Classic Poem

Not lang ago as I allone did walk,
Intill ane place was plesand to behauld:
Twa leirnit men in priuie I hard talk,
And eich of thame his taill in ordoure tauld
I vnderstuid thair sentence quhat thay wald,
And thocht it gude to put in memorie
Thair Names als as efter ze sall se.

The taine him self Philandrius did call,
Quha in vertew and manheid tuik delyte:
The tother feirfull semt to be at all,
Erideilus he did his Name indyte
Off mony thingis thay did togidder flyte,
But I tuik tent aboue all vther thing
Quhen they spak of this Realme and gouerning.

Erideilus sayis it dois merwell me,
Quhat causit hes the Lordis of Scotland
Tak on ane enterpryse of sic folie,
Againe the Quene and againis hir husband:
Mycht thay not weill ilk ane in his awin land
In quyetnes leifit in peace and rest,
Guyding his awin as him had lykit best.

To quhome Philandrius did answer mak,
And said that men war not deuyst onlie:
Without all cair thair awin plesure to tak,
Bot to foirse the weill of that countrie
Reularis of quhilk, the Lord will that thay be,
Quhilk charge (he sayis) thay can not weill refuse,
Les schamefullie thair office thay abuse.

Behalding than the actis execrabill,
That in this countrie hes committit bene,
The schame the lack the bruit abbominabill:
That saikles men with sorow did sustene,
Ane priuat hart it mycht prik vp with tene,
To seik redres and mend that cairfull caice
Far mair the nobillis of the Royall raice.

To se the King fyrst lychtlit schamefully,
And not chereist in chalmer nor in hall:
Syne murdreist downe causeles and crewelly,
Off that tresoun na tryall taine at all.
Thay quhome the bruit did trewlie traytouris call,
Greitest in Court and chereist all thair best,
Quhat Lordis hart culd luik on this and lest.

To se ane monstuire full of fylthynes,
Aboue the rest heich mountit vp in gloir
Baith Prince and Realme and all power posses.
Ane gled ay gaipand guid men to deuoir,
Quhat hart sa hard bot this sycht sould mak soir,
Quha rychtly than dar thir men reprehend:
Sic greit mischief quha menis till amend,

To se the Quene furth rydand on the plaine,
Reft lyke ane huire with ruffians shamefullie,
And thocht that sum think that was bot ane traine,
Hir awin wryting dois contrar testifie,
In France Ingland and mony strange countrie:
Pleinzeand that sho was rauyssit by hir will
Quhat Nobill hart mycht se this and sit still.

To reif, to murther and wyle licherie,
The fourt forfault is eikit euin fra hand:
To testifie that Law and honestie
With sic ribaldis can not ring in ane land,
The Quene is cuplit with ane wyffis husband
And farther zit he quha the King did sack,
But Law the Quene dar into mariage tak.

Besyde all this thair durst na vertuous wycht,
In presence of that proud tyran appeir:
Bludy boucheouris and throtcutters on nycht,
War only hard, and only had the steir.
The Nobill men durst not the Court cum neir,
The royall hous refuge to honest men
Was maid ane bordell and ane theifis den.

Our prettie Prince the peirle of all this land,
With duilfull deid thay socht for to deuoir:
That riche relick and thresour of Scotland,
Destroy as thay his father did befoir.
Quhat duilfull mynde mycht dewlie this deploir,
In sic dainger to se that innocent
For our releif quhome God had till vs sent,

Quhat Nobill hart could langer this induire?
Quhat common breist did not for sorrow burst?
Quhat godly man of himself could be suire?
Quhat stranger thocht bot this countrie was curst?
Quhat preachour this repreif, I pray zow durst:
Quhat chaist woman wyssit not to be deid,
To se sic vice set vp in vertewis steid.

Gif it was sa, than quha can worthylie
Exalt and prais, and magnifie the Name
Off thir Nobillis quha durst couragiouslie
Haziard thame self to saif vs all fra shame.
Thair laud, thair honour, and tryumphand fame,
Salbe disperst in dispyte of Inuy,
Quhen faceles fuillis sall not be settin by.

Erideilus than answer maid againe,
Thy talk he sayis is treuth and veritie:
Bot sit sum douts thair is of quhilk rycht faine,
Gif laser lat I wald resoluit be,
And fyrst tuiching the Queni's libertie:
For mony thinkis thir Barronis ar to bauld.
In strait keping a Princes for to hauld.

Philandrius to answer than him sped,
And this he said Fridielus vntill:
Gif that a freind with fayis away war led
Be wickit craft syne tystit war till ill.
Thocht he couet in that stait to byde still,
Zit in that caice his freindis of dewtie
Sould wis his weill and seik his libertie.

And gif his fantasie war sa far infectit,
That to the treuth he could not bent his eir,
He sould not be in foly zit neglectit
Bot fairnes than sould mixit be with feir,
And gif all this could him na wysedome leir
Than acht he be of all puissance denude,
To do na euill gif he could do na gude.

Than sen that bowdin bludy beist Bothwell,
Hes trayterously in myrk put downe our King:
His wyfe the Quene syne rauyssit to him sell,
In fylthie lust throw cullour of wedding.
Thocht sho be witcheit wald in ruttery ring,
The Nobillis sould nether of thir enduire,
That lowne to leif, nor hir to be his huire.

