recovery.

[1319] aid.

[1320] endure.

[1321] blame.

[1322] lore.

[1323] kind of.

[1324] besets.

[1325] lament.

[1326] Though thou shouldst perish.

[1327] choose.

[1328] worthless.

[1329] unrest.

[1330] treated.

[1331] daily pained.

[1332] glancing.

[1333] made thee stare and idle.

[1334] slacken, abate thy sighing.

[1335] range.

[1336] earth.

[1337] failedst thou to grasp.

[1338] must.

TO LUVE VNLUVIT.

To luve vnluvit it is ane pane;
For scho that is my souerane,
Sum wantoun man so he[1339] hes set hir
That I can get no lufe agane,
Bot brekis my hairt, and nocht the bettir.

Quhen that I went with that sweit may
To dance, to sing, to sport and pley,
And oft-tymes in my armis plet[1340] hir,
I do now mvrne both nycht and day,
And brekis my hart, and nocht the bettir.

Quhair I wes wont to se hir go
Rycht trymly passand to and fro
With cumly smylis quhen I met hir;
And now I leif in pane and wo,
And brekis my hart, and nocht the bettir.

Quhattane ane glaikit fule[1341] am I,
To slay my-self with malancoly,
Sen weill I ken[1342] I may nocht get hir?
Or quhat suld be the caus, and quhy,
To brek my hart, and nocht the bettir?

My hairt, sen thow may nocht hir pleiss,
Adew! As gud lufe cumis as gaiss[1343].
Go chuse ane-vdir and foryet hir.
God gif him dolour and diseiss[1344]
That brekis thair hairt, and nocht the bettir.

_Quod Scott quhen his Wyfe left him._

[1339] high.

[1340] folded.

[1341] What a stupid fool.

[1342] Since well I know.

[1343] goes.

[1344] want of ease.

LO, QUHAT IT IS TO LUFE.

Lo, quhat it is to lufe,
Lerne, ye that list to prufe,
Be me, I say, that no ways may
The grund of greif remvfe,
Bot still decay, both nycht and day;
Lo, quhat it is to lufe.

Lufe is ane fervent fyre
Kendillit without desyre,
Schort plesour, lang displesour,
Repentence is the hyre.
Ane pure[1345] tressour, without mesour,
Lufe is ane fervent fyre.

To lufe and to be wyiss,
To rege[1346] with gud adwyiss.
Now thus, now than, so gois the game,
Incertane is the dyiss.
Thair is no man, I say, that can
Both lufe and to be wyiss.

Fle alwayis frome the snair;
Lerne at me to be ware.
It is ane pane, and dowbill trane
Of endles wo and cair.
For to refrane that denger plane
Fle alwayis from the snair.

[1345] poor.

[1346] quarrel.

ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE.

Towards the close of the sixteenth century, while the pages of English poetry were receiving their richest contributions from the pens of Spenser, Shakespeare, and their comrade Elizabethans, the most famous, almost the sole singer left in the north was the author of “The Cherrie and the Slae.” Amid the moroseness and ecclesiastic strife which shadowed those closing years while James the Sixth still ruled at Holyrood, this voice still sang sweetly of love and laughter, of dewy nights and the lark’s morning song.

Alexander Montgomerie was a younger son of Montgomerie of Hazelhead, in Ayrshire, a scion of the noble house of Eglinton. The date of his birth remains uncertain; beyond that it was, as he himself says, “on Eister day at morne;” but he is believed to have first seen the light at Hazelhead Castle about 1545. According to references in his works, it appears that he was educated somewhere in Argyleshire. In any case it is certain that he was a man of culture and refined tastes. Of good social position, related by intermarriage with the Mures of Rowallan and the Semples of Castle Semple, he was the professed admirer of Lady Margaret Montgomerie, eldest daughter of Hugh, third Earl of Eglinton, to whom he addressed several compositions in the “despairing lover” tone fashionable in his time. He is recorded to have held some place at Court, first under the Regent Morton, and afterwards under James VI., from which, and not from military or naval rank, he appears to have derived the title of Captain. For a time he stood high in favour with the king, for whose _Essayes of a Prentise in the Divine Art of Poesie_, he wrote a commendatory sonnet by way of preface. James, moreover, in his _Rewlis and Cautelis of Poesie_, quotes several of Montgomerie’s verses as patterns, and is recorded to have been greatly diverted by the recitation of the “Flyting betwixt Montgomerie and Polwart.” Later, however, the poet shared the fate of other courtiers, and for some unknown reason fell into disgrace. Nor does any authority exist for the supposition that he regained the royal favour and accompanied the king to England. More probability attends the belief that he settled at Compton Castle, near Kirkcudbright, in Galloway, close by which, at the junction of the Dee and the Tarffe, tradition points out the scene of his chief poem, “The Cherrie and the Slae.”

