Rough Scan
Orpheus and Eurydice


Orpheus and Eurydice

THE nobilnes and grit magnificens
of prince and lord, quhai list to magnifie,
his ancestre and lineall discens
Suld first extoll, and his genolegie,
So that his harte he mycht inclyne thairby
The moir to vertew and to worthiness,
herand reherss his elderis gentilness.

It is contrair the Lawis of nature
A gentill man to be degenerat,
Nocht following of his progenitour
The worthe rewll, and the lordly estait;
A ryall rynk for to be rusticat
Is bot a monsture in comparesoun,
had in dispyt and full derisioun.

I say this be the grit lordis of grew,
Quhich set thair hairt, and all thair haill curage,
Thair faderis steppis Justly to persew,
Eiking the wirschep of thair he lenage;
The anseane and sadwyse men of age
Wer tendouris to yung and Insolent,
To mak thame in all vertewis excellent.

Lyk as a strand, or watter of a spring,
haldis the sapour of the fontell well,
So did in grece ilk Lord and worthy king,
of forbearis thay tuk knawlege and smell,
Among the quhilk of ane I think to tell;
Bot first his gentill generatioun
I sall reherss, with your correctioun.

Upone the mont of elecone,
The most famouss of all arrabea,
A goddes dwelt, excellent in bewte,
gentill of blude, callit memoria;
Quhilk Jupiter that goddess to wyfe can ta,
And carnaly hir knew, and eftir syne,
apone a day bare him fair dochteris nyne.

The first in grew wes callit euterpe,
In our language gud delectatioun;
The secound maid clippit melpomyne,
As hony sueit in modelatioun;
Thersycorc is gud instructioun
of every thing-the thrid sister, I wiss,
Thus out of grew in latyne translait Is.

Caliope, that madin mervalouss,
The ferd sistir, of all musik maistress,
and mother to the king schir orpheouss,
quhilk throw his wyfe wes efter king of traiss;
Clio, the fyift, that now is a goddess,
In Latyne callit meditatioun,
of everything that hes creatioun.

The sext sister is callit herato,
quhilk drawis lyk to lyk in every thing;
The sevint lady was fair polimio,
quhilk cowth a thowsand sangis sueitly sing;
Talia syne, quhilk can our saulis bring
In profound wit and grit agilite,
Till undirstand and haif capacitie.

Urania, the nynt and last of all,
In greik langage, quha cowth it rycht expound,
Is callit armony celestiall,
Reiosing men with melody and sound.
Amang thir nyne calliope wes cround,
And maid a quene be michty god phebuss,
off quhome he gat this prince schir orpheouss.

No wondir wes thocht he wes fair and wyse,
gentill and gud, full of liberalitie,
his fader god, and his progenetryse
a goddess, finder of all armony:
quhen he wes borne scho set him on hir kne,
and gart him souk of hir twa paupis quhyte
The sueit lecour of all musik perfyte.

Incressand sone to manheid up he drew,
off statur large, and frely fair of face;
[H]Is noble fame so far it sprang and grew,
Till at the last t[h]e michty quene of trace,
excelland fair, haboundand in richess,
a message send unto that prince so ying,
Requyrand him to wed hir and be king.

Euridices this lady had to name;
and quhene scho saw this prince so glorius,
hir erand to propone scho thocht no schame,
with wordis sueit, and blenkis amorouss,
Said, 'welcum, Lord and lufe, schir orpheuss,
In this provynce ye salbe king and lord!'
Thay kissit syne, and thus thay can accord.

Betuix orpheuss and fair erudices,
fra thai wer weddit, on fra day to day
The low of lufe cowth kyndill and incress,
with mirth, and blythness, solace and with play
off wardly Joy; allace, quhat sall I say?
Lyk till a flour that plesandly will spring,
quhilk fadis sone, and endis with murnyng.

I say this be erudices the quene,
quhilk walkit furth in to a may mornyng,
Bot with a madyn, untill a medow grene,
To tak the air, and se the flouris spring;
quhair in a schaw, neir by this lady ying,
a busteouss hird callit arresteuss,
kepand his beistis, Lay undir a buss.

And quhen he saw this Lady solitar,
bairfut, with schankis quhyter than the snaw,
preckit with lust, he thocht withoutin mair
hir till oppress, and to his cave hir draw:
Dreidand for evill scho fled, quhen scho him saw;
and as scho ran, all bairfute on a buss
Scho strampit on a serpent vennemuss.

