William Dunbar, Complete Poems

William Dunbar: The Complete Works

Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis,
Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir,
Thrones, powers, and martyrs man
And all ye hevinly operationis,
Ster, planeit, firmament, and speir,
Fyre, erd, air, and watter cleir,
To Him gife loving, most and lest,
That come into so meik maneir;
Et nobis puer natus est.

Synnaris be glaid and pennance do,
And thank your Makar hairtfully,
For He that ye mycht nocht cum to,
To yow is cumin full humly,

On the Nativity of Christ
[Et nobis puer natus est]


To Him that is of kingis King;
Ensence His altar, reid and sing
Insence His altar, read and sing
(On the Nativity of Christ)


Celestiall fowlis in the are,
Sing with your nottis upoun hicht;
In firthis and in forrestis fair
Be myrthfull now at all your mycht,

(On the Nativity of Christ)


Methocht Judas with mony ane Jow
Tuik blissit Jesu, our Salvatour,
And schot Him furth with mony ane schow,
And hurled Him forth, with many a shove

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Thay spittit in His visage fayr;
And as lyounis with awfull ruge,
In yre thay hurlit Him heir and thair,

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Ane croce that wes bayth large and lang
To beir thay gaif this blissit Lord;
Syn fullelie, as theif to hang,
Then foully, as a thief to hang
Thay harlit Him furth with raip and corde;

(Of the Passion of Christ)


His feit with stanis was revin and scorde,
His feet with stones were torn and cut

(Of the Passion of Christ)


The clayth that claif to His cleir hyd
Thay raif away with ruggis rude,
Quhill fersly followit flesche and blude
That it was pietie for to se.

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Quhen He was bendit so on breid,
When he was stretched so in breath,
Quhill all His vanis brist and brak,
To gar His cruell pane exceid
Thay leit Him fall doun with ane swak
Quhill cors and corps and all did crak.

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Betuix tuo theiffis the spreit He gaif
Between two thieves the spirit He gave [up]

(Of the Passion of Christ)

Thus Jesus with His woundis wyde
As martir sufferit for to de

(Of the Passion of Christ)


And evir did Petie on me pow,
Saying, "Behald how Jowis hes drest
Thy blissit Salvatour, Chryst Jesu!"

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Pennance did walk the hous within,
Byding our Salvitour, Chryst Jesu.

(Of the Passion of Christ)


Sprungin is Aurora, radius and bricht,
On loft is gone the glorius Appollo,
The blisfull day depairtit fro the nycht:

(On the Resurrection of Christ)
[Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro]


The Cristin ar deliverit of thair wo,
The Jowis and thair errour ar confoundit:

(On the Resurrection of Christ)


The weir is gon, confermit is the peis,

(On the Resurrection of Christ)


Now of wemen this I say for me,
Of erthly thingis nane may bettir be.

(In Praise of Women)


Sen that of wemen cumin all ar we;
Wemen ar wemen and sa will end and de.
Wo wirth the fruct wald put the tre to nocht,
And wo wirth him rycht so that sayis ocht
Of womanheid that may be ony lak,
Or sic grit schame upone him for to tak.

(In Praise of Women)


Thay ar the confort that we all haif heir -
Thair may no man be till us half so deir;

(In Praise of Women)


Rycht sua thi schrift, bot it be schawin weill,
Thow art not abill remissioun for to get
Wittandlie, and thou ane syn forget.

Of tuenty wonddis and ane be left unhelit,
Quhat avalis the leiching of the laif?

(The Manner of Going to Confession)


In hering, seing, tuiching, gusting, smelling -
Ganestanding, greving, offending, and rebelling

(The Table of Confession)


I schrif me, Lord, that I abusit have
I confess me, Lord, that I abused have
The sevin deidis of marcy corporall:
The hungry meit, nor thristy drink I gaif,
Vesyit the seik, nor redemit the thrall,
Herberit the wilsum, nor nakit cled at all,
Nor yit the deid to bery tuke I tent.

(The Table of Confession)


Thy ten conmandmentis: a God for to honour,
Nocht tane in vane, na manslaar to be,
Fader and moder to worschip at all houre,
To be no theif, the haly day to uphie,
Nychtburis to luf, fals witnes for to fle,
To leif adultré, to covat no manis rent:
In all thir, Lord, culpabill knaw I me.
I cry Thee marcy and laser ro repent.

(The Table of Confession)


In word, in will, in wantones expremyng,
In word, in will, in wantonness speaking,
Prising myself and evill my nychtburis demyng;
And so in idilnes my dais I have myspent:

(The Table of Confession)


In prodigall spending but reuth of pure folkis neding,
In prodigal spending without pity on the poor

(The Table of Confession)


Of Lentren in the first mornyng,
Airly as did the day up spring,
Thus sang ane bird with voce upplane:
"All erdly joy returnis in pane.

(All Earthly Joy Returns to Pain)


"Haif mynd that eild ay followis yowth;
Deth followis lyfe with gaipand mowth,
Devoring fruct and flowring grane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.
/
"Welth, warldly gloir, and riche array
Ar all bot thornis laid in thy way,
Ourcoverd with flouris laid in ane trane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane
/
"Come nevir yit May so fresche and grene
Bot Januar come als wod and kene;
Wes nevir sic drowth bot anis come rane:
All erdly joy returnis in pane.

(All Earthly Joy Returns to Pain)


Thocht now thow be maist glaid of cheir,
Fairest and plesandest of port,
Yit may thow be within ane yeir
Ane ugsum, uglye tramort.
(One loathsome, ugly decaying)
And sen thow knawis thy tyme is schort
And in all houre thy lyfe in weir (doubt) is,
Think, man, amang all uthir sport (pleasures),
Quod tu in cinerem reverteris.

(Of Man's Mortality)


Salviour, suppois my sensualité
Subject to syn hes maid my saule of sys,
Sum spark of lycht and spiritualité
Walkynnis my witt, and ressoun biddis me rys.

(An Orison)


O wreche, be war, this warld will wend thee fro,

(Of the World's Vanity)


Walk furth, pilgrame, quhill thow hes dayis licht,
Dres fra desert, draw to thy duelling place;
Speid home, for quhy anone cummis the nicht


(Of the World's Vanity)


For and the deith ourtak thee in trespas,
Than may thow say thir wourdis with "allace":

(Of the World's Vanity)


Heir nocht abydis, heir standis nothing stabill.
This fals warld ay flittis to and fro:
Now day up bricht, now nycht als blak as sabill,
Now eb, now flude, now freynd, now cruell fo,
Now glaid, now said, now weill, now into wo,
Now cled in gold, dissolvit now in as.
So dois this warld transitorie go:
Vanitas vanitatum et omnia vanitas.