In Montgomerie there appears a curious reflection, though in fainter colours, of the fate and character of Dunbar. Like the great makar of James the Fourth’s time, he was the scion of a noble house. In his verse appear the same eager efforts to secure favour at Court, the same bitterness at disappointment, and the same succeeding rancour against rivals and enemies. Here is the same oppression under insufficient means, and the same eager and thirsty heart continually mocked by “wicked weirds” and “thrauard fates.” Even his pension of 500 marks a year, chargeable on certain rents of the archbishopric of Glasgow, was withheld for a time, and only regained, by writ of privy seal, in 1588, after a vexatious law-suit. And on undertaking a foreign tour, for which he received royal leave of absence in 1586, he found himself for a time, upon what charge is unknown, thrown into prison. In one of his sonnets he records his sorrows--

If lose of guids, if gritest grudge or grief,
If povertie, imprisonment, or pane,
If for guid-will ingratitude agane,
If languishing in langour but relief,
If det, if dolour, and to become deif,
If travell tint and labour lost in vane,
Do properly to poets appertane,
Of all that craft my chance is to be chief.

Like Dunbar, Montgomerie appears to have become serious in his later years, “the productions of which,” to quote his latest editor, “breathe a tender melancholy and unaffected piety, inspired with hopes of a fairer future, in strange contrast to some of his earlier work.” To the spirit of these years must also be attributed a metrical version of Psalms, fifteen in number, apparently part of a complete metrical paraphrase which he, in conjunction with some other writers, offered to execute for the public free of charge.

It is gathered from the anonymous publication of this collection of Psalms, entitled “The Mindes Melodie,” and from his series of epitaphs, that the poet was still alive in the year 1605; but he was dead before 1615, according to the title-page of a new edition of “The Cherrie and the Slae,” printed by Andro Hart in that year.

According to his own poetic statement, he was small of stature, fairly good-looking, and afflicted with the painful disease of gravel.

Most of Montgomerie’s poems have been preserved respectively in the Drummond, the Maitland, and the Bannatyne MSS. After many separate editions of the chief pieces, the whole of the poems were for the first time collected into one volume (Edinburgh, 1821) by David Laing, with a biographical notice by Dr. Irving, the historian of Scottish poetry. The only other complete edition is that by Dr. James Cranstoun (Scottish Text Society, 1885-87). The latter, in the present volume, is regarded as the standard text.

“The Cherrie and the Slae,” Montgomerie’s chief effort, has ever since its composition been one of the most popular of Scottish poems, no fewer than twenty-three editions of it having been printed since 1597. The intention of the allegory, according to Pinkerton, was to show that moderate pleasures are better than high ones. But Dempster, who translated it into Latin, considered it to be, first, a love allegory, picturing a young man’s choice between a humble and a high-born mistress, and afterwards the pourtrayal of a struggle between virtue and vice. Most readers are likely to agree with Dr. Cranstoun in considering Dempster’s solution correct, believing with him that “what the poet began as an amatory lay he ended as a moral poem; what he meant for a song turned out a sermon.” Thus, probably, it comes about that the allegory is of small account, the chief value and charm of the poem lying in its passages of description, its freshness of imagery, and its mother-wit. The opening stanzas present by far the best part of the composition. The remainder possesses but secondary interest, notwithstanding the many pithy sayings introduced; and no climax is reached even when the cherry is attained at the end of the piece.

