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Home  »  The English Poets  »  Extracts from The Lament for the Makaris Quhen He Was Seik

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne

William Dunbar (1460?–1520?)

Extracts from The Lament for the Makaris Quhen He Was Seik

I THAT in heill wes and glaidness,

Am trublit now with gret seikness,

And feblit with infirmitie;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Our plesance heir is all vane glory

This fals Warld is bot transitory

The flesche is brukle, the Feynd is slé;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The stait of Man dois change and vary

Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary,

Now dansand mirry, now like to die;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

No Stait in Erd heir standis sicker,

As with the wynd wavis the wickir,

So wavis this warldis vanité;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Unto the Deid gois all Estaitis

Princis, Prellattis, and Potestaitis,

Baith riche and puire of all degré;

Timor mortis conturbat me.

He takis the knychtis in to feild,

Anarmit under helme and scheild,

Victour he is at all mellie;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

*****

I see that Makaris amang the laif

Playis heir thair padyanis, syne gois to graif;

Spairit is nocht thair faculté;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes done peteouslie devour

The noble Chawcer of makaris flouir

The Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thré;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

*****

He hes Blind Hary, and Sandy Traill

Slaine with his schot of mortall haill

Quhilk Patrick Johnestoun mycht nocht flé;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes reft Merseir his endyte,

That did in luve so lifly write,

So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes tane Roull of Abirdene,

And gentil Roull of Corstorphine;

Two bettir fallowis did no man sé;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In Dumfermelyne he hes tane Brown

With Maister Robert Henrisoun

Schir Johne the Ross embraist hes hé;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

And he hes now tane, last of aw,

Gud gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw

Of quhome all wichtis hes petie;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Gud Maister Walter Kennedy,

In poynt of dede lyis veraly,

Gret reuth it were that so suld be;

Timon Mortis conturbat me.

Sen he has all my Brether tane,

He will nocht lat me leif alane,

On forse I mon his nyxt pray be;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen for the Deid remeid is non,

Best is that we for deid dispone,

Eftir our deid that leif may we;

Timor Mortis conturbat me.