Page:Prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer (3).pdf/9

 Tho' unto thraldom you should be,
 * Brought by your enemies;

You shall have freedom from them all,
 * And enjoy your liberties.

The grave of the most noble Prince,
 * To all is great regret,

The subject to law, who doth leave
 * The kingdom and estate.

O anguish great! where every kind
 * And ages doth lament:

Whom bitter death has ta'en away,
 * Shall Scotland sore repent.

Lately a land of rich increase,
 * A nation stout and true,

Has lost their former dear estate,
 * Which they did hold of due.

By hard conflict, and by the stance
 * Of noble Fortune's force.

Thy hap and thy prosperity
 * May turn into worse.

Tho' wont to won, may be subdued,
 * And come in under yoke;

Strangers may reign, and you destroy,
 * What likes him by sword's stroke.

A foreign foe whom neither thy force.
 * Nor manners do approve,

Woe is to thee, by guile and slight,
 * Will only win above.