(Of the World's Vanity)


Quhat is this lyfe bot ane straucht way to deid,

(Of Life)


Yisterday fair up sprang the flouris;
This day thai ar all slane with schouris (hail),
And fowllis in forrest that sang cleir
Now walkis with a drery cheir,
Full caild (cold) ar baith thair beddis and bouris.

(Of the Changes of Life)


Than Patience sayis, "Be not agast;
Hald Hoip and Treuthe within thee fast,
And lat Fortoun wirk furthe hir rage,
Quhome that no rasoun may assuage
Quhill that hir glas be run and past."

(A Meditation in Winter)


Lord, how sall I my dayis dispone (dispose)?
For lang service rewarde is none,
And schort my lyfe may heir (here) indure,
And lossit is my tyme bygone (gone by) :

(None May Assure in This World)


Toungis now ar maid of quhyte quhaill bone,
(Tongues now are made of white wail bone)
And hairtis ar maid of hard flynt stone,
And ene ar maid of blew asure,
And handis of adamant laith to dispone (give away):

(A Meditation in Winter)


Of wardlis gud and grit riches,
Quhat fruct hes man but mirines (without merriness)?

(Best to Be Blithe)


Quho suld for tynsall drowp or de
(Who should for deprivation droop or die)
For thyng that is bot vanitie,
Sen (since) to the lyfe that evir dois lest
Heir is bot twynklyng of ane ee?
For to be blyth me think it best.

(Best to Be Blithe)


Thairfor I pray yow, bredir deir,
Not to delyt in daynteis seir (many);
Thank God of it is to thee sent,
And of it glaidlie mak gud cheir.

(Of Content)


Be mery, man, and tak nocht fer in mynd
The wavering of this wrechit vale of sorrow.
To God be hummle and to thi frend be kyind,
And with thi nichtbour glaidlie len and borow -
His chance this nycht, it may be thine tomorow.

(Without Gladness No Treasure Avails)


Seik to solace quhen saidnes thee assalis;
Thy lyfe in dolour ma nocht lang indure,
Quharfor of confurt set up all thi salis:
Without glaidnes avalis no tresure.

(Without Gladness No Treasure Avails)


Quha levis (lives) mery, he levis michtely:

(Without Gladness No Treasure Avails)


He that may be but (without) sturt or stryfe
And leif ane lusty plesand lyfe,
And syne with mariege dois him mell (involve)
And bindis him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis sorrow to himsell.

(His Own Enemy)


Now all this tyme lat us be mirry,
And sett (value) nocht by this warld a chirry (cherry).
Now quhill thair is gude wyne to sell (buy),
He that dois on dry breid wirry (gnaw),
I gif him to the Devill of Hell!

(His Own Enemy)


And lairdis in silk harlis (trails) to the heill (heel),
For quhilk thair tennents sald somer meill
And leivis on rutis undir the ryce (bushes),
And all for caus of covetyce.

(Of Covetise)


Musing allone this hinder (other) nicht
Of mirry day quhen gone was licht,
Within ane garth (garden) undir a tre,
I hard ane voce that said on hicht,
"May na man now undemit (unjudged) be.

"For thocht I be ane crownit king,
Yit sall I not eschew deming.
Sum callis me guid, sum sayis thai lie,
Sum cravis of God to end my ring,
So sall I not undemit be.

(Of Deeming)

And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris

(The Thistle and the Rose)


"Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering;
Se how the lusty morrow dois up spring!"

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Balmit in dew and gilt with Phebus bemys
Quhill all the hous illumynit of hir lemys.
/
"Slugird," scho said, "Awalk annone, for schame,
And in my honour sumthing thow go wryt;
The lork hes done the mirry day proclame
To rais up luvaris with confort and delyt,
Yit nocht incress thy curage to indyt (write)
Quhois hairt sumtyme hes glaid and blisfull bene
Sangis (songs) to mak undir the levis grene."

"Quhairto," quod I, "Sall I uprys at morrow,
For in this May few birdis herd I sing?

So busteous ar the blastis of his horne,
Amang thy bewis to walk I haif forborne."

(The Thistle and the Rose)


And as the blisfull soune of cherarchy,
(And the blissful sound of the hierarchy)
The fowlis song throw confort of the licht;

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair
To fers Neptunus and Eolus the bawld
Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air,
And that no schouris scharp nor blastis cawld
Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold;
(Alarm should flours nor fowls on the earth)

(The Thistle and the Rose)


This lady liftit up his cluvis cleir,
And leit him listly lene upone hir kne;
And crownit him with dyademe full deir,
Of radyous stonis most ryall for to se,
Saying, "The king of beistis mak I thee,
And the chief protector in the woddis and schawis.
Onto thi leigis go furth, and keip the lawis.

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild,
Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris;
Upone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris.
Concedring him so able for the weiris, (wars)
A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif
And said, "In feild go furth and fend the laif.
/
"And sen thow art a king, thow be discreit;
Herb without vertew hald nocht of sic pryce
As herb of vertew and of odor sueit;
And lat no nettill vyle and full of vyce
Hir fallow to the gudly flour delyce, (fleur-de-lis)
Nor latt no wyld weid full of churlichenes
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilnes;

(The Thistle and the Rose)


And first hir mett the burges of the toun,
Richelie arrayit, as become thame to be,
Of quhom they cheset four men of renoun
In gounes of velvot, young, abill, and lustie,
To beir the paill of velves cramase
Abone hir heid, as the custome hes bein.

(To Aberdeen)


Brycht sterne at morrow that dois the nycht hyn chace,
Of luvis lychtsum day the lyfe and gyd,
Lat no dirk clud absent fro us thy face,
Nor lat no sable frome us thy bewty hyd,
That hes no confort quhair that we go or ryd,
Bot to behald the beme of thi brychtnes;
Baneis all baill and into blis abyd,
Devoyd languor and leif in lustines.

(To the Queen)


O fair sweit blossum, now in bewty flouris,
Unfaidit bayth of cullour and vertew,
Thy nobill lord that deid hes done devoir,
Faid nocht with weping thy vissage fair of hew.

