Page:Prophecies of Thomas the Rhymer (4).pdf/12

 A perpetual and slanderous race,
 * No justice put in ure.

The haughty pride of mighty men,
 * Of former vice chief cause,

The nutriture of wickedness,
 * An unjust match of laws.

Therefore this cause the prophets
 * of long time did presage,

And now has happen'd every point
 * Into your present age,

Since fate is so, now Scotland learn
 * In patience to abide;

Slanders, great fears, and sudden plagues,
 * And great dolours beside.

For out of thee shall people rise,
 * with divers happiness;

And yet a pen can scarcely write
 * Thy hurt, skaith, and distress.

And yet beware thou not distrust,
 * Altho' o'erwhelm'd with grief,

Thy stroke is not perpetual,
 * For thou shalt find relief.

I do suppose, altho' too late,
 * Old prophecies shall hold;

Hope thou in God's goodness evermore,
 * And mercies manifold.