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III.

Your stinkand style1 that standis dirk, Haldis the light frae your parish kirk ;2 Your fore stairs 3 makis your houses mirk, Like nae country but here at hame;

Think ye not shame,

Sae little policy to work

In hurt and slander of your name!

IV.

At your high cross 4 where gold and silk Should be, there is but curds and milk; And at your trone 5 but cockle and wilk, Pansches, puddings of Jock and Jame ;7 Think ye not shame,

Sen as the world sayis that ilk 8

In hurt and slander of your name!

V.

Your common minstrel9 has no tune But "Now the Day Daws," and

June;"

Into

That ye have neither wit nor will, To win yourself a better name!

VII.

Your burgh of beggars is ane nest,
To shout they swenyours' will not rest;
All honest folk they do molest,
Sae piteously they cry and rame ;2
Think ye not shame,

That for the poor has nothing drest,3
In hurt and slander of your name!

VIII.

Your profit daily does increase,
Your godly workis less and less ;
Through streetis nane may make pro-

gress

For cry of crooked, 4 blind, and lame;
Think ye not shame,

That ye sic substance does possess,
And will not win a better name!

IX.

Cunninger men maun serve saint clown, 10 Sen for the Court and the Session, 5

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The great repair of this region
Is in your burgh, therefore be boun
To mend all faults that are to blame
And eschew shame;

Gif they pass to ane other town
Ye will decay, and your great name!
X.

Therefore strangers and lieges treat,
Take not oure meikle for their meat,
And gar your merchants be discreet,
That nae extortions be proclaim,

Awffrand7 ane shame;

Keep order, and poor neighbours beit, That ye may get a better name!

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TO THE KING.

THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE,
AULD DUNBAR.

Now lovers come with largess1 loud,
Why should not palfreys then be proud,
When gillets will be schomd and schroud, 3
That ridden are baith with lord and lad?

Sir, let it never in town be tald,
That I should be ane Yulis yald !4

When I was young and into ply,5
And wald cast gambols to the sky,
I had been bought in realms by,"
Had I consented to be sald.

Sir, let it never in town be tald,
That I should be ane Yulis yald!
With gentle horse when I wald nip,
Then is there laid on me ane whip,
To colleveris7 then maun I skip,
That scabbit are, has cruik and cald.
Sir, let it never in town be tald,
That I should be ane Yulis yald!

Though in the stall I be not clapped,
As coursers that in silk been trapped,
With ane new house I wald be happed,
Agains this Christmas for the cald.

8

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RESPONSIO REGIS.

[The King's Answer.]

After our writings, Thesaurar,
Tak in this gray horse, auld Dunbar,
Whilk in my aucht,' with service true,
In lyart changed is his hue;

Gar house him now agains this Yule,
And busk him like ane bishop's mule :
For, with my hand, I have indost
To pay whatever his trappours 3 cost.

TO A LADY.

I.

Sweet Rose of virtue and of gentleness; Delightsome Lily of every lustiness, Richest in bounty, and in beauty clear, And every virtue that is held most dear, Except only that ye are merciless.

II.

Into your garthe 5 this day I did pursue, There saw I flowris that fresh were of hue; Both white and red most lusty were to seen, And halesome herbis upon stalkis green; Yet leaf nor flower find could I none of rue.

III.

But I can not in all my wit, Sae true a sentence find of it, As say it is deceivable.

II.

For yesterday, I did declare
How that the time was soft and fair,
Come in as fresh as peacock fedder,'
This day it stangis like an adder,
Concluding all in my contrair.

III.

Yesterday, fair upsprung the flowris,
This day they are all slain with showris:
And fowlis in forest that sang clear,
Now weepis with ane dreary cheer,
Full cauld are baith their beds and bowris.

IV.

So next to summer winter been ;
Next after comfort caris keen;
Next after night the mirthful morrow;
Next after joy aye commis sorrow;
So is this world, and aye has been.

LAMENT FOR THE MAKARS.

WHEN HE WAS SICK.

I doubt that March, with his cauld blastis [BESIDES its plaintive poetic melancholy,

keen,

Has slain this gentle herb, that I of mean, Whose piteous death does to my heart sic pain,

That I would make to plant his root again, So comfortand his leavis unto me been.

OF THE CHANGES ON LIFE.

I.

I seek about this world unstable, To find ane sentence conveneable,

characteristic of Dunbar, this poem has a historical literary interest as a retrospective list of Scottish poets from the author's time, and preserves some names otherwise unknown. Its omission of James I. and Thomas the Rhymer are unaccountable.]

I.

I that in heal 3 was and glaidness,
Am troubled now with great sickness,
And feebled with infirmity:

Timor mortis conturbat me.4

I Feather.

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