THE TESTAMENT AND COMPLAYNT OF OUR SOVERANE LORDIS PAPYNGO.

Prolog.

Suppose I had ingyne[96] angelicall,
With sapience more than Salamonicall[97],
I not quhat mater put in memorie;
The poeitis auld, in style heroycall,
In breve[98] subtell termes rethorycall,
Of everlike[99] mater, tragedie and storie,
So ornatlie, to thair heych[100] laude and glorie,
Haith done indyte; quhose supreme sapience
Transcendith far the dull intellygence
Of poeitis now in-tyll our vulgare toung.
For quhy? the bell of rethorick bene roung
Be Chawceir, Goweir, and Lidgate laureate.
Quho dar presume thir poeitis tyll impung
Quhose sweit sentence throuch Albione bene sung?
Or quho can now the workis countrafait
Of Kennedie with termes aureait,
Or of Dunbar, quhilk language had at large,
As may be sene in-tyll his Goldin Targe?
Quintyn, Merser, Rowle, Henderson, Hay, and Holland,[101]
Thocht thay be deid thair libellis bene levand[102],
Quhilkis to reheirs makeith redaris to rejose.
Allace for one quhilk lampe wes of this land,
Of eloquence the flowand balmy strand[103]
And in our Inglis rethorick the rose!
As of rubeis the charbunckle bene chose,
And as Phebus dois Cynthia precell,
So Gawane Dowglas, Byschope of Dunkell,
Had, quhen he wes in-to this land on lyve[104],
Abufe vulgare poeitis prerogatyve
Both in pratick and speculatioun.
I say no more; gude redaris may descryve[105]
His worthy workis in nowmer more than fyve,
And specallye the trew translatioun
Of Virgill, quhilk bene consolatioun
To cunnyng men, to knaw his gret ingyne,
Als weill in naturall science as devyne.
And in the courte bene present in thir[106] dayis
That ballattis brevis lustellie[107], and layis,
Quhilkis tyll our Prince daylie thay do present.
Quho can say more than Schir James Inglis[108] sayis,
In ballattis, farses, and in plesand playis?
But Culrose hes his pen maid impotent.
Kyd, in cunnyng and pratick rycht prudent,
And Stewarte,[109] quhilk desyrith ane staitly style,
Full ornate werkis daylie dois compyle.
Stewart of Lorne wyll carpe[110] rycht curiouslie;
Galbraith, Kynlouch, quhen thay lyst tham applie
In-to that art, ar craftie of ingyne.
Bot now of lait is starte up haistelie
Ane cunnyng[111] clerk quhilk wrytith craftelie,
Ane plant of poeitis callit Ballendyne,
Quhose ornat workis my wytt can nocht defyne.
Gett he in-to the courte auctorite
He wyll precell Quintyn and Kennedie.
So, thocht[112] I had ingyne, as I have none,
I watt[113] nocht quhat to wryt, be sweit Sanct Jhone;
For quhy? in all the garth[114] of eloquence
Is no-thyng left bot barrane stok and stone;
The poleit termes are pullit everilk one[115]
Be thir fornamit poeitis of prudence;
And sen I fynd none uther new sentence
I sall declare, or[116] I depart yow fro,
The complaynt of ane woundit papingo[117].
Quharefor, because myne mater bene so rude
Of sentence, and of rethorike denude,
To rurall folke myne dyting[118] bene directit,
Far flemit[119] frome the sycht of men of gude[120];
For cunnyng men, I knaw, wyll soune conclude
It dowe[121] no-thyng bot for to be dejectit;
And quhen I heir myne mater bene detractit
Than sall I sweir I maid it bot in mowis[122]
To landwart lassis quhilks kepith kye and yowis[123].