This crewall venome wes so penetrife,
As natur is of [all] mortall pusoun,
I[n] peisis small this quenis harte can rife,
and scho annone fell on a deidly swoun:
Seand this caiss, proserpyne maid hir boun,
quhilk clepit is the goddes infernall,
ontill hir court this gentill quene can call.

And quhen scho vaneist was and unwisible,
hir madyn wepit with a wofull cheir,
cryand with mony schowt and voce terrible,
quhill at the last king orpheus can heir,
and of hir cry the causs sone cowth he speir.
Scho said, 'allace! euridicess, your quene,
Is with the phary tane befoir my Ene.'

This noble king inflammit all in yre,
and rampand as a Lyoun rewanuss,
With awfull Luke, and Ene glowand as fyre,
spend the maner, and the maid said thuss:
'Scho strampit on a serpent venernuss,
and fell on swoun; with that the queue of fary
clawcht hir upsone, and furth with hir cowth cary.'

Quhen scho had said, the king sichit full soir,
his hairt neir brist for verry dule and wo;
half out of mynd, he maid no tary moir,
bot tuk his harp, and on to wod cowth go,
wrinkand his handis, walkand to and fro,
quhill he mycht stand, syne sat doun on a stone,
and till his harp thussgait [he] maid his mone.

[_The Complaint of Orpheus_]

'O dulful herp, with mony dully string,
turne all thy mirth and musik in murning,
and seiss of all thy sutell songis sueit;
now weip with me, thy lord and cairfull King,
quhilk lossit hes in erd all his lyking;
and all thy game thow change in gole, and greit,
Thy goldin pynnis with mony teiris weit;
and all my pane for till report thow preiss,
cryand with me, in every steid and streit,
"quhair art thow gone, my luve ewridicess?"

Him to reioss yit playit he a spring,
quhill that the fowlis of the wid can sing,
and treis dansit with thair levis grene,
him to devod from his grit womenting;
Bot all in vane, that wailyeit no thing,
his hairt wes so upoun his lusty quene;
The bludy teiris sprang out of his ene,
Thair wes no solace mycht his sobbing sess,
bot cryit ay, with cairis cauld and kene,
'quhair art thow gone, my lufe euridicess?'

'Fair weill my place, fair weill plesandis and play,
and wylcum woddis wyld and wilsum way,
my wicket werd in wildirness to ware;
my rob ryell, and all my riche array,
changit salbe in rude russet and gray,
my dyademe in till a hate of hair;
my bed salbe with bever, brok, and bair,
in buskis bene with mony busteouss bess,
withowttin song, sayand with siching sair,
"quhair art thow gone, my luve euridicess?"

'I the beseik, my fair fadir phebuss,
Haif pety of thy awin sone orpheuss;
wait thow nocht weill I am thy sone and chyld?
now heir my plaint, peinfull and peteuss;
Direk me fro this deid so doloruss,
Quhilk gois thus withouttin gilt begyld;
Lat nocht thy face with cluddis to be oursyld;
Len me thy lycht, and lat me nocht go leiss,
To find that fair in fame that was nevir fyld,
My lady quene and lufe, euridices.

'O Jupiter, thow god celestiall,
and grantschir to my self, on the I call
To mend my murning and my drery mone;
Thow gif me forss, that [I] nocht fant nor fall,
Till I hir fynd; forsuth seik hir I sall,
and nowthir stint nor stand for stok nor stone.
Throw thy godheid grant me quhair scho is gone,
gar his appeir, and put my hairt in pess.'
King orpheuss thus, with his harp allone,
Soir weipand for his wyfe euridices.

Quhen endit wer thir songis lamentable,
he tuk his harp and on his breist can hing,
Syne passit to the hevin, as sayis the fable,
To seik his wyfe, bot that welyeid no thing:
By wedlingis streit he went but tareing,
Syne come doun throw the speir of saturne ald,
Quhilk fair is to all the stormis cald.

Quhen scho wes socht outhrow that cauld regioun,
Till Jupiter his grandschir can he wend,
quhilk rewit soir his Lamentatioun,
and gart his spheir be socht fro end to end;
Scho was nocht thair; and doun he can descend
Till mars, the god of battell and of stryfe,
and socht his spheir, yit gat he nocht his wyfe.