(To the Queen)


In Scotland welcum be thyne excellence

(Eulogy to Bernard Stewart, Lord of Aubigny)


My prince in God, gif thee guid grace,
Joy, glaidnes, confort, and solace,
Play, pleasance, myrth, and mirrie cheir
In hansill of this guid New Yeir.

(To the King)


Quhen I sett me to sing or dance,
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance,
My panefull purs so prikillis me.

(To the King/[My panefull purs so priclis me])

And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris,
Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris

(The Thistle and the Rose)


"Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering;
Se how the lusty morrow dois up spring!"

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Balmit in dew and gilt with Phebus bemys
Quhill all the hous illumynit of hir lemys.
/
"Slugird," scho said, "Awalk annone, for schame,
And in my honour sumthing thow go wryt;
The lork hes done the mirry day proclame
To rais up luvaris with confort and delyt,
Yit nocht incress thy curage to indyt (write)
Quhois hairt sumtyme hes glaid and blisfull bene
Sangis (songs) to mak undir the levis grene."

"Quhairto," quod I, "Sall I uprys at morrow,
For in this May few birdis herd I sing?

So busteous ar the blastis of his horne,
Amang thy bewis to walk I haif forborne."

(The Thistle and the Rose)


And as the blisfull soune of cherarchy,
(And the blissful sound of the hierarchy)
The fowlis song throw confort of the licht;

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair
To fers Neptunus and Eolus the bawld
Nocht to perturb the wattir nor the air,
And that no schouris scharp nor blastis cawld
Effray suld flouris nor fowlis on the fold;
(Alarm should flours nor fowls on the earth)

(The Thistle and the Rose)


This lady liftit up his cluvis cleir,
And leit him listly lene upone hir kne;
And crownit him with dyademe full deir,
Of radyous stonis most ryall for to se,
Saying, "The king of beistis mak I thee,
And the chief protector in the woddis and schawis.
Onto thi leigis go furth, and keip the lawis.

(The Thistle and the Rose)


Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild,
Discirnyng all thair fassionis and effeiris;
Upone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld
And saw him kepit with a busche of speiris.
Concedring him so able for the weiris, (wars)
A radius croun of rubeis scho him gaif
And said, "In feild go furth and fend the laif.
/
"And sen thow art a king, thow be discreit;
Herb without vertew hald nocht of sic pryce
As herb of vertew and of odor sueit;
And lat no nettill vyle and full of vyce
Hir fallow to the gudly flour delyce, (fleur-de-lis)
Nor latt no wyld weid full of churlichenes
Compair hir till the lilleis nobilnes;

(The Thistle and the Rose)


And first hir mett the burges of the toun,
Richelie arrayit, as become thame to be,
Of quhom they cheset four men of renoun
In gounes of velvot, young, abill, and lustie,
To beir the paill of velves cramase
Abone hir heid, as the custome hes bein.

(To Aberdeen)


Brycht sterne at morrow that dois the nycht hyn chace,
Of luvis lychtsum day the lyfe and gyd,
Lat no dirk clud absent fro us thy face,
Nor lat no sable frome us thy bewty hyd,
That hes no confort quhair that we go or ryd,
Bot to behald the beme of thi brychtnes;
Baneis all baill and into blis abyd,
Devoyd languor and leif in lustines.

(To the Queen)


O fair sweit blossum, now in bewty flouris,
Unfaidit bayth of cullour and vertew,
Thy nobill lord that deid hes done devoir,
Faid nocht with weping thy vissage fair of hew.

(To the Queen)


In Scotland welcum be thyne excellence

(Eulogy to Bernard Stewart, Lord of Aubigny)


My prince in God, gif thee guid grace,
Joy, glaidnes, confort, and solace,
Play, pleasance, myrth, and mirrie cheir
In hansill of this guid New Yeir.

(To the King)


Quhen I sett me to sing or dance,
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance,
My panefull purs so prikillis me.

(To the King/[My panefull purs so priclis me])


Sum swelleis swan, sum swelleis duke,
(Some swallow swan, some swallow duck)
And I stand fastand in a nuke
(And I stand fasting in a nook)

(To the King/Of benefice, sir, at everie feist)


This hinder (other) nycht, halff sleiping as I lay,
Me thocht my chalmer (chamber) in ane new aray
Was all depent (adorned) with many divers hew

(A Dream)


Sum young, sum old, in sindry wyse arayit.
Sum sang, sum danceit, on instrumentis sum playit,
Sum maid disportis (diversions) with hartis glaid and lycht.
Thane thocht I thus, "This is an felloun phary (great fairy),
/
Or ellis my witt rycht woundrouslie dois varie.
This seimes to me ane guidlie companie,
And gif it be ane feindlie fantasie,
Defend me, Jhesu and his moder Marie!"

(A Dream)


Thay saw that I not glader wox of cheir,
And thairof had thai winder (wonder) all, but weir (doubtless),
And said ane lady that Persaveing hecht (was called),
"Of hevines he fiellis sic (such) a wecht (weight)
Your melody he pleisis not till heir.

(A Dream)


The change of warld fro weill to wo,
The honourable use is all ago
In hall and bour, in burgh and plane,
For to considder is ane pane.

(To the King/For to considder is ane pane)

Sum standis in a nuk and rownes (whispers).
For covetyce aneuthair neir swownes.
Sum beris as he wald ga wud (mad)
For hait desyr of wardis (worldly) gud.

(Against the Solicitors at Court)


My sempillnes, amang the laiff (others)
Wait (knows) of na way, sa God me saiff (save),
Bot with ane hummble cheir and face
Refferis (recommends) me to the kyngis grace.

(Against the Solicitors at Court)


Bot quhen the uther fulis nyce (ignorant)
That feistit at Cokelbeis gryce (suckling pig)
Ar all rewardit, and nocht I,
Than on this fals warld I cry "Fy!"
My hart neir bristis (bursts) than for teyne (pain),
Quhilk may nocht suffer nor sustene
So grit abusioun (absuse) for to se
Daylie in court befoir myn e.
/
And yit more panence wald I have,
Had I rewarde amang the laif (rest).
It wald me sumthing satisfie
And les (lesson) of my malancolie,
And gar me mony falt ourse (overlook)
That now is brayd (broad) befoir myn e.

