COMIC and SERIOUS
ANCIENT and MODERN.
By several Hands.
Quicquid agunt Homines, votum, timor, ira, volptus,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago Libelli.
E D I N BU R G H,
Printed by James Watson: Sold by John Vallange.
- M. DCC. VI.
Christ’s Kirk on the Green
Composed (as was supposed) by King James the Fifth.
WAs ne’er in Scotland heard nor seen
Such Dancing and Deray;
Neither at Faulkland on the Green,
Nor Peebles at the Play,
As was of Wooers as I ween
at Christ’s Kirk on a day:
For there came Katie washen clean
With her new Gown of Gray,
Full gay that day.
To dance these Damosels them dight, 10
These Lasses light of laits,
Their Gloves were of the Raffal right,
Their Shoes were of the Straits;
Their Kirtles were of Lincoln-light,
Well prest with many Plaits;
They were so nice when men them neigh’d
They squell’d like any Gaits,
Full loud that day.
Of all these Maidens mild as Mead,
Was none so gimp as Gillie, 20
As any Rose her Rude was red,
Her Lire was the Lillie,
But yellow yellow was her Head,
And she of Love so silly,
Though all her Kin had sworn her dead,
She would have none but Willie
Alone that day.
She scorn’d Jack, and scripped at him,
And murgeon’d him with Mocks;
He would have lov’d her, she would not let him 30
For all his yellow Locks.
He cherisht her, she bade go chat him,
She counted him not two clocks:
So shamefully his short Jack set him,
His legs were like two Rocks,
Or Rungs that day.
Tom Lutter was their Minstrel meet,
Good Lord, how he could lance;
He play’d so shril, and sang so sweet
While Tousie took a Trance: 40
Old Lightfoot there he could foreleet,
And counterfitted France,
He held him like a Man discreet,
And up the Morice Dance
He took that day.
Then Stephen came stepping in with stends,
No rink might him arrest;
Splayfoot did bob with many bends,
For Masie he made request,
He lap while he lay on his lends, 50
And rising was so preast,
While he did hoast at both the Ends
For honour of the Feast,
And danc’d that day.
Then Robin Roy began to revel,
And Tousie to him drugged:
Let be, quoth Jack, and call’d him Jevel,
And by the Tail him rugged,
Then Kensie clicked to a Kevel,
God wots as they two lugged; 60
They parted there upon a Nevel,
Men say that hair was rugged
Between them twa.
With that a friend of his cry’d fy,
And forth an Arrow drew:
He forged it so fiercefully,
The bow in flinders flew,
Such was the Grace of God, trow I,
For had the Tree been true;
Men said, who knew his Archery, 70
That he had slain anew,
Belyve that day.
A yap young Man that stood him neist,
Soon bent his Bow in ire,
And etled the Bairn in at the Breast,
The Bolt flew ov’r the Bire:
And cry’d fy, he hath slain a Priest
A mile beyond the Mire:
Both Bow and Bagg from him he kiest,
And fled as fast as Fire, 80
From Flint that day.
An hasty Kinsman called Hary,
That was an Archer keen,
Tyed up a tackle withoutten tarry,
I trow the Man was teen:
I wot not whether his hand did vary,
Or his Foe was his Friend:
But he escap’t by the mights of Mary
As one that nothing mean’d
But good that day. 90
Then Lawrie like a Lion lap,
And soon a Flain could fedder:
He height to pierce him at the pape,
Thereon to wed a Wedder:
He hit him on the wamb a wap,
It buff’t like any Bladder.
He scaped so, such was his hap;
His Doublet was of Leather
Full fine that day.
The buff so boisterously abaist him, 100
That he to th’Earth dusht down,
The other Man for dead there left him,
And fled out of the Town.
The Wives came forth, and up they rest him
And found life in the Lown;
Then with three routs they raised him
And curs’d him out of sown,
Fra hand that day.
The Miller was of manly make,
To meet him it was no mowes: 110
There durst not Ten-some there him take
So cowed he there powes,
The Bushment whole about him brake
And bickered him with Bows,
Then traiterously behind his back,
They hack’d him on the howes
Behind that day.
Then Hutchon with a Hazel rice
To red gan through them rummil:
He muddl’d them down like any Mice 120
He was no petty bummil,
Tho he was wight, he was not wife,
With such jutors to jummil:
For from his Thumb there flew a slice
While he cry’d barlafummil,
I’m slain this day.
When that he saw his Blood so red
To flee might no man let him:
He trow’d it had been for old feed;
He thought and bade have at him. 130
He made his Feet defend his Head,
The far fairer it set him,
While he was past out of their dread:
They must be swift that gat him
Through speed that day.
Two that were headsmen of the Herd,
They rusht on other like Rams;
The other four which were unfear’d
Beat on with Barrow Trams.
And where their Gobs they were ungear’d, 140
They got upon the Gams,
While that all bloody was their Beards,
As they had worried Lambs,
Most like that day.
They girn’d and glowred all at anes,
Each Gossip other grieved:
Some striked stings, some gathered stanes,
Some fled, and some relieved.
The Minstrel used quiet means,
That day he wisely prieved, 150
For he came hame with unbruis’d Banes,
Where fighters were mischeived,
Full ill that day.
With Forks and Flails they lent them slaps,
And flew together with frigs:
With bougres of Barns they pierc’d blue caps
And of their Bairns made Briggs;
The Rare rose rudely with their raps,
Then Rungs were laid on Riggs:
The Wives came forth with cries and claps, 160
See where my Likeing ligs,
Full low this day.
The black Souter of Braith was bowden,
His wife hang at his Waist:
His body was in black all browden,
He girned like a Ghaist,
Her glittering hair was so gowden,
Her love fast from him laist,
That for his sake she was unyawden
While he a mile was chac’d 170
And mair that day.
When they had beir’d like baited Bulls,
The bone-fires burnt like bails,
And then they grew as meek as Mules
That wearied are with mails;
For those forfoughten tyred fools
Fell down like slaughtered Frails,
Fresh men came in and hail’d the Dools,
And dang them down in dails
Bedeen that day. 180
The Wives then gave a hideous yell,
When all these yonkiers yoked,
As fierce as flags of Fire-flaughts fell,
Frieks to the Field they flocked,
The Carles with clubs did other quell
On Breast, while blood outboaked,
So rudely rang the common Bell,
That all the Steeple rocked
For dread that day.
By this Tom Tailor was in his gear, 190
When he heard the common Bell,
He said, he should make all a stear
When he came there himsell,
He went to fight with such a fear
While to the Ground he fell,
A Wife that hit him on the Ear
With a great knocking Mell,
Fell’d him that day.
The Bridegroom brought a Pint of Ale,
And bade the Piper drink it, 200
Drink it quoth he, and it so stale,
Ashrew me if I think it.
The Bride her Maidens stood near by,
And said it was not blinked,
And Bartagesie the Bride so gay,
Upon him fast she winked.
Full soon that day.
When all was done Dick with an Ax
Came forth to fell a Fother,
Quoth he, where are you whoreson smaiks 210
Right now that hurt my Brother?
His Wife bade him go hame Gib Glaiks,
And so did Meg his Mother;
He turn’d and gave them both their paiks,
For he durst ding no other
But them that day.
The Blythsome Wedding.
FY let us all to the Briddel,
For there will be Lilting there,
For Jockie’s to be Married to Maggie
The Lass with the Gauden-hair;
And there will be Lang-kail and Pottage
And Bannocks of Barley-Meal,
And there will be good Salt-herring
To relish a Kog of good Ale,
Fy let us all to the Briddel,
For there will be lilting there, 10
For Jockie’s to be married to Maggie
The Lass with the Gauden-hair.
And there will be Sandie the Sutor,
And Willie with the meikle mow
And there will be Tom the Ploutter,
And Andrew the Tinkler I trow,
And there will be bow-legged Robbie,
And Thumbless Kettie’s Good-man,
And there will be blue-cheeked Dallie
And Lawrie the Laird of the Land. 20
Fy let us all &c.
And there will be Sow-libber Peatie
And plouckie fac’t Wat in the Mill,
Capper-nos’d Gibbie and Francie
That wins in the how of the Hill,
And there will be Alaster-Dowgal
That splee fitted Bessie did woo,
And sniffling Lillie and Tibbie,
And Kirstie that Belly-god Sow,
Fy let us all &c. 30
And Crampie that married Stainie
And coft him Breeks to his Arse,
And afterwards hanged for Stealing,
Great Mercy it hapned no worse;
And there will be fairntickl’d Hew,
And Bess with the lillie white Leg,
That gat to the South for Breeding
And bang’d up her wamb in Mons-Meg.
Fy let us all &c.
And there will be Geordie McCowrie, 40
And blinking daft Barbra and Meg,
And there will be blincht Gillie-whimple
And peuter-fac’t flitching Joug.
And there will be Happer-ars’d Nansie
And Fairie fac’d Jeanie be name,
Gleed Katie and fat-lugged Lifie
The Lass with the gauden wamb.
Fy let us all &c.
And there will be Girn-again Gibbie
And his glaked Wife Jeanie Bell, 50
And mislie-chin’d flyting Geordie
The Lad that was Skipper himsell;
There’ll be all the Lads and the Lasses
Set down in the midst of the Ha,
With Sybows and Risarts and Carlings,
That are both sodden and ra
Fy let us all &c.
There will be Tartan, Dragen and Brachen,
And fouth of good gappocks of Skate,
Pow-Sodie, and Drammock, and Crowdie 60
And callour Nout-feet in a Plate;
And there will be Partans, and Buckies,
Speldens, and Haddocks anew,
And sing’d Sheep-heids, and a Haggize
And Scadlips to sup till ye’re fow.
Fy let us all &c.
There will be good lapper’d-milk Kebucks
And Sowens and Farles, and Baps,
And Swats, and scraped Paunches,
And Brandie in Stoups and in Caps. 70
And there will be Meal-Kail and Castocks,
And Skink to sup till you rive,
And Rosts to rost on a Brander,
Of Flouks that was taken alive.
Fy let us all &c.
Scrapt Haddocks, Wilks, Dulse and Tangle,
And a Mill of good Snizing to prie,
When wearie with Eating and Drinking
We’ll rise up and Dance till we die.
Fy let us all to the Briddel, 80
For there will be lilting there,
For Jockie’s to be married to Maggie
The Lass with the Gauden-hair.
The Banishment of Poverty,
J.D. of ALBANY.
POx fa that poultring Poverty
Wae worth the time that I ham saw,
Since first he laid his Fang on me
My self from him I dought ne’re draw:
His wink to me hath been a Law,
He haunts me like a penny-dog,
Of him I stand far greater awe
Than Pupil does of Pedagogue.
The first time that he met with me
Was at a Clachen in the West, 10
Its name, I trow Kilbarchan be,
Where Habbie’s Drones blew many a blast.
There we shook hands cald be his cast,
An ill dead may that Custron die:
For there he gripped me right fast
When first I fell in Cautionrie.
But yet in hopes to be reliev’d
And free’d from that foul ledly Lown,
Fernzier when Whigs were ill mischiev’d
And forc’d to fling their weapons down. 20
When we chas’d them from Glasgow Town
I with that Swinger thought to grapple,
But when Indemnity came down
The Laydron caught me by the Thraple.
But yet in hopes of more relief
A race I made to Arinfrew,
Where they did bravely buff my Beef,
And made my Body black and blue:
At Justice Court I them pursue,
Expecting help for their Reproof, 30
Indemnity thought nothing due,
The De’il a Farthing for my Loof.
But wishing that I might ride East,
To trot on Foot I soon would tyre,
My Page allow’d me not a Beast,
I wanted Gilt to pay the Hyre;
He and I lap o’re many a Syre,
I heuked him at Calder-cult;
But long ere I came to Clypes-myre
The ragged Rogue caught me a whilt. 40
By Holland-Bush and Brigg of Bonny
We bickered down towards Bankier,
We fear’d no Reavers for our Money,
Nor Whilly-whaes to grip our Gear;
My tatt’red Tutor took no fear,
(Though we did travel in the Mirk)
But thought it fit, when we drew near
To filsh a Forrage at Falkirk.
No Man wou’d open me the Door,
Because my Comrade stood me by, 50
The dread full ill I was right poor
By my forsaken Company.
But Cunninghame soon me espy’d,
By hue and hair he hail’d me in,
And swore we should not part so dry,
Though I were stripped to the Skin
I bard all Night, but long ere Day
My curst Companion bade me rife;
I start up soon and took the way,
He needed not to bid me twice. 60
But what to do I did advise,
In Lithgow I might not sit down,
On a Scots Groat we baited thrice,
And in at Night to Edinburgh Town.
We held the Lang-gate to Leith-wynd,
Where poorest Purses use to be,
And in the Caltoun lodged fyne,
Fit Quarters for such companie.
Yet I the High-Town fain wou’d see,
But that my Comrade did discharge, 70
He wou’d me Blackburn’s Ale to prie,
And muff my Beard that was right large.
The Morn I ventur’d up the Wynd,
And slung’d in at the Nether-Bow,
Thinking that Trooker for to tyne,
Who does me dammage what he dow.
His company he does bestow
On me to my great Grief and Pain,
Ere I the Throng cou’d wrestle throw,
The Lown was at my heels again. 80
I green’d to gang on the Plain-stains
To see if Comrades wou’d me ken,
We twa gaid pacing there our laines
The hungry Hours ‘twixt Twelve and Ane.
Then I knew no way how to fen,
My Guts rumbl’d like a Hurle Barrow.
I din’d with Saints and Noble-Men,
Ev’n sweet Saint Giles and Earl of Murray.
Tykes Test’ment take them for their Treat,
I needed not my teeth to pike, 90
Though I was in a cruel Sweat,
He set not by, say what I like.
I call’d him Turk and traked Tyke,
And weari’d him with many a Curse,
My Banes were hard like a Stane-Dyke,
No Rig-Marie was in my Purse.
King Widow Caddel sent for me
To dine, as she did oft forsooth,
But oh alas, that might not be:
Her House was ov’r near the Tolbooth. 100
Yet God reward her for her Love
And Kindness which I fectlie fand,
Most ready still for my behoof
Ere that Hells Hound took her in hand.
I slipt my Page and stour’d to Leith
To try my Credit at the Wine,
But foul a dribble fyl’d my Teeth,
He catch’d me at the Coffee-Sign.
I staw down through the Nether-Wynd,
My Lady Semples House was near, 110
To enter there was my Design,
Where Poverty durst ne’er appear.
I dined there but baid not lang,
My Lady fain wou’d shelter me,
But oh alas, I needs must gang
And leave that comely Company.
Her lad convoy’d me with her Key
Out through the Garden to the Fiels,
Ere I the Links could graithly see,
My Governour was at my Heels. 120
I dought not dance to Pipe nor Harp;
I had no stock for Cards nor Dice;
But I sure to Sir William Sharp,
Who never made his Counsel nice.
That little man he is right wise,
And sharp as any Brier can be,
He bravely gave we his Advice
How I might poison Poverty.
Quoth he there grows hard by the Dial
In Hatton’s Garden bright and sheen, 130
A soveraign Herb call’d Penny–Royal,
Which all the years grows fresh and green.
Could ye but gather it fair and clean,
Your Business would go the better,
But let account of it be seen
To the Physicians of Exchequer.
Or if that Ticket ye bring with you,
Come unto me, you need not fear;
For I some of that Herb can give you
Which I have planted this same Year. 140
Your Page it will cause disappear
Who waits on you against your will,
To gather it I shall you lear
In my own Yards of Stonny-hill.
But when I dred that wou’d not work,
I overthought me of a Wile
How I might at my leisure lurk,
My graceless Guardian to beguile.
It’s but my galloping a Mile
Through Canongate with little Loss, 150
Till I have Sanctuary a while
Within the Girth of Abbay-closs.
There I wan in, and blyth was I
When to the Inner-Court I drew,
My Governour I did defy,
For joy I clapt my Wings and Crew.
There Messengers dare not pursue,
Nor with their Wans Mens Shoulders steer,
There dwells distressed Lairds enough
In peace, though they have little Gear. 160
I had not tarried an Hour or two
When my blest Fortune was to see
A sight, sure by the Mights of Mary,
Of that brave Duke of Albany.
Where one blink of his princely Eye
Put that foul Foundling to the Flight,
Frae me he banish’d Poverty,
And made him take his last Good-night.
F I N I S.
To His Highness the Prince of ORANGE
Victorious Sir, still faithful to thy Word,
Who conquers more by Kindness than by Sword:
As thy Ancestors brave, with Matchless Vigour,
Caus’d Hogen, Mogen, make so great a Figure;
So thou that art Great Britain’s only Moses,
To guard our Martial Thistle with the Roses,
The discords of the Harp in Tune to bring,
And curb the Pride of Lillies in the Spring:
Permit, Great Sir, Poor Us, among the Press,
In humble Terms to make this blunt Address, 10
In Limping verse; for as Your Highness knows,
You have good store of nonsense, else in Prose.
SIR, first of all, That it may please,
Your Highness, to give us an Ease
Of our Oppressions more or less,
Especially that Knave the Cess;
And Poverty for Pity cryes,
To Modifie our dear Excise:
If ye’ll not trust us when we say’t,
Faith! we’re not able, Sir, to pay’t; 20
Which makes us sigh when we should Sleep,
And Fast when we should go to Meat,
Yea scarce can get it for to borrow,
Yet drink we must to sloken Sorrow;
For this our grief, Sir, makes us now
Sleep seldom sound till we be Fow;
Sir, let no needless Forces stand,
To plague this poor, but Valiant Land.
And let no Rhetorick procure
Pensions, but only to the Poor, 30
That spend-thrift Courtiers get no share,
To make the King’s Exchequer bare.
Then, valiant Sir, we beg at Large,
You will free Quarters quite discharge:
We live upon the King’s hye Street,
And scarce a day we miss some Cheat;
For Horse and Foot as they come by,
Sir, be they Hungry, Cold or Dry,
They Eat, and Drink, and burn our Peets,
With Fiend a Farthing in their Breeks, 40
Destroy our Hay, and press our Horse,
Whiles break our Heads, and that is worse,
Consume both Men and Horses meat,
And make both Wives and Bairns to Greet.
By what is said, Your Highness may
Judge if two stipends we can pay;
And therefore if Ye with us well,
You must with all speed reconcile
Two jangling Sons of the same Mother,
Eliot and Hay with one another. 50
Pardon us, Sir, for all your wit,
We fear that prove a kittle Put,
Which tho the wiser sort Condole,
Our Lintoun Wives still blow the Coal,
And no Man here, as well we ken,
Would have us all John Thomson’s Men.
