The Fourt Buke

MAKAND MENTIOUN OF THE DEITH : AND OF THE ANTICHRIST : AND GENERALL JUGEMENT : AND OF CERTANE PLESOURIS OF GLORYFEIT BODYIS : AND QUHOW EVERY CREATURE DESYRIS TO SEE THE LAST DAY : WITH ANE EXHORTATIOUN, BE EXPERIENCE TO THE COURTEOUR.

COURTEOUR.
Prudent Father Experience,
Sen ye, of your benevolence,
Hes causit me for to consydder
Quhow warldlye pompe and glore bene slydder,
By divers storyis miserabyll ;
Quhilkis to reheirs bene lamentabyll ;
Yitt, or we passe furth of this vaill,
I pray yow geve me your counsaill
Quhat I sall do, in tyme cumyng.
To wyn the glore evirlesting.

EXPERIENCE.
My Sonne, said he, sett thy intent
To keip the Lordis commandiment,
And preis thee nocht to clym ouer hie
To no warldlie auctoritie.
Quho in the warld doith moste rejose,
Ar farrest aye frome thare purpose.
Wald thow leve warldlye vaniteis,
And thynk on foure extremiteis
Quhilkis are to cum, and that schortlye,
Thou wald never syn wylfullye.
Prent thir four in thy memorye :
The Deith, the Hell, and Hevinnis Glorye,
And extreme Jugement Generall,
Quhare thow man rander compt of all ;
Thow sall nocht faill to be content
Of quyet lyffe and sobir rent ;
Considdryng no man can be sure
In erth one hour for tyll indure ;
So all warldly prosperitie
Is myxit with gret miseritie.
Wer thow Empriour of Asia,
Kyng of Europe and Affrica,
Gret dominator of the .Sey,
And thocht the Hevinnis did thee obey,
All fyschis sowmyng in the strand,
All beist and fowle at thy command,
Concludyng, thow wer Kyng of all
Under the hevin Imperiall ;
In that most heych authoritie
Thow suld fynd leist tranquilitie.
Exempyll of kyng Salamone,
More prosperous lyfe had nevir none ;
Sic ryches, with so gret plesoure,
Had never Kyng nor Emprioure,
With moste profunde intelligence,
And superexcelland sapience.
His plesand habitatiounis
Precellit all utheris Natiounis ;
Gardyngis and parkis for hartis and hyndis,
Stankis with fysche of divers kyndis ;
Moste profunde maisteris of musike,
That in the warld wes none thame like ;
Sic tresour of gold and pretious stonis
In erth had nevir no kyng att onis :
He had sevin hundreth lustye quenis,
And thre hundreth fair concubenis ;
In erth thare wes no thyng plesand
Contrarious tyll his command :
Yitt all this gret prosperitie
He thoucht in vaine and vanitie,
And mycht nevir fynd repose compleit,
Without afflictioun of the spreit.

COURTEOUR.
Father, quod I, it marvellis me,
He, haveand sic prosperitie,
With so gret ryches by mesoure,
Nor he had infynite plesoure.

EXPERIENCE.
My Sonne, the suth gyf thow wald knaw,
The veritie I sall thee schaw.
Thare is no warldly thyng, at all,
May satyfie ane mannis saull ;
For it is so insaciabyll,
That Heuin and Erth may nocht be abyll
One saull allone to mak content,
Tyll it se God Omnipotent :
Wes never none, nor never salbe,
Saciate, that sycht tyll that he se.
Quharefor, my Sonne, sett nocht thy cure
In Erth, quhare no thyng may be sure,
Except the Deith allanerlye,
Quhilk followis man continuallye.
Tharefor, my Sonne, remember thee
Within schorte tyme that thow mon de,
Nocht knawing quhen, quhow, in quhat place, ,
Bot as plesit the Kyng of Grace.

OF THE DEITH.

Of Miserie moste miserable
Is Deith, and most abhominable,
That dreidful dragone, with his dartis
Aye reddy for to peirs the hartis
Of everilk creature on lyve,
Contrar quhose strenth may no man stryve.
Of dolent Deith this sore sentence
Wes gyffin throw inobedience
Of our parentis, allace tharefor !
As I have done declare affore,
Quhow thay and thare posteritie
Wer, all, condampnit for to dee.
Quhowbeit the flesche to deith be thrall,
God hes the saull maid immortall,
And so, of his benignytie
Hes myxit his Justice with mercie.
Tharefor, call to remembrance
Of this fals warld the variance,
Quhow we, lyke pylgramis, evin and morrow,
Ay travellyng throw this vaill of sorrow ;
Sum tyme in vaine prosperitie,
Sum tyme in gret miseritie,
Sum tyme in blys, sum tyme in baill,
Sum tyme rycht seik, and sum tyme haill,
Sum tyme full ryche, and sum tyme pure.
Quharefor, my Sonne, tak lytill cure
Nother of gret prosperitie,
Nor yitt of gret miseritie,
Bot plesand lyfe and hard myschance,
Ponder thame boith in one ballance ;
Considdryng none auctoritie,
Ryches, wysedome, nor dignitie,
Empyre of realmes, bewtie, nor strenth,
May nocht one day our lyvis lenth.
Sen we ar sure that we moste dé,
Fairweill all vaine felycitie !
Gretlye it doith perturbe my mynde,
Of dolent Deith the divers kynd.
Thoucht Deith tyll every man resortis,
Yitt strykith he in syndrie sortis :
Sum be hait feveris violence ;
Sum be contagious pestilence ;
Sum be justice execution,
Bene put to deith without remissioun ;
Sum hangit; sum doith lose thare heidis ;
Sum brynt ; sum soddin in to leiddis ;
And sum, for thare unleifsum actis,
Ar rent and revin apone the ractis ;
Sum ar dissolvit by poysoun ;
Sum on the nycht ar murdreist doun ;
Sum fallis in to frynasie ;
Sum deis in hydropesie,
And utheris strange infirmiteis,
Quharein mony ane thousand deis,
Quhilk humane Nature dois abhor,
As in the gutt, gravell, and gor ;
Sum, in the flux, and fevir quartane,
Bot ay, the houre of deith uncertane.
Sum ar dissolvit suddantlye,
Be cattarve, or be poplesye ;
Sum doith distroye thame self also,
As Hannibal and wyse Cato ;
Be thounder Deith sum doith consume,
As he did the thrid kyng of Rome,
Callit Tullius Hostilius,
As wryttis gret Valerius ;
For he and his househald attonis
Wer brynt be thounder, flesche and bonis.
Sum deith be extreme excesse
Of joy, as Valerie doith expresse;
Sum be extreme malancholye
Wyll de, but uther maladye.
In Chronicles thow may weill ken,
Quhow mony hundreth thousand men
Ar slane, sen first the warld began,
In battell ; and quhow mony one man
Apone the see doith lose thare lyvis,
Quhen schyppis upone roches ryvis.
Thocht sum dé naturally, throuch aige,
For mo deis raiffand in one raige.
Happy is he the quhilk hes space
Att his last hour to cry for grace.
Quhowbeit deith be abhominabyll,
I thynk it suld be comfortabyll
Tyll all thame of the faithfull nummer ;
For thay depart frome cair and cummer,
Frome trubyll, travell, sturt, and stryfe,
Tyll joy and evirlestand lyfe.
Pollidorus Virgilius
To that effect he wryttis thus :
In Trace, quhen ony chylde be borne,
Thare kyn and freindis cumis thame beforne,
With dolent lamentatioun,
For the gret trybulatioun,
Calamitye, cummer, and cure,
That thay in erth ar to indure ;
Bot, at thare deith and burying,
Thay mak gret joy and bankettyng,
That thay have past from miserie
To rest and grett felycitie.
Sen Deith bene fynall conclusioun,
Quhat valis warldly provisioun,
Quham wysedome may not contramand,
Nor strenth that stoure may nocht ganestand
Ten thousand myleone of treasoure
May nocht prolong thy lyfe one houre ;
Efter quhose dolent departyng,
Thy spreit sall passe, but taryng,
Straucht way tyll joye inestimabyll,
Or to strang pane intollerabyll :
Thy vyle corruptit carioun
Sall turne in putrefactioun,
And so remane, in pulder small,
On to the Jugement Generall.