(To the King/Schir, ye have mony servitouris)


Bot fowll jow-jowrdane-hedit jevellis,
(But foul Jew-piss-pot-headed ruffians)
Cowkin kenseis and culroun kevellis,
(Be-shitted knaves and rascal rogues)
Stuffettis, strekouris, and stafische strummellis,
Wyld haschbaldis, haggarbaldis, and hummellis,
Druncartis, dysouris, dyvowris, drevellis,
(Drunkards, dicers, debtors, and worthless lads)
Misgydit memberis of the Devellis,

(To the King/Complane I wald)


Schir, yit remember as befoir
How that my youthe is done forloir (completely)
In your service with pane and greiff.
Gud conscience cryis reward thairfoir.

(To the King/Exces of thocht dois me mischief)


The pyat withe the pairtie cote
Feynyeis to sing the nychtingale note,
Bot scho cannot the corchet cleiff
For hasknes of hir carleche throte.

(To the King/Exces of thocht dois me mischief)


In sum pairt of myselffe I (com)pleinye
Quhone utheris dois flattir and feynye;
Allace, I can bot ballattis breif (write)

(To the King/Exces of thocht dois me mischief)


I am ane auld hors, as ye knaw,
That ever in duill (pain) dois drug and draw.
Gryt court hors puttis me fra the staw,

(To the King/That I suld be ane Yowllis yald)


My maine is turned into quhyt,
And thairof ye heff all the wyt.
Quhen uthair hors hed brane to byt,
I gat bot gris (grass), grype giff I wald.

(To the King/That I suld be ane Yowllis yald)


To bed I went, bot thair I tuke no rest.
With havie thocht so sair I wes opprest
That sair (sorely) I langit eftir the dayis licht.

(The Antichrist)


"Full mony ane I set upone the heycht (height),
And makis mony full law doun to lycht (fall).
Upone my stagis or that thow do ascend,
Traist wele thi trouble is neir at ane end,

(The Antichrist)


"He sall ascend as ane horrible griphoun.
Him meit sall in the air ane scho dragoun.
Thir terribill monsturis sall togiddir thrist,
And in the cluddis get the Antechrist,

(The Antichrist)


He cowth gif cure for laxative (diarrhea)
To gar a wicht hors want his lyve.
(To make a strong horse want his life [dead])
Quhaevir assay wald, man or wyve,
Thair hippis yeid hiddy giddy.
(Their ass would shake)
His practikis nevir war put to preif
Bot (w/out) suddane deid or grit mischeif.
He had purgatioun to mak a theif
To dee withowt a widdy.

(A Ballad of the Friar of Tungland)


At feastis and brydallis upaland
He wan (won) the gre (prize) and the garland,
Dansit non so on deis (dais)
He hes att werslings bein ane hunder,
Yet lay his body never at under -
He knawis giff this be leis (a lie).

Was never wyld Robein (Hood) under bewch
Nor yet Roger of Clekniskleuch
So bauld a berne as he;

(Sir Thomas Norny)


Than cam in maistir Robert Schau -
He leuket as he culd lern tham a,
Bot ay his an futt did waver.
He stackeret lyk an strummall awer
(He staggered like a clumsy packhorse)

(A Dance in the Queen's Chamber)



Than cam in the maister almaser,
An hommiltye-jommeltye juffler.
Lyk a stirk stackarand in the ry,
His hippis (ass) gaff mony hoddous cry.
John Bute the fule said, "Wa es me,
He is bedirtin (bedirtied), fye, fy!"
A mirrear dance mycht na man se.

(A Dance in the Queen's Chamber)


Than cam in dame Dounteboir -
God waett (knows) gif that schou louket sowr (sour).
Schou maid sic morgeownis with hir hippis,
(She made such grotesque movements with her ass)
For lachtter (laughter) nain mycht hald thair lippis.
Quhen schou was danceand bisselye,
An blast of wind son fra hir slippis.
A mirrear dance mycht na man se.

(A Dance in the Queen's Chamber)

Sweit rois of vertew and of gentilnes,
Delytsum lyllie of everie lustynes,
Richest in bontie and in bewtie cleir
And everie vertew that is deir,
Except onlie that ye are mercyles.
/
Into your garthe this day I did persew.
Thair saw I flowris that fresche wer of hew,
Baithe quhyte and rid, moist lusty wer to seyne,
And halsum (flourishing) herbis upone stalkis grene,
Yit leif nor flour fynd could I nane of rew (rue).
/
I dout (fear) that Merche with his caild blastis keyne
Hes slane this gentill herbe that I of mene (speak),
Quhois petewous deithe dois to my hart sic pane
That I wald mak to plant his rute agane,
So that confortand his levis unto me bene.

(Sweet Rose of Virtue, Complete)


So lang to luk I tuk laseir,
(So long to look I took leisure)
Quhill I wes tane withouttin test
(Until I was captured without physical contact)
And led furth as a presoneir.

(Beauty and the Prisoner)


Langour wes weche upoun the wall
(Indifference was watchman upon the wall)

(Beauty and the Prisoner)


Throucht Skornes nos thai put a prik (stabwound),
This he wes banist (banished) and gat a blek (scar).
Comparisone wes erdit (earthed/killed) quik,
And Langour lap (leaped) and brak his nek.
Thai sailyeit (fled) fast, all the fek (remainder).
Lust chasit my ladeis chalmirleir (chambermaid);
Gud Fame wes drownit in a sek (sack):
Thus ransonit (freed) thai the presoneir.

(Beauty and the Prisoner)


Have mercie, luif, have mercie, ladie bricht.
Quhat have I wrocht aganis your womanheid
That ye suld murdir me, a saikles wicht,
Trespassing never to yow in word nor deid?
That ye consent thairto, O God forbid!
Leif creuelté and saif your man, for schame,
Or throucht the warld quyte losit is your name.

(To a Lady)


Behald my wod (wild), intollerabill pane,

(To a Lady)


Ryght as the stern (star) of day begouth to schyne,
Quhen gone to bed war Vesper and Lucyne,
I raise (arose) and by a rosere (rose bush) did me rest.
Up sprang the goldyn candill matutyne (of the morning)
With clere depurit bemes (purified beams) cristallyne
Glading the mery foulis in thair nest.