Of the poet’s other works the longest extant is “The Flyting betwixt Montgomerie and Polwart,” a tournament of Rabelaisian humour in the style of the famous “Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedie.” Its chief interest, for poetic qualities it has none, is as a specimen of a class of composition--the mock duel of vituperation between good friends--which was in those times considered an amusing literary performance. His sonnets, “characterised by great poetic skill and singular felicity of diction,” furnish no mean contribution to the stores of a verse-form then greatly cultivated, while his miscellaneous poems, nearly all amatory, exhibit mastery of a great variety of measures. Sometimes, however, the tone of these appears affected to a modern ear, and their imagery apt to descend into conceits.

There remains, preserved by the Maitland MS., another poem, “The Bankis of Helicon,” a love lyric of great charm, which long enjoyed the reputation of being the earliest piece written in the stanza of “The Cherrie and the Slae.” Laing thought it possible that Montgomerie might be the author of this, and Dr. Cranstoun establishes the opinion with a fair amount of certainty, considering it one of the series of compositions addressed by the poet to his kinswoman, Lady Margaret Montgomerie, and pointing out the frequency with which sets of expressions and even whole lines from the other pieces of the series are repeated in it. Even if ascertained beyond doubt, however, the authorship of “The Bankis of Helicon” would add nothing to Montgomerie’s reputation, which is likely to live and die with the reputation of his greatest work, the lyrical allegory of “The Cherrie and the Slae.”

Greater in manner than in matter, Montgomerie’s verse owes its charm to finish and grace rather than to vigour and imagination, affording rather a late reflection of the early glories of the century than the glow of a new inspiration; nevertheless it has remained constantly popular, a surprising number of its lines having become household words in the shape of proverbs; it claims the credit, along with Dunbar’s work, of furnishing models both to Allan Ramsay and to Burns; and, beyond all its Scottish contemporaries, it possesses intrinsic qualities which assure it an enduring fame.

THE CHERRIE AND THE SLAE.

About ane bank, quhair birdis on bewis[1347]
Ten thusand tymis thair notis renewis
Ilke[1348] houre into the day,
The merle and maueis[1349] micht be sene,
The progne and the phelomene[1350],
Quhilk caussit me to stay.
I lay and leynit me to ane bus
To heir the birdis beir[1351];
Thair mirth was sa melodius
Throw nature of the yeir:
Sum singing, sum springing
With wingis into the sky;
So trimlie and nimlie
Thir birdis they flew me by.

I saw the hurcheon[1352] and the hair,
Quha fed amangis the flowris fair,
Wer happing to and fro.
I saw the cunning[1353] and the cat,
Quhais downis with the dew was wat,
With mony beisties mo.
The hart, the hynd, the dae, the rae,
The fowmart[1354], and the foxe
War skowping[1355] all fra brae to brae,
Amang the water broxe;
Sum feiding, sum dreiding
In cais of suddain snairis:
With skipping and tripping
Thay hantit[1356] all in pairis.

The air was sa attemperate,
But ony myst immaculate,
Bot purefeit and cleir;
The flowris fair wer flurischit,
As Nature had them nurischit
Baith delicate and deir[1357];
And euery blome on branche and bewch[1358]
So prettily wer spred,
And hang their heidis out-ouir the hewch[1359]
In Mayis colour cled;
Sum knopping[1360], sum dropping
Of balmie liquor sweit,
Distelling and smelling
Throw Phœbus hailsum heit.

The cukkow and the cuschet[1361] cryde,
The turtle, on the vther syde,
Na plesure had to play;
So schil[1362] in sorrow was her sang
That, throw hyr voice, the roches rang;
For Eccho answerit ay,
Lamenting sair Narcissus’ cace,
Quha staruit[1363] at the well;
Quha with the schaddow of his face
For lufe did slay himsell.[1364]
Quhylis weiping and creiping
About the well he baid;
Quhylis lying, quhylis crying,
Bot it na answere maid.

