SIR RICHARD MAITLAND.
Reading edition
Many of the finest flowers of Scottish poetry previous to the middle of the sixteenth century owe their preservation to the taste and patience of two curiously contrasted collectors. One of the quaintest stories of Scottish literature is that narrating how, during time of pestilence in 1568, George Bannatyne, a young man of twenty-three, occupied the leisure of his enforced retirement with transcribing, page after page, the best works of the national makars. Little further is known of the transcriber except that he became a burgess of some substance in Edinburgh; but the work of those three months, a neatly written folio of eight hundred pages, now in the Advocates’ Library in Edinburgh, has made his name immortal.[1074] The companion picture belongs to a slightly later date. It is that of Sir Richard Maitland, the blind old judge of the Court of Session, in the last year of his life, directing the transcription by his daughter Mary of the collection which was to hand his name to posterity.
No necessity exists for comparing the merits of the two manuscripts which have been the means of preserving so much of the legacy of northern genius. To a large extent they deal with different work; in each case the task of transcription and preservation has been performed with the utmost patience and care; and in each the good taste and good faith of the collector has established his transcript as a classic authority. But while gratitude is due to Bannatyne for his services as preserver of many priceless poems, as an original poet, upon the strength of the few compositions of his own which he included in his manuscript, he remains of but small account. In this respect his contemporary, on the other hand, has a definite claim to regard. Sir Richard Maitland was not only a diligent and careful collector of the works of others; he was himself also a makar of respectable merit, and several, at least, of the original compositions which he added to his collection are entitled to a place on the page of Scottish poesy.
The son of William Maitland of Lethington in Haddingtonshire, who fell at Flodden, and of Martha, daughter of George, second Lord Seton, the poet was the representative of an ancient family. The well-known ballad of “Auld Maitland” celebrates a gallant defence of the castle of Lauder or Thirlstane against the English by an ancestor of Sir Richard about the year 1250.[1075] Again and again during the succeeding centuries the family name appears in history;[1076] in due course Thirlstane was inherited by the poet from his grandfather; and from that time, till the climax of the family fortunes in the person of the poet’s great-grandson, the Duke of Lauderdale, in Charles II.’s time, the house may be said to have been continuously in a foremost place. Born in 1496, and studying law, it is said, first at St. Andrews, and afterwards, upon his father’s death, in France, Maitland appears presently to have entered the service of James V.[1077] Nothing certain, however, is known of his early life except that, about the year 1530, he married Mary, a daughter of Sir Thomas Cranston of Corsby. By this lady he had a family of at least three sons and four daughters, of whom the former were destined to play some of the most conspicuous parts in the history of their time.
The poet himself appears throughout to have cultivated a life of retirement and study. All the references of contemporary writers, except one, mention him with great respect, and his life would appear to have been mostly that of the quiet country gentleman. The single exception occurs in John Knox’s History, where he is accused of having taken bribes to allow Cardinal Beaton to escape from Seton House in 1543. Knox, however, was somewhat ready to attribute such misdemeanours to persons whom he thought inimical to the reformed faith, and in the present case there exists no evidence whatever to support the charge, except that Maitland was a relative of Lord Seton, and may have been visiting Seton House at the time of the occurrence. There exists, on the other hand, direct evidence to show that the Cardinal was set at liberty by order of the Regent Arran.[1078]
In 1552 Maitland was one of the commissioners appointed to settle the differences with England on the subject of the Debateable Land on the Borders, and it is believed that the successful issue of this undertaking was the occasion of his receiving the honour of knighthood. At anyrate, two years later, upon his appointment as an Extraordinary Lord of Session he is called Sir Richard Maitland.
Again, in 1559, he was employed as one of the commissioners to England in a conference upon the state of the Borders; Sir Ralph Sadler, one of the delegates on the other side, mentioning him then as “the olde Larde of Lethington, the wisest man of them.” The sudden termination of his stay in England at this time, and the substitution of his eldest son William in his place, has been attributed to the rapid approach of the affliction which was to darken the remainder of his life. It is at least certain that he had completely lost his sight before the arrival of Queen Mary in Scotland in 1561, as in his poem of welcome he mentions the piteous fact.
