William Dunbar

“ LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS.
QUHEN HE WES 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, 5
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, 10
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; 15
Timor Mortis conturbat me. ”

“ Haile, day sterne orientale!
Our licht most richt, in clud of nycht,
Our darkness for to scale:
Haile, wicht, in sicht, puttar to flicht
Of fendis in battale! 30
Haile, plicht, but sicht! Haile, mekle of mycht! ”

“ The Capitane closit in the tour, 30
The Lady in bour full of bewtie:
Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He spairis no Lord for his piscence.
Nor Clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull straik may no man flé; 35
Timor Mortis conturbat me. ”