"Quhat lord is yone?” quod scho-"have ye na feill—

Hes done to us so greit humanitie?”

“Yes,” quod a lipper man, “I knaw him weill;

Schir Troylus it is, gentill and fre.”

Quhen Cresseid understude that it was he,
Stiffer than steill thair stert ane bitter stound
Throwout hir hart, and fell doun to the ground.

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Quhen scho, ouircome with siching sair and sad,
With mony cair full cry and cald, "Ochane!
Now is my breist with stormie stoundis stad,
Wrappit in wo, ane wretch full will of wane!"
Than swounit scho oft or scho culd refrane,
And ever in hir swouning cryit scho thus:
"O fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troilus!

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“Thy lufe, thy lawtie, and thy gentilnes I countit small in my prosperitie,

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Sa elevait I was in wantones,

And clam upon the fickill quheill sa hie.

All faith and lufe, I promissit to the,

Was in the self fickill and frivolous.

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"O fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troilus!

"For lufe of me thow keipt gude continence, Honest and chaist in conversatioun ;

Of all wemen protectour and defence

Thou was, and helpit thair opinioun:

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My mynd, in fleschlie foull affectioun,

Was inclynit to lustis lecherous.

Fy! fals Cresseid! O trew knicht Troylus !

"Lovers, be war, and tak gude heid about

Quhome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine:
I lat you wit thair is richt few thairout
Quhome ye may traist, to have trew lufe agane;
Preif quhen ye will, your labour is in vaine.
Thairfoir I reid ye tak thame as ye find,
For they ar sad as widdercock in wind.

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"Becaus I knaw the greit unstabilnes, Brukkil as glas, into my-self I say,

Traisting in uther als greit unfaithfulnes,

Als unconstant, and als untrew of fay.

Thocht sum be trew, I wait richt few are thay.
Quha findis treuth lat him his lady ruse;
Nane but my-self, as now, I will accuse."

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Quhen this was said, with paper scho sat doun,
And on this maneir maid hir testament:
"Heir I beteiche my corps and carioun
With wormis and with taidis to be rent.
My cop and clapper, and myne ornament,
And all my gold, the lipper folk sall have,
Quhen I am deid, to burie me in grave.

"This royall ring, set with this rubie reid,
Quhilk Troylus in drowrie to me send,
To him agane I leif it quhen I am deid,
To mak my cairfull deid unto him kend.
Thus I conclude schortlie, and mak ane end.
My spreit I leif to Diane, quhair scho dwellis,
To walk with hir in waist woddis and wellis.

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"O Diomeid! thou hes baith broche and belt

Quhilk Troylus gave me in takning

Of his trew lufe!"-And with that word scho swelt.

And sone ane lipper man tuik of the ring,

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He swelt for wo, and fell doun in ane swoun;
For greit sorrow his hart to brist was boun;
Siching full sadlie, said, "I can no moir;
Scho was untrew, and wo is me thairfoir!"

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Sum said he maid ane tomb of merbell gray,
And wrait hir name and superscriptioun,
And laid it on hir grave, quhair that scho lay,
In goldin letteris, conteining this ressoun:

"Lo, fair ladyis! Cresseid of Troyis toun, Sumtyme countit the flour of womanheid, Under this stane, lait lipper, lyis deid!"

Now, worthie wemen, in this ballet schort,
Made for your worschip and instructioun,
Of cheritie I monische and exhort,
Ming not your lufe with fals deceptioun.
Beir in your mynd this schort conclusioun
Of fair Cresseid, as I have said befoir.
Sen scho is deid, I speik of hir no moir.
About 1460?

1532.

WILLIAM DUNBAR

SANCT SALVATOUR, SEND SILVER SORROW

Sanct Salvatour, send silver sorrow!

It grevis me both evin and morrow,
Chasing fra me all cheritie;

It makis me all blythness to borrow;
My panefull purss so pricliss me.

Quhen I wald blythlie ballattis breif,
Langour thairto givis me no leif;
War nocht gud howp my hart uphie,
My verry corpis for cair wald cleif;
My panefull purss so prikillis me.

Quhen I sett me to sing or dance,
Or go to plesand pastance,
Than pansing of penuritie
Revis that fra my remembrance;
My panefull purss so prikillis me.

Quhen men that hes purssis in tone
Passis to drynk or to disjone,
Than mon I keip ane gravetie,

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THE GOLDYN TARGE

Ryght as the stern of day begouth to schyne,
Quhen gone to bed war Vesper and Lucyne,

I raise, and by a rosere did me rest.
Up sprang the goldyn candill matutyne,
With clere depurit bemes cristallyne,

Glading the mery foulis in thair nest;
Or Phebus was in purpur cape revest,
Up raise the lark, the hevyns menstrale fyne
In May, in till a morow myrthfullest.

Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris
Within thair courtyns grene, in to thair bouris,
Apparalit quhite and red, wyth blomes suete:
Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris;
The perly droppis schake in silvir schouris,

Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete:
To part fra Phebus did Aurora grete;

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Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris,
Quhilk he for lufe all drank up with his hete.

Quhat throu the mery foulys armony,

And throu the ryveris sounn rycht ran me by,

On Fflorais mantill I slepit as I lay:
Quhare sone in to my dremes fantasy
I saw approch, agayn the orient sky,

A saill als quhite as blossum upon spray,

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Wyth merse of gold, brycht as the stern of day;

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Quhilk tendit to the land full lustily,

As falcounn swift desyrouse of hir pray.

And hard on burd unto the blomyt medis,
Amang the grene rispis and the redis,

Arrivit sche, quhar fro anonn thare landis
Ane hundreth ladyes, lusty in to wedis,
Als fresch as flouris that in May up spredis,

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In kirtillis grene, withoutyn kell or bandis;

Thair brycht hairis hang gletering on the strandis

In tressis clere, wyppit wyth goldyn thredis;

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With pappis quhite, and mydlis small as wandis. . .

Full lustily thir ladyes all in fere

Enterit within this park of most plesere,

Quhare that I lay our-helit wyth levis ronk.

The mery foulis, blisfullest of chere,

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Salust Nature, me thoucht, on thair manere;

And ewiry blome on branch, and eke on bonk,
Opnyt and spred thair balmy levis donk,
Full low enclynyng to thair quene so clere,
Quham of thair nobill norising thay thonk.

Syne to dame Flora, on the samyn wyse,
Thay saluse, and thay thank a thousand syse;
And to dame Wenus, lufis mychti quene,
Thay sang ballettis in lufe, as was the gyse,
With amourouse notis lusty to devise,

As thay that had lufe in thair hertis grene;
Thair hony throtis, opnyt fro the splene,
With werblis suete did perse the hevinly skyes,
Quhill loud resownyt the firmament serene.

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