Sir, it was said ere we was born,
Who blows best, bear away the Horn,
And he that lives and preaches best,
Should win the Pulpit from the rest. 60
The next Petition that we make,
Is, That for brave Earl Teviot’s sake,
Who had great kindness for this place,
You’l move the Duke our Master’s Grace
To put a Knock upon our Steeple,
To shew the Hours to Country People;
For we that live into the Town
Our sight grows short by Sun go down;
And charge him, Sir, our Street to mend,
And Causey it from end to end; 70
Pay but the Workmen for their Pains,
And we shall jointly lead the Stanes,
In case Your Highness put him to ‘t,
Our Mercat Customs well may do ‘t,
For of himself he is not Rash,
Because he wants the ready Cash;
For if Your Highness for some Reasons,
Should honour Lintoun with your presence,
Your Milk-white Palfrey would turn Brown,
Ere ye Ride half out through the Town, 80
And that would put upon our Name,
A blot of everlasting Shame,
Who are reputed honest Fellows,
And stout as ever William Wallace.
Lastly, Great Sir, discharge us all
To go to Court without a Call,
Discharge Laird Isaac and Hog-yards
James Gifford and the Lintoun Lairds,
Old William Younger and Geordie Purdie,
James Douglas, Scrogs, and little Swordie, 90
And English Andrew, who has Skill,
To knap at every word so well,
Let King-Seat stay for the Town-head,
Till that old peevish Wife be Dead,
And that they go on no pretence
To put this place to great Expence,
Nor yet shall Contribute their Share,
To any who are going there,
To strive to be the greatest Minion,
Or plead for this or that Opinion; 100
If we have any thing to spare
Poor Widows they should be our Care,
The Fatherless, the Blind and Lame,
Who starve, yet for to beg think shame.
So Farewell, Sir, here is no Treason,
But wealth of Ryme, and part of Reason:
And for to save some needless cost,
We send this our address by Post.
Thrice Noble Orange, Blessed be the time,
Such fair Fruit prosper’d in our Northern Clyme, 110
Whose Sweet and Cordial Joyce affords us Matter,
And Sause to make our Capons Eat the better.
Long may thou Thrive, and still thy Arms advance;
Till England send an Orange into France:
Well guarded thro’ proud Neptun’s waves, and then
What’s sweet to us, may prove sour Sause to them:
As England doth, so CALEDONIA boasts;
She’l fight with Orange, for the LORD of Hosts,
And tho’ the Tyrant hath unsheath’d his Sword;
Fy! fear him not, he never kept his Word. 120
Poor Client’s Complaint.
Done out of BUCHANAN.
Colin, by Promise, being oblig’d to pay
Me such a Sum, betwixt and such a day:
I ask’d it, he refus’d it: I addrest
Aulus the Lawyer; he reply’d it’s best
To sue him at the Law, I’ll make him Debtor;
Your Cause is good, there cannot be a better.
Being thus advis’d away to Pete I trudge,
Pray him, and pay him to bespeak the Judge:
Engag’d thus far, be’t better be it worse
I must proceed, and thus I do depurse, 10
For writing Summons, Signing, Signeting
With a red Plaister and a Paper Ring;
For Summoning the Principal, and then
For Citing Witnesses to say Amen,
For Executions, (alias Indorsations)
For Tabling, Calling with Continuations:
Next for Consulting Aulus and his Man;
(For he must be Consulted now and then)
For Pleading in the Outter-House and Inner
From Ten to Twelve, then Aulus goes to Dinner: 20
For writing Bills, for reading them, for Answers
More dubious than those of Necromancers.
For Interlocutors, for little Acts;
For large Decreets, and their as large Extracts.
For Hornings, for discussing of Suspensions,
Full stuff’d with Lies and frivolous Pretensions;
For Please your Lordships, and such like Petitions,
For raising and for serving Inhibitions,
And for Comprisings or Adjudications,
For their allowances for Registrations, 30
And many, many, many, other ations,
Which may be sum’d up in one word Vexations.
Then unexpectedly upon a small
Defect alledg’d, Colin reduces all:
We to’t again, and Aulus doth disjoint
The Process, and debates it Point by Point.
The Cause at length’s concluded, but not ended,
This made me wonder! Aulus he pretended,
Decreets must not be given out at Randum,
But must abide a serious Avisandum, 40
Conform to Course of Roll; when that will be,
Indeed I cannot tell, nor yet can he.
Thus Aulus hath for Ten years space extended
The Plea, and further more I have Expended
Vast Sums, to wit, for Washing, Lodging, Diet,
Yet seldom did I sleep or eat in quiet.
For Coal, for Candle, Paper, Pen and Ink,
And such like things, which truly one would think
Were insignificant, but yet they’re come
In ten Years space unto a pretty Sum. 50
To Macers, Turn-keys, Agents, Catchpoles, Petes,
Servants, Sub-servants, petty Foggers, Cheats;
For Morning-Drinks, Four-hours, half-Gills at Noon,
To fit their Stomack for the Fork and Spoon,
To which they go, but I poor man mean while,
Slip quietly to th’Earl of Murray’s Isle.
We meet again at Two, then to digest
Their bellyful, they’ll have a Gill at least,
Sometimes a double One; for Brandy-wine
Can only end the War call’d Intestine: 60
For Mum, Sack, Claret, White-wine, Purl, Beer, Ale.
(One he would have it new, another stale)
Both must be pleas’d: for Pipes, Tobacco, Snuff,
Twist, Coffee, Tea, and also greasie Stuff
Call’d Chocolate, Punch, Clarified Whey,
With other Drinks, all which I duely pay:
For Rolls, for Nackets, Roundabouts, Sour Cakes,
For Cheshire Cheese, fresh Butter, Cookies, Bakes,
For Panches, Saucers, Sheepheads, Cheats, Black-pyes,
Lamb Legs, Lamb Kernels and Lamb-Privities, 70
Skate, Lobsters, Oysters, Mussels Wilks Neats Tongues
One he for Leeks, Beer, and Red-herring longs.
This must be had, an other doth prefer
Raw-herring, Onions, Oyl, Spice, Vinegar,
Rare Composition, and he’s truely sorry
It’s not in Culpeper’s Dispensatory:
For Apples, Pears, Plumbs, Cherries, Nuts, Green-Pease,
Dilse, Tangles, Purslain, Turneeps, Radishes,
With fourty other Things, I have forgot,
And I’m a Villain if I pay’d them not. 80
Moreover my Affairs at Home sustain
Both the emergent Loss, and cessant Gain;
Aulus himself terms this a double loss,
And I call him and it a triple cross.
By all these means my Expence do surmount,
Near ten times, ten times Colin’s first Acccount.
And now ere that I wholly be bereft,
Of th’ little Time and Money to me left,
I’m at the length resolved thus to do,
I’ll shun my Debitor and Lawyer too. 90
And after this I never will give Credit
Unto one Word, if either of them said it.
You’ll ask, which of the two I’d rather shun?
Aulus; ‘tis he, ‘tis he hath me undone.
I’ve words from both, yet sad Experience tells,
That Colin gives, but Aulus dearly sells.
Th’unwary Reader thinks perhaps that I
Have pen’d a Satyre ‘gainst the Faculty:
‘Gainst those who by their accurate Debates
Maintain our Rights, and settle our Estates; 100
Who do their very Lungs with Pleading spend,
Us ‘gainst Oppressors stifly to defend.
A gross Mistake! for I’ll be sworn, I do
Admire their Parts and their Profession too.
I wish that Law and Lawyers both may thrive,
And at the height of Grandeur so arrive,
That in all good Mens Eyes they may appear
Like Burnisht Gold both beautiful and clear.
That this may be, (and ‘tis for this I pray)
Rust must be scour’d off, Cobwebs swept away. 110
The SPEECH of a
Newly come from the Grave.
What Accident, what strange Mishap
Awakes me from my Heav’nly nap?
What Sp’rit? what God-head by the lave,
Hath rais’d my Body from the Grave?
It is a Hundred Years almost,
Since I was buri’d in the Dust,
And now I think that I am living,
Or else, but doubt, my Brains are raving:
Yet do I feel (while as I study)
The Faculties of all my Body: 10
I Taste, I Smell, I Touch, I Hear,
I find my Sight exceeding clear:
Then I’m alive, yea sure I am,
I know it by my Copr’al Frame:
But in what part where I can be,
My wav’ring Brains yet torture me.
Once I was call’d a great Fife Laird,
I dwelt not far from the Hall-yard:
But who enjoys my Land and Pleugh,
My Castle, and my fine Cole-heugh: 20
I can find out no living Man,
Can tell me this, do what I can.
Yet if my Mem’ry serve me well,
This is the Shire where I did dwell;
This is the Part where I was born:
For so beneath me stands Kinghorn:
And thereabouts the Lowmond Hill
Stands as it stood yet ever still.
There is Bruntisland, Aberdore,
I see Fife’s Coast along the Shore. 30
Yet I am right, and for my life,
This is my Native Country Fife,
O! but it’s long and many a year,
Since last my Feet did travel here.
I find great Change in old Lairds Places,
I know the Ground, but not the Faces,
Where shall I turn me first about,
For my Acquaintance is worn out?
O! this is strange, that ev’n in Fife,
I do know neither Man nor Wife: 40
No Earl, no Lord, no Laird, no People,
But Lesly and the Mark Inch-Steeple,
Old Noble Weems, and that is all,
I think enjoy their Fathers Hall.
For from Dunfermling to Fife-ness
I do know none that doth possess
His Grandfire’s Castles and his Tow’rs:
All is away that once was ours.
I’m full of Wrath, I scorn to tarrie,
I know them no more than the Fairie: 50
But I admire and marvel strange,
What is the cause of this great Change.
I hear a murmuring Report,
Passing among the Common Sort:
For some say this, and some say that,
And others tell, I know not what:
Some say the Fife Lairds ever rues,
Since they began to take the Lews:
That Bargain first did brew their Bale,
As tell the honest Men of Creil. 60
Some do ascribe their Supplantation,
Unto the Lawyers Congregation.
No, but this a false Suppose;
For all things wyts that well not goes.
Be what it will, there is some Source
Hath bred this universal Curse;
This Transmigration and Earth-quake,
That caus’d the Lairds of Fife to break.
He that enthrones a Shepherdling,
He that dethrones a potent King, 70
And he that makes a Cotter, Laird,
The Baron’s Bairns to delve a Yeard:
Almighty, He that shakes the Mountains,
And brings great Rivers from small Fountains:
It is the power of His Hand,
That makes both Lords and Lairds have Land.
Yet there may be as all Men knaws
An Evident and well seen Cause,
A publick and a common Evil,
That made the meikle Master devil 80
To cast his Club all Fife throughout,
And lent each Laird a deadly Rout.
Mark then, I’ll tell you, how it was,
What was this Wonder came to pass:
It sets me best the Truth to pen,
Because I fear no Mortal Men.
When I was born at Middle-yard weight,
There was no word of Laird or Knight:
The greatest Stiles of Honour then,
Was to be Titl’d the Good-man. 90
But changing Time hath chang’d the Case,
And puts a Laird in th’ Good-man’s place.
For Why? my Gossip Good-man John,
And honest James, whom I think on;
When we did meet whiles at the Hawking,
We us’d no Cringes but Hands shaking.
No Bowing, Should’ring, Gambo-scraping,
No French Whistling, or Dutch gaping.
We had no Garments in our Land,
But what were spun by th’ Good-wife’s hand: 100
No Drap-de-berry, Cloaths of seal:
No Stuffs ingrain’d in Cocheneel,
No Plush, no Tissue, Cramosie;
No China, Turky, Taffety.
No proud Pyropus, Paragon,
Or Chackarally, there was none:
No Figurata, or Water-chamblet,
No cloth of Gold, or Bever hats,
We car’d no more for, than the Cats: 110
No windy flowrish’d flying Feathers,
No sweet permusted shambo Leathers,
No Hilt or Crampet richly hatched;
A Lance, a Sword in hand we snatched.
Such base and Boyish Vanities,
Did not beseem our Dignities:
We were all ready and compleat,
Stout for our Friends, on Horse or Feet,
True to our Prince to shed our Blood,
For Kirk, and for our Common Good. 120
Such Men we were, it is well known,
As in our Chronicles are shown,
This made us dwell into our Land,
And our Posterity to stand:
But when the young Laird became vain,
And went away to France and Spain,
Rome raking, wandring here and there:
O! then became our bootless Care:
Pride puft him up, because he was
Far travel’d, and return’d an Ass. 130
Then must the Laird, the Good-man’s Oye,
Be Knighted streight; and make convoy,
Coach’d through the Streets with Horses four,
Foot-grooms Pasmented o’er and o’er.
Himself cut out and flasht so wide,
Ev’n his whole shirt his skin doth hide.
Gowpherd, Gratnizied, Cloaks rare pointed,
Embroider’d, lac’d, with Boots disjoynted,
A Belt embost with Gold and Purle:
False Hair made craftily to curle: 140
Side Breeks be button’d o’er the Garters,
Was ne’er the like seen in our Quarters.
Tobacco and wine Frontinack,
Potato-Pasties, Spanish Sack,
Such uncouth Food, such Meat and Drink,
Could never in our Stomachs sink:
Then must the Grandson swear and swagger,
And show himself the bravest Bragger,
A Bon-companion and a Drinker,
A delicate and dainty Ginker. 150
So is seen on’t. These foolish Jigs,
Hath caus’d his Worship sell his Rigs.
My Lady, as she is a Woman,
Is born a Helper to undo Man,
Her Ladiship must have a share,
For she is Play-maker and mair;
For she invents a thousand Toys,
That House and Hold and all destroys,
As Scarfs, Shephroas, Tuffs, and Rings,
Fairdings, Facings, and Powderings, 160
Rebats, Ribands, Bands and Ruffs,
Lapbends, Shagbands, Cuffs and Muffs,
Folding outlays, Pearling sprigs,
Atrys, Vardigals, Periwigs:
Hats, Hoods, Wires and also Kells,
Washing-balls, and perfuming Smells:
French-gows cut out and double banded,
Jet Rings to make her pleasant handed:
A Fan, a Feather, Bracelets, Gloves,
All new come-busks she dearly loves: 170
For such trim bony Baby-clouts,
Still on the Laird she greets and shouts:
Which made the Laird take up more Gear
Than all the Lands or Rigs could bear.
These are the Emblems, that declares
The Marchant’s thriftless needless wares:
The Tailor’s curious vanitie,
My Lady’s Prodigalitie.
This is the truth which I discover:
I do not care for Feid or Favour; 180
For what I was, yet still I am,
And honest, plain, true dealing Man;
And if these words of mine would mend them
I care not by, though I offend them.
Here is the cause most plainly shown,
That have our Country overthrown.
It’s said of old, that other’s harms,
Is oftentimes the wife Man’s arms:
And he is thought most wise of all,
That learns Good from his Neighbour’s fall. 190
It grieves my heart to see this Age,
I cannot stay to act more Stage:
I will ingrave me in the ground,
And rest there till the Trumpet sound;
And if I have said ought astray,
Which may a Messon’s mind dismay,
I do appeal before the Throne
Of the great Powers three in one;
The Supream Soveraignity,
The Parliament of veritie. 200
And if you think my words offends,
Ye must be there, I’s make a mends.
The LIFE and DEAEH
Piper of Kilbarchan
The Epitaph of Habbie Simson,
Who on his drone bore bony flags;
He made his Cheeks as red as Crimson,
And babbed when, he blew the Bags.
Kilbarchan now may say, alas!
For she has lost her Game and Grace,
Both Trixie, and the Maiden Trace:
but what remead?
For no man can supply his place,
Hab Simson’s dead.
Now who shall play, the day it daws?
Or hunt up, when the Cock he craws?
Or who can for our Kirk-town-cause,
stand us in stead? 10
On Bagpipes (now) no Body blaws,
sen Habbie’s dead.
Or wha will cause our Shearers shear?
Wha will bend up the Brags of Weir,
Bring in the Bells, or good play meir,
in time of need?
Hab Simson cou’d, what needs you speer?
but (now) he’s dead.
So kindly to his Neighbours neast,
At Beltan and Saint Barchan’s feast, 20
He blew, and then held up his Breast,
as he were weid;
But now we need not him arrest,
for Habbie’s dead.
At Fairs he play’d before the Spear-men,
All gaily graithed in their Gear Men.
Steell Bonnets, Jacks, and Swords so clear then
like any Bead.
Now wha shall play before such Weir-men,
sen Habbie’s dead? 30
At Clark-plays when he wont to come;
His Pipe play’d trimly to the Drum,
Like Bikes of Bees he gart it Bum,
and tun’d his Reed.
Now all our Pipers may sing dumb,
sen Habbie’s dead.
And at Horse Races many a day,
Before the Black, the Brown the Gray,
He gart his Pipe when he did play,
baith Skirl and Skreed, 40
Now all such Pastimes quite away,
sen Habbie’s dead.
He counted was a weil’d Wight-man,
And fiercely at Foot-ball he ran:
At every Game the Gree he wan,
for Pith and Speed.
The like of Habbie was na than,
but now he’s dead.
And than, besides his valiant Acts,
At Bridals he wan many Placks, 50
He bobbed ay behind Fo’ks Backs,
and shook his Head.
Now we want many merry Cracks,
sen Habbie’s dead.
He was Convoyer of the Bride
With Kittock hinging at his side:
About the Kirk he thought a Pride
the Ring to lead.
But now we may gae but a Guide
for Habbie’s dead. 60
So well’s he keeped his Decorum,
And all the Stots of Whip-meg-morum,
He flew a Man, and wae’s me for him,
and bure the Fead!
But yet the Man wan hame before him,
and was not dead!
Ay whan he play’d, the Laffes Leugh,
To see him Teethless, Auld and teugh.
He wan his Pipes beside Borcheugh,
withoutten dread: 70
Which after wan him Gear enough,
but now he’s dead,
Ay whan he play’d, the Gaitlings gedder’d,
And whan he spake, the Carl bledder’d:
On Sabbath days his Cap was fedder’d,
a seemly Weid.
In the Kirk-yaird, his Mare stood tedder’d,
where he lies dead.
Alas! for him my Heart is fair,
For of his Springs I gat a skair, 80
At every Play, Race, Feast and Fair,
but Guile or Greed.
We need not look for Pyping mair,
sen Habbie’s dead.
Nephew to Habbie Simpson, and Butler
to the Laird of Kilbarchan.
Alake for evermare and wae!
