Classic Poem

Quhare, in a lusty plane, tuke I my way,
Endlang a ryver, plesant to behold,
Enbroudin all with fresche flouris gay,
Quhare, throu the gravel, bryght as ony gold,
The cristall water ran so clere and cold,
That in myn ere maid contynualy
A maner soun, mellit with armony;

That full of lytill fischis by the brym,
Now here, now there, with bakkis blewe as lede,
Lap and playit, and in a rout can swym
So prattily, and dressit tham to sprede
Thair curall fynnis, as the ruby rede,
That in the sonne on thair scalis bryght
As gesserant ay glitterit in my sight:

And by this ilke ryversyde alawe
Ane hye way fand I like to bene,
On quhich, on every syde, a long rawe
Off treis saw I, full of levis grene,
That full of fruyte delitable were to sene,
And also, as it come unto my mind,
Off bestis sawe I mony divers kynd:

The lyoun king, and his fere lyonesse;
The pantere, like unto the smaragdyne;
The lytill squerell, full of besyness;
The slawe as, the druggar beste of pyne;
The nyce ape; the werely porpapyne;
The percyng lynx; the lufare unicorne,
That voidis venym with his evour horne.

There sawe I dress him new out of haunt
The fery tiger, full of felonye;
The dromydare; the standar oliphant;
The wyly fox the wedowis inemye;
The clymbare gayte; the elk for alblastrye;
The herknere bore; the holsum grey for hortis;
The hair also, that oft gooth to the wortis.

The bugill, drawar by his hornis grete;
The martrik, sable, the foynyee, and mony mo;
The chalk-quhite ermyn, tippit as the jete;
The riall hert, the conyng, and the ro;
The wolf, that of the murthir noght say " ho!"
The lesty bever, and the ravin bare;
For chamelot the camel full of hare;

With mony an othir beste divers and strange,
That cummyth noght as now unto my mynd.
Bot now to purpos — straucht furth the range
I held a way, ourhailing in my mynd
From quhens I come, and quhare that I suld fynd
Fortune, the goddess, unto quhom in hye
Gude Hope, my gyde, has led me sodeynly.

And at the last, behalding thus asyde,
A round place wallit have I found;
In myddis quhare eftsone I have spide
Fortune, the goddess, hufing on the ground;
And ryght before hir fete, of compas round,
A quhele, on quhich clevering I sye
A multitude of folk before myn eye.

And ane surcote sche werit long that tyde,
That semyt to me of divers hewis,
Quhilum thus, quhen sche wald turn asyde,
Stude this goddess of fortune and of glewis;
A chapellet with mony fresche anewis
Sche had upon her hed; and with this hong
A mantill on hir schuldris, large and long,

That furrit was with ermyn full quhite,
Degoutit with the self in spottis blake:
And quhilum in hir chier thus a lyte
Louring sche was; and thus sone it would slake,
And sodeynly a maner smylyng make,
And sche were glad; at one contenance
Sche held noght, bot ay in variance.

And underneth the quhele sawe I there
Ane ugly pit depe as ony helle,
That to behald thereon I quoke for fere;
Bot o thing herd I, that quho therein fell
Com no more up agane tidingis to telle;
Off quhich, astonait of that ferefull syght,
I ne wist quhat to done, so was I fricht.

Bot for to se the sudayn weltering
Off that ilk quhele, that sloppar was to hold,
It semyt unto my wit a strong thing,
So mony I sawe that than clymben wold,
And failit foting, and to ground were rold;
And othir eke, that sat abone on hye,
Were overthrawe in twinklyyng of an eye.

And on the quhele was lytill void space,
Wele nere ourstraught fro lawe to hye;
And they were war that long sat in place,
So tolter quhilum did sche it to-wrye;
There was bot clymbe and ryght dounward hye,
And sum were eke that fallyng had sore,
Therefore to clymbe thair corage was no more.

I sawe also that, quhere sum were slungin,
Be quhirlyng of the quhele, into the ground,
Full sudaynly sche hath up ythrungin,
And set thame on agane full sauf and sound:
And ever I sawe a new swarm abound,
That to clymbe upward upon the quhele,
In stede of thame that myght no langer rele.