ANE SCHORT DISCRIPTIOUN OF THE ANTICHRIST.

COURTEOUR.
Quod I, Father, I heir men say
That thair sall ryse, affore that day
Quhilk ye call Generall Jugement,
One wickit man, from Sathan sent,
And contrar to the law of Christ,
Callit the creuell Antichrist.
And sum sayis, that myschevous man '
Discende sall of the trybe of Dan.
And sulde be borne in Babilone,
The quhilk dissave sall mony one,
Infydelis sall, of every art,
With that fals Propheit tak one part :
And quhow that Enoch and Elias
Sall preche contrar that fals Messias ;
Bot fynally, his fals doctryne
And he sall be put to rewyne,
Bot nother be the fyre nor swourd,
Bot be the vertew of Christis wourd :
And, gyf this be of verytie,
The suith, I pray yow, schaw to me.

EXPERIENCE.
My Sonne, said he, as wryttis Johne,
Thare sall nocht be one man allone,
Havyng that name in speciall ;
Bot Antichristis in generall
Hes bene, and now ar, mony one :
And, rycht so, in the tyme of Johne
Wer Antichristis, as hym self sayis ;
And presentlye, now in thir dayis,
Ar rycht mony, withouttin dout,
Wer thare fals lawis weill soucht out.
Quha wes one greter Antichrist,
And more contraryous to Christ,
Nor the fals Propheit Machomeit,
Quhilk his curste lawis maid so sweit ?
In Turkye yit thay ar observit,
Quhare throuch the hell he hes deservit.
All Turkis, Sarazenis, and Jowis,
That in the Sonne of God nocht trowis
Ar Antichristis, I thee declare.
Because to Christ thay ar contrare.
Daniell sayis, in his Propheseis,
That, efter the gret Monarcheis,
Sall ryse ane marvellous potent Kyng,
Quhilk with ane schameles face sall ryng,
Mychtie and wyse in dirk speikyngis,
And prospir in all plesand thyngis :
Throuch his falsheid and craftynes,
He sall flow in to welthynes ;
The godlye pepyll he sall noye
By creuell deith, and thame distroye ;
The Kyng of Kyngis he sall ganestand.
Syne be distroyit withouttin hand.
Paull sayis, Affore the Lordis cumyng,
That thare salbe one departyng,
And that man of iniquitye
Tyll all men he sall opened be,
Quhilk sall sitt in the Holy sait,
Contrary God to mak debait :
Bot that Sonne of perditioun
Salbe put to confusioun
He power of the Haly Spreit,
Quhen he his tyme hes done compleit.
Beleve nocht that, in tyme cumyng,
One gretar Antichriste to ryng
Nor thare hes bene, and presentlye
Ar now, as Clerkis can espye.
Tharefor, my wyll is, that thow knaw,
Quhat ever thay be that makis one law,
Thocht thay be callit Christin men,
By naturall reassoun thow may ken,
Be thay never of so gret valour,
Pape, Cardinall, Kyng, or Empriour,
Extolland thare traditionis
Abufe Christis institutionis,
Makand lawis contrar to Christe.
He is ane verray Antichriste ;
And quho doith fortifye or defend
Sic law, I mak it to thé kend,
Be it Pape, Empriour, Kyng, or Quene,
Gret sorrow sall be on thame sene,
Att Christis extreme Jugement,
Without that thay in tyme repent.

HEIR FOLLOWIS A SCHORT REMEMBRANCE OF THE MOST TERRABYLL DAY OF THE EXTREME JUGEMENT.

COURTEOUR.
Father, said I, with your lycence,
Sen ye haith sic Experience,
Yitt one thyng at yow wald I speir :
Quhen sall that dreidfull day appeir
Quhilk ye call Jugement Generall ?
Quhat thyngis affore that day sall fall ?
Quhare sall appeir that dreidfull Juge ?
Or quhow may faltouris gett refuge !