To wha shall I whan drouthie gae?
Dool Sturt and Sorrow will me flae
For Hardship; and alake a day!
since Sanny’s dead.
O’er Buffet-Stools and Hassocks tumble,
O how he gart the Jutters jumble,
And glowren Fow, both Reel and Rumble,
and clour their Head! 10
Now they may Gape and Girn, and Grumble,
since Sanny’s dead.
And how he gart the Carles clatter,
And blirten Fow their Bowspreets batter,
Laughen to see them pitter-patter,
Naivel and Bleed?
He was a deadly Fae to Water,
but now he’s dead.
Wha’ll jaw Ale on my drouthy Tongue,
To cool the heat of Light and Lung? 20
Wha’ll bid me when the Kaill-bell’s rung
to Board me speed?
Wha’ll set me by the Barrel-bung,
since Sanny’s dead?
Wha’ll set me dribbling be the Tapp,
While winking I begin to Napp,
Then lay me down and well me Happ,
and binn my Head?
I need na think to get yae Drap,
since Sanny’s dead. 30
Well did the Master-Cook and he,
With Giff-gaff Courtesie agree,
With Tears as fat as Kitchen-fee
drapt frae his head.
Alake a day! though kind to me,
yet now he’s dead.
It very muckle did me please,
To see him howk the Holland Cheese:
I kend the clinking o’ his Kies
in time of need. 40
Alake a day! though kind to me,
yet now he’s dead.
He was as Stout as was his Steel,
And gen ye’ll trow he cou’d fu’ well
At Wapenshaws the Younkers dreill,
and bra’ly lead,
Baith to the Field and frae the Field,
but now he’s dead.
When first I heard the waeful Knell,
And Dool-ding o’s Passing-Bell, 50
It made me Yelp, and Yeul, ad Yell,
and Skirl and Skreed.
To Pantrie-Men I bid Farewell,
Since Sanny’s dead.
Fast is he bunn baith Head and Feet,
And wrapped in a Winnen-sheet:
Now cou’d I sit me down and Greet,
but what’s the need?
Shou’d I like a Bell’d-Wadder bleet,
since Sanny’s dead? 60
The Chiel came in his Roum, is Bauld,
Sare be his Shins, and’s Kail ay Cauld,
Which gars us ay pray for the Auld,
with Book and Beid.
Now Lord ha Mercy on his Saul,
for now he’s dead.
Compiled and Corrected by P.D.
AN Hether Man, as I heard say,
Sensyne, I think, a week or tway,
Came cantly cracking out the way,
None with him but his Meir.
Wha being late, he bade her ride,
And with a Spur did jag her Side,
But ay the filly Mare bade bide,
And further wou’d not stier.
2 . But lay down on the Fair High-street,
And shooting out both Head and Feet, 10
She meekly spake these words so sweet,
Your Spurring will not mack it.
Oft have I turft your Hether Crame,
And born your self right oft-times Hame,
With many a toom and hungry Wame,
Whan thou hast been well packit.
But now is come my Fatal End,
With you I may no further wend,
To my sweet Hussy me commend,
And all the Rest at Hame. 20
Oft have I born that on my Banes,
Hath caus’d their Beards all wag at anes:
But now for me they may chew Stanes,
We’ll never meet again.
The silly Carl for Wae he grat,
And down upon his Arse he sat:
The Night was foul, he was all wat,
And perished of Cauld.
Yet with himself he did advise,
Longer to sit he were not wise, 30
Then pray’d the silly Meir to rise,
And draw her to some Hauld.
But no more than she had been dead,
She cou’d remove her from that Stead,
When he did press to lift her Head,
Her Arse fell down behind.
Then in a Grief he did her hail,
And drugged both at Main and Tail,
And other parts he could best wail,
Then bade her take the Wind. 40
Then he did take forth of a Wallat,
Some Draff, whereon this Meir did mallat,
Which fiercely gart her lift her Pallat,
Nor a’ the rest before.
She ate thereof with sae good Will,
While I wat well, she had her fill,
When she was full, then she lay still,
And wou’d not eat nae more:
But start on Foot, as it wou’d be
Nane being there but she and he: 50
The Night was cauld, and bitterly,
It blatter’d on o’ Rain:
The Carl was cauld, to sooth to say,
And fain he wou’d have been away
For passed was the light of Day,
And Night was cum again.
Yet with himself he did advise,
Longer to sit he war not wise,
The pray’d the silly Meir to rise,
And draw her to sum Hold. 60
Then Fute for Fute they went togidder,
But aft she fell the Get was slidder:
Yet where to take her he did swidder,
While at the last he would.
He warily did her weise and weild,
To Collingtoun-Broom, a full gude Beild,
And warmest also in a’ that Field,
And there he bade her hide her;
For there if Duncan apprehend thee,
With sare sad Stroaks indeed he’ll end thee; 70
I pray thee, from his Wrath defend thee:
Sine he sat down beside her.
And said, Good-night my Darling dear,
My Bread-winner this mony a Year:
Alas, that I shou’d leave thee here
So wilsome of thy wain!
Dear Master, quoth this Meir, ye shent you,
For my Distemper to torment you:
Sober thy kind Heart, and repent you,
We’ll never meet again. 80
With this they shed, as I heard say,
With mony a Shout and Wall-away,
Referring to a bra new Day,
To mack her Latter Will.
But truly as the Case befel,
(And here the truth I mind to tell)
They never met by twanty Ell,
That purpose to fulfil,
By which arose right great Dissention,
Much deadly Feed and het Contention: 90
For many of a wrang Intention,
Alledg’d sum of her Gear.
And they, before wha never saw her,
Nor in her Life did ever knaw her,
That they were of her Kin, did shaw her,
As after ye shall hear.
The Carl gade hame a weary Groom,
But she all Night amang the Broom
Lay still, both weary, faint and toom,
While Morn that it was Day. 100
Then forth came Duncan on the Morrow,
As he had been to ride on Sorrow,
With a lang Sting, which he did borrow,
To chase the Meir away.
He hit her twa’r three Routs indeed,
And bade her pass sweith from his Stead,
If thou bide here, I’le be thy dead:
With that gave her a Lounder,
While Mouth and Nose rusht out of Blood,
She staggard also where she stood: 110
For she was tint for fau’t of Food,
And sae it was nae Wonder.
Yet, quoth this Beast with heavy chear,
I pray you, Duncan, thole me here,
Until the outcum of the Year:
And then if I grow better,
I shall remove, I you assure,
Tho’ I were nere so Weak and Poor,
And seek my Meat throw Curry Moor,
As fast as I can swatter. 120
When he perceived it was sae,
That from that Part she could not gae,
Into a Grief he past her frae,
And would no longer tarry,
But sent Pete Peacock in a Fray
For to have chaste the Meir away,
With a long Cane as I heard say:
And in a feiry farry.
Ran to the Mill and fetcht the Lowder,
Wherewith he hit her on the Shou’der, 130
That he dang’t all to drush like Powder,
He laid it on so sicker:
Then from these Bounds he bad her pack her,
Or else he swore, that he would wrack her.
Then through the Meadow she did tack her,
As fast as she might bicker.
But at the last, the Beast being poor,
Lan for to rin cou’d not endure,
He did o’rtack her in Fordel Moor,
And pat her in a Teather: 140
Then laid upon her Houghs and Heels,
Commanding her to leave these Fields,
And bad her pass to Listoun-Shields,
And peul amang the Heather.
Yet, quoth this silly simple Beast,
I pray you Pete hear my Request,
Lat me remain this Night here East,
Amang the Broom to rest me:
And on the Morn I the behight,
Twa Hours and mair before Day-light, 150
I shall to Bavelaw tack the Flight,
And tell how ye ha’e drest me.
Thus Petie with her words contented,
Did homeward gae and sair repented,
That he this beast had sae tormented,
And in this manner drest her.
And she baith dolourous and wae,
Came poorly creeping up the Brae,
With a sare skin, baith black and blae,
And there sat down to rest her. 160
And there frae time that she sat down,
For weariness she fell in Swown
And ere she waken’d, John Calhown
Came on her with a blatter,
Accompany’d with auld Pakes Patoun
And Richie March, who dwelt in Hatoun,
And laid upon her with a Batoun,
While a’ her Harns did clatter.
To whom this Beast all wae began,
Said, Loving honest, guid sweet John, 170
Lat me but this ane Night alone,
And I wish nor I worrie,
Upon the Morn, be I alive,
If I dow either lead or drive,
With Dogs ye shall me rug and rive,
If I make not for Currie.
Thus he bewailing her Punition,
Did leave her upon that Condition,
And she but any Requisition,
Came down to the Killogie, 180
Where she thought to have lodg’d all Night,
And ease her the best way she might:
But a false Lown soon saw that Sight,
Whose Name was Willie Scrogie.
Who came and tuik her by the Beugh,
And with a Rung both auld and teugh,
Laid on her, while she bled enough,
And for dead left her lying
Into a deadly Swown and Trance,
Bewailing Fortune’s Variance, 190
Her hard Misluck and heavie Chance,
For Help and Pity crying.
But what shou’d any further speaking?
For all her waful Cries and Greeting,
Her loving Words and fair Intreating,
(These Follows were too tyked)
To her they would make nae Supplie,
Nor yet let her remaining be
Amang them, but twa days or three,
Say to them, what she liked. 200
This silly Beast thus confounded,
Sae deadly hurt, misus’d and wounded,
With Messan-dogs sae chas’d and wounded,
In end directs a Letter
Of Supplication with John Aird,
To purchase Licence frae the Laird,
That she might bide about the Yeard,
While she grew sumwhat better.
But he wou’d na ways condescend
To gae the Message she did send, 210
For fear he shou’d the Laird offend:
But bade her send John Durie.
And when they war in all their Dou’ts,
A Messenger, whase Name was Couts,
(Vengeance light on all their Snouts,)
Came on her in a Fury.
Who did tack forth his Sergeants Wand,
And gave to her a strait Command,
The self same Night to leave the Land,
Or on the Morn to burn her. 220
Then was this Beast so sare amazed,
Into his Face the glour’d and gazed,
And wist not well she was so bazed,
To what Hand for to turn her.
But fell down on her silly Knees,
And upward lifting up her Eyes,
Said, Couts, my Misery thou sees,
Wherefore do not deride it:
But ponder my distrest Estate,
How I am handled and what gate, 230
For I may mack na mair debate:
Na langer can I bide it.
Then did she halt lang in Dispair,
Withdraw her to a Place, even where
She thought there should be least Repair,
And that nane shou’d come near her.
But she got never perfect Rest,
Ga where she lik’d, she was opprest:
Wherefore in end it was thought best,
With Men awa to bear her. 240
And so Rob Rodger in an Anger,
And Will Tamson wha ay bade hang her,
By Sting and Ling they did up-bang her,
And bare her down between them,
To Duncan’s Burn, and there but dread,
They left her and came hame good speed:
Ye wou’d have laughen well indeed,
So pudled to have seen them:
For Willie Tamson well I ween,
Fell in a Pool o’er baith the Een, 250
And ne’er a bit of him left clean,
So throw the Dubs him carri’d.
And Rob who took in hand to guide him,
O’er both the Lugs he fell beside him,
Then sta away for shame to hide him,
He was so well begarri’d.
This being done but any mair,
These twa they left her lying there,
Supprest with Dolour, Grief and Care,
Who made this Protestation: 260
If any Person far or near
Within this Parish would compear,
To lend her but ten Shillings here,
Upon her Obligation.
When the Cleck Geese leave off to clatter,
And Parasites to flietch and flatter,
And Priests, Maria’s to pitter patter,
And Thieves from Thift refrain.
Or yet again, when there shall be
Nae Water in the Ocean Sea: 270
Then she that Sum right thankfullie
Should pay them hame again.
But, oh, alas for all their Moan,
In all these Parts there was not One,
Would condescend to give that Loan,
For never ane did mean her!
And sae alas! she lay still there
But Meat and Drink eight days and mair;
It wou’d have made a haill Heart sair,
In that Café to have seen her. 280
Yet honest Antie in the Place,
Came and beheld her pale cauld Face,
And said, for evermair, alace!
I see the sae mischieved:
Had I known of thy weariness,
They Misery and great Distress,
I shou’d have helped mair or less,
And so thy Straits relieved.
I shou’d have put the in the Bank,
Where Nettles, Grass and Weeds grew rank: 290
Where well thou might have fill’d thy Flank,
And fed amang the Willies:
Or otherways to have rejoic’d thee,
Within the Ward I might have clos’d thee,
Where well thou mightest have repos’d thee
Amang the Laird’s best Fillies.
To whom the Beast said soberly,
Sweet Mistress, I most heartily
Do thank you for your Courtesy,
So friendly who have us’d me: 300
Who has sae lovingly reported,
And also sweetly me comforted:
And with your Alms has me supported,
When all my Kin refus’d me:
Yet mair attour, since there is nane,
To whom that I can mack my Mane,
But sweet Mistress to you alane,
Before these Villains gore me,
Though I have neither Gier nor Gains,
For to present you for your Pains: 310
If it perturb not all your Brains,
Yet this one thing do for me:
Gae to the Cock with speedy haist,
And rin as fast as ye were chaist,
And tell me that I am dead almaist,
And if ye can allure him,
A Dishfu’ of his Broath to send me,
Which frae this cauld Night may defend me;
And if it prove a Help to mend me,
Upon my Word assure him, 320
When Winter Cauld shall be but Frost.
And Wives for Mast’ry shall not boast,
And Men of Law wait on but Cost,
And Usurers tack nae Gains:
Or when ye shall see Pentland Hills
B’ing carri’d down amang Leith Mills,
Then I with twanty mae good Wills.
Shall please him for his Pains.
This Message Antie undertook,
And speedily ran to the Cook, 330
Who fand him sitting in the Nook,
And as she was desired,
Requested him right earnestly
To send the silly Beast Supply:
And he again right thankfully
Did as he was required,
And without Grudging or Debate,
Did send a muckle Charger-plate
Fu’ o’ good Broath hynd down the Gate,
And bade her tack care o’d: 340
And with her sell likewise conclude,
That if she thought it healthsome Fude,
And if it did her ony gude,
The Morn she shou’d hae mair o’d:
But frae this Time this wraked Beast
Perceiv’d the Broath gae down her Breast,
Her Tongue frae crying never ceast
Till she had made Confession:
And sae came by Sir Tamas Grant,
About the Sheens who aft did haunt, 350
Who thought, if she did Witness want
To hear’t, it were Oppression.
Wherefore he said unto the Meir,
I see thy Death approacheth near,
Then see, that ye be very clear,
For Death to mack thee ready:
For I see by thy Viasge pale,
Nathing but Death for thee but fail,
As freely then tell me your Tale,
As if I were your Deddie. 360
Then up she hoov’d her hinder Heels,
And said (when she lay in the Fiel’s)
Though you with me shou’d cast the Creils
And of your Help refuse me:
I will naways at all think Shame,
Tho’t be contrar to a good Name,
To you, sweet Father, to proclame,
How lang time they did use me.
My Master was a simple Man,
Wha had nathing, but what he wan 370
By cadging Heather now and than:
At Bavelaw was his winning.
My Hussie likewise was a Wife
Ay hading into Sturt and Strife,
Wha had nathing during her Life,
But what she wan by Spinning.
And I was tossed up and down,
With Heather cadging to the Town,
For fau’t o’ Food whils did I Swown,
For a’ that e’er I wan them. 380
But I think plain Necessitie
Was it, why sae they used me:
Wherefore I think assuredlie,
I hae nae Cause to ban them.
But yet, because they us’d me sae,
I thought to mack their Hearts as wae,
Anes to the Butler I did gae,
Postponing ev’ry Peril:
Where I fand naught but taw Sheep-breeds,
Some Haggise-bags and taw Nowt-heads, 390
With twa’r three Pecks of Sowing-seeds,
Well tramped in a Barrel.
I took the Seeds which I thought best,
With Hunger being sare opprest,
And ate of them while they mought last,
When all the Rest were sleeping.
Syne privily I did me hy
Into the Stable near hand by,
(Which is the Place wherein I ly)
On Hands and Feet fast creeping. 400
But oh I dought na sleep a Wink
For Drowth, but came back to the Bink,
Where that I took a miekle Drink,
But it was very bitter.
I trow my Hussy Meg had pisht it,
And up upon the Bink had disht it,
Oh, if that I had never toucht it,
It gart me tack the Sk—-!
But Good John Smith, my Master dear,
Upon the Morn ere Day grew clear, 410
Before his Wife he did compear:
And said to her, my Lady,
Rise up, I pray you, with good Speed,
Hang on the Sowings, for indeed
I trow ye be right scant of Bread,
Some Hate-thing soon mack ready.
The Wife expecting for nane ill
Rase up his Biding to fulfill,
With merry Heart and right good Will,
To mack for some Provision: 420
But when she mist the Seeds away,
She wist not what to do or say,
Cry’d many Alas, and Wall-away!
And said, John, in derision
I trow ye cry for your Disjoon:
When were ye wont to cry so soon?
It is your self this deed hath done:
And that hath made Conclusion
Of all the Seeds we got in Morton;
Or else it hath been glied Wil Morton. 430
I’ll be his Chance, his Hap and Fortune,
Who hath wrought this Confusion.
When she was macking all this Mane,
And had him tauld that all was Gane,
A Race to her the Carl hath tane,
As fast as he might Bicker,
And hit her such a Stroak but Dread,
While he thought, that she had been dead:
For he had hit her on the Head
A sad Stroak and a sicker. 440
So when with a lang heavy Rung,
I did perceive my Hussie dung,
I was stanne-still, and held my Tongue,
And felloun closs I held me.
For if they had had any Feel,
That I had made them such a Reel,
The one of them, I wat right well,
But question wou’d have fell’d me.
Now this is the warst Turn, I say,
That e’re I did by Night or Day: 450
Wherefore, sweet Father, I you pray,
Since you hear my Confession:
That in this Place before I die,
You grant me Pardon chearfully,
For that I wat assuredly
Belangs to your Profession.
Then spake this Father venerable
To her this Sentence comfortable,
As I a man am trowable,
I say this in submission:
Since ye desire to be remitted 460
Of all the fau’ts ye have commited,
(Now surely on the head I hit it)
I grant you full Remission.
Then was she blyth, and said, I think,
That I am an begins to wink,
Sweet Father now take Pen and Ink
And write as I command you.
For on my Credit I dare swear,
It was some Good thing brought you here, 470
Recorded be the Time and Year,
And Day, that e’er I found you.