The dew as diamondis did hing
Vpon the tender twistis[1365] and ying,
Owir-twinkling all the treis;
And ay quhair flowris flourischit faire
Thair suddainly I saw repaire
In swarmes the sounding beis.
Sum sweitly hes the hony socht,
Quhil[1366] they war cloggit soir:
Sum willingly the waxe hes wrocht,
To heip it vp in stoir.
So heiping with keiping,
Into thair hyuis they hyde it,
Precyselie and wyselie
For winter they prouyde it.

To pen the pleasures of that park,
How euery blossome, branche, and bark,
Agaynst the sun did schyne,
I leif to poetis to compyle
In staitlie verse and lofty style:
It passis my ingyne.
Bot as I mussit myne allane,
I saw an river rin
Out-ouir ane craggie rok of stane,
Syne lichtit in ane lin[1367],
With tumbling and rumbling
Amang the rochis round,
Dewalling[1368] and falling
Into that pit profound.

To heir thae startling stremis cleir
Me-thocht it musique to the eir,
Quhat deskant did abound
With trible sweit, an tenor iust,
And ay the echo repercust
Hir diapason sound,
Set with the Ci-sol-fa-uth cleife,[1369]
Thairby to knaw the note;
Thair soundit a michtie semibreif
Out of the elphis throte[1370].
Discreitlie, mair sweetlie
Nor craftie Amphion,
Or Musis that vsis[1371]
At fountaine Helicon.

Quha wald haue tyrit to heir that tune,
Quhilk birdis corroborate ay abune[1372],
Throw schowting of the larkis?
Sum flies sa high into the skies,
Quhill Cupid walkinnes[1373] with the cryis
Of Nature’s chappell clarkis,
Quha, leving all the hevins aboue
Alighted in the eird[1374].
Lo, how that little God of Loue
Befoir me thair apperid!
So myld-lyke and chyld-lyke,
With bow thrie quarteris scant,
So moylie and coylie[1375],
He lukit like ane sant.

Ane cleinlie crisp[1376] hang ouir his eyis
His quauer by his naked thyis
Hang in ane siluer lace.
Of gold, betwix his schoulders, grew
Twa pretty wingis quhairwith he flew;
On his left arme ane brace[1377].
This god aff all his geir he schuik
And laid it on the grund.
I ran als busie for to luik
Quhair ferleis[1378] micht be fund.
Amasit I gasit
To see that geir sa gay
Persawing my hawing[1379]
He countit me his pray.

His youth and stature made me stout;
Of doubleness I had na doubt,
Bot bourded[1380] with my boy.
Quod I, “How call they thee, my chyld?”
“Cupido, Sir,” quod he, and smyld:
“Please you me to imploy;
For I can serve you in your suite,
If you please to impyre[1381],
With wingis to flie, and schafts to schute,
Or flamis to set on fyre.
Mak choice then out of those then,
Or of a thousand things;
Bot craue them, and haue them.”
With that I wowed[1382] his wings.

“Quhat wald thou giue, my friend,” quod he,
“To haf thae prettie wingis to flie,
To sport thee for a quhyle?
Or quhat, gif I suld len thee heir
My bow and all my shuting geir,
Sum bodie to begyle?”
“That geir,” quod I, “can not be bocht,
Yet I wald haif it faine[1383].”
“Quhat gif,” quod he, “it coist thee nocht
Bot randring it againe?”
His wingis than he bringis than,
And band them on my back:
“Go flie now,” quod he now,
“And so my leif I tak.”

I sprang vp on Cupidoes wingis,
Quha bow and quauir baith resingis[1384]
To lend me for ane day.
As Icarus with borrowit flicht
I mountit hichar nor[1385] I micht;
Ouir perrelous ane play.
Than furth I drew that deadlie dairt
Quhilk sumtyme schot his mother,
Quhair-with I hurt my wanton heart,
In hope to hurt ane-vther.
It hurt me, it burt[1386] me,
The ofter I it handill.
Cum se now, in me now,
The butter-flie and candill.