Under this terrible privation, which, with the circumstance of advancing years, most men would have considered sufficient reason for retirement from active life, Maitland seems in no way to have let his heart sink or his energies abate, and nowhere in his work does there appear a peevish or despondent note on the subject. The affliction which added his name to the honourable roll of blind Homers did not prevent his continuing to fulfil the duties of his position; and he remains one of those examples, in which the history of the blind is peculiarly rich, of men who have encountered extraordinary difficulties only to surmount them. In November, 1561, he was admitted an Ordinary Lord of Session under the title of Lethington, his son being permitted the privilege, by a special regulation, of accompanying him within the bar. In 1562 Queen Mary appointed him Keeper of the Privy Seal for life; and in the following year he and his second son, John, were “conjunctlie and severally made Factouris, Yconomuss, and Chalmirlans of hir hienes Abbacie of Haddingtoun.” The former office he resigned in 1567 in favour of this son, who by that time had obtained the Priory of Coldingham in commendam; but for seventeen years longer he retained his seat on the bench, where he appears to have performed his duties to the last without fear and without reproach.
The troubles which assailed Maitland’s later years came, not from his own acts, but mostly from the restless and ambitious character of his eldest son, the too famous Secretary Maitland of Mary’s reign and the succeeding regencies. The constantly changing part played by this politician in the highest events of his time has been recorded in literature by Buchanan’s biting satire, The Camæleon, written in 1571. Made Secretary of State by that Catholic of Catholics, James the Fifth’s widow, Mary of Guise, he nevertheless presently became one of the Protestant “Lords of Congregation”; and after taking part in the negotiations with Elizabeth as to the terms upon which she would aid the Reformers, he again, with characteristic paradox, turned round in the General Assembly of 1564 to accuse Knox of teaching sedition. Made a Lord of Session by Mary Stuart, he was, notwithstanding, implicated in the murders both of Rizzio and of Darnley; and after signing the document accusing the queen of the latter crime, and after fighting against her at Langside, he strangely enough saw fit to take her part to some extent in the conference at York, and presently united with Kirkaldy of Grange in holding Edinburgh Castle in her interest against the Regents. Finally, upon the surrender of that stronghold in May, 1573, he was taken prisoner, with his brother John and other refugees of the Queen’s party, and being conveyed to Leith, died there, not without suspicion of having poisoned himself.
This erratic policy of the son naturally brought trouble upon his father. The hardest blow which the latter received was from an act of parliament obtained by the Regent Morton as head of the king’s party in 1571. This act declared the secretary and his two brothers rebels, and forfeited their lands and property. Upon the strength of it the house and estate of Lethington, then occupied by the Secretary, were seized, spoiled, and withheld from the poet for a number of years, and his second son was left at liberty only under heavy penalties. These proceedings seem to have roused the old knight to all the indignation of which he was capable. He made earnest appeals to law and to the interest of Queen Elizabeth with the Regent. Nevertheless justice was not accorded him until the year 1581. Upon the downfall of Morton in that year his house and lands were restored to him, and under the patronage of James VI. his son John was appointed an Ordinary Lord of Session. He himself further, in 1584, was allowed the unique privilege of resigning the duties of the Bench in favour of a nominee, retaining at the same time the emoluments of the office; and presently, under the government of the young king, he obtained an act of parliament indemnifying all his losses.
This satisfaction did not, indeed, arrive too soon, for his death occurred on 20th March, 1586, when he was in his ninetieth year. His wife, the partner of his joys and sorrows for sixty years, is said to have died on his funeral day.