(The Golden Targe)


Full angel-like thir birdis sang thair houris
Within thair courtyns grene into thair bouris
Apparalit quhite and rede wyth blomes suete;
Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris.
The perly droppis schuke in silvir schouris,

(The Golden Targe)


Quhat throu the mery foulys armony
And throu the ryveris soun(d) rycht ran me by,
On Florais mantill I slepit as I lay;
Quhare sone (soon) into my dremes fantasy
I saw approch agayn the orient sky
A saill als quhite as blossum upon spray,

(The Golden Targe)


Thair brycht hairis hang gleting on the strandis
(Their bright hair hung shining on the strands)
In tressis clere, wyppit (tied) wyth goldyn thredis,
With pappis (tits) quhite and mydlis small as wandis.

(The Golden Targe)


Noucht thou, Omer, als fair as thou coud wryte,
For all thine ornate stilis so perfyte.
Nor yit thou, Tullius, quhois lippis swete
Of rethorike did into termes flete.
Your aureate tongis both bene all to lyte (insufficient)
For to compile that paradise complete.

(The Golden Targe)


Thair hony throtis opnyt fro the splene
With werblis suete did perse the hevinly skyes,
Quhill loud resownyt the firmament serene.

(The Golden Targe)


A cloud of arowis as hayle schour lousit thay,
And schot quhill wastit (wasted) was thair artilye,
Syne went abak reboytit (deprived) of thair pray.

(The Golden Targe)


Dame Hamelynes (Familiarity) scho tuke in company,
That hardy was and hende (skillful) in archery,

(The Golden Targe)


In twynklyng of ane eye to schip thai went,
And swyth (quickly) up saile unto the top thai stent (spread)
And with swift course atour the flude thai frak (fled).
Thai fyrit gunnis with powder violent
Till that the reke (smoke) raise to the firmament.
The rochis all resownyt wyth the rak,
For rede (b/c of the din) it semyt that the raynbow brak.
Wyth spirit affrayde apon my fete I sprent (sprung)
Amang the clewis (crags), so carefull (terrible) was the crak.

(The Golden Targe)


This mater coud illumynit haue full brycht.
Was thou noucht of oure Inglisch all the lycht,
Surmounting eviry tong terrestriall,
Alls fer as Mayes morow dois mydnycht?

(The Golden Targe)


Quhair did upone the tother (t’other) syd persew
A nychtingall with suggurit notis new,
Quhois angell fedderis as the pacok schone.
This wes hir song and of a sentens trew:
"All luve is lost bot upone God allone."
/
With notis glaid and glorius armony
This joyfull merle so salust (greets) scho the day
Quhill rong (rang) the widdis (woods) of hir melody,

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


Nevir suetar noys wes hard with levand (by living) man
Na maid (than made) this mirry gentill nychtingaill.
Hir sound went with the rever as it ran
Outthrow the fresche and flureist lusty vaill.
"O merle," quod scho, "O fule, stynt (stop) of thy taill,
For in thy song gud sentens is thair none,
For boith is tynt the tyme and the travaill
Of every luve bot upone God allone."

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


O, quhithir wes kythit thair, trew lufe or none?
(Oh, which was shown there, true love or none?)

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


And He, of Natur that wirker wes and king,
Wald nothing frustir (worthless) put nor lat be sene
Into his creature of His awin making:

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


God bad eik lufe thy nychtbour fro the splene,
And quho than ladeis suetar nychbouris be?

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


Luve makis knychtis hardy at assey (battle),
Luve makis wrechis full of lergenes (generosity).
Luve makis sueir (lazy) folkis full of bissines,
Luve makis sluggirdis fresche and weill besene, (attractive),

(The Merle and the Nightingale)


This hindir nycht in Dumfermeling
To me was tawld ane windir thing:
That lait ane tod wes with ane lame
(Recently a fox was with a lamb)
And with hir playit and maid gud game,
Syne till his breist did hir imbrace
And wald haif riddin (mounted) hir lyk ane rame (ram)-
And that me thocht ane ferly (astonishing) cace.

He braisit hir bony body sweit
And halsit (held) hir with fordir (front) feit,
Syne schuk his taill with quhinge and yelp,
And todlit (played) with hir lyk ane quhelp (puppy)
Syne lowrit on growfe and askit grace,
And ay the lame cryd, "Lady, help!" -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

The tod wes nowder lene nor skowry (scruffy).
He wes ane lusty reid haird lowry,
Ane lang taild beist and grit (large) with all.
The silly (innocent) lame (penis) wes all to small
To sic ane tribbill (trebble) to hald ane bace.
Scho fled him nocht, fair mot hir fall –
(She fled him not, well may she prosper)
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

The tod wes reid, the lame wes quhyte,
Scho wes ane morsall of delyte -
He lovit na yowis (ewes), auld, tuch (tough), and sklender.
Becaus this lame wes yung and tender,
He ran upoun hir with a race,
And scho schup (tried) nevir for till defend hir -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

He grippit hir abowt the west
And handlit hir as he had hest.
This innocent that nevir trespast
Tuke hert that scho wes handlit fast (pleased),
And lute (let) him kis hir lusty face.
His girnand gamis (teeth) hir nocht agast -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

He held hir till him be the hals (neck)
And spak full fair, thocht (though) he wes fals,
Syne said and swoir to hir be God
That he suld nocht tuich hir prenecod (pincushion).
The silly thing trowd (trusted) him, allace,
The lame gaif creddence to the tod -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

I will no lesingis (lying) put in vers,
Lyk as thir jangleris (gossipers) dois rehers,
Bot be quhat maner thay war mard.
Quhen licht wes owt and durris (doors) wes bard
I wait nocht gif he gaif hir grace (mercy),
Bot all the hollis (holes) wes stoppit hard -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Quhen men dois fleit (float) in joy maist far,
Sone cumis wo or thay be war.
Quhen carpand wer thir two most crows,
The wolf he ombesett (surrounded) the hous
Upoun the tod to mak ane chace.
The lamb than cheipit (squeaked) lyk a mows -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Throw hiddowis yowling of the wowf
This wylie tod plat (crawled) doun on growf,
And in the silly lambis skin
He crap (crept) als far as he micht win
And hid him thair ane weill lang space.
The yowis (ewes) besyd thay maid na din -
And that me thocht ane ferly cace.

Quhen of the tod wes hard no peip,
The wowf (wolf) went all had bene on sleip;
And quhill the bell had strikkin ten,
The wowf hes drest him to his den,
Protestand for the secound place.
And this report I with my pen,
How at Dumfermling fell the cace.