And first write, that it pleaseth me,
My Body be solemnously
Laid in that place with Honesty,
Where ly my Predecessors.
I nominate my Master John
And his good Brother Tam Gillon,
Executors to me alone,
These twa are nae Oppressors. 480
I know they will do nought but Right
To me and mine, for many a Night
I did them Pleasure as I might,
Wherefore you may assure them.
For often-times I wou’d them tack,
E’en as a Chap-man doth his Pack,
Upon my sillie feeble Back,
And throw the Dubs I bure them.
I leave them therefore Power all,
To meddle with Debts great and small, 490
And with all Things in general,
That any way belangs me.
First, I am awing to Andro Rid
At the Wast-port for six Gray-bread,
Five Shilling, for the which indeed
He and his Wife o’regangs me.
And in my great Necessitie,
Tam Linkie’s Wife she furnisht me,
As meekle Draff of Veritie,
The last day of December, 500
As by the last Count we did mack,
Came to five Shilling and a Plack,
Well counted before auld John Black:
If I do right remember.
There is a cankard Carl sicklyke,
Whom I have born o’er many a Syke,
They ca’ him Jockie in the Dyke,
(I had amaste fargot it)
Some Nights, when I cou’d not win Hame,
To tell the Truth I think na Shame, 510
For Draff and Satlings to my Wame,
Six Placks I am addebted.
No sa far as I understand,
I awe na mare in a’ this Land,
But to a silly Colibrand,
Tam Rid that dwals in Currie,
Upon a time as he may prove:
An Achison for a Remove,
But ‘t was little for my Behove,
I pray nor he may may worry. 520
There is a Man, they ca’ him John Blair,
Beside the Hops wha macks Repair,
Him did I serve seven Years and mair,
But I saw ne’er his Conzie,
And in my Need and Povertie,
My Sickness and Calamitie,
That same Carl ne’er visit me:
Now Pox light on his Grounzie.
The Thing to me he is addebted,
I purpose not ov’r high to set it, 530
It is if I have not forgot it,
By our just Calculation,
Three Pound: here without Dilatours,
I ordain my Executors,
To gang amang my Creditours,
And to their Contentation,
Off the first end, right chearfully,
Content them a’ with Honesty,
Lest afterward they wearie me,
When I may not amend it: 540
And to such as are destitute
Of wardly Goods, I constitute
That all the rest be distribute,
Sae soon’s my Life is endit.
I ha’e not meekle mair free Gear,
In very deed, to speak of here:
But had I liv’d another Year,
If Folks had been good willie,
I had had mair, yet I will shaw,
The Thing I have but any aw, 550
I have into the Castle-law,
A Meir but and a Fillie.
My Will is, and I leave the Mierie
To ane they ca’ him John Macklierie,
e cause of Foot he is not feirie,
And may not deal with Travel.
For in his Youth that Carl us’d ay,
With Wenches for to sport and play,
Where through he hath this mony a day,
Been troubled with the Gravel. 560
I leave the Fillie to John Kilmanie,
An honest Master in Balenie:
The which if it be Poor and Banie:
Yet if it be well used,
It will do Good. Aft-times, said I,
I might have had for ‘t already,
From my sweet Masters Luckie-dedy,
Five Crowns, which was refused.
My Halter and my four New Shods,
My Turs-raips, curpel and my Sods, 570
I list not let them gae to ods,
For that indeed wou’d Grieve me:
I leave them therefore to Tam Stean,
Who hath his winning in Smiddy-green:
For many a Night, right late at e’en,
That poor Man did relieve me.
My Main, my Tail, and a’ my Hair,
I leave but any Process mair,
To Cheasly, Matman, and Tam Blair,
Three Fishers by Vocation: 580
For aft-times when it wou’d be Late,
And might not mack nae mare Debate,
These three wou’d lodge me by the Gate
And give me Sustenation.
I leave my bony round white Teeth
To Willie Frisel into Leith,
For on a time when Jenny Reith
With plotted Broe demaim’d me,
He fed me in his House a’ hail
Eight Days, with good Flesh Broe and Kaill, 590
And aft-times with Bread and Ale,
Where worse Chear might have gain’d me.
To honest Auntie in Collingtoun Place,
My Blissing light upon her Face,
Who was my Friend in every Case,
I cannot well forget her.
I leave her therefore to her Part,
My true, my kind, and tender Heart,
For into mony Grief and Smart,
Of her I was the better. 600
I leave the Creash within my Wame,
With a’ my Heart to Finlay Grame,
It will be better than Swine Seam,
For any Wramp or Minzie.
First shear it small, and rind it sine,
Into a Kettle clean and fine,
It will be good against the Pine
Of any Wriest or Strienzie.
I leave my Liver, Puds and Tripes
To the twa Brethren in the Snipes, 610
Wha though they be but greedy Gipes,
Yet being once in Cramond
Storm-sted and in great Miserie,
For very Hunger like to die,
Did give me lodging chearfullie,
And fed me well with Salmond.
My twa gray Eyes like Cristal clear,
Wherefrae great brightness did appear,
I leave in this my Test’ment here,
To silly John Mackwirrie: 620
For going wild into the Night
Beside Blackbav’law on the Height,
He took me to an Ale-house right,
And made to be mirrie.
I leave my Tongue Rethorical,
My duice Voice, Sweet and Musical,
And all my Science Natural,
To good sweet Master Mathow:
For when I was by Mortoun Dogs,
O’erbladed through the Stanks and Bogs, 630
And had stood three Days in the Jogs,
Within the Town of Ratho;
He came into a Morning soon,
And gave Contentment lang ere Noon,
To a’ to wham I wrang had done,
Sine sent me with a Letter
With Expedition down to Cammock:
Where that for to refresh my Stamock,
I was receiv’d and fed with Dramock
Aught Days and with the better. 640
I leave my Head to Sanny Purdie,
A Man whereof I think him wurdie:
For once when that I took the Sturdie,
That Man but any Grudging,
Made me great Succour and Supply,
And used me right tenderly,
And gave me Food abundantly,
Twa Weeks within his Lodging.
I leave to Claud in Hermistoun,
For his Bounteth and Warisoun, 650
My Hide, with my braid Bennisoun,
To be a pair of Bellies:
For whan he fand me lying Sick,
At Gogor Bridge, and dought not speak,
Upon his back he did me cleick,
And bare me to Laird Skellies.
To these Fellows of Collingtoun,
Who brought me to Contention,
I leave them my black Malison,
For here I do protest it. 660
If these Men had licenced me
To ha’ biddin twa Nights or three,
Amang the Broom, where quietlie,
I might have ly’n and restit:
I had not then with every Lown,
With every Butcher up and down,
Been bladded frae Town to Town,
Nor gotten sick Oppression:
Nor yet had been in sick a Blunder:
Nor made then sick a a Warld’s Wonder: 670
I wish mae Mischiefs nor a hunder
On them and their Succession.
Now sweet Sir Tamas earnestly,
I pray you let me hear and see,
If that my Will and Legacie,
Be done as I directed:
For some Suspition e’en now breed I,
That you are grieved Lucki-deddy,
In that I have dispatcht already
My Goods and you neglected. 680
But surely, Sir, the Reason why
That I did so and set you by,
It was indeed, because that I
Knew not, that you were needy.
And next again, as Reason shaws.
I did it for another Cause,
Which is, that all the Warld knaws,
That such Men are not Greedy.
To wham Sir Tamas soberly
Did Answer mack, and said, truly 690
All Things, as ye commanded me,
Are orderly perfected:
Therefore of that tack ye na Care,
And of that Matter speak nae mair:
Think on your Sickness and your Sair,
As for your Gear I quite it.
Then for final Conclusion,
This poor Beast on her Knees fell down,
And said, Sir, for my Bennisoun,
Since Death thinks to betray me: 700
And since I clearly do perceive,
That of my Breath and all the leave
Of the Five Senses that I have,
Death threatens to bewray me.
I you beseech most earnestlie,
Of your Gentrice and Courtesie,
To gae to Bav’law soon for me,
And there with Expedition,
Shew to John Smith, my Master dear,
That I am sair Siek lying here, 710
At point of Death, and dow not steer:
And mack him Requisition,
For to come down peremptorlie,
The Morn about twa Hours or three,
To Geordie Miln, where publicklie
I will repeat this Sentence.
That I dare say in Veritie,
It were great Pleasure unto me,
That we shou’d meet before I die,
For honest auld Acquaintance. 720
Sir Tamas then began to clatter,
And told, that he wou’d nae ways flatter,
But plainly to her shew the Matter:
Sine said to her, my Dearie,
Ly still and rest you: for I think,
That I shall neither eat nor drink,
Nor with mine Eyes shall sleep a Wink,
Though I were ne’er sae wearie,
Whilst all and haill my last Direction
Be done and ended but Defection. 730
Then unto Pluto his Protection
He heartily bequeath’d her:
And ran to Bav’law with good will,
Brought down John Smith to Gorgie-mill,
Wha sae soon as he came her till,
Into his Arms he caught her.
And said, alas for evermair!
That I shou’d see thee lying there
Sae Comfortless, baith Sick and Sair,
Sae Helpless, Poor, and Needy; 740
Sae Bruis’d and Birs’d, sae Black and Blae,
Sae ill demaim’d frae Tap to Tae:
Alas that I shou’d leave thee sae!
Fy! is there nae Remeedy?
Alas for evermair, alace!
This is a dolorous dolefu’ Case
To me, to see that well-fa’our’d Face
And Countenance sae guided:
Now where are these twa brightfu’ Een
Into thy Head, which I have seen, 750
That now are sae yellow and green?
Oh, I cannot abide it!
Oh and alas that harmes be ay:
Dolour and Doll fell me this day.
What shall I either do or say?
This is a dolefu’ Meeting.
To whom this Beast with Voice most weak
Said, Master, my Heart do not break,
Let Sorrow be, some Comfort take,
I dow not bide your Greeting. 760
Your Sighs, your Sobs, your Mourning sair,
Doth nathing but augment my Care:
Therefore desist and Mourn nae mair,
With Greeting ye are wrackit:
And since that ye withoutten Swither,
To visit me are come down hither,
Be blyth, and let us drink together,
For Mourning will not mack it.
And since, sweet Master, that you see,
That there is nought but Death for me, 770
I pray you tack it patientlie,
Since there is nae Redemption:
And I do mack you Supplication,
To carry hame my Commendation
To all and haill the Congregation
Of Curry, but Exemption.
As for my Goods, they’re else divided,
Na Part thereof is undecided,
Except my Sp’rit, and to guide it,
I leave the King of Fairie, 780
Perpetually for to remain
In Wilderness with his great Train,
And never to come back again,
But in his Court to tarry.
The Speech thus ended, she sat down,
All Comfortless and fell in Swoon,
Where she in that great Passion,
Baith Heartless, Faint and Weary,
With a great Exclamation,
To Pluto macks Invocation, 790
Did yield her Sp’rit but Molestation:
Thus ended John Smith’s Meiry.
Now have ye heard the Tragedy,
The latter Will and Legacy
Of this Meir, and the Certainty,
When, where, and how she ended.
Which though it be both Gross and Rude,
And of all Eloquence denude:
Yet, Sirs, imbrace’t as it were good,
For I took Pains to mend it. 800
The Last DYING WORDS of
A Famous Grey-Hound in the Shire of Fife.
Alas, alas, quo’ bonny Heck,
On former Days when I reflect!
I was a Dog much in Respect
For doughty Deed:
But now I must hing by the Neck
O fy, Sirs, for black burning Shame,
Ye’ll bring a Blunder on your Name!
Pray tell me wherein I’m to blame?
Is’t in Effect, 10
Because I’m Criple, Auld and Lame?
Quo’ bony Heck.
What great Feats I have done my Sell
Within Clink of Kilrenny Bell,
When I was Souple, Young and Fell
But Fear or Dread:
John Ness and Paterson can tell,
Whose Hearts may bleid.
They’ll witness that I was the Vier
Of all the Dogs within the Shire, 20
I’d run all Day, and never tyre:
But now my Neck
It must be stretched for my Hyre,
Quo’ bonny Heck.
How nimbly could I turn the Hair,
Then serve my self, that was right fair!
For still it was my constant Care
The Van to lead.
Now, what could sery Heck do mair,
Syne kill her dead? 30
At the King’s-Muir, and Kelly–law,
Where good stout Hairs gang fast awa,
So cliverly I did it Claw,
With Pith and Speed:
I bure the Bell before them
As clear’s a Beid.
I ran alike on a’ kind Grounds,
Yea in the midst of Ardry Whines,
I grip’t the Mackings be the Bunns,
Or be the Neck: 40
Where nathing could slay them but Guns,
Save bonny Heck:
I Wily, Witty was, and Gash,
With my auld felni packy Pash,
Nae Man might anes buy me for Cash
In some respect.
Are they not then confounded Rash,
That hangs poor Heck?
I was a bardy Tyk and bauld,
Tho’ my Beard’s Gray, I’m not so auld. 50
Can any Man to me unfald,
What is the Feid,
To stane me ere I be well Cauld?
A cruel Deed!
Now Honesty was ay my Drift,
An innocent and harmless Shift,
A Kaill-pot-lid gently to lift,
Shame fa the Chafts, dare call that Thift,
Quo’ bonny Heck. 60
So well’s I cou’d play Hocus Pocus,
And of the Servants mack Jodocus,
And this I did in every Locus
Throw their Neglect.
And was not this a Merry Jocus
Quo’ bonny Heck?
But now, good Sirs, this day is lost,
The best Dog in the East-Nook Coast:
For never ane durst Brag nor Boast
Me, for their Neck. 70
But now I must yeild up the Ghost,
Quo’ bonny Heck.
And put a period to my Talking,
For I’m unto my Exit making:
Sirs, ye may a’ gae to the Hawking,
And there Reflect,
Ye’l ne’er get sick a Dog for Makin
As bonny Heck.
But if my Puppies ance were ready,
Which I gat on a bonny Lady: 80
They’l be baith Cliver, Keen, and Beddy,
And ne’er Neglect,
To Clink it like their ancient Deddy
The famous Heck.
Cherry and the Slae.
Compiled into Metre by
Captain Alexander Montgomery.
A Sweet Sonnet to the Blessed Trinity.
Supream Essence, Beginner Unbegun,
Ay Trinal One, and undivided Three,
Eternal Word that Victory hath won,
O’er Death, o’er Hell, triumphing on the Tree.
Fore-knowledge, Wisdom, and All-seeing Eye,
JEHOVAH, Alpha, and Omega all,
Like unto none, and none like unto Thee,
Unmov’d moving the Rounds about the Ball:
Container uncontain’d, Is, Was, and Shall
Be Sempiternal, Merciful and Just: 10
Creator Uncreated, now I call,
Teach me thy Truth, since into Thee I trust,
Increase, Confirm, and kindle from above
My Faith, my Hope, but by the lave my Love.
About a Bank with balmy Bews,
Where Nightingales their Notes renews
With gallant Gold-spinks gay:
The Mavis, Merle, and Progne proud,
The Lintwhite, Lark and Laverock loud,
saluted mirthful May:
When Philomel had sweetly sung,
to Progne she deplored;
How Tereus cut out her Tongue,
and falsly her Deflou’red. 10
Which Story, so sory,
To shew asham’d she she seem’d;
To hear her, so near her,
I doubted if I dream’d.
The Cushat crowds, the Corbie cryes,
The Cucko cuks, the pratling Pyes
to geck her they begin:
The Jargoun, or the jangling Jayes,
The cracking Craws, the keckling Kayes,
they deav’d me with their din: 20
The painted Pown with Argos Eyes
can on his Maycock call,
The Turtle wails on wither’d Trees:
and Echo answer’d all,
Repeating, with greeting,
how fair Narcissus fell,
By lying, and spying
his Shadow in the Well,
I saw the Hurcheon and the Hare,
In Hidlings hirpling here and there, 30
to make their Morning-mange:
The Con, the Coney, and the Cat,
Whose dainty Downs with Dew were wet,
with stiff Mustachoes strange,
The Heart, the Hynd, the Dae, the Rae,
the Fulmart and false Fox,
The bearded Buck clamb up the Brae
with birsie Bairs and Brocks:
Some feeding, some dreading,
the Hunter’s subtile Snares, 40
With skipping, and tripping,
they plaid them all in Pairs.
The Air was sober, soft and sweet,
But misty Vapours, Wind and Weet,
but quiet, calm and clear;
To foster Flora’s fragrant flow’rs,
Whereon Apollo’s Paramours
had trickl’d many a Tear;
The which like Silver shakers shin’d,
embrodr’ing Beauty’s Bed: 50
Wherewith their heavy Heads declin’d,
all in May’s Colours cled:
Some knopping, some dropping
of Balmy Liquor sweet:
Excelling in smelling,
through Phoebus wholesome Heat.
Me thought an Heav’nly heartsome thing,
Where Dew like Diamonds did hing,
o’er-twinkling all the Trees,
To study on the flourish’d Twists, 60
Admiring Nature’s Alchymists,
laborious busie Bees.
Whereof some sweetest Honey sought,
to stay their Lives to sterve;
And some the Waxie Vessels wrought,
their Purchase to preserve:
So heaping, for keeping,
it in their Hives they hid:
Precisely, and wisely,
for Winter they provide. 70
To pen the Pleasures of that Park,
How ev’ry Blosome, Branch and Bark,
against the Sun did shine,
I pass to Poets to compile
In High, Heroick, Stately Stile,
whose Muse surmatches mine.
But as I looked me alone,
I saw a River rin,
Out o’er a steepy Rock of Stone,
syne lighted in a Lin: 80
With tumbling, and rumbling,
among the Roches round,
Devalling, and falling
into a Pit profound.
Through routing of the River rang
The Roches, founding like a Sang;
where Descant did abound,
With Treble, Tenor, Counter, Meen:
An Echo blew a Basse between,
in Diapason sound, 90
Set with the C sol-fa-uth Clief,
with Large and Long at list,
With Quiver, Crotchet, Semibrief,
and not a Minim mist;
Compleatly, more sweetly,
she fir’d down Flat and Sharp,
Than Muses, which uses,
to pin Apollo’s Harp.
Who would have tir’d to hear that Tune
Which Birds corrob’rate ay abune, 100
with Layes of lovesome Larks?
Which climb so high in cristal Skies,
While Cupid wak’ned with the Cries
of Nature’s Chappel-Clarks:
Who leaving all the Heav’ns above,
alighted on the Eard.
Lo, how that little Lord of Love
before me there appear’d
So mild-like, and Child-like,
with Bow three quarters skant, 110
Syne moyly, and coyly,
he looked like a Saint!