EXPERIENCE.
Quod he, As to thy first questioun,
I can mak no solutioun :
Quharefor, perturbe nocht thyne intent
To knaw day, hour, nor moment :
To God allone the day bene knawin,
Quhilk never was to none Angell schawin.
Howbeit, be divers conjectouris,
And principall expositouris
Of Daniell and his Prophecie,
And be the sentence of Elie,
Quhilkis hes declarit, as thay can,
How lang it is sen the Warld began,
And for to schaw hes done thare cure,
How lang thay traist it sall indure,
And als, how mony ages bene,
As in thare warkis may be sene.
Bot, tyll declare thir questionis,
Thare bene divers opinionis.
Sum wryttaris hes the Warld devidit
In sex ageis : as bene desidit
In to Fasciculus Temporum,
And Cronica Cronicorum ;
Bot, be the sentence of Elie,
The Warld devydit is in thre ;
As cunnyng Maister Carioun
Hes maid plane expositioun,
How Elie sayis, withouttin weir,
The Warld sall stand sax thousand yeir
Of quhome I follow the sentence,
And lattis the uther Bukis go hence,
From the Creatioun of Adam
Two thousand yeir tyll Abraham ;
Frome Abraham, be this narratioun,
To Christis Incarnatioun,
Rycht so, hes bene two thousand yeris ;
And, be thir Propheceis, apperis
Frome Christ, as thay mak tyll us kend,
Two thousand tyll the Warldis end,
Of quhilkis ar by gone, sickirlye,
Fyve thousand, fyve hundreth, thre and fyftie ;
And so remanis to cum, but weir,
Four hundreth, with sevin and fourtye yeir :
And than the Lorde Omnipotent
Suld cum tyll his gret Jugement.
Christ sayis, the tyme salbe maid schort,
As Matthew planelye doith report,
That, for the warldis iniquitie,
The letter tyme sall schortnit be,
For plesour of the chosin nummer,
That thay may passe from care and cummer.
So, be this compt, it may be kend,
The Warld is drawand neir ane end :
For legionis ar cum, but doute,
Of Antichristis, wer thay soucht out ;
And mony toknis dois appeir,
As efter, schortlye, thow sall heir,
Quhow that Sanct Jherome doith indyte,
That he hes red, in Hebrew wryte,
Of fyftene signis in speciall,
Affore that Jugement Generall.
Off sum of thame I tak no cure,
Quhilk I find nocht in the Scripture :
One part of thame thocht I declare,
First wyll I to the Scripture fare.
Christ sayis, Affore that day be done,
Thare sallbe signis in Sonne and Mone ;
The Sonne sall hyde his beymes brycht
So that the Mone sall gyf no lycht ;
Sterris, be mennis jugement,
Sall fall furth of the firmament.
Of this signis, or we forther gone,
Sum morall sence we wyll expone,
As cunnyng Clerkis hes declarit,
And hes the Sonne and Mone comparit,
The Sonne, to the stait Spirituall,
The Mone, to princis Temporall,
Rycht so the sterris thay do compare
To the lawd common populare.
The Mone and sterris hes no lycht
But the reflex of Phebus brycht :
So, quhen the Sonne of lycht is dyrk,
The Mone and sterris man be myrk.
Rycht so, quhen pastouris spirituallis,
Popis, Byschoppis, and Cardinallis.
In thare begynning schew gret lycht.
The Temporall stait wes rewlit rycht.
Bot, now, allace ! it is nocht so :
Those schynand lampis bene ago,
Thare radious beymes ar turnit in reik :
For now in erth no thyng thay seik,
Except ryches and dignitie,
Followyng thare sensualitie.
Mony prelatis ar now ryngand,
The quhilkis no more dois understand
Quhat doith pertene to thare offyce,
Nor thow can kendyll fyre with yce.
Wo to Papis, I say for me,
Quhilk sufferis sic enormitie,
That ignorant warldly creaturis
Suld in the kirk haif ony curis !
No marvell thocht the peple slyde,
Quhen thay have blynd men to thare gyde !
For ane Prelat that can nocht preche,
Nor Goddis law to the peple teche,
Esaye compareth hym in hys wark,
Tyll ane dum dog that can nocht bark ;
And Christ hym callis, in his grief,
Moste lyke ane murdrer, or ane theif.
The cunnyng doctour Augustyne
Wolfis and devyllis doith thame defyne.
The Canon Lawe doith hym defame
That of ane Prelat beris the name,
And wyll nocht preche the Divyne lawis,
As the Decreis planelye schawis.
Bot those that hes auctoritie
To provyde spirituall dignytie
Mycht, geve thay plesit to tak pane,
Gar thame lycht all thair lampis agane :
Bot ever, allace ! that is nocht done,
So dirknit bene boith Sonne and Mone.
War Kyngis lyvis weill declarit,
The quhilkis ar to the Mone comparit,
Men mycht consydder thare estate
Frome charitie degenerate.
I thynk thay sulde thynk mekle schame
Of Christ for to take thare surname,
Syne leif nocht lyke to Christianis,
Bot more lyke Turkis and to Paganis.
Turke contrar Turke makis lytill weir ;
Bot Christiane princis takis no feir,
Quhilkis suld aggre as brother to brother,
But now ilk ane dyngis doun ane uther.
I knaw no ressonabyll cause quharefore
Except pryde, covatyce, and vaine glore
The Empriour movis his ordinance
Contrar the potent Kyng of France ;
And France, rycht so, with gret regour,
Contrar his freinde the Empriour ;
And rycht swa, France agane Ingland ;
Ingland alsso, aganis Scotland ;
And als the Scottis, with all thare mycht,
Doith feycht, for tyll defend thare rycht :
Betuix thir realmes, of Albione,
Quhare battellis hes bene mony one,
Can be maid none affinitie,
Nor yit, no consanguinitie ;
Nor, be no waye, thay can consydder
That thay may have lang peace togydder,
I dreid that weir makis none endyng,
Tyll thay be boith onder ane kyng.
Thocht Christ, the Soverane Kyng of Grace,
Left, in his Testament, lufe and peace,
Our Kyngis frome weir wyll nocht refrane,
Tyll thare be mony ane thousand slane,
Gret heirschipis maid be see and land,
As all the Warld may understand.

COURTEOUR.
Father, I thynk that temporall kyngis
May feycht, for tyll defend thare ryngis ;
For I haif sene the Spirituall Stait
Mak weir, thare rychtis tyll debait.
I saw Pape Julius manfullye
Passe to the feild tryumphantlye,
With ane rycht aufull ordinance,
Contrar Lowis, the kyng of France ;
And, for to do hym more dispyte,
He did his Regioun interdyte.