Than went he doun till his fadir phebus,
god of the sone, with bemis brycht and cleir;
bot quhen he saw his awin sone orpheuss
In sic a plicht, that changit all his cheir,
and gart annone ga seik throw all his spheir;
bot all in vane, his lady come nocht thair:
he tuk his leif and to venus can fair.

Quhen he hir saw, he knelit and said thuss:
'wait ye nocht weill I am your awin trew knycht?
In luve none leler than schir orpheuss;
And ye of luve goddass, and most of micht,
of my lady help me to get a sicht.'
'fforsur,' quod scho, 'ye mone seik nedirmair.'
Than fra venus he tuk his leif but mair.

Till mercury but tary is he gone,
quhilk callit is the god of eloquens,
bot of his wyfe thair gat he knawlege none.
with wofull hairt he passit doun frome thens;
on to the mone he maid no residens:
Thus from the hevin he went onto the erd,
Yit be the way sum melody he lerd.

In his passage amang the planeitis all,
he hard a hevinly melody and sound,
passing all instrumentis musicall,
causit be rollyn of the speiris round;
Quhilk armony of all this mappamound,
Quhilk moving seiss unyt perpetuall,
Quhilk of this warld pluto the saule can call.

Thair leirit he tonis proportionat,
as duplare, triplare, and emetricus,
enolius, and eik the quadruplait,
Epoddeus rycht hard and curius;
off all thir sex, sueit and delicius,
rycht consonant fyfe hevinly symphonyss
componyt ar, as clerkis can devyse.

ffirst diatesserone, full sueit, I wiss
And dyapasone, semple and dowplait,
And dyapenty, componyt with the dyss;
Thir makis fyve of thre multiplicat:
This mirry musik and mellefluat,
Compleit and full of nummeris od and evin,
Is causit be the moving of the hevin.

Off sic musik to wryt I do bot doit,
Thairfoir of this mater a stray I lay,
For in my lyfe I cowth nevir sing a noit;
bot I will tell how orpheus tuk the way,
To seik his wyfe attour the gravis gray,
hungry and cauld, with mony wilsum wone,
Withouttin gyd, he and his harp allone.

he passit furth the space of twenty dayis,
fer and full fer, and ferrer than I can tell,
and ay he fand streitis and reddy wayis;
Till at the last unto the yet of hell
he come, and thair he fand a porter fell,
with thre heidis, wes callit serberus,
a hound of hell, a monstour mervellus.

Than orpheus began to be agast,
Quhen he beheld that ugly hellis hound;
he tuk his harp and on it playit fast,
Till at the last, throw sueitnes of the sound,
This dog slepit and fell doun on the ground;
Than orpheus attour his wame install,
and neddirmair he went, as ye heir sall.

He passit furth ontill a ryvir deip,
our it a brig, and on it sisteris thre,
quhilk had the entre of the brig to keip,
Electo, mygra, and thesaphone,
Turnit a quheill wes ugly for to se,
and on it spred a man hecht exione,
Rolland about rycht windir wo begone.

Than orpheus playd a Joly spring,
The thre susteris full fast thay fell on sleip,
The ugly quheill seisit of hir quhirling;
Thus left wes none the entre for to keip.
Thane exione out of the quheill gan creip,
And stall away; and orpheus annone,
Without stopping, atour the brig is gone.

Nocht far frome thyne he come unto a flude,
Drubly and deip, and rythly doun can rin,
Quhair tantelus nakit full thristy stude,
And yit the wattir yeid aboif his chin;
quhen he gaipit thair wald no drop cum In;
quhen he dowkit the watter wald discend;
Thus gat he nocht his thrist [to slake] no[r] mend.

Befoir his face ane naple hang also,
fast at his mowth upoun a twynid [threid],
quhen he gaipit, It rollit to and fro,
and fled, as it refusit him to feid.
Quhen orpheus thus saw him suffir neid,
he tuk his harp and fast on it can clink:
The wattir stud, and tantalus gat a drink.

Syne our a mure, with thornis thik and scherp,
Wepand allone, a wilsum way he went,
And had nocht bene throw suffrage of his harp,
With fell pikis he had bene schorne and schent;
As he blenkit, besyd him on the bent
he saw lyand speldit a wofull wycht,
nalit full fast, and titius he hecht.

And on his breist thair sat a grisly grip,
quhilk with his bill his belly throw can boir,
both maw, myddret, hart, lever, and trip,
he ruggit out-his panis was the moir.
Quhen orpheus thus saw him suffir soir,
he tuke his herp and maid sueit melody-
The grip is fled, and titius left his cry.