Maitland’s life, apart from its literary interest, possesses value for the example which it affords of private family history of the time. He was founder of the first of those great Scottish houses, the Maitlands, Dalrymples, and Dundases, which have risen one after another to the highest rank and influence by the profession of the law. His two sons and his grandson in succession occupied seats upon the bench, and in 1624 the last-named was raised to the peerage by the title of Earl of Lauderdale. John, the son of this earl, and great-grandson of the poet, was from 1663 virtually ruler of Scotland, and in 1672 was created Duke of Lauderdale by Charles II. Maitland’s third son, Thomas, was the author of several Latin poems,[1079] but is best remembered as one of the interlocutors in Buchanan’s famous treatise De Jure Regni apud Scotos.
The manuscript collection of ancient Scottish poems which forms Maitland’s best-known claim to regard, and upon which he is understood to have been engaged from 1555 onwards, is contained in two volumes, a folio and a quarto. Of the folio, believed to have been written by Sir Richard himself, “a very few parts,” says Pinkerton, “are in a small hand; the remainder is in a strong Roman hand.” The quarto consists chiefly of transcripts of Sir Richard’s own original pieces from the folio, and is in the handwriting of Miss Mary Maitland, third daughter of the collector, the first page bearing her name and the date 1585. It appears therefore to have been transcribed in the last year of Maitland’s life. After descending in the family for three generations, these manuscripts were bought, at the sale of the Duke of Lauderdale’s library, by Samuel Pepys, Secretary of the Admiralty to Charles II. and James II., and he in 1703 bequeathed them to Magdalen College, Cambridge. The value of the collection was first discovered by Bishop Percy, who printed a specimen in his Reliques; one also appeared in Allan Ramsay’s Evergreen; and a selection, including twenty-six of Sir Richard Maitland’s original compositions, was published by Pinkerton in 1786 under the title of Ancient Scottish Poems. Another quarto MS., bearing the title The Selected Poemes of Sir Richard Metellan of Lydington, was presented to the library of Edinburgh University by Drummond of Hawthornden; and from this, with the addition of the single composition which it omits, the Maitland Club printed Sir Richard’s poems complete in 1830.
Besides his original poems and his poetical collections, Maitland is known to have written a History of the House of Seytoun and a volume of Decisions collected by him from 1550 till 1565. The former was printed by the Maitland Club in 1829, and the MSS. of both are preserved in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh.
As an original poet Sir Richard Maitland cannot be placed in the foremost rank. He is understood to have produced none of his existing verse until after the age of sixty-one, and naturally his compositions possess little of the fire, brilliancy, and warmth of youthful work. For this lack, however, they atone to some extent by other qualities. Full of sage observation and shrewd worldly wisdom, they throw a light, in nearly every line, upon the life and manners of that day. Mourning the rampant oppression and strife of the nobles, and the sorrows and follies of the nation, his verse breathes the inner sadness of Queen Mary’s time. It was his fate to live through the intestine dissensions of three successive minorities, as well as through the great struggle of the Reformation in Scotland, and it is no marvel therefore that he again and again repeats the prayer, “God give the lordis grace till aggrie!” Much of his work is of a religious cast, and exhibits him in a grave and venerable light. This, however, is not his happiest strain, and his longest composition, “Ane Ballat of the Creation of the Warld,” is little more than a bald paraphrase of the Bible narrative in Genesis. It is in his satiric and moral pieces that Maitland appears at his best. These, as in the case of Lyndsay, deal with a wide range of subjects, from the vanities of ladies’ dress to the venality of courtiers and the corruptions of church and state. Much of his satire, it is true, owes it chief interest to connection with events of his own age; but elsewhere he proves himself a not unworthy inheritor of the mantle of the Lyon King, his best pieces containing touches closely applicable to the human nature of all time.
SATIRE ON THE AGE.