EXPERIENCE.
My Sonne, said he, as I suppose,
That langith weill tyll our purpose ;
How Sonne and Mone ar boith denude
Of lycht, as Clerkis dois conclude,
Comparyng thame, as ye hard tell,
To Spirituall Stait and Temporell,
And commoun peple, half disparit,
Quhilk to the Sterris bene comparit.
Lawid peple followis ay thare heidis ;
And speciallye, in to thare deidis,
The moste part of Religioun
Bene turnit in abusioun.
Quhat dois availl religious weidis,
Quhen thay ar contrar in thare deidis ?
Quhat holynes is thare within
Ane wolf cled in ane wedderis skin !
So, be thir toknis, dois appeir,
The day of Jugement drawis neir.
Now latt us leif this morall sens,
Proceidyng tyll our purpose hens,
And of this mater speik no more,
Begynning quhare we left affore.
The Scripture sayis, efter thir signis
Salbe sene mony marvellous thyngis :
Than sall ryse trybulationis
In erth, and gret mutationis,
Als weill heir under, as above,
Quhen vertewis of the hevin sall move.
Sic creuell weir salbe, or than,
Wes never sene sen the Warld began,
The quhilk sall cause gret indigence,
As darth, hunger, and pestilence.
The horribyll soundis of the sey
The peple sal perturbe and fley.
Jerome sayis, it sall ryse on heycht
Abone montanis, to mennis sycht ;
Bot it sall nocht spred ouer the land,
Bot, lyke ane wall, evin straycht upstand,
Syne sattell doun agane so law
That no man sall the walter knaw.
Gret quhalis sall rummeis, rowte and rair,
Quhose sound redound sall in the air ;
All fysche and monstouris marvellous
Sall cry, with soundis odious,
That men sall wydder on the erd,
And wepyng, wary sall thare weird,
With lowde allace and welaway !
That ever thay baid to se that day ;
And, speciallye, those that dwelland be
Apone the costis of the see.
Rycht so, as Sanct Jerome concludis,
Sall be sene ferleis in the fludis :
The sey, with movyng marvellous,
Sall byrn with flammis furious.
Rycht so, sall byrn fontane and flude ;
All herb and tre sall sweit lyk blude ;
Fowlis sall fall furth of the air;
Wylde beistis to the plane repair,
And, in thare maner, mak gret mone.
Gowland with mony gryslye grone.
The bodeis of dede creaturis
Appeir sall on thare sepulturis :
Than sall boith men, wemen, and bairnis
Cum creipand furth of howe cavernis,
Quhare thay, for dreid, wer hyd affore,
With seych, and sob, and hartis sore ;
Wandryng about as thay war wode,
Affamysit for falt of fude.
None may mak utheris confortyng,
Bot dule for dule, and lamentyng.
Quhat may thay do bot weip and wounder,
Quhen thay se roches schaik in schounder,
Throw trimlyng of the erth and quakyng ?
Of sorrow, than, salbe no slakyng.
Quho that bene levand, in those dayis
May tell of terrabyll affrayis :
Thare ryches, rentis, nor tressour,
That tyme sall do thame small plesour.
Bot, quhen sic wonderis dois appeir,
Men may be sure the day drawis neir,
That juste men pas sall to the glore,
Injuste, to pane for ever more.

COURTEOUR.
Father, said I, we daylie reid
One Artikle, in to our Creid,
Sayand, that Christ Omnipotent,
In to that generall Jugement,
Sall juge boith dede and quick also.
Quharefore, declare me, or ye go,
Geve thare sall ony man, or wyfe,
That day be foundin upon lyve.

EXPERIENCE.
Quod he, As to that questione,
I sall mak sone solutione.
The Scripture planelye doith expone,
Quhen all tokynnis bene cum and gone,
Yitt mony one hundreth thousand
That samyn day salbe levand :
Quhowbeit, thare sall no creature
Nother of day nor hour be sure ;
For Christ sall cum so suddantlye,
That no man sall the tyme espye ;
As it wes in the tyme of Noye,
Quhen God did all the warld distroye.
Sum on the feild salbe lauborand ;
Sum in the templis mariand ;
Sum afore jugis makand pley ;
And sum men sailand on the sey.
Those that bene on the feild going
Sall nocht returne to thare luging.
Quho bene apone his hous above.
Sall haif no laser to remove.
Two salbe in the myll grindyng,
Quhilkis sall be takyng, but warnyng ;
The ane, tyll everlestyng glore,
The uther, loste for ever more.
Two salbe lying in one bed ;
The one, to plesour salbe led,
The uther, salbe left allone,
Gretand with mony gryslie grone.
And so, my Sonne, thow may weill trow,
The warld salbe as it is now,
The peple usyng thare besynes,
As Holy Scripture doith expres.
Sen no man knawis the hour, nor day,
The Scripture biddis us walk and pray,
And for our Syn be penitent,
As Christ wald cum incontinent.

THE MANER QUHOW CHRIST SALL CUM TO HIS JUGEMENT.

