The Testament of the Nobill and Vailyeand Squyer William Meldrum of the Bynnis

The holie man Job, ground of pacience,
In his gret trubill trewlie did reporte,
Quhilk I persave now be Experience,
That mennis lyfe in eirth bene wounder short.
My youth is gane, and eild now dois resort ;
My time is gane, I think it bot ane dreame,
Yit efter deith remane sall my gude fame.

I persave shortlie, that I man pay my det,
To me in eirth no place bene permanent :
My hart on it no mair now will I set,
Bot with the help of God omnipotent,
With resolute mind go mak my Testament :
And tak my leif at cuntriemen, and kyn,
And all the warld, and thus I will begyn.

Thrie Lordis to me sall be Executouris.
Lindesayis all thrie in surname of renoun :
Of my Testament thay sall have haill the curis ;
To put my mind till executioun.
That Surname failyeit never to the Croun,
Na mair will thay to me I am richt sure,
Quhilk is the cause that I give thame the cure.

First David Erll of Craufuird wise and wicht,
And Johne Lord Lindesay my maister special,
The thrid sal be ane nobill travellit Knicht,
Quhilk knawis the coistis of feistis funeral :
The wise Sir Walter Lindesay they him call.
Lord of Sanct Johne, and Knicht of Torfichane,
Be sey and land ane vailyeand capitane.

Thocht age hes maid my bodie impotent,
Yit in my hart hie courage doeth precell :
Quhairfoir I leif to God, with gude intent,
My spreit, the quhilk he hes maid immortell ;
Intill his Court perpetuallie to dwell :
And nevir moir to steir furth of that steid
Till Christ descend and judge baith quick and deid.

I yow beseik, my Lordis Executouris,
My geir geve till the nixt of my kynrent :
It is well kend, I never tuik na cures,
Of conquessing of riches nor of rent ;
Dispone as ye think maist expedient :
I never tuik cure of gold more than of glas ;
Without honour, fy ! fy upon riches !

I yow requeist, my freindis ane and all,
And nobill men of quhome I am descendit :
Faill not to be at my feist funerall,
Quhilk throw the warld I traist sal be commendit,
Ye knaw how that my fame I have defendit,
During my life, unto this latter hour,
Quhilk suld to yow be infinite plesour.

First of my bowellis clenge my bodie clene,
Within and out, syne weische it weill with wyne :
Bot honestlie see that nothing be sene,
Syne clois it in an coistlie carvit schryne,
Of cedar treis, or of cyper fyne :
Anoynt my corpis with balme delicious,
With cynamome and spycis precious.

In twa caissis of gold and precious stanis,
Inclois my hart and toung richt craftelie ;
My sepulture syne gar mak for my banis,
Into the tempell of Mars triumphandlie,
Of marvill stanis carvit richt curiouslie ;
Quhairin my kist and banis ye sall clois
In that triumphand tempill to repois.

Mars, Venus, and Mercurius, all thre,
Gave me my natural inclinatiounis ;
Quhilk rang the day of my nativitie,
And sa thair hevinlie constellatiounis
Did me supporte in monie Natiounis ;
Mars maid me hardie like an feirs lyoun,
Quhairthrow I conqueist honour and renoun.

Quho list to knaw the actis bellicall,
Let thame ga reid the Legend of my life ;
Thare sall thai find the deidis martiall,
How I have stand in monie stalwart strife ;
Victoriouslie with speir, sheild, sword, and knife :
Quhairfoir to Mars the god armipotent,
My corps incloisit ye do till him present.

Mak offering of my toung rhetoricall,
Till Mercurius quhilk gaif me eloquence,
In his tempill to hing perpetuall
I can mak him na better recompence ;
For quhen I was brocht to the presence
Of kingis in Scotland, Ingland and in France,
My ornate toung my honour did avance.

To fresche Venus my hart ye sall present,
Quhilk hes to me bene ay comfortabill ;
And in my face sic grace scho did imprent,
All creatures did think me amiabill.
Women to me scho maid sa favorabill :
Wes never Ladie that luikit in my face,
But honestlie I did obtene hir grace.

My freind Sir David Lyndsay of the Mont
Sall put in ordour my Processioun ;
I will that thair pas formest in the front
To beir my penseil ane wicht campioun,
With him ane band of Mars his religioun,
That is to say, in steid of monkis and freiris,
In gude ordour ane thowsand hagbutteris.

Nixt them ane thowsand futemen in ane rout,
With speir and sheild, with buckler, bow and brand,
In ane luferay young stalwart men and stout.
Thridlie in ordour thair sall cum ane band,
Of nobill men, abill to wraik thair harmes,
Thair Capitane with my standard in his hand,
On bairdit hors ane hundreth men of armes.

Amang that band, my baner sal be borne,
Of silver schene, thrie otteris into sabill :
With tabroun, trumpet, clarioun, and horne,
For men of armes very convenabill :
Nixt after thame ane campioun honorabill,
Sall beir my basnet with my funerall,
Syne efter him in ordour triumphall,

My arming sword, my gluifis of plait, and sheild
Borne be ane forsie campioun, or ane knicht,
Quilk did me serve in monie dangerous feild.
Nixt efter him, ane man in armour bricht,
Upon ane jonet or ane cursour wicht :
The quhilk sal be ane man of greit honour,
Upon ane speir to beir my coit armour.

Syne nixt my beir sal cum my corspresent,
My bairdit hors, my harnes, and my speir ;
With sum greit man of my awin kynrent,
As I wes wont on my bodie to beir,
During my time quhen I went to the weir ;
Quhilk sal be offerit with ane gay garment,
To Mars his preist at my interrement.

