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William Dunbar (Уильям Данбар)


To the King [That I suld be ane Yowllis yald]


Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

Suppois I war ane ald jaid aver,
Schott furth our clewch to squische the clever,
And hed the strenthis of all Strenever,
I wald at Youll be housit and stald:
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

I am ane auld hors, as ye knaw,
That ever in duill dois drug and draw.
Gryt court hors puttis me fra the staw,
To fang the fog be firthe and fald.
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

I heff run lang furth in the field
On pastouris that ar plane and peld.
I mycht be now tein in for eild,
My bekis ar spruning, he and bald.
Schir, lat it never in toune be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

My maine is turned into quhyt,
And thairof ye heff all the wyt.
Quhen uthair hors hed brane to byt,
I gat bot gris, grype giff I wald.
Schir, lat it never in towne be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

I was never dautit into stabell.
My lyff hes bein so miserabell,
My hyd to offer I am abell
For evill schoud strae that I reiv wald.
Schir, lat it never in towne be tald
That I suld be ane Yowllis yald.

And yett, suppois my thrift be thyne,
Gif that I die your aucht within
Lat nevir the soutteris have my skin,
With uglie gumes to be gnawin.
Schir, lat it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

The court hes done my curage cuill
And maid me ane forriddin muill.
Yett to weir trapperis at the Yuill,
I wald be spurrit at everie spald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

Now lufferis cummis with larges lowd.
Quhy sould not palfrayis thane be prowd,
Quhen gillettis wil be schomd and schroud
That riddin ar baith with lord and lawd?
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

Quhen I was young and into ply
And wald cast gammaldis to the sky,
I had beine bocht in realmes by,
Had I consentit to be sauld.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tauld
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

With gentill hors quhen I wald knyp,
Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip.
To colleveris than man I skip
That scabbit ar, hes cruik and cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

Thocht in the stall I be not clappit,
As cursouris that in silk beine trappit,
With ane new hous I wald be happit
Aganis this Crysthinmes for the cald.
Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald
That I sould be ane Yuillis yald.

Respontio Regis

Efter our wrettingis, thesaurer,
Tak in this gray hors, auld Dumbar,
Quhilk in my aucht with service trew
In lyart changeit is his hew.
Gar hows him new aganis this Yuill
And busk him lyk ane bischopis muill,
For with my hand I have indost
To pay quhatevir his trappouris cost.



William Dunbar's other poems:
  1. To the Lord Treasurer [Welcome, my awin lord thesaurair]
  2. None May Assure in This World
  3. The Tretis of the Twa Mariit Women and the Wedo
  4. Of People Hard to Please
  5. On the Resurrection of Christ [Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro]


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