A cleanly Crisp hang o’er his Eyes,
His Quiver by his naked Thighs,
hang in a Silver Lace
Of Gold, between his Shoulders grew
Two pretty Wings, wherewith he flew,
on his left Arm a Brace.
This God soon off his Gear he shook
upon the Grassie Ground, 120
I ran as lightly for to look,
where Ferlies might be found;
Amazed, I gazed
to see his Gear so gay,
Perceiving mine having,
he counted me his Prey,
His Youth and Stature made me stout,
Of doubleness I had no Doubt;
but bourded with my Boy:
Quoth I, how call they thee, my Child? 130
Cupido, Sir, (quoth he) and smil’d,
please you me to imploy:
For I can serve you in your Suit,
if you please to impyre,
With Wings to flee, and Shafts to shoot,
or Flames to set on fire:
Make choise then, of those then,
or of a thousand Things,
But crave them, and have them;
with that I woo’d his Wings. 140
What would you give, my Heart, quoth he,
To have these wanton Wings to flee,
to sport thy Sp’rit a while?
Or, what if Love should lend thee here,
Bow, Quiver, Shafts, and Shooting-gear,
some Body to beguile?
This Gear, (quoth I) cannot be bought,
yet would I have it fain.
What if (quoth He) it cost thee Nought,
but rendring all again? 150
His Wings then, he brings then,
and band them on my Back:
Go flee now, quoth he now,
and so my Leave I take.
I sprang up with Cupido’s Wings,
Whose Shots and Shooting-gear resigns
to lend me for a Day.
As Icarus with borrow’d Flight,
I mounted higher than I might,
o’er perillous a Play: 160
First forth I drew the double Dart,
which sometimes shot his Mother,
Wherewith I hurt my wanton Heart,
in hope to hurt another;
It hurt me, or burnt me,
while either end I handle:
Come see now, in me now,
the Butterflee and Candle.
As she delights into the Low;
So was I browden of my Bow, 170
as ignorant as she;
And as she flies, while she is fir’d,
So with the Dart that I desir’d,
mine hands have hurt me too;
As foolish Phaёton by suit,
his Father’s Chair obtain’d;
I longed in Love’s Bow to shoot,
not marking with it mean’d;
More wilful, than skilful,
to flee I was so fond, 180
and so was seen upon’t.
Too late I knew, who hews too hie,
The Spail shall fall into his Eye,
too late I went to Shools,
Too late I heard the Swallow Preach,
Too late Experience doth teach
the School-Master of Fools.
Too late I find the Nest I seek,
when all the Birds are flown: 190
Too late the Stable Dorr I steek,
when as the Steed is stown;
Too late ay, their state ay,
as foolish Folk espy,
Behind so, they find so,
remeed, and so do I.
If I had ripely been advis’d,
I had not rashly enterpriz’d
to soar with borrow’d Pens,
Nor yet had sey’d the Archer-Craft, 200
To shoot my self with such a Shaft,
as Reason quite miskens.
Fra Wilfulness gave me my Wound,
I had no force to flee:
Then came I groaning to the Ground,
Friend, welcome home, quoth he,
When flew ye, whom slew ye,
or who brings home the Booting?
I see now, quoth he now,
you have been at the Shooting. 210
As Scorn comes commonly with Skaith,
So I behov’d to bide them baith;
so stagg’ring was my State,
That under Cure I got such Check,
Which I might not remove nor neck,
but either staile or maire:
Mine Agony was so extream,
I swelt and swoon’d for fear.
But ere I waken’d off my Dream,
he spoil’d me of my Gear, 220
With flight then, on hieghth then,
sprang Cupid in the Skies,
Forgetting, and setting,
at nought my careful Cries.
So long with Sight I follow’d him,
While both my dazled Eyes grew dim,
through staring on the Starns;
Which flew so thick before my Een,
Some red, some yellow, blue and green,
which troubled all mine Harns, 230
That ev’ry thing appeared two
to my parboiled Brain,
But long might I ly looking so,
ere Cupid came again:
Whose Thund’ring, with wond’ring,
I heard up through the Air:
Through Clouds so, he thuds so,
and flew I wist not where.
Then when I saw that God was gone,
And in a Langour left alone, 240
and sore tormented too,
Sometime I sigh’d, while I was sad,
Sometime I mus’d, and most gone mad,
I doubted what to do:
Sometime I rav’d half in a Rage,
as one into Despair:
To be opprest with such a Page,
Lord, if my Heart was sair!
Like Dido, Cupido,
I widdle and I warie, 250
Who rest me, and left me,
in such a feiry-farie.
Then I felt Courage and Desire
Inflame mine Heart with uncouth Fire,
to me before unknown:
But then no Blood in me remains,
Unburnt or boil’d within my Veins,
by Love his Bellows blown;
To drown it ere I was devour’d,
with Sighs I went about: 260
But ay the more I shoop to smoor’t,
the bolder it brake out;
Ay pressing, but ceasing,
while it might break the Bounds,
Mine Hew so, forth shew so,
the Dolour of my Wounds.
With deadly Visage, pale and wan,
More like Anatomy than Man,
I wither’d clean away.
As Wax before the Fire, I felt 270
Mine Heart within my Bosom melt,
and piece and piece decay;
My Veins by brangling like to break,
my Pulses lap with pith:
So Fervency did me infect,
that I was vext therewith:
Mine Heart ay, it start ay,
the fiery Flames to flee:
Ay hoping, through Louping,
to leap at Liberty. 280
But (O alas!) it was abus’d,
My careful Corps kept it inclus’d
in Prison of my Breast:
With Sighs so sopite and o’er-set,
Like to a Fish fast in a Net,
in dead-thraw undeceast;
Which though (in vain) she strives by Strength
for to pull out her Head:
Which profits nothing at the length,
but hast’ning to her Dead: 290
With thristing, and wristing,
faster still is she:
There I so, did ly so,
my Death advancing to;
The more I wrestled with the Wind,
The faster still my self I find,
no Mirth my Mind could mease,
More Noy than I, had never None,
I was so alter’d and o’ergone,
through drought of my Disease: 300
Yet weakly, as I might, I raise,
my Sight grew dim and dark,
I stagg’red at the Windlestraes,
no Token I was stark;
Both Sightless, and Mightless,
I grew almost at once:
In Anguish, I languish,
with many grievous Groans.
With sober pace yet I approach
Hard to the River and the Roch, 310
whereof I spake before:
The River such a Murmur made,
As to the Sea it softly slade,
the Craig was stay and shore;
Then Pleasure did me so provoke,
there partly to repair;
Betwixt the River and the Rock,
where Hope grew with Despair:
A Tree then, I see then,
of Cherries on the Braes; 320
Below too, I saw too,
a Bush of bitter Slaes.
The Cherries hang about my Head,
Like trickling Rubies round and red,
so high up in the Heugh:
Whose Shadows in the River shew
Their Shape, as graithly as they grew,
on trembling Twists and teugh:
Whiles bow’d through burden of the Birth,
declining down their Tops: 330
Reflex of Phœbus off the Firth
now colour’d all their Knops,
With Dancing, and Glancing,
in trile as Dornick Champ,
Which streamed, and leamed,
through lightness of that Lamp.
With earnest Eye, while I espy
That Fruit between me and the Sky,
half gate almost to Heaven,
The Craig so cumbersome to climb, 340
The Tree so tall of Growth and trim,
as any Arrow even;
I call’d to Mind how Daphne did
within the Laurel shrink;
When from a Apollo she her hid,
a thousand times I think;
That Tree there, to me there,
as he his Laurel thought,
Aspiring, but tyring,
to get the Fruit I sought. 350
To climb that Craig it was no buit,
Let be to press to pull the Fruit,
in top of all the Tree:
I knew no way whereby to come,
By any Craft to get it clumb,
appearantly to me:
The Craig was ugly, stay and driegh,
the Tree long, sound and small,
I was afraid to climb so high,
for fear to fetch a Fall; 360
Afrayed, I stayed,
and looked up aloft,
Whiles minting, whiles stinting,
my Purpose changed oft.
Then Dread, with Danger, and Despair
Forbade me minting any mair
to rax above my Reach.
What? Tush (quoth Courage) Man, go to,
He is but daft that hath to do,
and spares for ev’ry Speech; 370
For I have oft heard Sooth Men say
and we may see’t our sells,
That Fortune helps the Hardy ay,
but Pultrons ay repells;
Then spare not, and fear not
Dread, Danger, nor Despair,
To Fazards, hard Hazards,
is Death ere they come there.
Who speeds, but such as High aspires?
Who Triumphs not, but such as tires 380
to win a Noble Name?
Of Shrinking what but Shame succeeds?
Then do as thou would have thy Deeds
In Register of Fame.
I put the Case, thou not prevail’d,
so thou with Honour die,
Thy Life, but not they Courage fail’d,
shall Poets Pen of thee:
Thy Name then, from Fame then,
can never be cut aff. 390
Thy Grave ay, shall have ay,
that Honest Epitaph.
What canst thou lose when Honour lives,
Renown thy Virtue ay revives,
if Valiantly thou end.
Quoth Danger, Huly Friend, take heed,
Untimous Spurring spills the Steed,
take tent what ye pretend:
Though Courage counsel thee to Climb,
be was thou kep no Skaith, 400
Have thou none Help but Hope and him,
they may beguil thee baith.
Thy sell now, can tell now,
the Counsel of these Clarks;
Wherethrow yet, I trow yet,
thy Breast doth bear the Marks.
Burnt Bairns with Fire the Danger dreads,
So I believe thy Bosome bleeds,
since last that Fire thou felt:
Besides that, seindle times thou sees, 410
That ever Courage keeps the Keys
of Knowledge at his Belt:
Though he bid forward with the Guns,
small Powder he provides:
Be not a Novice of that Nuns,
who saw not both the sides:
Fools haste ay, almaist ay,
o’ersyles the Sight of some;
Who luiks not, who huiks not
what afterward may come. 420
Yet Wisdom wisheth the to weigh
This Figure in Philosophie,
a Lesson worth the lear;
Which is in time for to take tent,
And not, when time is past, repent,
and buy Repentance dear;
Is there none Honour after Life,
except thou slay thy sell?
Wherefore hath Atropos that Knife?
I trow thou canst not tell. 430
Who but it, would cut it,
which Clotho scarce hath spun,
Destroying, the joying,
Before it be begun?
All o’ers are repute to be Vice,
O’er High, o’er Low, o’er Rash, o’er Nice,
o’er Hot, or yet o’er Cold,
Thou seems unconstant by thy Signs,
Thy Thoughts are on a thousand Things,
thou wots not what thou would. 440
Let Fame her Pity on thee pour,
when all thy Bones are broken:
Yon Slae, suppose thou think it sour,
would satisfy to slocken.
They Drought now of Youth now,
which dries thee with Desire:
Asswage then thy Rage then,
foul water quenches Fire.
What Fool art thou to die a-thrift,
And now may quench it if thou list, 450
so easily but Pain?
More Honour is to Vanquish ane
Than fight with tensome and be tane,
and either Hurt or Slain.
The Practick is to bring to pass,
and not to Enterprise:
And as good drinking out of Glass,
as Gold in any wise.
(p.87) I lever, have ever
a Fowl in hand or tway, 460
Then seeing ten flying
about me all the day.
Look where thou light before thou loup,
And slip no Certainty for Hope,
who guides thee but beguess.
Quoth Courage, Cowards take no Cure
To sit with shame, so they be sure:
I like them all the less.
What pleasure purchast is but Pain,
or Honour won with Ease? 470
He will not ly where he is Slain,
who doubts before he dies.
For Fear then, I hear then,
but only one Remeed,
Which late is, and that is,
for to cut off the Head.
What is the way to heal thy Hurt?
What way is there to stay thy Sturt?
what Mean t0 make the Merry?
What is the Comforts that thou craves? 480
Suppose these Sophists thee deceives,
thou knows it is the Cherrie;
Since for it only thou but thirsts,
the Slae can be no Bait:
In it also thine Health consists,
and in none other Fuit.
Why quakes thou, and shakes thou,
or studies at our Strife?
Advise thee, it lies thee,
on no less than thy Life. 490
If any Patient would be Panc’d,
Why should he leap when he is Lanc’d,
or shrink when he is shorn?
For I have heard Chirurgions say,
Oft times deferring of a Day
might not be mend the Morn.
Take time in Time, ere Time be tint,
for Time will not remain;
What forceth Fire out of the Flint,
but as hard Match again? 500
Delay not, nor fray not,
and thou shall see it sae:
Such gets ay, who sets ay,
stout Stomacks to the Brae.
Though all Beginnings be most hard,
The End is pleasant afterward,
then shrink not for no showre.
When once that thou thy Greening get,
Thy Pain and Travel is forget,
the sweet exceeds the sower: 510
Go then quickly, fear not thir,
for Hope good Hap hath height.
Quoth Danger, be not sudden, Sir,
the Matter is of Weight.
First spy both, then try both,
Advisement doth none ill:
Thou may then, I say then,
be wilful, when thou will.
But yet to mind the Proverb call,
Who uses Perils, perish shall, 520
short while their Life them lasts.
And I have heard (quoth Hope) that he
Should never shape to sail the Sea,
that for all Perils casts.
How many through Despair are dead,
that never Perils priev’d?
How many also, if thou read,
of Lives have we reliev’d?
Who being, even dying,
but Danger, but despair’d, 530
A hunder, I wonder,
but thou hast heard declar’d.
If we two hold not up thine Heart,
Which is the chief and noblest Part,
thy Works will not go well:
Considering these Companions can
Disswade a silly simple Man,
to hazard for his Heal.
Suppose they have deceived some,
ere we and they might meet; 540
They get no Credance where we come,
in any Man of Sp’rit.
By reason, their Treason
by us is plainly spy’d:
Revealing their Dealing,
which dow not be deny’d.
With sleekie Sophisms seeming Sweet
As all their Doings were Discreet,
they wish thee to be Wise;
Postponing Time from hour to hour, 550
But Faith, its underneath the Flow’r
the lurking Serpent lyes;
Suppose thou seest her not a stime,
while that she Sting thy Foot,
Perceives thou not what precious Time
thy Sleuth doth overshoot:
Alas Man, thy Case Man,
in Lingring I lament!
Go to now, and do now,
that Courage be content. 560
What if Melancholy come in,
And get a Grip ere thou begin?
then is thy Labour lost,
For he will hold thee hard and fast,
Till Time, and Place, and Fruit be past,
and thou give up the Ghost:
Then shall be Grav’n upon that Place,
which on thy Tomb is laid,
Sometime there liv’d such one, alace!
but how shall it be said? 570
Here lyes now, but Praise now,
into Dishonour’s Bed,
A Coward, as thou art,
who from his Fortune fled.
Imagine Man, if thou were laid
In Grave, and syne might hear this said;
would thou not sweat for Shame?
Yes, faith, I doubt not but thou would:
Therefore If thou have Eyes behold,
how they would smore thy Fame. 580
Go to, and make no more Excuse,
ere Life and Honour lose;
And either them or us refuse,
there is no other chose:
that we do never dwell:
At length ay, by Strength ay,
the Pultrons we expell.
Quoth Danger, Since I understand,
That Counsel can be no Command, 590
I have no more to say;
Except, if that ye think it good,
Take Counsel yet, ere ye conclude,
of Wiser Men than they;
They are but Rackless, Young and Rash,
suppose they think us sleit,
If of our Fellowship ye fash,
go with them hardly be it.
God speed you, they lead you,
who have not meikle Wit, 600
Expel us, ye’ll tell us
hereafter, comes not yet.
While Danger and Despair retir’d,
Experience came in and speir’d,
what all the Matter mean’d.
With him came Reason, Wit and Skill:
Then they began to ask at Will,
where make ye to, my Friend?
To pluck yon lusty Cherrie lo,
quoth he, and quite the Slae. 610
Quoth they, is there no more ado,
ere ye win up the Brae:
But do it, and to it,
perforce your Fruit to pluck?
Well Brother, some other,
were better to Conduct.
We grant, ye may be good enough,
But yet the Hazard of yon Heugh
requires a greater Guide:
As Wife as ye are may go wrang, 620
Therefore take Counsel, ere ye gang,
of some that stands beside.
But who were yon three, ye forbade,
your Company right now?
Quoth Will, three Preachers, to perswade,
the poison’d Slae to pow:
They tratled, and pratled
a long half hour and mair,
Foul fall them, they call them;
Dread, Danger, and Despair. 630
They are more Fashious than of Feck,
Yon Fazards durst not for their Neck,
climb up the Craig with us,
Fra we determined to die
Or then to climb the Cherrie Tree,
they bode about the Bush.
They are Condition’d like the Cat,
they would not weet their Feet:
But yet if any Fish they gat,
they would be apt to Eat. 640
Though they now, I say now,
to hazard have no Heart:
Yet luck we, or pluck we
the Fruit, they would have part.
But when we get our Voyage won,
They shall not then a Cherrie cun,
who would not enterprise.
Well, quoth Experience, ye boast:
But he, who reck’ned but his Host,
oft times has counted twise. 650
Ye sell the Boar’s skin on his Back,
but bide while ye it get:
When ye have done, its time to Crack,
ye fish before the Net.
With haste, Sir, ye taste, Sir,
the Cherrie ere ye pow it.
Beware, Sir, ye are, Sir,
more talkative than trow it.
Call Danger back again (quoth Skill)
To see what he can say to Will; 660
we see him shod so strait,
We may not trow what each One tells.
Quoth Courage we concluded els,
he serves not for our Mait,
For I can tell you all Perquiere,
his Counsel ere he come.
Quoth Hope, whereto should he come here?
he cannot hold him Dum:
He speaks ay, and seeks ay
delay of Time and drifts, 670
To grieve us, and deive us,
with Sophistry and Shifts.
Quoth Reason, why was he debar’d?
The Tale is ill cannot be heard;
yet let us hear him anes.
The Danger to declare began,
How Hope and Courage took the Man,
to lead him all their lanes:
How they would have him up the Hill,
but either Stop or Stay; 680
And who was welcomer than Will,
he would be foremost ay.
He could do, and should do,
who ever would or dought,
Such speeding, proceeding
unlikely was I thought.
Therefore I wisht him to beware,
And rashly not to run o’er far,
without such Guides as ye.
Quoth Courage, Friend, I hear you fail, 690
Take better tent unto your Tale,
ye said it could not be;
Besides that, he would not consent,
that ever we should Climb.
