Elegy on the Death of Bernard Stewart, Lord of Aubigny

Illuster Lodovick, of France most Cristin king,
Thou may complain with sighis lamentable
The death of Bernard Stewart, nobill and ding,
In deid of armis most anterous and abill ;
Most mychti, wyse, worthie, and confortable,
Thy men of weir to governe and to gy :
Fortun, allace ! now may thow weir the sabill,
Sen he is gone, the flour of chevelrie.

Complaine sould everie nobill valiant knycht
The death of him that douchtie was in deid,
That many ane fo in feild hes put to flycht,
In weiris wicht, be wisdome and manheid.
To the Turk sey all land did his name dreid,
Quhois force all France in fame did magnifie ;
Of so hie price sall nane his place posseid,
For he is gon, the flour of chevilrie.

O duilfull death ! O dragon dolorous !
Quhy hes thow done so dulfullie devoir
The prince of knychtheid, nobill and chevilrous,
The witt of weiris, of armes and honour,
The crop of curage, the strenth of armes in stour,
The fame of France, the fame of Lumbardy,
The choiss of chiftanes, most awfull in armour,
The charbunckell, cheif of every chevelrie !

Pray now for him, all that him loveit heir !
And for his saull mak intercessioun
Unto the Lord that hes him bocht so deir,
To gif him mercie and remissioun,
And namelie we of Scottis natioun,
Intill his lyff quhom most he did affy,
Forȝett we nevir into our orisoun
To pray for him, the flour of chavelrie.

Quod Dumbar.