EXPERIENCE.
Quhen all takinnis bene brocht tyll end,
Than sall the Sone of God discend :
As fyreflaucht haistely glansyng.
Discend sall the most Hevinly Kyng,
As Phebus, in the Orient,
Lychtnis in haist the Occident,
So plesandlye he sall appeir
Amang the hevinlye cluddis cleir,
With gret power and majestie,
Above the countrie of Judee,
As Clerkis doith concludyng, haill,
Direct above the lustye vaill
Of Josaphat and Mont Olyveit :
All prophesie thare salbe compleit.
The Angellis of the Ordoris Nyne
Inviron sall that throne Divyne
With hevinlye consolatioun,
Makand hym ministratioun.
In his presens thare salbe borne
The signis of cros, and croun of thorne,
Pillar, nalis, scurgis, and speir,
With everilk thyng that did hym deir,
The tyme of his grym Passioun ;
And, for our consolatioun,
Appeir sall, in his handis and feit,
And in his syde, the prent compleit
Of his fyve woundis precious,
Schynand lyke rubeis radious,
Tyll reprobatt confusioun ;
And, for fynall conclusioun,
He, sittand in his tribunall,
With gret power Imperiall.
There sall ane Angell blawe a blast
Quhilk sall mak all the Warld agast,
With hyddeous voce, and vehement
Ryse, Dede folk, cum to Jugement !
With that, all reassonabyll creature
That ever was formit be Nature
Sall suddantlye start up attonis,
Conjunit with saull, flesche, blude, and bonis.
That terribyll trumpet, I heir tell,
Beis hard in Hevin, in Erth, and Hell :
Those that wer drownit in the sey
That boustious blast thay sall obey ;
Quhare ever the body buryit wase,
All salbe fundyng in that plase.
Angellis sall passe in the four airtis
Of Erth, and bryng thame frome all partis,
And, with one instant diligence,
Present thame to his Excellence.
Sanct Jerome thoucht continuallye
On this Jugement, so ardentlye,
He said, quhidder I eit, or drynk,
Or walk, or sleip, forsuth me thynk
That terrabyll trumpat, lyke ane bell,
So quiklye in my eir doith knell,
As instantlye it wer present,
Ryse, Dede folk, cum to Jugement !
Geve Sanct Jerome tuke sic ane fray,
Allace ! quhat sall we synnaris say ?
All those quhilk funding bene on lyve
Salbe immortall maid belyve ;
And, in the twynkling of one Ee,
With fyre thay sall translatit be,
And never for to dee agane,
As Divyne Scripture schawis plane,
Als reddy, boith for pane and glore,
As thay quhilk deit lang tyme affore.
The Scripture sayis, thay sall appeir
In aige of thre and thretty yeir,
Quhidder thay deit young or auld,
Quhose gret nummer may nocht be tauld.
That day sall nocht be myst one man
Quhilk borne wes sen the warld began.
The Angellis sall thame separait,
As hird the scheip doith frome the gait ;
And those quhilk bene of Beliallis band
Trymling apone the erth sall stand,
On the left hand of that Gret Juge,
But esperance to get refuge.
Bot those quhilk bene predestinate
Sall frome the erth be elevate :
And that moste happy cumpanye
Sall ordourit be triumphantlye,
At the rycht hand of Christe, our Kyng,
Heych in the air, with loude lovyng.
Full gloriouslye thare sall compeir,
More brycht than Phebus in his speir,
The Virgene Marie, quene of quenis,
With mony ane thousand brycht Virgenis.
The Fatheris of the Auld Testament,
Quhilk wer to God obedient.
Father Adam sall thame convoye,
With Abell, Seth, Enoch, and Noye ;
Abraham, with his faithfull warkis,
With all the prudent Patriarkis ;
Johne the Baptiste thare sall compeir,
The principall and last messyngeir,
Quhilk come bot half ane yeir affore
The cumyng of that Kyng of Glore ;
Moyses, Esayas, honorabyll,
With all trew Prophetis venerabyll ;
David, with all the faithfull Kyngis
Quhilk verteouslye did rewle thare ryngis
The nobyll cheiftane Josue,
With gentyll Judas Machabé,
With mony one nobyll campioun,
Quhilk, in thare tyme, with gret renoun,
Manfullye tyll thare lyvis ende,
The law of God thay did defende.
With Eve, that day, salbe present
The Ladyis of the Auld Testament :
Delbora, Adamis douchter deir,
With the four lusty ladyis cleir
Quhilk keipit wer in the Ark with Noye.
Sara and Cithara, with joye,
The quhilkis to Abraham wyffis bene ;
With gude Rebecka, thare salbe sene
The prudent wyffis of Israell.
Gude Lya, and the fair Rachell ;
With Judeth, Hester, and Susanna,
And the rycht sapient Quene Saba.
Thare sall compeir Peter and Paull,
With Christis trew disciplis all,
Lawrence and Stevin, with thare blyst band
Of Martyris, mo than ten thousand ;
Gregore, Ambrose, and Augustyne,
With confessouris, ane tryumphand tryne ;
With Sanct Francis, and Dominick,
Sanct Bernard, and Sanct Benedick ;
With small nummer of Monkis, and Freiris,
Of Carmeletis, and Cordeleiris,
That, for the lufe of Christ onlye,
Renuncit the warld unfenyeitlye.
With Elizabeth and Anna,
All gude wyffis sall compeir that day ;
The blyst and holy Magdelane,
That day, affore hir Soverane,
Rycht plesandlye scho sall present
All synnaris that wer penitent,
Quhilk of thare gylt heir askit grace :
In Hevin, with hir, sall have ane place.
But wo beis to that bailfull band
Quhilk sall stand lawe at his left hand !
Wo, than, to Kyngis and Empryouris
Quhilkis wer unrychteous conquerouris ;
For thare glore and perticular gude,
Gart sched so mekle saikles blude !
But sceptour, crown, and robe royall,
That day thay sall mak compt of all,
And, for thare creuell tyrannye,
Sall punyste be perpetuallye.
Ye Lordis and Barronis, more and les,
That your pure tennantis dois oppres,
Be gret gyrsome, and dowbyll maill,
More than your landis bene availl,
With sore exhorbitant cariage,
With Merchetis of thare Mariage,
Tormentit boith in peace and weir,
With burdyngis more than thay may beir ;
Be thay haif payit to yow thare maill,
And, to the Preist, thare teindis haill,
And, quhen the land agane is sawin,
Quhat restis behynd I wald wer knawin !
I traist thay and thare pure househauld
May tell of hunger and of cauld.
Without ye haif of thame pieté,
I dreid ye sall gett no mercie,
That day, quhen Christ Omnipotent
Cumis tyll his Generall Jugement.
Wo beis to publict oppressouris,
To tyrannis, and to transgressouris,
To murderaris, and commoun theifis,
Quhilk never did mend thare gret mischeifis !
Fornicatouris, and ockararis.
Commoun publict adulteraris,
All pertinat wylfull heretykis,
All fals dissaitfull scismatykis,
All salbe present in that place,
With mony lamentabyll Allace !
The cursit Cayn, that never wes gude,
With all scheddaris of saikles blude ;
Nemrod, fundar of Babilone,
With fals ydolateris mony one ;
Nynus, the kyng of Asseriay,
With gret dule shall compeir that day,
Quhilk first inventit ymagery,
Quharethrouch come gret ydolatry :
For makyng of the image, Bell,
That day his hyre salbe in hell.
The gret oppressour, kyng Pharo,
The tyrrane Empriour Nero,
Sall with thame cursit Kyng Herode bryng,
With mony uther cairfull kyng.
The cruell kyng Antiochus.
With the moste furious Olofernus,
Gret oppressouris of Israell,
That day thare hyre salbe in Hell.
With Judas sall compeir ane clan
Of fals tratouris to God and man.
Thare sall compeir, of everilk land,
With Ponce Pylat, one bailfull band
Of Temporall and of Spirituall statis ;
Fals jugis, with thare advocatis.
Thare sall our Senyeouris of the Sessioun
Of all thare faltis mak cleir confessioun.
Thare salbe sene the fraudfull failyeis
Of Schireffis, Provestis, and of Bailyeis ;
Officiallis, with thare Constry clerkis,
Sall mak compt of thare wrangous werkis ;
Thay, and thare perverst Procuratouris,
Oppressouris boith of ryche and puris,
Throw delatouris full of dissait,
Quhilk mony one gart beg thare meit.
Gret dule, that day, to Jugis bene,
That cumis nocht with thare conscience clene :
That day sall pas be Peremptouris,
Without cawteill or dillatoris ;
No Duplicandum, nor Triplicandum,
But schortlye pas to Sentenciandum,
Without continuatiounis,
Or ony appellatiounis :
That sentence sall nocht be retraitit,
Nor with no man of Law debaitit.
Ye Lauboraris be sey and landis,
Perfyte craftismen, and ryche merchandis,
Leif your dissait and crafty wylis,
Quhilk syllie simpyll folk begylis
Mak recompence heir, as ye may,
Remembryng on this dreidfull day.
With Machomeit sall compeir, but doute,
Of Antichristis one hydduous route :
Byschope Annas, and Cayphas,
With hym in cumpany sall pas :
With Scrybis and fals Pharisianis,
Quhilk wrocht on Christ gret violencis ;
With mony one Turk and Sarracene,
With gret sorrow thare salbe sene :
Papis, for thare traditionis
Contrar Christis institutionis,
With mony one cowle and clyppit crown,
Quhilk Christis lawis strampit down,
And wald nocht suffer for to preche
The veritie, nor the peple teche,
Bot Lawit men pat to gret torment,
Quhilk usit Christis Testament.
All Kyngis and Quenis thare salbe kend,
The quhilk sic lawis did defend.
In that Court sall cum mony one
Of the blak byik of Babilone.
The innocent blude, that day, sall crye
Ane loude vengeance, full pietuouslye,
On those creuell bludy bowchouris,
Martyris of propheteis and prechouris,
Sum with the fyre, sum with the sworde,
Quhilk planelye precheit Goddis worde ;
That day thay sall rewardit be,
Conforme to thare iniquitie.
The Sodomitis and Gomoreance,
On quhome God wrocht so gret vengeance,
With Chore, Dathan, and Abyrone,
With thare assistance, mony one,
The holy Scripture wyll thee tell,
Quhow thay sank all doun to the hell.
With Symon Magus sall resort
Of proude Preistis ane schamefull sort.
That samyn day thare salbe sene
Mony one creuell cairfull Quene :
Quene Semirame, kyng Nynus wyfe,
Ane tygir full of sturt and stryfe,
Togydder with Quene Jezabell,
Quhilk wes boith covetous and creuell ;
The fals dissaitfull Dalyla ;
The creuell Quene Clytemnestra,
The quhilk did murdreis, on the nycht
Agamemnon, boith wyse and wycht,
The quhilk wes hir awin soverane lorde,
As Grekis storyis dois recorde.
With creuell Quenis mony one,
Quhilk langsum wer for tyll expone.
Ye wantoun Ladyis, and Burges wyvis,
That now for sydest taillis stryvis,
Flappand the fylth amang your feit,
Rasyng the duste in to the streit,
That day, for all your pompe and pryde,
Your tailis sall nocht your hyppis hyde :
Thir vaniteis ye sall repent,
Without that ye be penitent.
With Phitonissa, I heir tell,
Quhilk rasit the Spreit of Samuell,
That day, with hir, thare sall resorte
Of rank wytcheis one sorrowfull sorte,
Brocht frome all partis, mony one myle,
Frome Savoy, Atholl, and Argyle,
And frome the Ryndes of Galloway,
With mony wofull wallaway !
Ye Brether of Religioun,
In tyme leif your abusioun,
With quhilk ye haif the warld abusit,
Or ye, that day, salbe refusit.
I speik to yow all, generallye,
Nocht till one Ordoure speciallye.
That day, all creature sall ken
Geve ye war Sanctis, or warldly men,
Or gyf ye tuk the skapellarye,
That ye mycht leif more plesandlye,
And gett ane gude gross portioun,
Or for godlye devotioun ;
That day, your faynit sanctytudis
Sall nocht be knawin be your hudis :
Your superstitious ceremoneis,
Participand tyll ydolatreis,
Corde, cuttit schone, nor clippit hede,
That day sall stande yow in no stede :
For cowlis blak, gray, nor begaird,
Ye sall, that day, get no rewaird.
Your polit payntit flatterye,
Your dissimulat ypocrasye,
That day thay sall be cleirlye knawin,
Quhen ye sall scheir as ye have sawin.
Tharefore, in tyme be penitent,
Or ellis that day ye wylbe schent.
I pray yow hartlie, as I may,
Remember on that dreidfull day,
Ye Abbot, Pryour, and Pryores :
Consydder quhat ye did profes,
And quhow that your promotioun
Wes no thyng for devotioun ;
Bot tyll obtene the Abbacye,
Ye maid your vow of Chaistitye,
Of Povertie, and Obedience :
Tharefor, remord your conscience,
Quhow thir thre vowis bene observit,
And quhat rewarde ye have deservit.
Quharefore, repent, quhill ye have space ;
Sen God is lyberall of his grace.