Quoth Will, for my part I Repent,
we saw them more than him:
For they are, the stayer
of us as well as he;
I think now, they shrink now,
go forward, let them be. 700
Go, go, we do nothing but Gucks,
They say the Voyage never lucks,
where each one hath a Vote.
Quoth Wisdom gravely, Sir, I grant,
We were no worse your Vote to want,
Some Sentence now I Note;
Suppose you speak it but beguess,
some Fruit therein I find,
Ye would be foremost I confess,
but comes oft-times behind. 710
It may be, that they be
deceiv’d, that never doubted:
Indeed Sir, that Head, Sir,
hath meikle Wit about it.
Then wilful Will began to Rage,
And Swore, he saw nothing in Age,
but Anger, Ire and Grudge:
And for my self (quoth he) I swear
To quite all my Companions here,
if they admit you Judge.
Experience is grown so Old, 720
that he begins to Rave:
The rest, but Courage, are so cold,
no hazarding they have:
For Danger, far stranger
hath made them than they were.
Go fra them, we pray them,
who neither dow nor dare.
Why may not we three lead this one?
I led an Hundred mine alone, 730
but Counsel of them all.
I grant (quoth Wisdom) ye have led,
But I would speir how many sped,
or further’d but a fall?
But either few, or none I trow,
Experience can tell.
He says, that Man may wite but you,
the first time that he fell;
He kens then, whose Pen then
thou borrow’d him to flie: 740
His Wounds yet, with Stounds yet,
he got them then through thee.
That (quoth Experience) is true,
Will flatter’d him when first he flew.
Will set him in a Low.
Will was his Counsel and Convoy,
Will borrow’d from the blinded Boy,
both Quiver, Wings and Bow:
Wherewith before he say’d to shoot,
he’d neither yield to Youth, 750
Nor yet had need of any Fruit
to quench his deadly Drouth;
Which Pines him, and Dwines him
to Death, I wot not how:
If Will then, did ill then,
himself remembers now.
For I Experience was there,
(Likeas I use to be all where)
what time he wyted Will,
To be the ground of all his Grief; 760
As I my self can be a Prief,
and Witness thereuntil:
There are no Bounds but I have been,
nor Hidlings for me hid,
Nor secret things but I have seen,
that he or any did.
Therefore now, no more now
let him think to conceal’t:
For why now, even I now
am Debt-bound to reveal’t. 770
My Custom is for to declare
The Truth, and neither eek nor pair
for any Man a Jot.
If wilful Will delights in Lies,
Example in thy self thou sees,
how he can turn his Coat,
And with his Language would allure
thee yet to break thy Bones:
Thou knows thy self, if he be sure,
thou us’d his Counsel once, 780
Who would yet, be Bold yet,
to wreck thee were not we.
Think on now, on yon now,
(quoth Wisdom then to me.)
Well (quoth Experience,) if he
Submits himself to you and me,
I wot what I should say,
Our good Advice he shall not want,
Providing always that he grant,
to put yon Will away; 790
And banish both him and Despair,
that all good Purpose spills:
So you will mell with them no mair,
let them two flyte their fills.
Such tossing, but lossing,
all honest Men may use;
That Change now, were strange now,
quoth Reason, to refuse.
Quoth Will, Fy on him, when he flew,
That pow’d not Cherries then a new 800
for to have stay’d his Sturt.
Quoth Reason, though he bear the Blame,
He never saw nor needed them,
while he himself had Hurt.
First, when he mister’d not, he might;
he needs, and may not, now:
Thy Folly, when he had his Flight,
empashed him to pow.
But he now, and we now
perceive they purpose plain, 810
To turn him, and burn him,
and blow on him again.
Quoth Skill, what would you longer strive?
Far better late than never Thrive,
come let us Help him yet:
Tint Time we may not get again,
We waste but present Time in vain.
Beware with that, quoth Wit,
Speak on, Experience, let’s see,
we think you hold you Dumb. 820
Of Bygones I have heard, quoth he,
I know not Things to come.
Quoth Reason, the Season
with Slouthing slides away:
First take him, and make him,
a Man if that you may.
Quoth Will, if he be not a Man,
I pray you, Sirs, what is he than?
he looks like one at least.
Quoth Reason, if he follow thee, 830
And mind not to remain with me,
nought but a brutal Beast;
A Man in Shape doth not consist,
for all your tanting Tales;
Therefore, Sir Will, I would ye wist
your Metaphysick fails:
Go lear yet, a year yet,
your Logick at the Schools,
Some day then, you may then
pass Master with the Mools. 840
(Quoth Will) I marvel, what you mean,
Should I not trow my own two Een,
for all your Logick-Schools?
If I did not, I were not wise.
(Quoth Reason) I have told you thrise
none fairlies more than Fools:
There be more Senses than the Sight,
which ye o’er hale for haste,
To wit, if ye remember right,
Smell, Hearing, Touch, and Taste: 850
All Quick things, have sick things,
I mean both Man and Beast;
By kind ay, we find ay,
few lacks them at the least.
So by that Consequence of thine,
Or Syllogism said like a Swine,
a Cow may learn the Lear;
Thou uses only but the Eyes,
She Touches, Tastes, Smels, Hears, and Sees,
which Matches thee and mair. 860
But since to Triumph ye intend,
as presently appears,
Sir, for your Clergy to be kend,
take ye two Ass’s Ear.
No Miter, perfyter,
got Midas for his Meed
That Hood, Sir, is good, Sir,
to hap your Brain-sick-head.
Ye have no Feel for to define,
Though ye have Cunning to decline 870
a Man to be a Mool,
With little work yet ye may vow’d,
To grow a galland Horse and good,
to ride thereon at Yool,
But to our Ground where he began,
for all your gutless Jests:
I must be Master of the Man,
but thou to brutal Beasts;
So we two, must be two
to cause both Kinds be known: 880
Keep thine then, for mine then,
and each one use their own.
Then Will as angry as an Ape;
Ran ramping, swearing, rude and rape,
saw he none other Shift,
He would not want an inch of’s Will,
Ev’n whether’t did him good or ill,
for thirty of his Thrift:
He would be Foremost in the Field,
and Master if he might; 890
Yea, he should rather die than yield,
though Reason had the Right.
Shall he now, make me now,
his Subject, or his Slave?
No rather, my Father
shall quick go to his Grave.
I height him, while mine Heart is heal,
To perish first ere he prevail,
come after what so may.
Quoth Reason, doubt you not indeed, 900
Ye hit the Nail upon the Head,
it shall be as ye say.
Suppose ye spur for to aspire,
your Bridle wants a Bit:
That Mare may leave thee in the Mire,
as sicker as ye sit;
Your Sentence, Repentance,
shall you leave I believe,
And Anger, you langer,
when you that Practick prieve. 910
As ye have dyted your Decreet,
Your Prophesy to be compleat,
perhaps and to your Pains.
It hath been said and hath been so,
A wilful Man wants never Wo,
though he gets little Gains.
But since ye think’t an easie Things
to mount above the Moon,
Of your own Fiddle to take a Spring,
and Dance when ye have done: 920
If then, Sir, the Man, Sir,
like of your Mirth he may;
And spier first, and hear first,
what he himself will say.
Then all together they began,
And said, come on, thou martyr’d Man,
what is thy Will, advise.
Abas’d a bony while I bade,
And mus’d ere I mine Answer made,
I turn’d me once or twise, 930
Beholding every one about,
whose Motion mov’d me maist,
Some seem’d assur’d some dread for Doubt,
Will ran Red-wood for haste:
With wringing and flinging,
for Madness like to Mang;
Despair too, for Care too,
would needs himself to go Hang.
Which when Experience perceiv’d,
Quoth he, remember if I rav’d, 940
as Will alledg’d of late:
When as he swore, nothing he saw,
In Age, but Anger slack and slaw,
and canker’d in Conceit;
Ye could not luck as he alledg’d,
Who all Opinions speir’d:
He was so Frank and fiery edg’d,
He thought us Four but fear’d.
Who panses, what chances,
quoth he, no Worship wins, 950
To some best, shall come best,
who Hap well, Rack well rins.
Yet (quoth Experience) behold,
For all the Tales he hath told,
how he himself behaves.
Because Despair could come no Speed,
Lo here he hings all but the Head,
and in a Widdie waves;
If you be true, once thou may see,
to Men that with them mells, 960
If they had hurt or helped thee,
consider by themselves.
Then chuse thee, to use thee,
by us or such as you,
Syne soon now, have done now,
make either off or on.
Perceiv’st thou not, wherefrae proceeds
That frantick Fantasie, that fees
thy furious flaming Fire,
Which doth thy bailful Breast combure, 970
That none indeed (quoth he) can Cure,
nor help thine Heart’s Desire?
The piercing Passion of thy Sp’rit,
which wastes thy vital Breath,
Doth hold thine heavy Heart with Heat,
Desire draws on thy Death.
Thy Punces renounces
all kind of quiet Rest;
That Fever hath ever
thy Person so opprest. 980
Couldst thou come once acquaint with Skill,
He knows what Humours do thee ill,
and how thy Cares contracts,
He knows the Ground of all thy Grief,
And Recipees of thy Relief,
all Medicine he makes.
Quoth Skill, come on, content am I
to put mine helping Hand,
Providing always he apply
to Counsel and Command. 990
While we then, quoth he then,
are minded to remain,
Give place now, in case now
thou get us not again.
Assure thy self, if that we shed,
Thou shalt not get thy Purpose Sped,
take heed we have thee told;
Have done and drive not off the Day,
The man that well not when he may,
he shall not when he would. 1000
What wilt thou do? I would we wist:
accept or give us o’er.
(Quoth I,) I think me more than Blest
to find such famous Four
Beside me, to guide me,
now when I have to do,
Considering what swiddering,
you found me first into.
When Courage cry’d a Stomach stout,
And Danger drave me into Doubt, 1010
with his Companion Dread:
Whiles Will would up above the Air,
Whiles I am drown’d in deep Despair,
whiles Hope held up mine Head.
Such pithy Reasons and Replyes
on ev’ry side they shew,
That I who was not very Wise,
thought all their Tales were true:
So mony and bony
old Problems they propon’t, 1020
But quickly and likely,
I marvel meikle on’t,
Yet Hope and Courage wan the Field,
Through Dread and Danger never yield,
but fled to find Refuge:
Yet when the four came they were fain,
Because ye gart us come again,
they grien’d to get you Judge.
Where they were Fugitive before,
ye made them frank and free 1030
To speak, and stand in aw no more.
Quoth Reason, so should be,
Oft times now, but Crimes now;
but ev’n perforce it falls,
The Strong ay, with Wrong ay,
puts Weaker to the Walls.
Which is a Fault ye must confess,
Strength was not ordain’d to oppress
with Rigor by the Right:
But by contrair, to sustain 1040
The loaden which o’erburden’d been,
as meikle as they might.
So Hope and Courage did (quoth I)
She skill’d and pithy Reasons why,
that Danger lap the Dike.
Quoth Danger, take head, Sir,
long spoken part must spill:
Insist not, we wist not,
we went against our Will. 1050
With Courage ye were so content,
Ye never sought our small Consent,
of us ye stood not Aw;
Then Logick Lessons ye allow’d,
And were determined to trow ‘t
Alledgance past for Law;
For all the Proverbs we perus’d,
ye thought them skantly skill’d:
Our Reason had been as well rus’d
had ye been as well will’d 1060
To our side, as you side,
so truely I may term’t
I see now, in thee now
Affection doth affirm’t.
Experience then smirking smil’d,
We are no Bairns to be beguil’d,
(quoth he) and shook his Head:
For Authors who alledges us,
They still would win about the Buss
to foster deadly Feed: 1070
For we are equal for you all,
no Persons we respect;
We have been so, are yet, and shall
be found so in Effect.
If we were, as ye are,
we had come unrequir’d:
But we now, ye see now,
do nothing undesir’d.
There is a Sentence said by some,
Let none uncall’d to Counsel come, 1080
that welcome weens to be:
Yea, I have heard another yet,
Who came uncall’d, unserv’d should sit,
perhaps sit so may ye.
Good-man, gramercie for your Geck,
(quoth Hope) and lowly louts;
If ye were sent for we suspect,
because the Doctors doubts:
Your years now appears now,
with Wisdom to be vext, 1090
Rejoicing in glossing,
while ye have tint your Text.
Where ye were sent for, let us see,
Who would be welcomer than we,
prove that, and we are pay’d.
Well (quoth Experience) beware,
You know not in what Case you are,
your Tongue hath you betray’d.
The Man may able tine a Stot,
who cannot count his Kinch, 1100
In your own Bow you are o’er shot,
by more than half an Inch.
Who wats, Sir, if that, Sir,
be four which seemeth sweet;
I fear now, ye hear now
a dangerous Decreet.
Sir, by that Sentence ye have said,
I pledge, ere all the Play be plaid,
that some shall lose a Laik;
Since ye but put me for to prove 1120
Such Heads, as help for my Behove,
your Warrand is but weak.
Speer at the Man your self, and see,
suppose you strive for State,
For he regarded not, how he
hath learn’d my Lesson late:
And granted, he wanted
both Reason, Wit and Skill,
Complaining, and meaning,
our Absence did him ill. 1120
Confront him farther face to face,
If that he rue his rackless Race,
perhaps and ye shall hear:
For ay since Adam and since Eve,
Who first the Leasing did believe,
I sold thy Doctrine dear.
What hath been done unto this day,
I keep in Mind almaist:
Ye promise farther than ye pay,
Sir Hope, for all your Haste; 1130
your Heghts you never hooked:
I show you, I know you,
your By-ganes I have booked.
I would, in case Accounts were crav’d,
Show thousand thousands thou deceiv’d,
where thou was true to one;
And, by the contrair, I may vant
Which thou must (though it grieve thee) grant
I trumped ne’er a Man; 1140
But truly told the naked Truth
to Men, that mell’d with me,
For neither Rigour nor for Ruth,
but only loath to lie.
To some yet, to come yet,
thy Succour shall be slight,
Which I then, must try then,
and Register it Right.
Ha, ha, (quoth Hope) and lowdly leugh,
Ye’re but a Prentice at the Pleugh, 1150
Experience, ye prieve.
Suppose all By-ganes as ye spake,
Ye are no Prophet worth a Plack,
nor I bound to believe.
Ye should not say, Sir, till ye see,
but when ye see it say.
Yet (quoth Experience) at thee
make many Mints I may
By Signs now, and things now,
which ay before me bears, 1160
Expressing, by guessing,
the Peril that appears.
Then Hope repli’d, and that with Pith,
And wisely weigh’d his Words therewith,
sententiously and short.
Quoth he, I am the Anchor grip,
That saves the Sailers and their Ship
from Peril to their Port.
Quoth he oft-times that Anchor drives
as we have found before; 1170
And loses many thousand Lives,
by Shipwrack on the Shore.
Your Grips oft, but slips oft,
when Men have most to do;
Syne leaves them, and raves them,
of my Companions too.
Thou leaves them not thy self alone,
But to their Grief when thou art gone,
gars Courage quite them alse.
Quoth Hope, I would ye understood, 1180
I grip fast, if the Ground be good,
and fleets it where its false.
There should no Fault with me be found,
nor I accus’d at all,
With such as should have sound the Ground,
before the Anchor fall:
Their Lead ay, at Need ay,
might warn them if they would,
If they there, would stay there,
or have good Anchor-hold. 1190
If ye read Right it was not I,
But only Ignorance, whereby
their Carvels all were cloven;
I am not for a Trumpet tane.
All (quoth Experience) is ane,
I have my Process proven:
To wit, that we are call’d each one,
to come before we came,
That now Objections ye have none,
your self must say the same. 1200
Ye are now, too far now,
come forward for to flie:
Perceive then, ye have then
the worst End of the Tree.
When Hope was gall’d into the Quick,
Quoth Courage, kicking at the Prick,
we let you well to wit,
Make he you welcomer than we,
Then By-ganes, By-ganes, farewell he,
except he seek us yet; 1210
He understands his own Estate,
let him his Chiftains chuse,
But yet his Battel will be blate,
if he our Force refuse.
Refuse us, or chuse us,
our Council is, he Climb:
But stay he, or stray he,
we have none Help for him.
Except the Cherry be his chose,
Be ye his Friends, we are his Foes; 1220
his Doings we despite:
If we perceive him settled sae,
To satisfie him with the Slae,
his Company we quite.
Then Dread and Danger grew so glad,
And wont that they had won,
They thought all seal’d, that they had said,
syne they had first begun.
They thought then, they mought then,
without a Party plead: 1230
But yet there, with Wit there
they were dung down indeed.
Sirs Dread and Danger (then quoth Wit)
Ye did your selves to me submit,
Experience can prove.
That (quoth Experience) I past,
Their own Confession make them fast,
they may no more remove.
For if they right remember me,
this Maxim then they made, 1240
To wit, The Man with Wit should weigh,
what Philosophs had said.
Which Sentence, Repentance
forbade him dear to buy;
They knew then, how true then,
and press’d not to reply.
Though he dang Dread and Danger down,
Yet Courage could not be o’ercome,
Hope height him such a Hire:
He thought himself, how soon he saw 1250
His Enemies were laid so law,
it was no Time to tire:
He hit the Ir’n while it was heat,
in case it might grow cold:
For he esteem’d his Foes defeat,
when once he found them fold.
Though he now, quoth he now,
hath been so free and frank,
Unsought yet, he mought yet
for Kindness cun’d us thank. 1260
Suppose it so, as thou hast said,
That unrequir’d we offer’d Aid:
at least it came of Love,
Experience, ye start too soon,
Ye dow nothing while all be done,
and then perhaps ye prove
More plain than pleasant too perchance,
some tell, that you have try’d:
As fast as ye your selves advance,
ye dow not well deny’t; 1270
Abide then the Tide then,
and wait upon the Wind:
Ye know, Sir, ye owe, Sir,
to hold you ay behind.
When ye have done some doughty Deeds,
Syne ye should see how all succeeds,
to write them as they were.
Friend, hulie, haste not half so fast,
Left (quoth Experience) as last
ye buy my Doctrine dear. 1280
Hope puts that haste into you head,
which boils your barmie Brain:
Howbe’t Fool’s haste makes hulie Speed,
fair Heghts makes Fools be fain.
Such smiling, beguiling,
bids fear not for no Freets:
Yet I now, deny now,
that all is Gold that gleets.
Suppose not Silver all that shines;
Ofttimes a tentless Merchant tines, 1290
for buying Gear beguess.
For all the Vantage and the Winning,
Good Buyers gets at the Beginning.