Beyond this mure he fand a feir full streit,
myrk as the nycht, To pass rycht dengerus,
ffor sliddreness skant mycht he hald his feit,
In quhilk thair wes a stynk rycht odiuss,
That gydit him to hiddouss hellis houss,
Quhair rodomantus and proserpina
Wer king and quene; and orpheus in can ga.

O dully place, [and] grundles deip dungeoun,
furness of fyre, anu stink intollerable,
pit of dispair, without remissioun,
Thy meit wennome, Thy drink is pusonable,
Thy grit panis and to compte unnumerable;
Quhat creature cumis to dwell in the
Is ay deand, and nevirmoir sall de.

Thair fand he mony cairfull king and quene,
With croun on heid, with brass full birnand,
quhilk in thair lyfe full maisterfull had bene,
and conquerouris of gold, richess, and land.
hectore of troy, and priame, thair he fand;
and alexander for his wrang conqueist;
antiochus als for his foull incest.

And Julius cesar for his foull crewaltie;
and herod with his brudiris wyfe he saw;
and nero for his grit Iniquitie;
And pilot for his breking of the law;
Syne undir that he lukit, and cowth knaw
Cresus, that king none mychtiar on mold
ffor cuvatyse, yet full of birnand gold.

Thair saw he pharo, for the oppressioun
of godis folk on quhilk the plaigis fell;
and sawll, for the grit abusioun
Was Justice to the folk of Israeli;
Thair saw he acob and quene Jesabell,
Quhilk silly nabot, that wes a propheit trew,
For his wyne yaird withouttin mercy slew.

Thair saw he mony paip and cardynall,
In haly kirk quhilk did abusioun,
and bischopis in thair pontificall,
Be symonie and wrang Intrusioun;
abbottis and all men of religioun,
ffor evill dsponyng of thair place and rent,
In flame of fyze wer bittirly torment.

Syne neddirmair he went quhair pluto was,
and proserpyne, and hiddrwart he drew,
Ay playand on his harp quhair he cowth pass;
Till at the last erudices he knew,
Lene and deidlyk, and peteouss paill of hew,
Rycht warsche and wane, and walluid as the weid,
hir Lilly lyre wes lyk unto the leid.

Quod he, 'my lady leill, and my delyt,
ffull wo is me to se yow changit thus;
quhair is your rude as ross with cheikis quhyte,
your cristell ene with blenkis amorus,
your Lippis reid to kiss delicius?'
quod scho, 'as now I der nocht tell, perfay;
Bot ye sall wit the causs ane uthir day.'

Quod pluto, 'schir, thocht scho be lyk ane elf,
Scho hes no causs to plenye, and for quhy?
Scho fairis alsweill daylie as dois my self,
or king herod for all his chevelry:
It is langour that putis hir in sic ply;
War scho at hame in hir cuntre of trace,
Scho wald rewert full sone in [fax] and face.'

Than orpheus befoir pluto sat doun,
And in his handis quhit his herp can ta,
And playit mony sueit proportioun,
With baiss tonis in Ipotdorica,
With gemilling in yporlerica;
quhill at the last for rewth and grit petie,
Thay weipit soir, that cowth him heir or se.

Than proserpene and pluto bad him ass
his waresoun-And he wald hail rycht nocht
Bot Licience with his wyfe away to pass
To his cuntre, that he so far had socht.
Quod proserpyne, 'sen I hir hiddir brocht,
We sall nocht pairte without conditioun.'
Quod he, 'thairto I mak promissioun.'

'Euridices than be the hand thow tak,
and pass thi way, bot undirneth this pane:
Gife thow turnis or blenkis behind thy bak,
We sall hir haif to hell for evir agane.'
Thocht this was hard, yit orpheus was fane,
and on thay went, talkand of play and sport,
Till thay almost come to the outwart port.

Thus orpheus, with inwart lufe repleit,
So blindit was with grit effectioun,
pensyfe in hart apone his lady sueit,
Remembrit nocht his hard conditioun.
Quhat will ye moir? in schort conclusioun,
he blent bakwart, And pluto come annone,
And on to hell with hir agane is gone.