(A Wooing in Dunfermline—Complete)


Sum of your men sic curage (lust) hed,
Dam Venus fyre sa hard tham sted,
Thai brak up durris (doors) and raeff up lockis
To get ane pamphelet on a pled (?)
That thai mycht lib tham of the pockis (have sex).

(To the Queen/Madam, your men said)


I saw coclinkis (prostitutes) me besyd
The young men to thair howses (horses) gyd
Had bettir lugget (lodged) in the stockis.
Sum fra the bordell wald nocht byd (stay away)
Quhill that thai gatt the Spanyie pockis (pox).

(To the Queen/Madam, your men said)


Lang heff I maed of ladyes quhytt,
Nou of an blak I will indytt
That landet furth of the last schippis.
Quhou fain wald I descryve perfytt
My ladye with the mekle (huge) lippis.

Quhou schou is tute (large) mowitt lyk an aep,
And lyk a gangarall (toad) onto graep (grasp),
And quhou hir schort catt nois up skippis,
And quhou schou schynes lyk ony saep (soap),
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quhen schou is claid in reche apparrall,
Schou blinkis als brycht as an tar barrell.
Quhen schou was born the son tholit clippis,
(When she was born the sun suffered eclipse)
The nycht be fain faucht in hir querrell -
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

Quhai for hir saek with speir and scheld
Preiffis (proves) maest mychtellye in the feld,
Sall kis and withe hir go in grippis (embrace),
And fra thyne furth (thence forth) hir luff sall weld -
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

And quhai in fedle (field) receaves schaem
And tynis (loses) thair his knychtlie naem,
Sall cum behind and kis hir hippis
And nevir to uther confort claem (claim),
My ladye with the mekle lippis.

(Of a Black Moor—Complete)


In secreit place this hyndir nycht
I hard ane beyrne (young man) say till ane bricht (lady):
"My huny, my hart, my hoip, my heill (happiness),
I have bene lang your luifar leill
And can of yow get confort nane.
How lang will ye with danger (disdain) deill?
Ye brek my hart, my bony (pretty) ane."

His bony beird (beard) wes kemmit and croppit,
Bot all with cale it wes bedroppit,
And he wes townysche, peirt, and gukit.
(And he was townish, bold, and foolish)
He clappit (embraced) fast, he kist and chukkit (fondled)
As with the glaikis he wer ouirgane.
Yit be his feirris (behavior) he wald have fukkit -
"Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."

Quod he: "My hairt, sweit as the hunye,
Sen that I borne wes of my mynnye (mommy),
I never wowit (wooed) weycht bot yow.
My wambe is of your luif sa fow
That as ane gaist (ghost) I glour and grane.
I trymble sa, ye will not trow,
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."

"Tehe!" quod scho, and gaif ane gawfe.
"Be still, my tuchan (touch-object) and my calfe,
My new spanit howffing fra the sowk,
And all the blythnes of my bowk (body).
My sweit swanking (fellow), saif yow allane
Na leyd I luiffit all this owk:
Full leif is me yowr graceles gane (face).”

Quod he: "My claver (clover) and my curldodie (wild flower),
My huny soppis, my sweit possodie,
(My honey-soaked bread, my spiced drink,)
Be not oure bosteous (rough) to your billie (lover),
Be warme hairtit and not evill wille.
Your heylis (heels), quhyt as quhalis bane,
Garris ryis (makes rise) on loft my quhillelille:
Ye brek my hart, my bony ane."

Quod scho: "My clype, my unspaynit gyane,
(Said she: “My clumsy fellow, my unweaned giant)
With moderis mylk yit in your mychane (tummy),
My belly huddrun (cover), my swete hurle (impetuous) bawsy,
My huny gukkis, my slawsy gawsy (fat fellow),
Your musing waild perse ane harte of stane.
Tak gud confort, my grit-heidit (headed) slawsy:
Full leif is me your graceles gane."

Quod he: "My kid, my capirculyoun (wood-grouse),
My bony baib with the ruch brylyoun,
My tendir gyrle, my wallie gowdye,
My tyrlie myrlie, my crowdie mowdie (vagina),
Quhone that oure mouthis dois meit at ane,
My stang dois storkyn with your towdie:
(My stake does stiffen with your ass)
Ye brek my hairt, my bony ane."

Quod scho: "Now tak me by the hand,
Welcum, my golk (fool) of Marie (Faerie) land,
My chirrie and my maikles munyoun (matchless darling),
My sowklar (suckler) sweit as ony unyoun (onion),
My strumill stirk yit new to spane.
I am applyit (agreeable) to your opunyoun:
I luif rycht weill your graceles gane."

He gaiff to hir ane apill rubye (apple).
Quod scho, "Gramercye, my sweit cowhubye (fool)!"
And thai tway to ane play began
Quhilk men dois call the dery dan (dance of love),
Quhill that thair myrthis met baythe in ane.
"Wo is me," quod scho, "Quhair will ye, man?
Best now I luif that graceles gane."

(In a Secret Place)


Ane murelandis (moorland) man of uplandis mak
At hame thus to his nychtbour spak:
"Quhat tythingis, gossope, peace or weir?"
The uther roundit in his eir:
"I tell yow this, undir confessioun.
Bot laitlie lychtit of my meir,
I come of Edinburch fra the Sessioun."

(Tidings from the Session)


This nycht befoir the dawing cleir
Me thocht Sanct Francis did to me appeir
With ane religious abbeit in his hand
And said, "In this go cleith thee my servand.
Reffus the warld, for thow mon be a freir."

With him and with his abbeit bayth I skarrit
Lyk to ane man that with a gaist wes marrit.
(Like to one man that with a ghost was frightened)
Me thocht on bed he layid it me abone,
Bot on the flure (floor) delyverly and sone
I lap (leaped) thairfra and nevir wald cum nar it.

Quoth he, "Quhy skarris thow with this holy weid (garment)?
Cleith (clothe) thee thairin, for weir it thow most neid.
Thow that hes lang done Venus lawis teiche
Sall now be freir and in this abbeit preiche.
Delay it nocht, it mon be done but dreid (w/out a doubt)."

Quod I, "Sanct Francis, loving be thee till,
And thankit mot thow be of thy gude will
To me, that of thy clathis ar so kynd,
Bot thame to weir it nevir come in my mynd.
Sweit confessour, thow tak it nocht in ill.