Quoth Courage not the less,
Whiles as good Merchants tines as wins,
if Old Men’s Tales be true:
Suppose the Pack comes to the Pins,
who can his Chance eschew?
Then, good Sir, conclude, Sir,
good Buyers have done baith: 1300
Advance then, take Chance then,
as sundrie Good Ships hath.
Who wist what would be cheap or dear,
Should Need not traffique but a Year,
if things to come were kend.
Suppose all bygane things be plain,
Your Prophesy is but prophane,
ye’d best behold the End.
Ye would accuse me of a Crime,
almost before we met; 1310
Torment me not before the Time
since Dolor pays no Debt:
What by-past, that I past,
ye wot if it was well:
To come yet, by Doom yet,
confess ye have no feel.
Yet, (quoth Experience) what than?
Who may be meetest foe the Man,
let us his Answer have.
When they submitted them to me, 1320
To Reason I was fain to flee,
his Counsel for to crave.
Quoth he, since ye your selves submit,
to do as I decreet;
I shall advise both Skill and Wit,
what they think may be meet.
They cry’d then, we bide then,
at Reason for Refuge:
Allow him, and trow him,
as Governour and Judge. 1330
So said they all with one Consent,
What he Concludes, we are content
his Bidding to obey:
He hath Authority to use,
Then take his Choice whom he would chuse,
and longer not delay.
Then Reason rose and was rejoic’d,
quoth he, mine Hearts come hither,
I hope this Play may be compos’d,
that we may go together. 1340
To all now, I shall now,
his proper Place assign,
That they here, shall say here,
they think none other thing.
Come on quoth he, Companion Skill,
Ye understand both Good and Ill,
in Physick ye are fine:
Be Mediciner to this Man,
And shew such Cunning as ye can,
to put him out of Pine. 1350
First guard the Ground of all his Grief,
what Sickness ye suspect;
Syne look what he lacks for Relief,
ere further he infect.
Comfort him, exhort him,
give him your good Advice:
And pance not, nor scance not
the Pearl nor the Price.
Though he be cumbersome, what reck,
Find out the Cause by the Effect, 1360
and Working of his Veins;
Yet while we grip it to the Ground,
See first what Fashion may be found
to pacifie his Pains.
Do what ye dow to have him heal,
and for that purpose presse;
Cut off the Cause, th’ Effect will fail,
so all his Sorrows cease;
His Fever, shall never
from henceforth have no Force: 1370
Then urge him, to purge him,
he will not wax the worse.
Quoth Skill, his Senses are so sick,
I know no Liquor worth a Leek,
to quench his deadly Drouth;
Except the Cherrie help his heat,
Whose sappie Slockning, sharp and sweet,
might melt into his Mouth,
And his Melancholy reprove,
to mitigat his Mind: 1380
None wholsomer for his Behove,
nor more cooling of his kind.
No Nectar, director
could all the Gods him give,
Nor send him, to mend him,
none like it, I believe.
For Drought decays as it digests,
Why then (quoth Reason) nothing rests,
but how it may be had.
Most true (quoth Skill) that is the Scope, 1390
Yet we must have some Help of Hope.
Quoth Danger, I am red,
His hastiness breeds us Mis-hap,
when he is highly Hors’d;
I would we looked ere we lap.
Quoth Wit, that were not worst;
I mean now, conveen now,
the Council one and all:
Begin then, call in then.
Quoth Reason, so I shall. 1400
Then Reason rose with Gesture grave,
Belyve conveening all the lave,
to see what they could say,
With Silver-Scepter in his Hand,
As Chiftain chosen to command,
and they bent to obey.
He panced long before he spake
and in a Study stood,
Syne he began and Silence brake,
come on, quoth he, conclude. 1410
What way now, we may now,
yon Cherrie come to catch:
Speak out Sirs, about Sirs,
have done, let us dispatch.
Quoth Courage, scourge him first that skars,
Much musing Memory but mars;
I tell you mine intent.
Quoth Wit, who will not partly pance,
In Perils perishes perchance,
o’er rackless may repent. 1420
Then quoth Experience, and spake,
Sir I have seen them baith
In bairnliness, and ly a back,
escape and come to Skaith.
But what now, of that now?
Sturt follows all extreams,
Retain then, the Mean then,
the surest Way it seems.
Where some has further’d, some has fail’d,
Where Part has perisht, Part prevail’d, 1430
alike all cannot luck;
Then neither venture with the one,
Nor with the other let alone,
the Cherrie for to pluck.
Quoth Hope, for fear Folk must not fash.
Quoth Danger, let not light.
Quoth Wit, be neither rude nor rash.
Quoth Reason, ye have right.
The rest then, thought best then,
when Reason said it so, 1440
That roundly, and soundly
they should together so,
To get the Cherrie all in haste,
As for my Safety serving maist.
Though Dread and Danger fear’d
The Peril of that irksome Way,
Left that thereby I should decay,
who then so weak appear’d:
Yet Hope and Courage hard beside,
who with them went content, 1450
Did take in hand us for to guide
unto our Journey’s end:
Empledging, and wedging
both their two Lives for mine,
Providing, the guiding
to them were granted syne.
Then Dread and Danger did appeal,
Alledging it could not be well,
nor yet would they agree:
But said they should sound their Retreat, 1460
Because they thought them no ways meet
Conductors unto me,
Nor to no Man in mine Estate,
with Sickness sore opprest,
For they took ay the nearest Gate
omitting oft the best:
The nearest, perquirest
is always to them baith,
Where they, Sir, may say, Sir,
whatracks them of their Skaith. 1470
But as for us two, now we swear,
By Him before whom we appear,
our full Intent is now,
To have you Whole, and alwas was,
That Purpose for to bring us pass,
so is not theirs I trow.
Then Hope and Courage did attest
the Gods at both these parts,
If they wrought not for all the best
of me with upright Hearts: 1480
Our Chiftain, then lifting
his Scepter, did enjoyn
No more there, uproar there,
and so their Strife was done.
Rebuking Dread and Danger sore,
Suppose they meant well evermore,
to me as they had sworn:
Because their Neighbours they abus’d,
In so far as they had accus’d
them, as ye heard beforn. 1490
Did he not else (quoth he) consent,
the Cherrie for to pow?
Quoth Danger, we are well content,
but yet the Manner how,
We shall now, even all now,
get this Man with us there;
It rest is, and best is,
your Counsel shall declare.
Well said, (quoth Hope and Courage) now
We thereto will Accord with you, 1500
and shall abide by them:
Likeas before we do submit,
So we repeat the samine yet,
we mind not to reclaim.
Whom we shall choose to guide the Way,
we shall him follow straight,
And further this Man what we may,
because we have so heght:
Promitting, but flitting,
to do the Thing we can, 1510
To ease both, and please both,
this sillie sicklie Man.
When Reason heard this, then (quoth he)
I see your chiefest Stay to be,
that we have nam’d no Guide:
The worthy Council hath therefore,
Thought fit, that Wit should go before,
for Perils to provide.
Quoth Wit, there is but one of three,
which I shall to you show, 1520
Whereof the first two cannot be,
for any thing I know;
The Way here, so stay here
is that we cannot climb,
Ev’n o’er now, we four now;
that will be hard for him.
The next, if we go down about,
While that this Bend of Craigs run out,
the Stream is there so stark,
And also passeth wading deep, 1530
And broader far than we dow leap,
it should be idle Wark:
It grows ay broader than the Sea,
syne o’er the Lin it came;
The running dead doth signifie
the Deepness of the same.
I leave now, to dyve now,
how that it swiftly slides,
As sleeping and creeping,
but Nature so provides. 1540
Our Way then lies about the Lin,
Where by a Warren we shall win,
it is so streight and plain;
The Water also is so shald,
We shall it pass even as we wald,
with Pleasure and but Pain.
For, as we see the Mischief grow
oft of a feckless thing:
So likewise doth this River flow
forth of a petty Spring; 1550
Whose Throat, Sir, I wot, Sir,
ye may stop with your Nieve,
As you, Sir, I trow, Sir
Experience, can prieve.
That (quoth Experience) I can,
All that ye said, since ye began,
I know to be of Truth.
Quoth Skill the samen I approve.
Quoth Reason, then let us remove,
and sleep no more in Sleuth. 1560
Wit and Experience (quoth he)
shall come before apace,
The Man shall come with Skill and me,
into the second Place.
Attour now, you four now
shall come into a Band,
Proceeding, and leading
each other by the Hand.
As Reason ordain’d, all obey’d;
None was o’er-rash, none was afraid, 1570
our Counsel was so wise;
As of our Journey Wit did note,
We found it true in every Jot,
God bless our Enterprise.
For ev’n as we came to the Tree,
which, as ye heard me tell,
Could not be clumb, there suddenly
the Fruit for Ripeness fell:
Which tasting, and hasting,
I found my self reliev’d 1580
Of Cares all, and Snares all,
which Mind and Body griev’d.
Praise be to GOD my LORD therefore,
Who did mine Health to me restore,
being so long Time pin’d:
Yea blessed be his Holy Name,
Who did from Death to Life reclaim
me, who was so unkind.
All Nations also magnifie
this Everliving LORD; 1590
Let me with you, and you with me,
to laud him ay accord:
Whose Love ay, we prove ay,
to us above all things.
And Kiss him, and Bless him,
whose Glore eternal reigns.
Captain ALEXANDER MONT-
GOMERY his Lamentation.
I’ve sinn’d, Father, be merciful to me,
I am not worthy to be call’d thy Child;
That stubbornly so long have gone astray,
Not as thy Son, but as a Prod’gal wild:
My silly Soul with Sin is so defil’d,
That Satan thinks to catch it as a Prey,
Lord grant me Grace that he may be beguil’d,
Peccavi Pater, miserere mei.
I’m abas’d, Lord, how dare I be so bold,
Before thy hole Presence to appear? 10
Or hazard once the Heavens to behold,
Who am not worthy that the Earth should bear;
Yet Damn me not whom thou hast bought so dear,
Sed salvum me fac, dulcis Fili Dei.
For out of Luke this Lesson we do lear;
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
If thou, O Lord, with rigour would revenge,
What flesh before thee Faultless shall be found?
Or who is he his Conscience can him cleanse,
To Sin and Satan from his Birth’s not bound? 20
Yet of meer Grace thou tak’st away the Ground,
And sent thy Son our Penalty to pay,
To save us from the hideous Hell’s Hound:
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
I hope for Mercy tho’ my Sins be huge,
I grant my guilt and groan to thee for Grace:
Though I would flee, where should I find Refuge?
In Heav’n? O Lord there is thy dwelling Place,
The Earth thy Foot-stool: and to Hell, alace!
Down to the Dead; for all must thee obey: 30
Therefore I cry, while I have time and space,
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
O gracious God, my guiltiness forgive,
In Sinners Death since thou dost not delight,
But rather would they should convert and live,
As witnesseth Prophets iin Holy Write:
I pray thee Lord thy Promise to perfite
In me, that I may with the Psalmist say,
I will thy Praise and wondrous Works Indite,
Therefore, dear Father, be merciful to me. 40
Though I do slide, let me not sleep in slouth,
Me to revive from sin let Grace begin:
Make, Lord, my Tongue the Trumpet of thy Truth,
And send my Verse such Wings as are Divine;
Since thou hast granted me so good Ingine,
To praise thy Name with gallant Stile and gay,
Let me no more so trim a Talent tine:
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
My Sp’rit to speak, let thy Sp’rit, Lord, inspire,
Help, Holy Ghost, and be mine Heav’nly Muse; 50
Fly down on me with forked Tongues of Fire,
As on th’ Apostles, with thy Fear me infuse,
All Vice expel, teach me Sin to refuse,
And all my filthy Affections, I thee pray;
Thy fervent Love on me pour Night and Day,
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
Stoup stubborn Stomack that’s been ay so stout,
Stoup filthy Flesh and Carion made of clay;
Stoup hardned Heart before thy Lord and lout,
Stoup, stoup in time, defer not day by day: 60
Thou wots not when, that thou must pass away
To the great Glore, where thou must be for ay,
Confess thu Sins, and think no shame to say,
Peccavi, Pater, miserere mei.
O Great JEHOVAH, to thee all Glore be giv’n,
Who shapt my Soul to thy Similitude;
And to thy Son, whom thou sent’st down from Heav’n,
When I was lost, he bought me with his Blood,
And to the Holy Ghost, my Guider good,
Who must confirm my Faith in the right way; 70
In me cor mundum crea, I conclude,
O Heav’nly Father be merciful to me.
Like as the dum Solsequium, with Care o’ercome,
Doth sorrow when the Sun goes out of sight;
Hangs down her head, and droops as dead, and will not spread:
But lurks her Leaves through langour all the Night,
Till foolish Phaeton arise with Whip in hand,
To clear the Christal Skies, and light the Land;
Birds in their Bow’r waits on that hour,
And to their King a glad Good-morrow gives:
From thence that Flow’r likes not to lowr,
But laugh on Phebus op’ning out her Leaves. 10
So stands’t with me, except I be, where I may see
My Lamp of Light, my Lady, and my Love:
When she departs, ten thousand Darts, in sundry Airts,
Thirle through my heavy Heart, but rest or roove.
My Countenance declares my inward Grief,
And Hope almost despairs to find relief:
I die, I dwine, pain doth me pine,
I loath on ev’ry thing I look, alas!
While Titan mine, upon me shine,
That I revive through favour of her Grace, 20
Fra she appear, into her sphere, begins to clear
The dawning of my long desired Day,
When Courage cryes on Hope to rise, fra she espies
The noisome Night of absence went away:
No wo can me awake, nor yet impesh,
But on thy stately Stalk I Flowrish fresh:
I Spring, I Sprout, my Leaves break out,
My Colour changes in an heartsome hew;
No more I Lout, but stand up Stout,
As glad of her on whom I only Grew, 30
O happy Day go not away, Apollo stay
The Cart from going down into the West,
Of me thou makes thy Zodiack, that I may take
My pleasure to behold whom I love best,
Her presence me restores from Death to rise,
Her absence also shores to cut my Breath,
I wish in vain thee to remain,
Since Primum Mobile doth say me nay;
At least thy Wain, hast so again,
Farewell with patience perforce till Day. 40
Declina a malo, & fac bonum.
Leave Sin ere Sin leave thee, do Good,
and both without delay;
Less sit he will to Morrow be,
who is not fit to Day.
[Non trades converti as Deum]
His Morning Muse.
Let dread of pain for Sin in after time,
Let Shame to see thy self ensnared so;
Let Grief conceiv’d for foul accused Crime,
Let Hate of Sin, the worker of thy wo,
With Dread, with Shame, with Grief, with Hate enforce,
To dew thy Cheeks with Tears to deep Remorse.
So hate of Sin shall make God’s Love to grow,
So Grief shall harbour Hope within thine Heart,
So Dread shall cause the Flood of Joy to flow,
So Shame shall send sweet Solace to thy Smart, 10
So Love, so Hope, so Joy, so Solace sweet
Shall make my Soul in heavenly Bless to fleet.
Wo, where no Hate doth no such Love allure!
Wo, where such Grief makes no such Hope proceed!
Wo, where such Dread doth not such Joy procure!
Wo, where such Shame doth not such Solace breed!
Wo, where no Hate, no Grief, no Dread, no Shame!
No Love, no Hope, no Joy, no Solace frame!
VITARVAM & NEBERNAM.
NYMPHÆ, quæ colitis highistima monta Fifæa,
Seu vos Pitenwema tenent, seu Crelia crofta,
Sive Anstræa domus, ubi nat Haddocus in undis,
Codlineusque ingens, & Fleucca & Sketta pererrant
Per costam, & scopulos, Lobster manifootus in udis
Creepat, in mediis ludit Whitenius undis:
Et vos Skipperii, soliti qui per Mare breddum
Valde procul lanchare foras, iterumque redire,
Linquite skellatas Botas, Shippasque picatas,
Whistlantesque simul Fechtam memorate bloodæam, 10
Fechtam terribilem, quam mavellaverat omnis
Banda Deûm, quoque Nympharum Cockelshelearum,
Maia ubi Sheepifeeda, atq; ubi Solgoosifera Bassa
Swellant in pelago, cum Sol bootatus Edenum
Postabat radiis madidis & shouribus atris.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Quo viso ad Fechtæ noisam cecidere volucres
Ad terram, cecidere grues; plish plashque dedere
Solgoosæ in pelago prope littora Bruntiliana;
Seasutor obstupuit, summique in margine saxi
Scartavit prælustre caput, wingasque flapavit. 20
Quodque magis alte volitans Heronius ipse
Ingeminans clig clag mediis shytavit in undis.
Namque á principio Storiam tellabimus omnem
Muckreilium ingentem turbam Vitarva per agros
Nebernæ marchare fecit, & dixit ad illos,
“Ite hodie armati grippis, dryvate caballos
Nebernæ per crofta, atque ipsas ante senestras.
Quod si forte ipsa Neberna venerit extra,
Warrantabo omnes, & vos bene defendebo.
Hic aderant Geordy Akinhedius, & little Johnus, 30
Et Jamy Richæus, & stout Michel Hendersonus,
Qui jolly tryppas ante alios dansare solebat,
Et bobbare bene, & I assas kissare bonæas;
Duncan Olyphantus, valde stalvartus, & ejus
Filius eldestus jolyboyus, atque Oldmoudus,
Qui Pleugham longo Gaddo dryvare solebat;
Et Rob Gib wantonus homo, atque Oliver Hutchin
Et ploucky-fac’d Waty Strang, atque in kneed Alsinder Atken
Et Wily Dick heavy-arstus homo, pierrimus omnium,
Qui tulit in pileo magnum rubrumque favorem, 40
Valde lethus pugnare, sed hunc Corngrevius heros
Noutheadum vocavit, atque illum forcit ad arma.
Insuper hic aderant Tom Taylor, & Hen. Watsonus,
Et Tomy Gilchristus, & fool Jocky Robinsonus
Andrew Atshenderus, & Jamy Tomsonus, & unus
Norland-bornus homo, valde hic Anticovenanter,
Nomine Gordonus, valde blackmoudus, & alter
(Heu piget ignoro nomen) slavry beardius homo
Qui pottas dightavit, & assas jecerit extra.
Denique præ reliquis Geordæum affatur, & inquit, 50
Geordy mi formanne, inter stoutissimus omnes,
Huc ades & crooksaddelos, hemmesque, creilesque,
Brechemmesque simul omnes bindato jumentis;
Amblentemque meum Naggum, fattumque mariti
Cursorem, & reliquos trottantes sumito averos,
In Cartis yokkato omnes, extrahito Muckam
Crofta per & Riggas, atque ipsas ante senestras
Nebernæ, & aliquid sin ipsa contra loquatur,
In sydas tu pone manus, & dicito fart jade.