Quhair is the blythness that hes bein Bayth in brugh and landwart sein[1080] Amang lordis, and ladeis schein[1081], Dansing, singing, game, and play? Bot weill I wat nocht quhat thay mein; All merriness is worne away. For now I heir na worde of Yule In kirk, on cassay[1082], nor in skuill: Lordis lettis thair kitchingis cule, And drawis thame to the Abbay,[1083] And skant hes ane to keip thair mule; All houshalding is worne away. I saw no gysaris[1084] all this yeir, Bot kirkmen cled lyk men of weir,[1085] That never cummis in the queir[1086]; Lyk ruffianis is thair array; To teitche and preitche that will not leir[1087]; The kirk gudis thai waste away. Kirkmen affoir[1088] wer gud of lyfe, Preitchit, teichit, and staunchit stryfe; Thay feirit nather sword nor knyf, For luif of God the faith to say; All honorit thame, baith man and wyf, Devotion wes nocht away. Our fatheris wyse were, and discreit; Thai had bayth honour, men, and meit; With luif[1089] thai did thair tennentis treit, And had aneuch in press to lay; Thay wantit nather malt nor quheit, And mirrines wes nocht away. And we hald nather Yule nor Pace[1090], Bot seik our meit from place to place; And we haive nather luk nor grace. We gar[1091] our landis dowbill pay; Our tennentis cry Alace! Alace! That routh[1092] and pittie is away. Now we haive mair, it is weill kend[1093], Nor our forbearis[1094] had to spend; Bot far les at the yeiris end; And never hes ane mirrie day: God will na ryches to us send Sua lang as honour is away. We waist far mair now, lyk vaine fuillis, We and our paige, to turs[1095] our muillis, Nor thai did than, that haid grit Yuillis, Of meit and drink said never nay; Thay had lang furmes[1096] quhair we haive stuillis, And mirrines wes nocht away. Of our wanthrift sum wyttis playes[1097], And sum thair wantoune vaine arrayis; Sum the wyt on thair wyfes layes That in the court wald gang[1098] sa gay And care nocht quha the merchand payis, Quhill[1099] part of land be put away. The kirkmen keipis na professioune; The temporall men commitis oppressioune, Puttand the puire from thair possessioune; Na kynd of feir of God haive thay: Thay cummar[1100] baith the kirk and sessioune, And chasis charitie away. Quhen ane of thaime susteinis wrang We cry for justice, heid and hang; Bot when our neichbouris we our-gang[1101] We laubour justice to delay: Affectioune blindis us sa lang, All equitie is put away. To mak actis we haive sum feill[1102]; God watt gif that we keip tham weill! We cum to bar with jak of steill[1103] As we wald bost the judge and fray[1104]. Of sic justice I have na skeill[1105], Quhair reull and ordour is away. Our lawis ar lichtleit for abusioune[1106]; Sumtyme is clokit with collusioune; Quhilk causis of bluid the great effusioune, For na man spairis now to slay. Quhat bringis cuntreis to confusioune, Bot quhair that justice is away? Quha is the wyte[1107], quha can schew us? Quha bot our nobillis, that sould know us, And till honorabill deidis draw us! Let never comouneweill decay, Or els sum mischief will befaw us, And nobillnes we put away. Put our awin lawis to executioune; Upon transgressouris mak punitioune; To cruell folk seik na remissioune; For peace and justice let us pray, In dreid sum strange new institutioune Cum, and our custome put away. Amend your lyfis, ane and all, And be war of ane suddan fall, And pray to God, that maid us all, To send us joy that lesteis ay; And let us nocht to sin be thrall, Bot put all vyce and wrang away.
SATIRE ON THE TOUN LADYES.
