54 The Fabillis
I sall reheirs, for as I passit by,
Quhair that he lay on cais I lukit doun,
And hard him mak sair lamentatioun.
Allace quod he this cursit consistorie,
In middis of the winter now is maid,
Quhen boreas with blastis bitterlie,
And frawart froistes, thir flouris doun can faid,
On bankis bair now may I mak na baid.
And with that word in to ane coif he crap,
Fra hair wedder, and froistis him to hap.
Quaikand for cauld, sair murnand ay amang,
Kest vp his ee vnto the heuinnis hicht.
And said, o lord , quhy sleipis thow sa lang:
Walk, and discerne my cause groundit on richt.
Se how I am be fraud, maistrie, and slicht,
Peillit full bair, and so is mony one.
Now in this warld, richt wonder wo begone.
Se how this cursit syn of couetice,
Exylit hes baith lufe lawtie, and law.
Now few, or nane will execute iustice,
In falt of quhome, the pure man is ouerthraw.
The veritie suppois the iugis knaw,
Thay ar so blindit with affectioun,
But dreid for meid thay thoill the richt go doun.
Seis thow not lord this warld ouerturnit is,
As quha wald change gude gold in leid or tyn,
The pure is peillit, the lord may do na mis.
And simonie is haldin for na syn.
Now is he blyith with okker maist may wyn.
Off Esope. 59
Gentrice is slane, and pietie is ago.
Allace gude lord quhy tholis thow it so?
Thow tholis this euin for our grit offence,
Thow sendis vs troubill, and plaigis soir.
As hunger, derth, grit weir, or pestilence.
Bot few amendis now thair lyfe thairfoir.
We pure pepill as now may do no moir,
Bot pray to the, sen that we ar opprest
In to this eirth, grant vs in heuin gude rest.
The taill of the lyoun, & the mous
In middis of iune, that ioly sweit seasoun,
Quhen that fair phebus with his bemis bricht,
Had dryit vp the dew fra daill and doun,
And all the land maid with his lemis licht.
In ane mornyng betuix mid day and nicht,
I rais and put all sleuth, and sleip asyde.
And to ane wod I went allone but gyde
Sweit wes the smell off flouris quhyte and reid.
The noyes off birdis richt delitious
The bewis braid blomit abone my heid,
The ground growand with gresis gratious.
Off all plesance, that place wes plenteous,
With sweit odouris, and birdis harmony,
The morning myld, my mirth wes mair for thy.
The rosis reid arrayit rone and ryce,
The prymeros, and the purpour viola.