Nec mora, formannus cunctos flankavit averos, 60
Workmannosque ad Workam omnes vocavit, & illi
Extemplo Cartas bene sillavere Gigantes:
Whistlavere viri, Workhorsosque ordine swieros
Drivavere foras, donec iterumque iterumque
Fartavere omnes, & sic turba horrida mustrat,
Haud aliter quam si cum multis Spinola troupis
Proudus ad Oftendam marchasset fortiter urbem.
Interea ante alios Dux Piper Laius heros
Præcedens, magnamque gerens cum burdine pypam
Incipit Harlai cunctis sonare batellum. 70
Tunc Neberna furens Yettam ipsa egressa, vidensque
Muck-cartas transire viam, valde angria facta
Non tulit Affrontam tantam, verum, agmine, facto,
Convocat extemplo Barrowmannos atque Ladæos
Jackmannumque, Hiremannos, Pleughdrivsters atq;
Tumulantesq; simul reecoso ex Kitchine boyos,
Hunc qui dirtiferas tersit cum dishclouty Dishas,
Hunc qui gruelias scivit bene lickere Plettas,
Et Saltpannisumos, & widebricatos Fisheros,
Hellæosque etiam Salteros duxit ab antris, 80
Coalheughos nigri girnantes more Divelli,
Lifeguardamque sibi sævas vocat improba Lassas,
Maggæam magis doctam milkare Cowæas,
Et doctam sweepare Flooras, & sternere Beddas,
Quæque novit spinnare, & longas ducere Threedas;
Nansæam, claves bene quæ keepaverat omnes,
Yellantemque Elpen, longo bardamque Anapellam,
Fartantemque simul Gyllam, gliedamque Katæam
Egregie indutam blacko caput sooty clouto;
Mammæamque simul vetulam, quæ sciverat apte 90
Infantum teneras blande oscularier arsas;
Tum demum hungræos ventres Neberna Gruelis
Farsit, & guttas Rawsuinibus implet amaris,
Postea Newbarmæ ingentem dedit omnibus haustum,
Staggravere omnes, grandesque ad sydera riftas
Barmifumi attolunt, & sic ad prælia marchant.
Nec mora, marchavit foras longo ordine turma,
Ipsa prior Neberna suis stout facta Ribaldis,
Rustæum manibus gestans furibunda Gulæum: 100
Tandem Muckreilios vocat ad pell-mellia flaidos,
Ite, ait, uglæi Fellows, si quis modo posthac
Muckifer has nostras tentet crossare fenestras,
Juro, quod ego ejus longum extrahabo Thrapellum,
Et totam rivabo Faciem, Luggasque gulæo hoc
Ex capite cuttabo ferox, totumque videbo
Heartbloodum fluere in terram. Sic verba finivit.
Obstupuit Vitarva diu dirtflaida, sed inde
Couragium accipiens, Muckreilios ordine cunctos
Middini in medio Faciem turnare coёgit. 110
O qualem primo fleuram gustasses in ipso
Battelli onsetto! Pugnat Muckreilius heros
Fortiter, & Muckam per posteriora cadentem
In Creilibus shoolare ardet. Sic dirta volavit.
O quale hoc hurly burly fuit, si forte vidisses
Pypantes Arsas, & flavo sanguine Breeckas
Drippantes, hominumque heartas as prælia faintas!
O qualis firy farie fuit, namque alteri nemo
Ne vel footbreddum yardæ yeildare volebat,
Stout erat ambo quidem, valdeque hardhearta caterva! 120
Tum vero è medio Muckdryvster prosilit unus
Gallantæus homo, & greppam minatur in ipsam
Nebernam, (quoniam misere scaldaverat omnes)
Dirtavitque totam Peticotam gutture thicko,
Pearlineasque ejus skirtas, silkamque gownæam,
Vasquineamsque rubram Mucksherda begariavit.
Et tunc ille fuit valde faintheartus, & ivit
Valde procul, metuens shottam woundumque profundum.
Sed nec valde procul fuerat revengia in illum;
Extemplo Gillæa ferox invasit, & ejus 130
In faciem girnavit atrox, & Tigrida facta
Boublentem grippans Berdam, sic dixit ad illum:
Vade domum, filthæe nequam, aut te interficiabo.
Tunc cum gerculeo magnum fecit Gilly whippum,
Ingentemque manu Sherdam levavit, & omnen
Gallantæi hominis Gashbeardem besmeariavit;
Sume tibi hoc, inquit, sneesing valde operativum,
Pro præmio Swingere tuo, tum denique fleido
Ingentem Gilly wamphra dedit, validamque nevellam,
Ingeminatque iterum, donec bis fecerit ignem 140
Ambobus fugere ex oculis; sic Gylla triumphat.
Obstupuit bombaizdus homo, backumque repente
Turnavit veluti nasus bloodasset; & O fy!
Ter quarter exclamat, & ô quam fœde neezavit!
Disjuniumque omne evomuit valde hungrius homo,
Lausavitque supra atque infra, miserabile visu,
Et luggas necko imponens, sic cucurrit absens;
Non audens gimpare iterum, ne worsa tul sset.
Hæc Neberna videns yellavit turpia verba,
Et fy, fy! exclamat, prope nunc Victoria losta est. 150
Nec mora, terribilem fillavit dira Canonem,
Elatisque Hippis magno cum murmure Fartam
Barytonam emisit, veluti Monsmegga cracasset.
Tum vero quackarunt hostes, flightamque repente
Sumpserunt, retrospexit Jackmannus, & ipse
Sheepheadus metuit sonitumque ictumque buleti.
Quod si King Spanius, Philippus nomine, septem
Hisce consimiles habuisset forte Canones
Batterare Sluissam, Sluissam dungasset in assam.
Aut si tot magnus Ludovicus forte dedisset 160
Ingentes fartas as mœnia Montalbana,
Ipsam continuo Townam dingasset in yerdam.
Exit Congrevius, wracco omnia tendere videns,
Consiliumque meum, si non accipitis, inquit,
Pulchras scartabo facies, & vos worriabo:
Sed needlo per Seustram broddatus, inque privatas
Partes stobbatus greitans, lookansque grivate,
Barlafumel clamat, & dixit, O Deus! O God!
Quid multis? Sic Fraya fuit, sic Guisa peracta est,
Una nec interea spillata est droppa Cruoris. 170
A POEM on the King and Queen
Translated into Latine by Walter Dennestone.
To the VIRTUOSI.
Ye Virtuosi hav’t to you assign’d
The Nat’ral Causes of all things to find.
We cloath the Fairies in their proper Dress:
And leav’t to you, What Force they have, to guses.
Naturam, veras rerum perpendere caussas
Sorte datum vobis, Ingeniosa cohors.
Corpora nos Lemurum tenui velamus amictu:
Dicite vos, Quæ vis? quis vigor insit eis?
[Note: for the following pages, I have altered the layout in order to make the text easier to follow on a webpage. In the 1971 Scottish Text Society edition, the Latin translation is mirrored on the opposite page. In this transcription, the Latin version of the ‘King of Fairy’ poem follows the English/Scots version, and I use the same layout for the ‘Queen of Fairy’ section. I have still included the page and line numbers as they appear in the 1971 edition for ease of reference, although it should be pointed out that in the 1971 edition the page number 137 appears twice. KG.]
On the King of FAIRY.
UPON a time the Fairy Elves,
Having first arrayed themselves,
They thought it meet to cloath their King,
In Robes most fit for Revelling.
He had a Cobweb-Shirt more thin,
Than ever Spiders since could spin;
Bleach’d in the whiteness of the Snow,
When that the Northern Winds do blow.
And in that vast and open Air
No Shirt is half so Fine or Fair: 10
A rich Waste-Coat they did him bring
Made of the Trout-flie’s Golden Wing,
Dy’d Crimson in a Maiden’s Blush,
And lin’d with Humming Bees soft Plush.
At which his Elf-ship ‘gan to fret,
And sware ‘twould cast him in a Sweat.
He for his Coolness needs would wear
A Waste-Coat made of Downy Hair,
New taken from an Eunuch’s Chin,
It pleas’d him well, ‘twas wondrous thin. 20
His Hat was all of Ladies Love,
So passing light that it would move,
If any Gnat or Humming Fly
But beat the Air in passing by.
About it went a Wreath of Pearl
Dropt from the Eyes of some poor Girl,
Pinched because she had forgot
To leave clean Water in the Pot.
His Breeches and his Cassock were
Made of the Tinsel Garsummer: 30
Down by it’s Seam there went a Lace
Drawn by an Unctuous Snail’s slow pace.
In Oreadum REGEM
Monticolæ quondam Lamiæ circundatæ amictu
Corpora prætenui choreis & lusivus apto;
Talibus inde suum Regem quoq; vestibus ornant
Quæ deceant numerosque leves festasque chorêas.
Ejus araneoli scutulata subucula filo
Rarior, eximiæ quod texuit artis Arachne:
Intactæque nivis fuit insolata nitore,
Quam rigidus gelidâ Boreas diffundit ab Arcto.
Nec sub Hyperboreo tam pura camisia tractu
Usque adeo tennuis tamque alba apparuit usquam: 10
Proxima cura fuit tunicellam imponere Regi
Hepiali textam mirè ex aurantibus alis.
Virginis eximiæ roseo quœ tincta rubore,
Atque apis Hyblææ duplicata est vellere molli:
Tum fremere & jurare Heros gestamine tanto
Pressus, & exili manare á corpore sudor.
Post, refrigerii caussâ, subtile theristrum
Curari fecit consutum more decoro,
Nuper ab Eunuchi malâ & lanugine sumptum:
Hoc placuit, quia erat tenui subtemine textum. 10
Ejus erat (capitis tegumentum insigne) galerus,
Ut referunt, è fæmineo conflatus amore;
Qui levis usque adeo fuit ut trepidaret ad auram,
Quam musca aut cynips præter volitando feriret.
Ambiit hunc circum speciosa & gemmea spira
Ex oculis teneræ tremulis modo lapsa puellæ;
Quam malè multarunt Lemures quod linquere in ollâ
Oblita est puras, nocturno tempore, lymphas.
Denique fiebant saga cum femoralibus ejus
Lineolâ ê tenui per summa cacumina campi 30
Extensâ, quorum suturam rara tegebat
Instita ducta pigri limacis tramite pingui.
On the QUEEN.
NO sooner was their King attyr’d
as never Prince had been,
But as in Duty was requir’d
they next array their Queen.
Of shining Threed shut from the Sun
And twisted into line,
On the light Wheel of Fortune Spun
Was made her Smock so fine.
Her Gown was very colourd fair
The Rain-bow gave the dip; 10
Perfumed by an Amber-Air
Breath’d from a Virgin’s Lips.
The Stuff was of a Morning-dawn
When Phœbus did but peep,
But by a Poet’s Pencil drawn
In Chloris lap a sleep.
Her Vail was white and pale-fac’d-by
Invented yb a Maid,
When the (poor Soul) by some bad Spy
Had newly been betray’d. 20
Her Necklace was of subtile tye
Of Glorious Atoms, set
In the pure Black of Beauties Eye,
As they had been in Jet.
Her Shoes were all of Maiden-Heads
So passing thin and light
That all her Care was how she treads;
A Thought had burst them quite.
The Revells ended, she put off
Because her Grace was warm: 30
She fann’d her with a Lady’s scoff,
And so she took no Harm.
Post quam Rex tali suit insignitus amictu
Membra cui Regum nulla tulere parem.
Mox etiam, veluti ratio poscebat, & æquum,
Reginæ parili corpora veste tegunt.
Illius ex auro clarâ de lampade solis
Emisso, scitè facta erat interula:
Stamina cujus erant solerti pollice ducta,
Sortis in ambiguæ torta levique rotâ.
Palla fuit, qualem spectabilis induit Iris,
Quam varius radiis pingit Apollo suis. 10
Talis odor, qualis fragranti spirat ab ambrâ
Halitus aut qualis Virginis esse solet.
Materies suit Auroræ de lumine primo
Phœbus ubi Eois surgit honorus aquis.
Peniculo vatis qui pingebatur amatæ
Chloridis in gremio membra quiete levans.
Candidulumque habuit velamen, pallidulumque;
Dextra puellaris texuit illud opus.
Qui color idem erat ac pellucet in ore pullæ
Prodita ab infausto quæ modo forte viro. 20
Illius alba decens ornabat colla monile
Formosum pulchris conspicuisque atomis:
Quœ velut in puro nigroque gagte fuissent
Impositæ, miris emicuere modis.
Calceolique sui perquam tenuesque levesque
Facti de claustris virginitatis erant.
His igitur verita est incedere, namque pisullus
Sensus amoris eos rumperet absque morâ.
Ludis exactis, quoniam sudore madebat,
Confestim vestes exuit ipsa suas. 30
Et se fœmineo vannavit scommate demum
Nec quidquam damni pertulit inde sibi.
NOTA. It was thought fit to insert the following Verses,
because the one half of them (viz. from this Mark * * to
the end) were writ by Lieutenant Colonel Clealand *of my
Lord Angus’s Regiment when he was a Student in the Col–
Lege of Edinburgh, and 18 Years of Age.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go?
IN Melancholick Fancie,
Out of my self,
In the Vulcan Dancie,
All the World surveying,
No where staying,
Just like a Fairie Elf:
Out o’er the tops of highest Mountains Skipping,
Out o’er the Hills, the Trees and Vallies tripping,
Out o’er the Ocean Seas, without an Oar or Shipping.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 10
Amidst the misty Vapours,
Fain would I know,
What doth cause the Tapours:
Why the Clouds benight us,
And afright us,
While we travel here below!
Fain would I know, what makes the roaring Thunder,
And what these Lightnings be that rent the clouds asunder
And what these Comets are, on which we gaze and wonder!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 20
Fain would I know the Reason,
Why the little Ant,
All the Summer Season,
Layeth up Provision,
To know no Winters want:
And how there Huse-wives, that are so good and painful,
Do unto their Husbands prove so good and gainful:
And why the lazie Drons, to them do prove disdainful.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 30
Ships, Ships, I will decrie you,
Amidst the Main,
I will come and try you,
What you are protecting,
What’s your End and Aim.
One goes abroad for Merchandise and Treading,
Another stays to keep his Country from invading,
A third is coming Home with rich and wealth of loading.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 40
When I look before me,
There I do behold,
There’s none that sees or knows me;
All the World’s a gadding,
None doth his Station hold.
He that is below, envieth him that riseth,
And he that is above, him that’s below despiseth,
So ev’ry Man his Plot and Counter-plot deviseth.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 50
Look, Look, what Busling
Here I do espy;
Each another jusling,
Ev’ry one turmoiling,
Th’ other spoiling,
As I did pass them by.
One sitteth musing in a dumpish Passion,
Another hangs his Head, because he’s out of Fashion,
A third is fully bent on Sport and Recreation:
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 60
Amidst the foamie Ocean,
Fain would I know,
What doth cause the Motion,
In its journeying,
And doth so seldom swerve!
And how these little Fishes, that swim beneath salt water
Do never blind their Eye, Me thinks, it is a matter,
An inch above the reach of old Erra Pater!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 70
Fain I would be resolved,
How things are done!
And where the Bull was calved,
Of bloody Phalaris!
And where the Taylor is,
That works to th’ Man in th’ Moon!
Fain would I know how Cupid aims so rightly!
And how these little Fairies do dance and leap so lightly!
And where fair Cynthia makes her Ambles nightly!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 80
In conceit like Phaёton,
I’ll mount Phœbus Chair:
Having ne’er a Hat on,
All my Hair’s a burning,
In my journeying,
Hurrying through the Air.
Fain would I hear his fiery Horses neighing!
And see how they on foamy Bitts are playing!
All the Stars and Planets I will be surveying!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 90
O from what ground of Nature,
Doth the Pelican,
That self devouring Creature,
Prove so froward,
Her Vitals for so strain!
And why the subtile Fox, while in Death’s wounds is lying.
Doth not lament his Pangs by howling and crying!
And why the milk-white Swan doth sing when she’s a dying!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 100
Fain I would conclude this,
At least make Essay,
What Similitude is,
Why Fowls of a Feather,
Flock and fly together,
And Lambs know Beasts of Prey!
How Natur’s Alchymists, these small laborious Creatures!
Acknowledge still a Prince in ordering their Matters,
And suffer none to live, who slothing lose their Features.
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 110
I’m rapt with Admiration,
When I do ruminate,
Men of an Occupation,
How each one calls him Brother,
Yet each invieth other,
And yet still intimate!
Yea, I admire to see, some Natures farther sundred,
Than Antipodes to us. Is it not to be wondered,
In Myriads ye’ll find, of one mind scarce an hundred!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 120
What multitude of Notions
doth perturb my Pate,
Considering the Motions.
How th’ Heav’ns are preserved
And this World served,
In Moisture, Light and Heat!
If one Spirit sits the outmost Circle turning,
Or one turns another continuing in journeying,
If Rapid circles Motion be that which they call burning!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 130
Fain also would I prove this,
What that, which you call Love, is:
Whether it be a Folly,
Or a Melancholy,
Or some Heroick thing!
Fain I’d have it prov’d, by one whom Love hath wounded
And fully upon one his desire hath founded,
Whom nothing else could please tho’ the World were rounded!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 140
To know this World’s Center,
Height, Depth, Breadth, and Length,
Fain I would adventure,
To search the hid Attractions,
Of Magnetick Actions,
And Adamantick strength!
Fain would I know, if in some lofty Mountain,
Where the Moon sojourns, if there be Trees of Fountain,
If there be Beasts of Prey, or yet be Fields to hunt in!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 150
Fain would I have it tried,
By none can be denied;
If in this bulk of Nature,
There be Voids less or greater,
Or all remains compleat!
Fain would I know, if Beasts have any Reason!
If Falcons killing Eagles do commit a Treason!
If fear of Winter’s want makes Swallows fly the Season!
Hallow my Fancie, whither wilt thou go? 160
Hallow my Fancie, hallow,
Stay, stay at home with me,
I can thee no longer follow,
For thou hast betray’d me
And bewray’d me;
It is too much for thee.
Stay, stay at Home with me, leave off thy lofty Soaring,
Stay thou at Home with me, and on thy Books be poring,
For he that goes abroad, lays little up in Storing:
Thou’rt wlcome Home my Fancie, welcome home to me. 170