[The “Complaynt” begins with a homily on the text “Quho clymmis to hycht, perforce his feit mon faill.” To illustrate this apophthegm the story of the king’s papyngo is told. The unfortunate bird, climbing to the topmost twig of a tree in the royal garden, is thrown to earth by a gust of wind, and hopelessly injured on a stob of timber. In her last hour she addresses one epistle to the king, deriving lessons to royalty from the chronicles of Scotland, and another to her “brether of the court” upon the text “Quho sittith moist hie sal fynd the sait most slidder.” The latter epistle ends with an adieu to Edinburgh, Stirling, and Falkland, and the chief scene of the satire immediately ensues.]

Adew.

Adew, Edinburgh! thou heych tryumphant toun,
Within quhose boundis rycht blythfull have I bene,
Of trew merchandis the rute of this regioun,
Most reddy to resave Court, King, and Quene!
Thy polecye and justice may be sene.
War devotioun, wysedome, and honestie,
And credence, tynt[124], thay mycht be found in thee.
Adew, fair Snawdoun[125]! with thy touris hie,
Thy Chapell Royall, park, and tabyll rounde![126]
May, June, and July walde I dwell in thee,
War I one man, to heir the birdis sounde
Quhilk doith agane thy royall roche redounde.
Adew, Lythquo[127]! quhose Palyce of plesance
Mycht be one patrone[128] in Portingall or France!
Fair-weill, Falkland! the fortrace of Fyfe,
Thy polyte park, under the Lowmound Law!
Sum-tyme in thee I led ane lustye[129] lyfe,
The fallow deir, to see thame raik on raw[130].
Court men to cum to thee, thay stand gret awe,
Sayand thy burgh bene of all burrowis baill[131],
Because in thee thay never gat gude aill.

The Commonyng betuix the Papyngo and hir Holye Executouris.

The Pye persavit the Papyngo in paine,
He lychtit doun, and fenyeit him to greit[132]:
“Sister,” said he, “alace! quho hes yow slane?
I pray yow, mak provisione for your spreit,
Dispone your geir[133], and yow confes compleit.
I have power, be your contritioun,
Of all your mys[134] to geve yow full remissioun.
“I am,” said he, “one Channoun regulare,
And of my brether Pryour principall:
My quhyte rocket my clene lyfe doith declare;
The blak bene of the deith memoriall:
Quharefor I thynk your gudis naturall
Sulde be submyttit hole into my cure;
Ye know I am ane holye creature.”
The Ravin come rolpand[135], quhen he hard the rair;
So did the Gled[136], with mony pieteous pew;
And fenyeitlye thay contrafait gret cair.
“Sister,” said thay, “your raklesnes we rew;
Now best it is our juste counsall ensew,
Sen we pretend to heych promotioun,
Religious men, of gret devotioun.”
“I am ane blak Monk,” said the rutlande[137] Ravin;
So said the Gled, “I am ane holy freir,
And hes power to bryng yow quyke to hevin.
It is weill knawin my conscience bene full cleir;
The blak Bybill[138] pronunce I sall perqueir[139],
So tyll our brether ye will geve sum gude;
God wat geve we hes[140] neid of lyves fude!”
The Papyngo said, “Father, be the Rude,
Howbeit your rayment be religious lyke,
Your conscience, I suspect, be nocht gude.
I did persave quhen prevelye ye did pyke[141]
Ane chekin from ane hen under ane dyke.”
“I grant,” said he. “That hen was my gude freind,
And I that chekin tuke bot for my teind.
“Ye knaw, the faith be us mon be susteind;
So be the Pope it is preordinate
That spirituall men suld leve upon thair teind:
Bot weill wat I ye bene predestinate
In your extremis to be so fortunate,
To have sic holy consultatioun;
Quharefore we mak yow exhortatioun:
“Sen dame Nature hes grantit yow sic grace,
Layser to mak confessioun generall,
Schaw furth your syn in haist, quhil ye haif space;
Syne of your geir mak one memoriall.
We thre sal mak your feistis funerall,
And with gret blys bury we sall your bonis,
Syne trentalls[142] twenty trattyll[143] all at onis.
“The roukis sall rair, that men sall on thame rew,
And crye Commemoratio Animarum.