"In haly legendis haif I hard allevin (indeed)
Ma sanctis (saints) of bischoppis nor freiris, be sic sevin.
Of full few freiris that hes bene sanctis I reid;
Quhairfoir ga bring to me ane bischopis weid (gown),
Gife evir thow wald my sawle gaid unto Hevin."

"My brethir oft hes maid thee supplicationis
Be epistillis, sermonis, and relationis
To tak the abyte (habit), bot thow did postpone.
But forder proces cum on thairfoir annone,
All sircumstance put by and excusationis."
(All evasions put by and excuses.)

"Gif evir my fortoun wes to be a freir,
The dait thairof is past full mony a yeir;
For into every lusty toun and place
Of all Yngland, frome Berwick to Kalice,
I haif into thy habeit maid gud cheir.

"In freiris weid full fairly haif I fleichit (flattered)
In it I haif in pulpet gon and preichit
In Derntoun kirk and eik in Canterberry;
In it I past at Dover our the ferry
Throw Piccardy, and thair the peple teichit.

"Als lang as I did beir the freiris style (title),
In me, God wait, wes mony wrink and wyle (trick).
In me wes falset with every wicht to flatter,
Quhilk mycht be flemit (cleaned) with na haly watter.
I wes ay reddy all men to begyle."

This freir that did Sanct Francis thair appeir,
Ane fieind he wes in liknes of ane freir.
He vaneist away with stynk and fyrie smowk.
With him, me thocht, all the hous end he towk,
And I awoik as wy that wes in weir (upset).

(How Dunbar Was Desired to Be a Friar—Complete)


Of Februar the fyiftene nycht
Full lang befoir the dayis lycht
I lay in till a trance,
And than I saw baith Hevin and Hell.
Me thocht amangis the feyndis fell (cruel)
Mahoun (Muhammad/Satan) gart cry ane dance
Of schrewis that wer nevir schrevin (confessed)
Aganis the feist of Fasternis Evin
To mak thair observance.
He bad gallandis ga graith a gyis
(Ordered gallants to go and prepare a masquerade)
And kast up gamountis in the skyis
(And cast up wild cavortings in the skies)
That last came out of France.

"Lat se," quod he, "now, quha (who shall) begynnis?"
With that the fowll Sevin Deidly Synnis
Begowth to leip at anis (once).
And first of all in dance wes Pryd,
With hair wyld bak and bonet on syd,
Lyk to mak waistie wanis (wasted dwellings).
And round abowt him as a quheill
Hang all in rumpillis to the heill (heel)
His kethat for the nanis (occasion).
Mony prowd trumpour with him trippit,
Throw skaldand fyre ay as thay skippit
Thay gyrnd with hiddous granis.

Heilie harlottis on hawtane (haughty) wyis
Come in with mony sindrie gyis,
Bot yit luche (laughed) nevir Mahoun
Quhill preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis -
Than all the feyndis lewche (laughed) and maid gekkis (gestures),
Blak Belly and Bawsy Broun.

Than Yre come in with sturt (quarreling) and stryfe,
His hand wes ay upoun his knyfe,
He brandeist lyk a beir.
Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris
Eftir him passit into pairis,
All bodin in feir of weir (war).
In jakkis and stryppis and bonettis of steill,
Thair leggis wer chenyeit to the heill,
Frawart (hostile) wes thair affeir.
Sum upoun udir with brandis beft,
Sum jaggit uthiris to the heft (swords beat)
With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir.

Nixt in the dance followit Invy,
Fild full of feid and fellony,
Hid malyce and dispyte.
For pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit (trembled).
Him followit mony freik dissymlit (men deceitful)
With fenyeit wirdis quhyte,
And flattereris into menis facis,
And bakbyttaris in secreit places
To ley that had delyte,
And rownaris of fals lesingis -
Allace, that courtis of noble kingis
Of thame can nevir be quyte (free).

Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce,
Rute of all evill and grund of vyce,
That nevir cowd be content.
Catyvis, wrechis, and ockeraris,
Hudpykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris
All with that warlo went.
Out of thair throttis thay schot on udder
Hett moltin gold, me thocht a fudder (cartful),
As fyreflawcht (lightning flash) maist fervent.
Ay as thay tomit (emptied) thame of schot,
Feyndis fild thame new up to the thrott
With gold of all kin prent (stamped into coins).

Syne Sweirnes (Sloth), at the secound bidding,
Come lyk a sow out of a midding,
Full slepy wes his grunyie (grunting).
Mony sweir (lazy), bumbard-belly huddroun (idlers),
Mony slute daw and slepy duddroun
Him servit ay with sounyie (reluctance)
He drew thame furth in till a chenyie,
And Belliall with brydill renyie
Evir lascht thame on the lunyie (loins)
In dance thay war so slaw of feit,
Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit
And maid thame quicker of counyie.

Than Lichery, that lathly cors (loathsome creature),
Come berand lyk a bagit (pregnant) hors,
And Lythenes (wantonness) did him leid (lead).
Thair wes with him ane ugly sort
And mony stynkand fowll tramort (corpses)
That had in syn bene deid.
Quhen thay wer entrit in the dance,
Thay wer full strenge of countenance
Lyk turkas birnand reid.
(Like a smith’s tongs burning red)
All led thay uthir by the tersis (genitals)
Suppois thay fycket with thair ersis,
(Although they fidgeted with their asses)
It mycht be na remeid.

Than the fowll monstir Glutteny,
Of wame unsasiable and gredy,
To dance he did him dres.
Him followit mony fowll drunckart
With can and collep, cop and quart,
In surffet and exces.
Full mony a waistles wallydrag
With wamis unweildable did furth wag
In creische (creases) that did incres.
"Drynk!" ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip.
The feyndis gaif thame hait leid (hot led) to laip (lap),
Thair lovery wes na les.

Na menstrallis playit to thame, but dowt,
For glemen thair wer haldin owt
Be day and eik by nycht,
Except a menstrall that slew a man,
Swa till his heretage he wan
And entirt be "breif of richt."

Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand padyane (Highland pageant).
Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyane
Far northwart in a nuke (nook).
Be he the correnoch (summons) had done schout
Erschemen (Gaelic Folk/Highlanders) so gadderit him abowt,
In Hell grit rowme thay tuke.
Thae tarmegantis, with tag and tatter,
Full lowd in Ersche (Gaelic) begowth to clatter
And rowp lyk revin (raven) and ruke.
The Devill sa devit wes with thair yell
That in the depest (deafened) pot of Hell
He smorit thame with smuke.