As scho delytis into the low[1387],
Sa was I browdin in[1388] my bow,
Als ignorant as scho;
And als scho flies quhill sche be fyrit,
Sa, with the dart that I desyrit,
My hand hes hurt me to.
As fulisch Phaëton, be sute[1389],
His fatheris cart obteind,
I langt in Luiffis bow to shute,
Bot weist not what it meind.
Mair wilfull than skilfull
To flie I was so fond,
Desyring, impyring,
And sa was sene vpond[1390].

To late I knaw, quha hewis to hie[1391],
The spail[1392] sall fall into his eie;
To late I went to scuillis.
To late I heard the swallow preiche,[1393]
To late Experience dois teiche--
The skuill-maister of fuillis.
To late to fynde the nest I seik,
Quhen all the birdis are flowin;
To late the stabill dore I steik[1394],
Quhen all the steids are stowin[1395].
To lait ay their stait ay
All fulische folke espye;
Behynd so, they fynd so
Remeid, and so do I.

Gif I had rypelie bene aduysit
I had not rashlie enterprysit
To soir with borrowit pennis,
Nor yit had saied the archer craft,
Nor schot myself with sik a schaft
As resoun quite miskennis[1396].
Fra[1397] wilfulnes gaue me my wound
I had na force to flie,
Then came I granand[1398] to the ground:
“Freind, welcome hame!” quod he.
“Quhair flew ye, quhome slew ye,
Or quha bringis hame the buiting[1399]?
I sie now,” quod he now,
“Ye haif bene at the schuting.”

As skorne cummis commonlie with skaith[1400]
Sa I behuifit to byde them baith:
O quhat an stakkering stait[1401]!
For vnder cure I gat sik chek[1402]
Quhilk I micht nocht remuif nor nek[1403],
Bot eyther stail or mait[1404].
My agonie was sa extreme
I swelt and soundt[1405] for feir;
Bot, or I walkynnit of[1406] my dreme
He spulyied[1407] me of my geir.
With flicht than on hicht than
Sprang Cupid in the skyis,
Foryetting and setting
At nocht my cairfull cryis.

Sa lang with sicht I followit him
Quhill baith my feiblit eyis grew dim
With staruing on the starnis[1408];
Quhilk flew sa thick befoir my ein,
Sum reid, sum yellow, blew, and grein,
Sa trublit all my harnis[1409];
Quhill euery-thing apperit two
To my barbuilyiet[1410] braine,
Bot lang micht I lye luiking so
Or Cupid come againe;
Quhais thundring, with wondring
I hard vp throw the air;
Throw cluddis so he thuddis so
And flew I wist not quhair.

Fra that I saw that god was gane,
And I in langour left allane,
And sair tormentit, to,
Sum-tyme I sicht quhill[1411] I was sad,
Sum-tyme I musit and maist gane mad,
I wist not quhat to do.
Sum-tyme I ravit, halfe in a rage,
As ane into dispaire;
To be opprest with sic ane page[1412]
Lord! gif my heart was saire!
Like Dido, Cupido
I widill and [I] warye[1413],
Quha reft me, and left me
In sik a feirie-farye[1414].

Then felt I Curage and Desyre
Inflame my heart with vncouth[1415] fyre,
To me befoir vnknawin;
Bot now na blud in me remaines
Vnbrunt and boyld[1416] within my vaines,
By luffis bellies blawin[1417].
To quench it, or I was deuorit,
With siches I went about;
Bot ay the mair I schape to smor it[1418]
The baulder it brak out:
Ay preising but ceising[1419]
Quhill it may breik the boundis.
My hew so furth schew so
The dolour of my woundis.

With deidlie visage, paill and wan,
Mair like ane atomie[1420] nor man,
I widderit[1421] cleine away.
As wax befoir the fyre, I felt
My hart within my bosome melt
And pece and pece decay.
My vaines with brangling[1422] like to brek--
My punsis lap[1423] with pith--
Sa feruently did me infek
That I was vext thairwith.
My hart ay did start ay
The fyrie flamis to flie,
Ay houping, throu louping,
To win[1424] to liberty.