COURTEOUR.
Father, quod I, declare to me
Quhare sall our Prelatis ordourit be,
Quhilk now bene in the warld levand :
With quhome sall cum that Spirituall band ?

EXPERIENCE.
Quod he, As Sanct Barnard discryvis,
Without that thay amend thare lyvis,
And leve thair wantoun vicious warkis,
Nocht with Prophetis nor Patriarkis,
Nocht with Martyris nor Confessouris,
The quhilkis to Christ wer trew prechouris :
Thare predecessouris, Peter and Paull,
That day wyll theme mysken, at all ;
So sall they nocht, I say for me,
With the Apostillis ordourit be.
I traist thay sall dwell on the bordour
Of Hell, quhare thare salbe non ordour.
Endlang the flude of Phlegetone,
Or on the brayis of Acherone ;
Cryand on Charon, I conclude,
To ferrie thame ouer that furious flude,
Tyll eternall confusioun,
Without thay leif thare abusioun.
I traist those Prelatis, more and les,
Sall mak cleir compt of thare ryches,
That dreidfull day, with hartis sore,
And quhat service thay did tharefore.
The princely pomp nor apparell
Of Pope, Byschope, nor Cardinall,
Thare Royall rentis, nor dignitie,
That day sall nocht regardit be.
Thare sall no tailis, as I heir say,
Of Byschoppis be borne up that day.
Cum thay nocht with thare conscience clene,
On thame gret sorrow salbe sene,
Without that thay thare lyfe amend
In tyme : And so I mak ane end.

HEIR FOLLOWIS THE MANER QUHOW CHRIST SALL GIVE HIS SENTENCE.