Allace! it wes grit pety for to heir
of orpheus the weping and the wo,
how his lady, that he had bocht so deir,
Bot for a luk so sone wes tane him fro.
flatlingis he fell, and micht no fordir go,
And Lay a quhyle in swoun arid extasy;
Quhen he ourcome, this out of lufe gan cry:

'Quhat art thow, luve, how sall I the defyne?
Bittir and sueit, crewall and merciable,
plesand to sum, to uthir plent and pyne,
Till sum constant, to uthir wariable;
hard is thy law, thy bandis unbrekable;
Quho sservis the, thocht thay be nevir so trew,
Perchance sum tyme thay sall haif causs to rew.

'Now find I weill this proverb trew,' quod he,
'"hart on the hurd, and handis on the soir;
Quhair Luve gois, on forss mone turne the E."
I am expart, and wo is me thairfoir,
Bot for a Luke my lady is forloir.'
Thus chydand on with luve, our burne and bent,
A wofull wedo hamewart is he went.


Now, wirthy folk, boece, that senatour,
To wryt this fenyeit fable tuk in cure,
In his gay buke of consolatioun,
ffor our doctrene and gud instructioun;
quhilk in the self suppoiss it fenyeid be,
and hid under the cloik of poetre,
Yit maister trivat doctour nicholass,
quhilk in his tyme a noble theologe wass,
Applyis it to gud moralitie,
rycht full of fructe and seriositie.
ffair phebus is the god of sapience;
Caliope, his wyfe, is eloquence;
Thir twa mareit gat orpheus belyfe,
Quhilk callit is the pairte intelletyfe
Off manis saute, and undirstanding fre,
And seperat fra sensualitie.
Euridices is our effectioun,
Be fantesy oft movit up and doun:
Quhile to ressone it castis the delyte,
Quhyle to the flesche it settis the appetyte.
Arestius, this [hird] that cowth persew
Euridices, is nocht bot gud vertew,
That bissy is to keip our myndis clene;
Bot quhen we fle outthrow the medow grene
Fra vertew, till this warldis vane plesans,
myngit with cair and full of variance,
The serpentis stang, that is the deidly syn,
That posownis the saule without and in;
And than is deid, and eik oppressit doun
Till wardly lust, and all our affectioun.
Thane perfyte wisdome weipis wondir soir,
Seand thus gait our appetyte misfair;
And to the hevin he passit up belyfe,
Schawand to us the Lyfe contemplatyfe,
The perfyte wit, and eik the fervent luve
We suld haif allway to the hevin abuve;
Bot seildin thair our appetyte is fundin,
It is so fast within the body bundin;
Thairfoir dounwart we cast our myndis E,
Blindit with lust, and may nocht upwartis fle;
Sould our desyre be socht up in the spheiris,
Quhen it is tedderit in thir warldly breiris,
Quhyle on the flesch, quhyle on this warldis wrak:
And to the hevin full small intent we tak.
Schir orpheus, thow seikis all in vane
Thy wyfe so he; Thairfofr cum doun agane,
And [pas] unto the monster mervellus,
With thre heidis, that we call cerberus,
Quhilk fenyetd is to haif so mony beidis,
For to be takin thre maner of deidis.
The first is in the tendir yong bernage,
The secound deid is in the middill age,
The thrid is in greit eild quhen men ar tane.
Thus cerberus to swelly sparis nane,
Bot quhen our mynd is myngit with sapience,
and plais upoun the herp of eloquence;
That is to say, makis persuasioun
To draw our will and our affectioun,
In every eild, fra syn and fowll delyte,
The dog our sawll na power hes to byte.

The secound monstour[is] ar the sistiris thre,
Electo, migera, and thesaphany,
Ar nocht ellis, in bukis as we reid,
Bot wickit thocht, ill word, and thrawart deid.
Electo is the bolling of the harte,
Mygera the wickit word inwart,
Thesaphony is operatioun,
That makis fynall executioun
In deidly syn; and thir thre turnis ay
The ugly quheill, is nocht ellis to say,
Bot warldly men sumtyme ar cassin he
upone the quheill, in gret prosperitie,
and with a quhirle, onwarly, or thai wait,
ar thrawin doun to pure and law estait.
Off exione that on the qubeill wes spreid,
I sall yow tell of sum pairte, as I haif red:
he was of lyfe brukle and lecherouss,
and in that craft hardy and curaguss,
That he wald luve in to no lawar place
Bot Juno, quene of nature and goddace.
And on a day he went up on the sky,
and socht Juno, thinkand with hir to ly:
Scho saw him cum and knew his foull intent.
a rany clud one fra the firmament
Scho gart discend, and kest betuix thame two;
and in that clud his nature yeid him fro,
off quhilk was generat the sentowriss,
half man, half horss, upoun a ferly wiss.
Thane for the inwart craving and offens
That Juno tuke for his grit violens,
Scho send him doun unto the sistiris thre,
Upone a quheill ay turnyt for to be.
Bot quhen ressoun and perfyte sapience
playis upone the herp of eloquens,
and persuadis our fleschly appetyte
To leif the thocht of this warldly delyte,
Than seissis of our hert the wicket will,
Fra frawart language than the tong is still,
Our synfull deidis fallis doun on sleip,
Thane exione out of the quheill gan creip;
That is to say, the grit solicitud,
Quhyle up, quhyle doun, to win this warldis gud,
seissis furthwith, and our affectioun
waxis quiet in contemplatioun.