Nixt that a turnament wes tryid
That lang befoir in Hell wes cryid
In presens of Mahoun,
Betuix a telyour and ane sowtar (shoemaker)
A pricklous and ane hobbell clowttar,
The barres (lists) wes maid boun (ready).
The tailyeour baith with speir and scheild
Convoyit wes unto the feild
With mony lymmar loun
Of seme-byttaris and beist knapparis,
Of stomok-steillaris and clayth-takkaris -
A graceles garisoun.

His baner born wes him befoir
Quhairin wes clowttis ane hundreth scoir,
Ilkane of divers hew,
And all stowin out of sindry webbis.
For quhill the Greik Sie fillis (flows) and ebbis,
Telyouris will nevir be trew.
The tailyour on the barrowis blent,
Allais, he tynt (lost) all hardyment (courage),
For feir he chaingit hew.
Mahoun come furth and maid him knycht –
Na ferly (nearly) thocht his hart wes licht (light)
That to sic honor grew.

The tailyeour hecht hely (pledged holy) befoir Mahoun
That he suld ding the sowtar doun,
Thocht he wer strang as mast.
Bot quhen he on the barrowis blenkit
The telyouris curage a littill schrenkit,
His hairt did all ourcast.
And quhen he saw the sowtar cum
Of all sic wirdis he wes full dum,
So soir he wes agast.
For he in hart tuke sic a scunner
Ane rak of fartis lyk ony thunner
Went fra him, blast for blast.

The sowtar to the feild him drest,
He wes convoyid out of the west
As ane defender stout.
Suppois he had na lusty varlot (attendant),
He had full mony lowsy harlott
Round rynnand him aboute.
His baner wes of barkit hyd
Quhairin Sanct Girnega did glyd
Befoir that rebald rowt (rascally rable),
Full sowttarlyk (cobble-like) he wes of laitis,
For ay betuix the harnes plaitis
The uly birsit out.

Quhen on the talyeour he did luke,
His hairt a littill dwamyng tuke.
Uneis he mycht upsitt.
Into his stommok wes sic ane steir (stirring)
Of all his dennar (dinner) quhilk cost him deir,
His breist held never a bitt.
To comfort him or he raid forder,
The devill of knychtheid gaif him order,
For stynk than he did spitt.
And he about the devillis nek
Did spew agane ane quart of blek,
Thus knychtly he him quitt (repaid).

Than fourty tymis the feynd cryd, "Fy!"
The sowtar rycht effeiritly
Unto the feild he socht.
Quhen thay wer servit of thair speiris,
Folk had ane feill be thair effeiris,
Thair hairtis wer baith on flocht.
Thay spurrit thair hors on adir syd,
Syne thay attour the grund cowd glyd
Than tham togidder brocht.
The tailyeour was nocht weill sittin,
He left his sadall all beschittin
And to the grund he socht.

His birnes brak and maid ane brattill,
The sowtaris hors start with the rattill
And round about cowd reill.
The beist, that frayit wes rycht evill,
Ran with the sowtar to the Devill,
And he rewardit him weill.
Sumthing frome him the feynd eschewit,
He wend agane to bene bespewit,
So stern he wes in steill.
He thocht he wald agane debait him.
He turnd his ers and all bedret him
Quyte our from nek till heill.

He lowsit it of with sic a reird
Baith hors and man he straik till eird,
He fartit with sic ane feir.
"Now haif I quitt thee," quod Mahoun.
The new maid knycht lay into swoun
And did all armes forswer.
The Devill gart thame to dungeoun dryve
And thame of knychtheid cold depryve,
Dischairgeing thame of weir,
And maid thame harlottis bayth forevir,
Quhilk still to keip thay had fer levir
Nor ony armes beir.

I had mair of thair werkis writtin
Had nocht the sowtar bene beschittin
With Belliallis ers unblist.
Bot that sa gud ane bourd me thocht,
Sic solace to my hairt it rocht,
For lawchtir neir I brist,
Quhairthrow I walknit of my trance.
To put this in rememberance
Mycht no man me resist,
To dyte how all this thing befell
Befoir Mahoun, the air of Hell.
Schirris, trow it gif ye list!

(The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins—Complete)


This nycht in my sleip I wes agast,
Me thocht the Devill wes tempand (tempting) fast
The peple with aithis of crewaltie (oaths of cruelty),
Sayand, as throw the mercat (market) he past,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."

(The Devil's Inquest)


Ane merchand his geir as he did sell
Renuncit his pairt of Hevin and Hell.
The Devill said, "Welcum mot (may) thow be,
Thow sal be merchand for mysell.
Renunce thy God and cum to me."

(The Devil's Inquest)


Ane tailyour said, "In all this toun
Be thair ane better weilmaid goun,
I gif me to the Feynd all fre."
"Gramercy (great thanks), telyour," said Mahoun,
"Renunce thy God and cum to me."

(The Devil's Inquest)


Ane menstrall said, "The Feind me ryfe (pierce)
Gif I do ocht bot drynk and swyfe."
(If I do anything except drink and copulate)
The Devill said, "Hardly mot it be – (this must be it)
Exers (practice) that craft in all thy lyfe.
Renunce thy God and cum to me."

(The Devil's Inquest)


The fische wyffis (sellers) flett and swoir with granis
And to the Feind, saule, flesch, and banis (bones)
Thay gaif thame with ane schowt on hie.
The Devill said, "Welcum all att anis (at once);
Renunce thy god and cum to me."

(The Devil's Inquest)


Richt arely one Ask Wedinsday
Drinkande the wyne sat cummaris (gossips) tua.
The tane (the one) couthe to the tothir complene,
Granand (groaning) ande suppand couth sche say:
"This lang Lentrin it makis me lene."

One couch befor the fyir sche sat.
God wait gif sche was gret and fat,
Yet to be feble sche did hir fene (pretend),
Ay sche said, "Cummar, lat preif (let’s prove) of that:
This lang Lentrin makis me lene."

"My fair suet (sweet) cummar," quod the tothir,
"Ye tak that megirnes of (slenderness from) your modir.
Ale wyne to tast sche wald disdene
Bot malwasy (except Malmsey), and nay drink uthir:
This lang Lentryn it makis me lene."

(The Twa Cummars)