Classic Poem

Thai passit in thare pilgramage, the proudest in pall,
The prince provit in prese, that prise wes and deir;
Syne war thai war of ane wane, wrocht with ane wal,
Reirdit on ane riche roche, beside ane riveir,
With doubill dykis be-dene drawin our all;
Micht nane thame note with invy, nor nygh thame to neir.
The land wes likand in large and lufsum to call;
Propir schene schane the son, seymly and seir.
The king stude vesiand the wall, maist vailyeand to se:
On that river he saw
Cumly towris to knaw;
The roy rekinnit on raw
Thretty and thre.

Apone that riche river, randonit full evin,
The side-wallis war set, sad to the see;
Schippis saland thame by, sexty and sevyn,
To send, quhen thame self list, in seir cuntre,
That al thai that ar wrocht undir the hie hevin
Micht nocht warne thame at wil to ische nor entre.
Than carpit the cumly king, with ane lowd stevin:
‘Yone is the seymliast sicht that ever couth I se.
Gif thair be ony keyne knycht that can tell it,
Quha is lord of yone land,
Lusty and likand,
Or quham of is he haldand,
Fayne wald I wit.’

Than schir Spynagrose with speche spak to the king:
‘Yone lord haldis of nane leid, that yone land aw,
Bot ever-lesting but legiance, to his leving,
As his eldaris has done, enduring his daw.’
‘Hevinly God!’ said the heynd, ‘how happynis this thing?
Herd thair euer ony sage sa selcouth ane saw!
Sal never myne hart be in saill na in liking,
Bot gif I loissing my life, or be laid law,
Be the pilgramage compleit I pas for saull prow,
Bot dede be my destenyng,
He sall at my agane cumyng
Mak homage and oblissing,
I mak myne avow!’