Sum wyfis of the burrows-toun Sa wondir[1108] vane ar, and wantoun, In warld thay watt[1109] not quhat to weir. On claythis thay wair[1110] mony a croun; And all for newfangilnes[1111] of geir. Thair bodyes bravelie thay atyir, Of carnall lust to eik[1112] the fyir; I fairlie[1113] quhy thai have na feir To gar men deime quhat thay desyre; And all for newfangilnes of geir. Thair gouns ar coistlie, and trimlie traillis, Barrit with velvous, sleif, nek, and taillis; And thair foirskirt of silkis seir[1114] Of fynest camroche thair fuksaillis;[1115] And all for newfangilnes of geir. And of fyne silk thair furrit cloikis, With hingand[1116] sleivis, lyk geill poikis[1117]; Na preiching will gar thame forbeir To weir all thing that sinne provoikis; And all for newfangilnes of geir. Thair wylecots man[1118] weill be hewit, Broudirit[1119] richt braid, with pasmentis sewit[1120]: I trow, quha wald the matter speir[1121], That thair gudmen had caus to rew it That evir thair wyfis weir sic geir. Thair wovin hois of silk ar schawin, Barrit abone with tasteis drawin[1122]; With gartens of ane new maneir, To gar thair courtlines be knawin; And all for newfangilnes of geir. Sumtyme thay will beir up thair gown To schaw thair wylecot hingeand down, And sumtyme bayth thay will upbeir To schaw thair hois of blak or broun; And all for newfangilnes of geir. Thair collars, carcats, and hals beidis[1123], With velvet hats heicht[1124] on thair heidis, Coirdit with gold lyik ane younkeir[1125], Brouderit about with goldin threidis; And all for newfangilnes of geir. Thair schone of velvot, and thair muillis[1126]; In kirk ar not content of stuillis, The sermon quhen thay sit to heir; Bot caryis cuschingis lyik vaine fuillis; And all for newfangilnes of geir. I mein[1127] of thame thair honour dreidis; Quhy sould thay nocht have honest weidis, To thair estait doand effeir[1128]? I mein of thame thair stait exceidis; And all for newfangilnes of geir. For sumtymes wyfis sa grave hes bein, Lyik giglets cled wald nocht be sein. Of burgess wyfis thoch I speak heir Think weill[1129] of all wemen I mein, On vaniteis that waistis geir. Thay say wyfis ar so delicat In feiding, feisting, and bankat, Sum not content ar with sic cheir As weill may suffice thair estait, For newfangilnes of cheir and geir. And sum will spend mair, I heir say, In spyce and droggis on ane day Than wald thair mothers in ane yeir; Quhilk will gar monye pak[1130] decay, Quhen thay sa vainlie waist thair geir. Thairfoir, young wyfis speciallie, Of all sic faultis hald yow frie, And moderatly to leif now leir[1131] In meit, and clayth[1132] accordinglie; And nocht sa vainlie waist your geir. Use not to skift athort the gait[1133], Nor na mum chairtis, air nor lait[1134]; Be na dainser, nor this daingeir Of yow be tane an ill consait That ye ar habill[1135] to waist geir. Hant[1136] ay in honest cumpanie, And all suspicious places flie; Lat never harlot cum yow neir, That wald yow leid to leicherie, In houp to get thairfoir sum geir. My counsall I geve generallie To all wemen, quhat-evir thay be, This lesson for to quin per queir[1137], Syne keip it weill continuallie Better nor onye warldlie geir. Leif[1138], burgess men, or all be loist, On your wyfis to mak sic cost, Quhilk may gar all your bairnis bleir[1139]: Scho that may not want wyne and roist Is abill for to waist sum geir. Betwene thame and nobillis of blude Na difference bot ane velvous huid! Thair camroche curcheis[1140] ar als deir; Thair uther claythis ar als guid; And thai als costlie in uther geir. Bot, wald grit ladyis tak gud heid To thair honour, and find remeid, Thai suld thole[1141] na sic wyfis to weir, Lyk lordis wyfis, ladyis weid, As dames of honour in thair geir. I speik for na despyt trewlie, (My-self am nocht of faultis frie), Bot that ye sould nocht perseveir Into sic folische vanitie For na newfangilnes of geir. Of burgess wyfis thoch I speik plaine, Sum landwart[1142] ladyis ar als vain, As be thair cleithing may appeir; Werand[1143] gayer nor thame may gain— On ouir[1144] vaine claythis waistand geir.
NA KYNDNES AT COURT WITHOUT SILLER.