We sall gar chehnis cheip[144], and geaslyngis pew,
Suppose the geis and hennis suld crye alarum:
And we sall serve Secundum usum Sarum[145],
And mak you saif: we fynd Sanct Blase to borgh[146],
Cryand for yow the cairfull corrynogh[147].
“And we sall syng about your sepulture
Sanct Mongois matynis and the mekle creid[148],
And syne devotely saye, I yow assure,
The auld Placebo bakwart, and the beid;
And we sall weir for yow the murnyng weid
And, thocht your spreit with Pluto war profest,
Devotelie sall your diregie be addrest.”
“Father,” said scho, “your facunde[149] wordis fair,
Full sore I dreid, be contrar to your dedis.
The wyffis of the village cryis with cair
Quhen thai persave your mowe ouirthort thar medis[150].
Your fals consait boith duke and draik sore dreidis
I marvell, suithlie[151], ye be nocht eschamit
For your defaltis, beyng so defamit.
“It dois abhor, my pure perturbit spreit,
Tyll mak to yow ony confessioun.
I heir men saye ye bene one ypocrite
Exemptit frome the Senye[152] and the Sessioun.
To put my geir in your possessioun,
That wyll I nocht, so help me Dame Nature!
Nor of my corps I wyll yow geve no cure[153].
“Bot, had I heir the nobyll Nychtingall,
The gentyll Ja, the Merle, and Turtur trew,
My obsequeis and feistis funerall
Ordour thay wald, with notis of the new.
The plesand Pown[154], most angellyke of hew,
Wald God I wer this daye with hym confest,
And my devyse[155] dewlie be hym addrest!
“The myrthfull Maveis, with the gay Goldspink,
The lustye[156] Larke, wald God thay war present!
My infortune, forsuith, thay wald forthink[157],
And comforte me that bene so impotent.
The swyft Swallow, in prattick[158] moste prudent,
I wate scho wald my bledyng stem belyve[159]
With hir moste verteous stone restringityve.”
“Compt me the cace, under confessioun,”
The Gled said proudlye to the Papingo,
“And we sall sweir, be our professioun,
Counsall to keip, and schaw it to no mo.
We thee beseik, or[160] thou depart us fro,
Declare to us sum causis reasonabyll
Quhy we bene haldin so abhominabyll.
“Be thy travell thou hes experience,
First, beand bred in-to the Orient,
Syne be thy gude servyce and delygence
To prencis maid heir in the Occident.
Thow knawis the vulgare pepyllis jugement
Quhare thou transcurrit[161] the hote Meridionall,
Syne nyxt the Poill the plaige[162] Septentrionall.
“So, be thyne heych ingyne[163] superlatyve,
Of all countreis thou knawis the qualiteis;
Quharefore, I thee conjure, be God of lyve,
The veritie declare, withouttin leis[164],
Quhat thou hes hard, be landis or be seis,
Of us kirkmen, boith gude and evyll reporte;
And quhow thay juge, schaw us, we thee exhorte.”
“Father,” said scho, “I catyve creature,
Dar nocht presume with sic mater to mell[165].
Of your caces, ye knaw, I have no cure;
Demand thame quhilk in prudence doith precell.
I maye nocht pew[166], my panes bene so fell[167]:
And als, perchance, ye wyll nocht stand content
To knaw the vulgare pepyllis jugement.
“Yit, wyll the deith alyte[168] withdrawe his darte,
All that lyis in my memoryall
I sall declare with trew unfenyeit hart.
And first I saye to you in generall
The commoun peple sayith ye bene all
Degenerit frome your holy pirmityvis[169],
As testyfeis the proces of your lyvis.
“Of your peirles prudent predecessouris
The beginnyng, I grant, wes verray gude:
Apostolis, martyres, virgines, confessouris,
The sound of thair excellent sanctitude
Was hard ouer all the warld, be land and flude,
Plantyng the faith, be predicatioun[170],
As Christe had maid to thame narratioun.