Duill weidis I think hypocrisie and scorne,
With huidis heklit doun ouirthort thair ene,
With men of armes, my bodie sal be borne,
Into that band see that no blak be sene :
My luferay sal be reid, blew, and grene,
The reid for Mars, the grene for freshe Venus,
The ble, for lufe of god Mercurius.

About my beir, sall ryde ane multitude,
All of ane luiferay of my cullouris thrie ;
Erles, and Lordis, Knichtis, and men of gude ;
Ilk Barroun beirand in his hand on hie,
Ane lawrer branche, insigne of victorie,
Becaus I fled never out of the feild,
Nor yit as presoner unto my fois me yeild.

Agane that day, faill not to warne and call
All men of musick, and of menstrallie ;
About my beir with mirthis musicall,
To dauce and sing with hevinlie harmonie,
Quhais plesand sound redound sall in the sky ;
My spreit I wait sal be with mirth and joy,
Quhairfoir with mirth my corps ye sal convoy.

Thus beand done, and all things reulit richt,
Than plesandlie mak your progressioun,
Quhilk I beleif sal be ane pleasand sicht ;
Se that ye thoill na priest in my processioun.
Without he be of Venus professioun,
Quhairfoir gar warne all Venus chapel clarkis,
Quhilk hes bene most exercit in hir warkis.

With ane Bischop of that religioun,
Solemnitlie gar thame sing my saull mes,
With organe, timpane, trumpet, and clarioun,
To shaw thair musick, dewlie them addres,
I will that day, be heard no hevines :
I will na service of the Requiem,
Bot Alleluya, with melodie and game.

Efter the Evangell, and the Offertour,
Throw all the tempill, gar proclame silence :
Than to the pulpet gar ane Oratour,
Pas up and shaw in oppin audience,
Solempnitlie with ornate eloquence ;
At greit laser, the Legend of my life,
How I have stand in monie stalwart strife.

Quhen he hes reid my buik fra end till end,
And of my life maid trew narratioun ;
All creature I wait will me commend,
And pray to God for my salvatioun ;
Than efter this solempnizatioun,
Of service trew, and all brocht to ane end ;
With gravitie than with my bodie wend.

And clois it up into my sepulture,
Thair to repois till the Greit Judgement ;
The quhilk may not corrupt I yow assure,
Be vertew of the precious oyntment,
Of balme, and uther spyces redolent.
Let not be rung for me, that day, saull knellis
Bot greit cannounis gar them crak for bellis.

Ane thousand hakbuttis gar schute al at anis,
With swesche, talburnis, and trumpettis awfullie ;
Lat never spair the poulder nor the stanis,
Quhais thundring sound redound sall in the sky,
That Mars may heir quhair he triumphandlie
Above Phebus is situate full evin,
Maist awfull god, under the sternie hevin.

And syne hing up above my sepulture,
My bricht harnes, my shield, and als my speir ;
Togidder with my courtlie coit armour.
Quhilk I wes wont upon my bodie beir,
In France, in Ingland, being at the weir ;
My baner, basnet, with my temperall,
As bene the use of feistis funerall.

This beand done, I pray yow tak the pane,
My Epitaphe to writ upon this wyis,
Above my grave, in golden letteris fyne :
The maist invincibill Weiriour heir lyis,
During his time, quhilk wan sic laud and pryis,
That throw the hevinis sprang his noble fame :
Victorious William Meldrum wes his Name

Adew, my Lordis, I may na langer tarie,
My Lord Lindesay, adew abone all uther ;
I pray to God, and to the Virgine Marie,
With your lady to leif lang in the Struther ;
Maister Patrik, with young Normond your brother;
With my ladeis, your sisteris, all adew !
My departing I wait weill ye will rew.

Bot maist of all the fair Ladies of France,
Quhen thai heir tell but dout that I am deid ;
Extreme dolour will change thair countenance,
And for my saik will wear the murning weid ;
Quhen thir novellis dois into Ingland spread,
Of Londoun than the lustie ladies cleir,
Will for my saik mak dule and drerie cheir.

Of Craigfergus my dayis darling adew,
In all Ireland of feminine the flour :
In your querrell twa men of weir I slew,
Quhilk purposit to do yow dishonour ;
Ye suld have bene my spous and paramour,
With rent and riches for my recompence,
Quhilk I refusit throw youth and insolence.

Fair weill ! ye lemant lampis of lustines
Of fair Scotland, adew my Ladies all !
During my youth with ardent besines,
Ye knaw how I was in your service thrall,
Ten thowsand times adew above thame all ;
Sterne of Stratherne, my Ladie Soverane !
For quhome I sched my blud with mekill pane.

Yit wald my Ladie luke at evin and morrow
On my legend at length scho wald not mis,
How for hir saik I sufferit mekill sorrow,
Yit give I micht at this time get my wis,
Of hir sweit mouth, deir God, I had ane kis ;
I wis in vane, allace we will dissever,
I say na mair, Sweit hart, Adew for ever !

Brether in armes, Adew in generall,
For me, I wait your hartis bene full soir ;
All trew companyeounis into speciall,
I say to yow, Adew for evermoir !
Till that we meit agane with God in gloir ;
Sir Curat, now gif me incontinent
My crysme, with the holie Sacrament.

My spreit hartlie I recommend
In manus tuas, Domine :
My hoip to thee is till ascend,
Rex, quia redemisti me ;
Fra syn resurrexisti me ;
Or ellis my saull had bene forlorne :
With sapience docuisti me ;
Blist be the hour that Thow wes borne.