Lament for the Makaris

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 sle;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The stait of man dois chainge 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 wannis this warldis vanitie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Vnto the deth gois all estaitis,
Princis, prelattis, and Potestaitis,
Bayth riche and pure of all degre;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He taikis the knychtis in to the feild,
Enarmit vndir helme and scheild;
Victor he is at all mellie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That strang vnvynsable tirrand
Takis on the muderis breist sowkand
The bab, full of benignitie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He taikis the campioun in the stour,
The captane closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He spairis no lord for his piscence,
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awfull straik may no man fle;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Art magicianis, and astrologis,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologis,
Thame helpis no conclusionis sle;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In medicyne the most practicianis,
Leichis, surrigianis, and phesicianis,
Thame self fra Deth may nocht supple;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

I se that makaris amang the laif
Playis heir thair padyanis, syne gois to graif;
Sparit is nocht thair facultie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He hes done petuouslie devour,
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,
The Munk of Berry, and Gower, all thre;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The gud Schir Hew of Eglintoun,
Ettriik, Heriot, and Wintoun,
He hes tane out of this cuntre;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That skorpioun fell hes done infek
Maister Iohne Clerk, and James Afflek,
Fra ballat making et trigedie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Holland and Barbour he has berevit;
Allace! that he nocht with ws levit
Schir Mungo Lokart of the Lie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane,
That maid the aenteris of Gawane;
Schir Gilbert Hay endit hes he;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.

He hes Blind Hary, and Sandy Traill
Slane with his schour of mortall haill,
Quhilk Patrik Iohnestoun myght nocht fle;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He hes reft Mersar his endite,
That did in luve so lyfly wryte,
So schort, so quick, of sentence hie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.
He hes tane Rowll of Aberdene,
And gentill Rowll of Corstorphyne;
Two bettir fallowis did no man sie;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In Dumfermelyne he hes tane Broun
With Maistir Robert Henrysoun;
Schir Iohne the Ross imbraist hes he;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

And he hes now tane, last of aw,
Gud gentill Stobo et Quintene Schaw,
Of quhome all wichtis hes pitie:
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Gud Maistir Walter Kennedy,
In poyntt of deth lyis verely,
Grit rewth it wer that so suld be;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen he hes all my brether tane,
He will nocht lat me leif allane,
On forss I mon his nixt pray be;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen for the Deth remeid is non,
Best is that we for deth dispone.
Eftir our deth that leif may we;
    Timor Mortis conturbat me.