“To fortyfie the faith thay tuke no feir
Afore prencis, preching full prudentlie;
Of dolorous deith thay doutit nocht the deir[171],
The veritie declaryng ferventlie;
And martyrdome thay sufferit pacientlie:
Thay tuke no cure of land, ryches, nor rent;
Doctryne and deid war boith equivolent.
“To schaw at lenth thair workis wer gret wunder,
Thair myracklis thay wer so manifest.
In name of Christe thay hailit mony hounder[172],
Rasyng the dede, and purgeing the possest,
With perverst spreitis quhilkis had bene opprest.
The crukit ran, the blynd men gat thair ene,
The deiff men hard, the lypper war maid clene.
“The prelatis spousit wer with povertie,
Those dayis, quhen so thay flurisit in fame,
And with hir generit[173] lady Chaistitie
And dame Devotioun, notabyll of name.
Humyll thay wer, simpyll, and full of schame.
Thus Chaistitie and dame Devotioun
Wer principall cause of thair promotioun.
“Thus thay contynewit in this lyfe devyne
Aye tyll thare rang[174], in Romes gret cietie,
Ane potent prince was namit Constantyne;[175]
Persavit the Kirk had spowsit Povertie,
With gude intent, and movit of pietie,
Cause of divorce he fande betuix thame two,
And partit thame, withouttin wordis mo.
“Syne, schortlie, with ane gret solempnitie,
Withouttin ony dispensatioun,
The Kirk he spowsit with dame Propirtie,
Quhilk haistelye, be proclamatioun,
To Povertie gart[176] mak narratioun,
Under the pane of peirsyng of hir eine[177],
That with the Kirk scho sulde no more be seine.
“Sanct Sylvester that tyme rang Pope in Rome[178],
Quhilk first consentit to the mariage
Of Propirtie, the quhilk began to blome,
Taking on hir the cure with heych corrage.
Devotioun drew hir tyll one heremytage
Quhen scho considerit lady Propirtie
So heych exaltit in-to dignitie.
“O Sylvester, quhare was thy discretioun?
Quhilk Peter did renounce thow did resave.
Androw and Jhone did leif thair possessioun,
Thair schippis, and nettis, lynes, and all the lave[179];
Of temporall substance no-thing wald thay have
Contrarious to thair contemplatioun,
Bot soberlye thair sustentatioun.
“Johne the Baptist went to the wyldernes.
Lazarus, Martha, and Marie Magdalene
Left heretage and guddis, more and les.
Prudent Sanct Paule thocht Propertie prophane;
Frome toun to toun he ran, in wynde and rane,
Upon his feit, techeing the word of grace,
And never was subjectit to ryches.”
The Gled said, “Yit I heir no-thyng bot gude.
Proceid schortlye, and thy mater avance.”
The Papyngo said, “Father, be the Rude,
It wer too lang to schaw the circumstance,
Quhow Propertie, with hir new alyance,
Grew gret with chylde, as trew men to me talde,
And bure two dochteris gudelie to behalde.
“The eldest dochter named was Ryches,
The secunde syster, Sensualytie;
Quhilks did incres, within one schorte proces,
Preplesande[180] to the Spiritualytie.
In gret substance and excellent bewtie
Thir Ladyis two grew so, within few yeiris,
That in the warlde wer non mycht be thair peiris.
“This royall Ryches and lady Sensuall
Frome that tyme furth tuke hole the governance
Of the moste part of the Stait Spirituall:
And thay agane, with humbyll observance,
Amorouslie thair wyttis did avance,
As trew luffaris, thair ladyis for to pleis.
God wate geve than[181] thair hartis war at eis.
“Soune thay foryet[182] to study, praye, and preche,
Thay grew so subject to dame Sensuall,
And thocht bot paine pure pepyll for to teche;
Yit thay decretit, in thair gret Counsall,
Thay wald no more to mariage be thrall,
Traistyng surely tyll observe Chaistitie,
And all begylit quod[183] Sensualytie.
“Apperandlye thay did expell thair wyffis
That thay mycht leif at large, without thirlage[184],
At libertie to lede thair lustie lyffis[185],
Thynkand men thrall that bene in mariage.