EXPERIENCE.
Quhen all thir Congregatiounis
Beis brocht furth frome al natiounis,
Quhilk wilbe without lang process,
Thocht I haif maid sum lang degress ;
For, in the twinkling of one E,
All mankind sall presentit be
Affore that Kyngis Excellence,
Than schortlye sall he geve sentence ;
First sayand to that blysfull band,
Quhilk beis ordourit at his rycht hand,
Cum, with my Fatheris benysoun,
And ressave your possessioun,
Quhilk bene for yow preordinat,
Affore the Warld wes first creat.
Quhen I wes hungry, ye me fed ;
Quhen I was naikit, ye me cled :
Oftymes ye gave me herberye,
And gaif me drynk, quhen I was drye,
And vesyit me with myndis meik,
Quhen I was presonar and seik :
In all sic trybulatioun,
Ye gaif me consolatioun.
Than sall thay say, O potent Kyng,
Quhen saw we thé desyre sic thyng ?
We never saw thyne excellence
Subdewit to sic indigence.
Yes, sall he say, I yow assure,
Quhen ever ye did ressave the pure,
And, for my saik, maid thame supplie,
That gyft, but doute, ye gaif to me :
Tharefor sall now begyn your glore,
Quhilk sall indure for ever more.
Than sall he luke on his left hand,
And say unto that bailfull band,
Pas, with my maledictioun,
Tyll eternall afflictioun,
In cumpany with feindis fell,
In everlestyng fyre of Hell :
Quhen I stude, naikit, at your yett,
Houngry, thristy, cauld, and wett,
Rycht febyll, seik, and lyke to dé,
I never gatt of yow supplie ;
And, quhen I lay in presoun Strang,
For yow I mycht haif lying full lang,
Without your consolatioun,
Or ony supportatioun.
Trymbling for dreid, than sall thay say,
With mony hydduous harmissay,
Allace ! gude Lorde, quhen saw we thee
Subject to sic necessitie !
Quhen saw we thee cum to our dure,
Houngry, thristy, naikit, pure !
Quhen saw we thee in presoun ly,
Or thee refusit herbery !
Than sall that most precelland Kyng
Tyll those wretchis mak answeryng,
That tyme quhen ye refusit the puris
Quhilkis neidfull cryit at your duris,
And of your superfluitie
For my saik maid thame no supplie,
Refusand thame, ye me refusit,
With wrecheitness so ye wer abusit,
Tharefor ye sall have, to your hyre,
The everlestyng byrning fyre,
But grace, but peace, or confortyng.
Than sall thay cry, full sore weipyng,
That we were maid, allace ! gude Lorde !
Allace ! is thare non misericorde ?
But thus, withouttin hope of grace,
Tyne presens of thy plesand face ?
Allace for us ! it had bene gude,
We had bene smorit in our cude.
Than, with one rair, the erth sall ryve,
And swallow thame, boith man and wyve ;
Than sall those creaturis forlorne
Warie the hour that thay wer borne,
With mony yamer, yowt, and yell,
Frome tyme thay feill the flammis fell
Apone thare tender bodeis byte ;
Quhose torment salbe infinyte :
The erth sall close, and frome thare sycht
Sall takin be all kynde of lycht.
Thare salbe gowlyng and gretyng,
Bot hope of ony confortyng :
In that inestimabyll pane
Eternallye thay sall remane,
Byrnand in furious flammys rede,
Ever deand, but never be dede ;
That the small minute of one hour
To thame salbe so gret dolour,
Thay sall thynk thay haif done remane
Ane thousand yeir in to that pane.
Allace ! I trimbyll tyll heir tell
The terribyll tormentyng of Hell.
That panefull pytt quho can deplore,
Quhilk mon indure for evermore ?
Than sall those glorifyit creaturis,
With myrth and infinyte plesouris,
Convoyit with joy angelical,
Passe to the Hevin imperiall.
With Christ Jesu, our Soverane Kyng,
In glore eternallye to ryng,
Of man quhilk passis the ingyne
The thousand part for tyll defyne
Allanerlie of the leist plesoure
Preordinat for ane creature.
Than sall ane fyre, as Clerkis sane,
Mak all the hyllis and valeyis plane.
Frome Erth, up to the Hevin impyre,
All beis renewit by that fyre,
Purgeyng all thyng materiall
Under the Hevin imperiall :
Boith erth and water, fyre and air,
Salbe more perfyte maid, and fair,
The quhilkis affore had myxit bene,
Sall than be purifyit and maid clene.
The Erth lyke christall salbe cleir ;
And everilk Planeit in his speir
Sall rest, withouttin more moveyng.
Boith Sterny Hevin and Christellyng,
The first and hiest Hevin movabyll,
Sall stand, but turnyng, firme and stabyll.
The Sonne in to the Orient
Sall stand, and in the Occident
Rest sall the Mone, and be more cleir
Nor now bene Phebus in his speir.
And, als, that lantern of the Hevin
Sall gyf more lycht, by greis sevin,
Nor it gave sen the Warld began.
The Hevin renewit salbe than ;
Rycht so the Erth, with sic devyse,
Compair tyll hevinlye Paradyse.
So Hevin and Erth salbe all one,
As menith the Apostill Johne.
The gret Sey sall no more appeir,
Bot lyke the christall pure and cleir,
Passing imaginatioun
Of man to mak narratioun,
Of glore, quhilk God haith done prepair
Tyll every one that cummis thare,
The quhilk with eiris, not with eine
Of man, may nocht be hard nor sene.
With hart it is unthynkabyll,
And with toungis inpronunciabyll ;
Quhose plesouris salbe so perfyte,
Haveyng in God so gret delyte,
The space now of one thousand yeir,
That tyme sall nocht one hour appeir ;
Quhilk can nocht comprehendit be,
Tyll we that plesand sycht shall se.
Quhen Paull wes revyst, in the spreit,
Tyll the thrid Hevin, of glore repleit,
He sayith, the secretis quhilk he saw
Thay wer nocht leifsum for to schaw
To no man on the erth leveand :
Quharefor, preis nocht tyll understand,
Quhowbeit thareto thow haif desyre,
The secretis of the Hevin impyre.
The more men lukis on Phebus brycht,
The more febyll salbe thare sycht :
Rycht so, latt no man sett thare cure
To sers the heych Divyne nature :
The more men studye, I suppose,
Salbe the more frome thare purpose.
To knaw quhareto sulde men intend,
Quhilk Angellis can nocht comprehend ?
Bot, efter this gret Jugement,
All thyng tyll us salbe patent.
Latt us, with Paull our mynde addres,
He, beand full of hevinlynes,
Full humilye he techeit us,
Nocht for to be too curious
Quhowbeit men of gret ingyne
To seik the heych secretis divyne,
Quhose jugementis ar unsercheabyll,
And strange wayis investigabyll,
That is to say, past out fynding,
Of quhome no man may fynd endyng.
It sufficeth us for tyll implore
Greit God, to bryng us to that glore !

OF CERTANE PLESOURIS OF THE GLORYFEIT BODEIS.

EXPERIENCE.
Sen thare is none, in erth, may comprehend
The Hevinlye glore and plesouris infinyte,
Quhairfor, my Sone, I pray thee not pretend
Ouer far to seik that maner of delyte
Quhilk passit naturall reasoun to indyte,
That God, affore that He the Warld creat,
Preparit to thame quhilk ar predestinat.

All mortall men salbe maid immortall,
That is to say, never to dé agane,
Impassabyll, and so celestiall
That fyre nor swerd may do to thame no pane ;
Nor hete, nor cald, nor frost, nor wynd, nor rane,
Thocht sic thyng wer, may do to thame no deir.
Those creaturis, rycht so, salbe als cleir

As flammand Phebus in his mansioun :
Considder than, gyf thare salbe gret lycht,
Quhen every one in to that regioun
Sall schyne lyke to the Sonne, and be als brycht ;
Lat us, with Paull, desyre to se that sycht :
To be dissolvit Paull had a gret desyre,
With' Christ to be in tyll the Hevin impyre.