Sumtyme to court I did repair, Thairin sum errandis for to dress[1145], Thinkand I had sum freindis thair To help fordwart my buseness: Bot, nocht the les, I fand nathing bot doubilness; Auld kyndnes helpis nocht ane hair. To ane grit court-man I did speir[1146], That I trowit my friend had bene Becaus we war of kyn sa neir; To him my mater I did mene[1147]; Bot, with disdene, He fled as I had done him tene[1148], And wald nocht byd my taill to heir. I wend[1149] that he in word and deid For me, his kynsman, sould have wrocht; Bot to my speiche he tuke na heid; Neirnes of blude he sett at nocht. Than weill I thocht Quhan I for sibnes[1150] to him socht[1151] It wes the wrang way that I geid[1152]. My hand I put into my sleif, And furthe of it ane purs I drew, And said I brocht it him to geif[1153]. Bayth gold and silver I him schew; Than he did rew That he unkindlie me misknew; And hint[1154] the purs fest in his neif.[1155] Fra tyme he gat the purs in hand He kyndlie ‘Cousin’ callit me, And baid me gar him understand My buseness all haillalie, And swair that he My trew and faythfull friend sould be In courte as I pleis him command. For quhilk, better it is, I trow; Into the courte to get supplé[1156], To have ane purs of fyne gold fow[1157], Nor to the hiest of degre Of kyn to be. Sa alteris our nobilitie: Grit kynrent[1158] helpis lytill now. Thairfoir, my freindis, gif ye will mak All courte men youris as ye wald, Gude gold and silver with you tak; Than to get help ye may be bald; For it is tauld Kyndness of courte is coft and sald[1159]; Neirnes of kyn na-thing thai rak[1160].
ON THE FOLYE OF ANE AULD MANIS MARYAND ANE YOUNG WOMAN.
Amang all folleis ane great folye I find, Quhen that ane man past fyftie yeir of aige That in his vaine consait he growes sa blind As for to join him-selffe in maryage With ane young lass quhais bluid is yet in raige, Thinkand that he may serve hir appetyte; Quhilk and he faill than[1161] will scho him dispyte. Still ageit men sould jois[1162] in morall taillis, And nocht in taillis: for folye is to mary Fra tyme that baith thair strenthe and nature faillis, And tak ane wyf to bring him-selffe in tarye[1163]; For fresche Maii and cauld Januarij Agreeis nocht upon ane sang in tune, The tribbill wantis that sould be sang abune[1164]. Men sould tak voyage at the larkis sang, And nocht at evin quhen passit is the day. Efter mid-age the luifar[1165] lyes full lang, Quhen that his hair is turnit lyart[1166] gray. Ane auld beird till ane quhyte mouth to lay In-to ane bed, it is ane piteous sycht: The ane cryes help! the uther hes no mycht. Till haive bene merchand bygaine monie ane yeir In Antwerp, Burges, and in town of Berrie, Syne in-to Deip for to tyne[1167] all his geir With vane conseat to puir[1168] himselffe, and herrie[1169]. Grit perell is for to pas our the ferrie In-to ane laikand boit[1170] nocht naillit fast, To beir the saill nocht havand ane steife mast. To tak ane mellein[1171] that grit lawbour requyris, Syne wantis grayth[1172] for to manure the land; Quhair seid wantis then men of teilling tyris; Than cumis ane, findis it waist lyand, Yokis his pleuch, teilleis[1173] at his awin hand. Better had bene the first had never kend it[1174] Nor thoill[1175] that schame. And sa my tale is endit.
AGANIS THE THEIVIS OF LIDDISDAILL.