For new faces provokis new corrage.
Thus Chaistitie thay turne in-to delyte;
Wantyng of wyffis bene cause of appetyte.
“Dame Chaistitie did steill away for schame,
Frome tyme scho did persave thair proviance[186].
Dame Sensuall one letter gart proclame,
And hir exilit Italy and France.
In Inglande couthe scho get none ordinance[187].
Than to the kyng and courte of Scotlande
Scho markit hir[188], withouttin more demande.
“Traistyng in-to that court to get conforte,
Scho maid hir humyll supplycatioun.
Schortlye thay said scho sulde get na supporte,
Bot bostit hir[189], with blasphematioun,
‘To preistis go mak your protestatioun.
It is,’ said thay, ‘mony one houndreth yeir
Sen Chaistitie had ony entres[190] heir.’
“Tyrit for travell, scho to the preistis past,
And to the rewlaris of religioun.
Of hir presens schortlye thay war agast,
Sayand thay thocht it bot abusioun
Hir to resave: so, with conclusion,
With one avyce[191] decretit and gave dome
Thay walde resset no rebell out of Rome.
“‘Sulde we resave that Romanis hes refusit,
And baneist Inglande, Italye, and France,
For your flattrye, than wer we weill abusit[192].
Passe hyne[193],’ said thay, ‘and fast your way avance,
Amang the nonnis go seik your ordinance;
For we have maid aith of fidelytie
To dame Ryches and Sensualytie.’
“Than paciently scho maid progressioun
Towarde the nonnis, with hart syching[194] full sore.
Thay gaif hir presens, with processioun,
Ressavand hir with honour, laud, and glore,
Purposyng to preserve hir ever-more.
Of that novellis[195] come to dame Propertie,
To Ryches, and to Sensualytie;
“Quhilkis sped thame at the post rycht spedalye,
And sett ane seage proudlye about the place.
The sillye[196] nonnis did yeild thame haistelye,
And humyllye of that gylt askit grace,
Syne gave thair bandis of perpetuall peace.
Ressavand thame, thay kest up wykkets wyde[197]:
Than Chaistytie walde no langer abyde.
“So for refuge, fast to the freris scho fled;
Quhilks said thay wald of ladyis tak no cure.”
“Quhare bene scho now?” than said the gredy Gled.
“Nocht amang yow,” said scho, “I yow assure.
I traist scho bene upon the Borrow-mure
Besouth[198] Edinburgh, and that rycht mony menis[199],
Profest amang the Systeris of the Schenis.[200]
“Thare hes scho found hir mother Povertie,
And Devotioun, hir awin syster carnall.
Thare hes scho found Faith, Hope, and Charitie,
Togidder with the Vertues Cardinall.
Thare hes scho found ane convent yit unthrall
To dame Sensuall, nor with riches abusit;
So quietlye those ladyis bene inclusit.”
The Pyote said, “I dreid, be thay assailyeit,
Thay rander thame, as did the holy nonnis.”
“Doute nocht,” said scho, “for thay bene so artalyeit[201],
Thay purpose to defend thame with thair gunnis.
Reddy to schute thay have sax gret cannounnis,
Perseverance, Constancye, and Conscience,
Austerytie, Laubour, and Abstynance.
“To resyste subtell Sensualytie
Strongly, thay bene enarmit, feit and handis,
Be Abstynence, and keipith Povertie,
Contrar Ryches and all hir fals servandis.
Thay have ane boumbard braissit up in bandis[202]
To keip thair porte, in myddis of thair clois,
Quhilk is callit, Domine custodi nos;
“Within quhose schote thare dar no enemeis
Approche thair place, for dreid of dyntis doure[203].
Boith nycht and daye thay wyrk, lyke besye beis,
For thair defence reddye to stande in stoure[204],
And hes sic watcheis on thair utter toure
That dame Sensuall with seage dar not assailye,
Nor cum within the schote of thair artailye[205].”