And, more attour, as Clerkis can discryve,
Thare marvellous myrthis beis incomparabyll :
Amang the rest, in all thare wyttis fyve
Thay sall have sensuall plesouris delectabyll.
The hevinlye sound, quhilk salbe innarrabyll,
In thare eris continuallye sall ryng.
And, als, the sycht of Christ Jesus, our Kyng.

In his tryumphant throne Imperiall,
With his Mother, the Virgene Quene of quenis,
Thare salbe sene : the Court Celestiall,
Apostolis, Martyris, Confessouris, and Virgenis,
Brychtar than Phebus in his speir that schynis,
The Patriarkis, and Prophetis venerabyll,
Thare salbe sene, with glore inestimabyll.

And with thare Spirituall Eis, salbe sene
That sycht quhilk bene most superexcelland,
God, as he is and evermore hes bene.
Continuallye that sycht contempland,
Augustyne sayis, he had lever tak on hand
To be in Hell, he seying the essence
Of God, nor be in Hevin but his presence.

Quho seis God in his divynitie,
He seis, in hym all uther plesand thyngis,
The quhilk with toung can nocht pronuncit be.
Quhat plesour bene to se that Kyng of Kyngis !
The gretest pane the dampnit folk doun thryngis,
And, to the Devyllis, the most punytioun,
It is of God to want fruitioun.

And mairattour, thay sall feill sic ane smell
Surmountyng far the fleure of erthly flouris,
And, in thare mouth, ane taist, as I heir tell,
Of sweit and supernaturall sapouris ;
Als thay sall se the hevinlye brycht colowris
Schynyng amang those creaturis divyne.
Quhilk tyll discryve transcendith mannis ingyne.

And als, thay sall haif sic agilitie,
In one instant to passe, for thare plesour,
Ten thousand mylis in twynkling of one E :
So thare joyis salbe without mesour.
Thay sall rejois to se the gret dolour
Of dampnit folk in hell, and thare torment ;
Because of God it is the juste jugement.

Subtellytie thay sall have marvellouslye :
Supponyng that thare wer ane wall of bras.
One glorifeit body may rycht haistellye
Out throw that wall without impediment, pas,
Siclyke as doith the sonne beime throw the glas ;
As Christ tyll his Disciplis did appeir,
All entres clois, and none of thame did steir.

Quhowbeit, in Hevin, thocht everilk creature
Have nocht alyke felicitie, nor glore,
Yitt everilk one sall haif so gret plesure,
And so content, thay sall desyre no more :
To have more joye thay sall no way implore ;
Bot thay salbe all satysfeit and content,
Lyke to this rude exempyll subsequent.

Tak ane crowat, one pynt stope, and one quart,
One gallon pitchair, one punsioun, aud one tun,
Of wyne, or balme ; gyf everilk one thare part,
And fyll thame full, tyll that thay be ouir run :
The lytill crowat, in comparisoun,
Salbe so full, that it may hald no more
Of sic misouris, thocht thare be twenty score.

In to the tun, or in the punsioun,
So all those vesschellis, in one qualitie,
May hald no more, without thay be ouir run :
Yitt haif thay nocht alyke in quantitie :
So, be this rude exempyll, thow may se,
Thocht everilk one be nocht alyke in glore,
Ar satysfeit so that thay desyre no more.

Thocht presentlye, be Goddis proviance,
Beistis, fowlis, and fyschis in the seis,
Ar necessar, now, for mannis sustenance,
With cornis, herbis, flowris, and fructfull treis,
Than sall thare be non sic commoditeis :
The Erth sall beir no plant, nor beist brutall,
Bot, as the Hevinnis, brycht lyke burall.

Suppone sum be on erth, walkand heir doun,
Or heycht abone, quhare ever thay pleis to go,
Of God thay have, ay, cleir fruitioun,
Boith, Est, or West, up, doun, or to or fro.
Clerkis declaris plesouris mony mo,
Quhilk dois transcend al mortal mennis ingyne
The thousand part of those plesouris divyne.

In to the Hevin thay sall perfytlie knaw
Thare tender freindis, thare father, and thare mother,
Thare predecessouris quhilkis thay never saw,
Thare spousis, bairnis, syster, and thare brother ;
And everilk one sall have sic lufe tyll uther,
Of utheris glore and joy thay sall rejoyse,
As of thare awin, as Clerkis doith suppose.

Than salbe sene that brycht Jerusalame
Quhilk Johne saw, in his Revelatione.
We mortall men, allace ! ar far to blame,
That wyll nocht haif consideratione,
And one continuall contemplatione,
With hote desyre to cum on to that glore,
Quhilk plesour sall indure for ever more.

O Lorde, our God and Kyng Omnipotent,
Quhilk knew, or thow the hevin and erth creat,
Quho wald to thee be inobedient,
And so disarve for to be reprobat,
Thou knew the noumer of predestinat,
Quhome thow did call, and hes thame justifeit,
And sall, in Hevin, with thee be glorifeit.

Grant us to be, Lorde ! of that chosin sort
Quhome, of thy mercy superexcellent,
Did purifie, as Scripture doith report,
With the blude of that holy Innocent,
Jesu, quhilk maid hym self obedient
On to the deth, and stervit on the Rude :
Latt us, O Lord ! be purgit with that blude.

All creature that ever God creat,
As wryttis Paull, thay wys to se that day
Quhen the childryng of God, predestinat,
Sall do appeir in thare new fresche array ;
Quhen corruptioun beis clengit clene away,
And changeit beis thare mortall qualitie
In the gret glore of immortalitie.

And, moreattour, all dede thyngis corporall,
Onder the concave of the Hevin impyre,
That now to laubour subject ar, and thrall,
Sone, mone, and sterris, erth, walter, air, and fyre,
In one maneir thay have ane hote desyre,
Wissing that day, that thay may be at rest,
As Erasmus exponis manifest.

We sé the gret Globe of the Firmament
Continuallie in moveyng marvellous ;
The sevin Planetis, contrary thare intent,
Ar reft about, with course contrarious ;
The wynd, and see, with stormys furious,
The trublit air, with frostis, snaw, and rane,
Unto that day thay travell ever in pane.

And all the Angellis of the Ordouris Nyne,
Haveand compassioun of our misereis,
Thay wys efter that day, and to that fyne,
To sé us freed frome our infirmiteis,
And clengit frome thir gret calamiteis
And trublous lyfe, quhilk never sall have end
On to that day, I mak it to thee kend.