Page:Poems of William Dunbar (1834) Vol 2.djvu/78

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Quhairevir we meit thairto, my hand I hecht

To red thy rebald ryming with a rowt:

Throw all Bretane it salbe blawin out,

How that thow, poysonit pelour, gat thy paikis;

With ane doig leich I schepe to gar thé schowt,

And nowthir to thé tak knyfe, swerd, nor aix.

Thow crop and rute of traitouris tressonable,

The fathir and moder of murthour and mischeif,

Dissaitfull tyrand, with serpentis tung, unstable;

Cukcald crawdoun, cowart, and commoun theif;

Thow purpost for to undo our Lordis cheif

In Paislay, with ane poysone that wes fell,

For quhilk, brybour, yit sall thow thoill a breif;

Pelour, on thé I sall it preif my sell.

Thocht I wald lie, thy frawart phisnomy

Dois manifest thy malice to all men;

Fy! tratour theif; Fy! glengoir loun, fy! fy!

Fy! feyndly front, far fowlar than ane fen.

My freyndis thow reprovit with thy pen?

Thow leis, tratour! quhilk I fall on thé preif,

Suppois thy heid war armit tymis ten,

Thow sall recryat, or thy croun sall cleif.

Or thow durst move thy mynd malitius,

Thow saw the saill aboue my heid updraw;

But Eolus full woid, and Neptunus,

Mirk and moneless, wes met with wind and waw,