The Pyote said, “Quhareto sulde thay presume
For to resyste sweit Sensualytie,
Or dame Ryches, quhilkis reularis bene in Rome?
Ar thay more constant, in thair qualytie,
Nor the prencis of Spiritualytie,
Quhilkis plesandlye, withouttin obstakle,
Haith thame resavit in their habitakle[206]?
“Quhow long, traist ye, those ladyis sall remane
So solytar, in sic perfectioun?”
The Papingo said, “Brother, in certane[207],
So lang as thay obey correctioun,
Cheisyng[208] thair heddis be electioun,
Unthrall to Ryches or to Povertie,
Bot as requyrith thair necessitie.
“O prudent prelatis, quhare was your presciance,
That tuke on hand tyll observe Chaistitie,
But[209] austeir lyfe, laubour, and abstenance?
Persavit ye nocht the gret prosperitie
Apperandlye to cum of Propertie?
Ye knaw gret cheir, great eais, and ydelnes
To Lychorie was mother and maistres.”
“Thow ravis unrockit[210],” the Ravin said, “be the Rude,
So to reprove Ryches or Propertie.
Abraham, and Ysaac war ryche, and verray gude;
Jacobe and Josephe had prosperitie.”
The Papingo said, “That is verytie.
Ryches, I grant, is nocht to be refusit,
Providyng alwaye it be nocht abusit.”
Than laid the Ravin ane replycatioun,
Syne said, “Thy reasone is nocht worth ane myte,
As I sall prove, with protestatioun
That no man tak my wordis in dispyte.
I saye, the temporall prencis hes the wyte[211],
That in the Kirk sic pastours dois provyde
To governe saulis, that not tham-selfis can gyde.
“Lang tyme efter the Kirk tuke propertie,
The prelatis levit in gret perfectioun,
Unthrall to ryches or sensualytie,
Under the Holy Spreitis protectioun,
Orderlye chosin be electioun,
As Gregore, Jerome, Ambrose, and Augustyne,
Benedict, Bernard, Clement, Cleit, and Lyne.
“Sic pacient prelatis enterit be the porte[212],
Plesand the peple be predicatioun[213].
Now dyke-lowparis[214] dois in the Kirk resort,
Be symonie, and supplycatioun
Of prencis be thair presentation.
So sillye[215] saulis, that bene Christis scheip,
Ar gevin to hungrye gormande[216] wolfis to keip.
“No marvell is thocht we religious men
Degenerit be, and in our lyfe confusit:
Bot sing, and drynk; none uther craft we ken,
Our spirituall fatheris hes us so abusit.
Agane our wyll those treukouris[217] bene intrusit.
Lawit[218] men hes now religious men in curis;
Profest virgenis in keipyng of strong huris.
“Prencis, prencis, quhar bene your heych prudence
In dispositioun of your beneficeis?
The guerdonyng of your courticience[219]
Is sum cause of thir gret enormyteis.
Thare is one sorte wattand[220], lyke houngre fleis,
For spirituall cure, thocht thay be no-thing abyll,
Quhose gredie thristis[221] bene insaciabyll.
“Prencis, I pray yow, be no more abusit,
To verteous men havyng so small regarde.
Quhy sulde vertew, throuch flattrye, be refusit,
That men for cunnyng[222] can get no rewarde?
Allace! that ever one braggar or ane barde,
Ane hure-maister, or commoun hasarture[223],
Sulde in the Kirk get ony kynde of cure!
“War I one man worthy to weir ane croun,
Aye quhen thare vakit[224] ony beneficeis,
I suld gar call ane congregatioun,
The principall of all the prelaceis,
Moste cunnyng clerkis of universiteis,
Moste famous fatheris of religioun,
With thair advyse mak dispositioun.
“I suld dispone all offices pastorallis
Tyll doctouris of devynitie, or jure[225];
And cause dame Vertew pull up all hir saillis,
Quhen cunnyng men had in the Kirk moist cure;
Gar lordis send thair sonnes, I yow assure,
To seik science, and famous sculis frequent;
Syne thame promove that wer moste sapient.