Of Liddisdaill the commoun theifis Sa pertlie[1176] steillis now and reiffis[1177], That nane may keip Hors, nolt, nor scheip, Nor yit dar sleip For thair mischeifis. Thay plainlie throw the countrie rydis; I trow the meikill[1178] devill thame gydis: Quhair thay onsett Ay in thair gait[1179] Thair is na yett[1180] Nor dure thame bydis[1181]. Thay leif richt nocht[1182]; quhairever thay ga Thair can na-thing be hid thame fra; For, gif men wald Thair housis hald, Than waxe they bald To burn and slay. Thay theifis have neirhand herreit haill[1183] Ettrick forest and Lauderdaill; Now ar they gane In Lothiane, And spairis nane That thay will waill[1184]. Thai landis ar with stouth sa socht[1185] To extreme povertie ar brocht; Thai wicked schrowis[1186] Has laid[1187] the plowis, That nane or few is That are left ocht[1188]. Bot commoun taking of blak-maill,[1189] Thay that had flesche and breid and aill Now ar sa wraikit[1190], Maid puir and naikit, Fane to be staikit[1191] With watter-caill[1192]. Thai theifis that steillis and tursis[1193] hame, Ilk ane of thame hes ane to-name— Will of the Lawis, Hab of the Schawis. To mak bair wawis[1194] Thay think na schame. Thay spuilye[1195] puir men of thair pakis[1196]; Thay leif thame nocht, on bed nor bakis; Bayth hen and cok, With reill and rok[1197], The Landis Jok All with him takis. Thay leif not spendill, spoone, nor speit, Bed, bowster, blanket, sark, nor scheit; Johne of the Parke Rypis kist[1198] and ark; For all sic wark He is richt meit. He is weill kend, Johne of the Syde; A gretar theif did never ryde: He nevir tyris For to brek byris; Our muir and myris Our gude ane gyide[1199]. Thair is ane, callit Clements Hob, Fra ilk puir wyfe reiffis hir wob[1200], And all the laif[1201], Quhatever thay haif: The deuil resave Thairfoir his gob[1202]! To sic grit stouth quha-eir wald trow it But gif sum greit man it allowit? Rycht sair I rew, Thocht it be trew, Thair is sa few That dar avow it. Of sum grit men they have sic gait[1203] That redy ar thame to debait[1204], And will up weir[1205] Thair stolin geir, That nane dar steir[1206] Thame, air nor lait. Quhat causis theifis us our-gang[1207] Bot want of justice us amang? Nane takis cair Thocht all forfair[1208]: Na man will spair Now to do wrang. Of stouth thocht now thay cum gud speid That nather of men nor God hes dreid, Yit, or I die, Sum sall thame sie Hing on a trie Quhill[1209] thay be deid.
ADVYCE TO LESOM MIRRINESS.
Quhen I haive done considder This warldis vanitie, So brukill and sa slidder[1210], Sa full of miserie; Then I remember me That heir thair is no rest; Thairfoir appeirantlie To be mirrie is best. Let us be blyth and glaid, My freindis all, I pray. To be pensive and sad Na-thing it help us may. Thairfoir put quyt away All heviness of thocht: Thocht we murne nicht and day It will availl us nocht. It will not be our sorrow That will stoip Godis hand, To strik baith evin and morrow Baith on the sie and land. Sen nane may it gainestand[1211] Let us be all content To underly the wand Of Godis punischment. Quhat God pleasis to do Accept it thankfullie; Quhat paine he puttis us to Receive it pacientlie. And give[1212] that we wald be Releveit of our paine, For sin ask God mercie, Offend Him nocht againe. Give we will mak murning, Sould be for our offence, And not that God dois bring On us for violence, For ane dyveris pretence; For some He will puneis To proive thair patience, And som for thair great miss[1213]. Sen first the warld began Thair hes bein trubill ay For punischment of men, And sall quhill domisday. And sen we may not stay Quhat God pleis do us till, Quhat He will on us lay Receive it with guid will. For God will lay som scurge Quhill that the warld tak end; Fra sin the warld to purge Will ay som plaigis send. Bot quha will lyfe amend, And preis[1214] to sin no moir, Then God will him defend Fra everlasting cair. Yet plainelie I concluide, Into all wardlieness Nathing for man sa guide As lesome[1215] mirrines; For thair is na riches Sa lang his lyfe can lenthe, Conserve him fra seiknes, And keip him in his strenthe. Thairfoir with trew intent Let us at God ask grace Our sines to repent Quhill we haive tyme and space; Syne bring us to that place Quhair joy is evermoir, And sie God face to face In His eternall gloir.