And gif the poysone in her hart be sonkin,
That sho will not consent he puneist be:
Gif with his fylthie lust sho be sa dronkin,
That sho forzet office and honestie
Than man her Nobillis of necessitie,
Cut of hir force quhill tresoun be reuengeit,
And this confusioun in ane ordour changeit.

In priuat personnis sayis Eridielus,
I vnderstand thy taill is trew in deid:
Bot in Princes it is mair perrillous,
And few examplis thairof can I reid.
And in sic caice the subiectis all had neid,
Haill to concur with ane authoritie
Sic concurrence in Scotland nane I se.

Philandrius sayis brother than considder,
How fyrst began all dominatiounis:
Quhen ruid pepill assemblit thame togidder.
And maid thair Kingis be creatiounis.
In votis than war variatiounis,
I trow rycht few was chosin be the haill,
Bot he was King quhais pairtie did preuaill.

Rycht sa gif Princes sa thame self abuse,
That of force subiectis man put to thair hand:
Guid men sould not than to reforme refuse,
Thocht all at ainis concur not on thair band.
Naimly gif Justice on thair partie stand,
And maist consent gif quha wald rackin rycht,
Sen God hes gein to thame baith strenth and mycht.

Zea thocht it war ane King for to depose,
For certaine crymis I think the subiectis may,
Or fylthy faultouris fast in prisone close,
Rather than lat ane haill countrie decay.
Thay sould not sturre thocht sum men wold say nay
To ane purpose the haill will neuer conclude,
Thay haue aneuch, hes force and quarrell gude.

May thay not put ane ordoure to the heid:
Quha in beginning did the heid vp mak
May thay not set ane better in the steid,
Gif it fra vice can not be callit bak.
Les this be done Realmes will ga to wrak,
Namely quhen that the cryme is sa patent
That nouther misters Juge nor argument.

As gif ane King his pepill wald betray,
And him and thame baith bring to seruitude:
He sould in this reformit be I say,
Naimly be Nobillis and be men of gude,
The Baliols cause considder how it stude,
Quhat rycht had Robert Bruice him to expell?
Because to Ingland he subiect him sell.

And now gif I durst speik without respect,
To huirmaisters, to murderers of Kingis:
To throtcutters our Realme was made subiect,
Quha in thair malice proudely zit malingis.
Lat Nobill hartis considder all thir thingis,
Thay sall weill find that this puire natioun,
Greit mister had of reformatioun.

Sic fylthie lust in Sardanapalus,
Sic crueltie Nero did not ring:
Sic brutishe lyfe in Heliogabalus
Sic traytour mynde to slay his Lord and King,
In feinzeit Phocas breist did neuer spring
Sic beistly bowgrie Sodome hes not sene
As rang in him quha rewlit Realme and Quene.

And sould the Nobill Barronis of this land
In hoilis lurk and this mischief behauld,
Quhair is the wittis wont to reule Scotland?
Go reid the buik, repeit the storyis auld,
King Euenus was keipit in strang hauld
And deit thair Conarus was inclosit,
Fist being dewlie for his fault deposit.

For wickit lyfe imprisont was Ferquhaird,
Quha slew him self of proude melancolie,
Donald the fyft he gat the same reuaird:
And Ethus did in prisone priuate die.
And gif ze list to go fra this countrie,
In euerie land examplis dois abound
Gif thay be socht thay may be eithlie found.

For sic misordour proude Tarquinius
Was the last King that euer did ring in Rome,
For lyke crymes the tyran Claudius:
Losit his stait and gat deid for his dome.
To speik of Nero now I haue na tome,
Off Commodus, Caius and Caracall,
It war to lang for to discriue the fall.

Quhat sorow into Naples than was sene,
Quha knawis the story cleirly thair may reid,
Quhen Charlis dochter Jeane that catiue Quene:
Baith honestie forzet and womanheid.
Hir husband and hir cousing put to deid,
Syne with his Burrio band ane new mariage,
Allace this sample seruis ouer weill our age.

And zit the Lord he leit hir not eschaip,
Bot of hir tuik ane punishement conding:
Quha fyrst hir husband hangit in ane raip,
The murtherer syne in his bed did bring.
God maid hir paine aggre with hir guyding,
As bedfoly to sic mischeif hir led
Euin so sho endit smorit with a bed.

Than to conclude thir Nobillis dois bot rycht,
Gif thay the Quene keip still in sicker gaird,
Untill that coward Kingslayar on nycht
For his demeritis get ane iust rewaird.
Than lat thame all concur baith Lord and Laird,
Thair Realme and Quene with gude consall to guyde.
Settand all priuate profit far a syde.

Gif thay do this than dar I say ane thing,
Thair laude and fame sall mont aboue the skyis,
Thair heich renoune sall in all Regioun ring:
Thair name sall gang quhair euer the Sone do ryse,
Thay salbe repuite hardy wycht and wyse,
In all storyis thay salbe cleirly kend,
The Leuing Lord bring thame to this gude end.

As this Philandrius did frely talk,
The tother pairt Erideilus be name,
Rais vp and quyetlie away did stalk,
And as me thocht he waxit reid for schame,
Quhilk when I saw I rais vp and come hame
And put in wryt thair disputatioun,
As ze haue hard be this narratioun.