“Gret plesour wer to heir are byschope preche,
One deane, or doctour in divinitie,
One abbote quhilk could weill his convent teche,
One persoun[226] flowing in phylosophie.
I tyne[227] my tyme to wys[228] quhilk wyll nocht be.
War nocht the preaching of the Begging Freris,
Tynt war the faith amang the seculeris.”
“As for thair precheing,” quod the Papingo,
“I thame excuse, for quhy, thay bene so thrall
To Propertie, and hir ding[229] dochteris two,
Dame Ryches, and fair lady Sensuall,
That may nocht use no pastyme spirituall;
And in thair habitis thay tak sic delyte
Thay have renuncit russat and raploch quhyte[230],
“Cleikand[231] to thame skarlote and crammosie[232],
With menever, martrik, grice, and ryche armyne[233].
Their lawe hartis exaultit ar so hie,
To see thair papale pompe it is are pyne[234].
More ryche arraye is now, with frenyeis[235] fyne,
Upon the bardyng[236] of ane byscheopis mule,
Nor ever had Paule or Peter agane Yule.
“Syne fair ladyis thair chene may not eschape,
Dame Sensuall so sic seid haith in tham sawin.
Les skaith[237] it war, with lycence of the Pape,
That ilke[238] prelate one wyfe had of his awin,
Nor se thair bastardis ouirthort[239] the countre blawin;
For now, be[240] thay be weill cumin frome the sculis,
Thay fall to work as thay war commoun bullis.”
“Pew,” quod the Gled, “thow prechis all in vaine:
Ye seculare floks hes of our cace no curis.”
“I grant,” said scho; “yit men wyll speik agane,
Quhow ye haif maid a hundreth thousand huris
Quhilkis nevir had bene war not your lychorous luris.
And geve I lee[241], hartlye I me repent;
Was never bird, I watt, more penitent.”
Than scho hir shrave, with devote contynance,
To that fals Gled quhilk fenyeit hym one freir;
And quhen scho had fulfyllit hir pennance,
Full subtellye at hir he gan inqueir:
“Cheis yow,” said he, “quhilk of us brether heir
Sall have of all your naturall geir the curis.
Ye knaw none bene more holye creaturis.”
“I am content,” quod the pure Papingo,
“That ye frier Gled, and Corby[242] monk, your brother,
Have cure of all my guddis, and no mo,
Sen at this tyme freindschip I fynd non uther.”
“We salbe to yow trew, as tyll our mother,”
Quod thay, and sweir tyll fulfyll hir intent.
“Of that,” said scho, “I tak ane instrument.”
The Pyote said, “Quhat sall myne office bee?”
“Ouirman[243],” said scho, “unto the tother two.”
The rowpand Revin said, “Sweit syster, lat see
Your holy intent; for it is tyme to go.”
The gredie Gled said, “Brother, do nocht so;
We wyll remane, and haldin up hir hede,
And never depart from hir till scho be dede.”
The Papingo thame thankit tenderlye,
And said, “Sen ye have tane on yow this cure,
Depart myne naturall guddis equalye,
That ever I had or hes of dame Nature,
First, to the Howlet[244], indigent and pure,
Quhilk on the daye, for schame, dar nocht be sene;
Tyll hir I laif my gaye galbarte[245] of grene.
“My brycht depurit ene[246], as christall cleir,
Unto the Bak[247] ye sall thame boith present;
In Phebus presens quhilk dar nocht appeir,
Of naturall sycht scho bene so impotent.
My birneist[248] beik I laif, with gude entent,
Unto the gentyll, pieteous Pellicane,
To helpe to peirs hir tender hart in twane.
“I laif the Goik[249], quhilk hes no sang bot one,
My musyke, with my voce angelycall;
And to the Guse ye geve, quhen I am gone,
My eloquence and toung rhetoricall.
And tak and drye my bonis, gret and small,
Syne close thame in one cais of ebure[250] fyne,
And thame present onto the Phenix syne,
“To birne with hir quhen scho hir lyfe renewis.
In Arabye ye sall hir fynde but weir[251],
And sall knaw hir be hir moste hevinly hewis,
Gold, asure, gowles, purpour, and synopeir[252].
Hir dait is for to leif fyve houndreth yeir.
Mak to that bird my commendatioun.
And als, I mak yow supplycatioun,
“Sen of my corps I have yow gevin the cure,
Ye speid yow to the court, but tareyng,
And tak my hart, of perfyte portrature,
And it present unto my Soverane Kyng:
I wat he wyll it clois in-to one ryng.
Commende me to his Grace, I yow exhorte,
And of my passion mak hym trew reporte.
“Ye thre my trypes sall have, for your travell[253],
With luffer and lowng[254], to part equale amang yow;
Prayand Pluto, the potent prince of hell,
Geve ye failye, that in his feit he fang[255] yow.
Be to me trew, thocht I no-thyng belang yow.
Sore I suspect your conscience be too large.”
“Doute nocht,” said they, “we tak it with the charge.”
“Adew, brether!” quod the pure Papingo;
“To talking more I have no time to tarye;
Bot, sen my spreit mon fra[256] my body go,
I recommend it to the Quene of Farye,
Eternallye in-tyll hir court to carye,
In wyldernes among the holtis hore[257].”
Than scho inclynit hir bed, and spak no more.
Plungit in-tyll hir mortall passioun,
Full grevouslie scho gryppit to the ground.
It war too lang to mak narratioun
Of sychis sore, with mony stang and stound[258].
Out of hir wound the blude did so abound,
One compas round was with hir blude maid reid:
Without remeid, thare wes no-thyng bot dede[259].
And be scho had In Manus tuas said,
Extinctit wer hir naturall wyttis fyve;
Hir heid full softlye on hir schulder laid,
Syne yeild the spreit, with panes pungityve[260].
The Ravin began rudely to rug and ryve[261],
Full gormondlyke[262], his emptie throte to feid.
“Eit softlye, brother,” said the gredy Gled:
“Quhill scho is hote, depart hir evin amang us.
Tak thow one half, and reik[263] to me ane-uther.
In-tyll our rycht, I wat, no wycht dar wrang us.”
The Pyote said, “The feind resave the fouther[264]!
Quhy mak ye me stepbarne, and I your brother?
Ye do me wrang, schir Gled, I schrew[265] your harte.”
“Tak thare,” said he, “the puddyngis for thy parte.”
Than, wyt ye weill, my hart wes wounder sair
For to behalde that dolent departyng[266],
Hir angell fedderis fleying in the air.
Except the hart, was left of hir no-thing.
The Pyote said, “This pertenith to the Kyng,
Quhilk tyll his Grace I purpose to present.”
“Thow,” quod the Gled, “sall faill of thyne entent.”
The Revin said, “God! nor I rax in ane raipe[267],
And thow get this tyll outher kyng or duke!”
The Pyote said, “Plene[268] I nocht to the Pape
Than in ane smedie I be smorit[269] with smuke.”
With that the Gled the pece claucht in his cluke[270],
And fled his way: the lave[271], with all thair mycht,
To chace the Gled, flew all out of my sycht.
Now have ye hard this lytill tragedie,
The sore complent, the testament, and myschance
Of this pure bird quhilk did ascend so hie.
Beseikand[272] yow excuse myne ignorance
And rude indyte[273], quhilk is nocht tyll avance[274].
And to the quair[275], I geve commandiment,
Mak no repair quhair poetis bene present.
Because thow bene
But Rethorike, so rude,
Be never sene
Besyde none other buke,
With Kyng, nor Quene,
With lord, nor man of gude[276].
With coit unclene,
Clame kynrent[277] to sum cuke;
Steil in ane nuke
Quhen thay lyste on thee luke.
For smell of smuke
Men wyll abhor to beir thee.
Heir I manesweir[278] thee;
Quhairfor, to lurke go leir[279] thee.