THIS tantalus, of quhome I spak of aire,
quhill he levit he was a gay ostlaire,
and on a nycht come travilland thairby
The god of richess, and tuk harbery
with tantalus; and he till his supper
Slew his awin sone that was [him] leif and deir,
Syne in a sew, with spycis soddin weill,
he gart the god eit up his flesche ilk deill.
For this dispyt, quhen he wes deid annone,
Was dampnit in the flud of acherone,
Till suffer hungir, thrist, nakit and cawld,
Rycht wo begone, as I befoir haif tould.
This hungry man and thirsty, tantalus,
Betaknis men gredy and covetouss,
The god of riches that ar ay reddy
For to ressaif, and tak in harbery;
And till him sieth his sone in pecis small,
That is the flesch and blud, with grit travell,
To full the bag, and nevir fund in thair hairt
Upoun thame self to spend, nor tak thair pairte.
Allace, in erd quhair is thair mair foly,
Than for to want, and haif haboundantly,
Till half distress on bed, on bak and burd,
And spair till wyn [of] men of gold a hurd?
And in the nycht sleip soundly thay may nocht,
To gaddir geir so gredy is thair thocht.
Bot quhen [that] ressoun and intelligence
Smytis upoun the herp of conscience,
Schawand to ws quhat perrell on ilk syd
That thai incur quhay will trest or confyd
Into this warldis vane prosperitie,
quhilk hes thir soty properteis thre,
That is to say, gottin with grit Labour,
Keipit with dreid, and tynt with grit dolour.
This grit avariss, be grace quha undirstud,
I trow suld leif thair grit solicitude
off ythand thochtis and he besines
To gaddir gold, [and] syne leif in distres;
Bot he suld eit and drink quhen evir he list
off cuvatyse, to slaik the birnand thrist.
This titius lay nalit on the bent,
And [with] the grip his bowellis revin and rent,
Quhill he levit, he set al his intentioun
To find the craft of divinatioun,
and lyrit it unto the spamen all,
To tell befoir sic thingis as wald befall,
quhat lyfe, quhat deth, quhat destany and werd,
provydit ware unto every man on erd.

Appollo than for this abusioun,
Quhilk is the god of divinatioun,
for he usurpit of his facultie,
put him to hell, and thair remanis he.
Ilk man that heiris this conclusioun
Suld dreid to serss be constillatioun
Thingis to fall undir the firmament,
Till ye or na quhilk ar indefferent,
Without profixit causs and certane,
quhilk nane in erd may knaw bot god allane,
Quhen orpheus upoun his harp can play,
That is our undirstanding for to say,
Cryis, 'o man, recleme thi folich harte,
Will thow be god and tak on the his parte?
To tell thingis to cum that nevir wilbe,
Quhilk god hes kepit in his prevetie?
Thow ma no mair offend to god of micht,
Na with thi spaying reif fra him his richt;'
This perfyte wisdome with his melody
fleyis the spreit of fenyeid profecy,
and drawis upwart our affectioun.
Fra wichcraft, spaying, and sorsery,
and superstitioun of astrology,
Saif allanerly sic maner of thingis
quhilk upoun trew and certane caussis hingis,
The quhilk mone cum to thair caus indure,
On verry forss, and nocht throw avanture,
As is the clippis and the conjunctioun
of sone and mone be calculatioun,
The quhilk ar fundin in trew astronomy,
Be moving of the speiris in the sky;
All thir to speik it may be tollerable,
And none udir quhilk no caussis stable.
This ugly way, this myrk and dully streit,
Is nocht ellis bot blinding of the spreit,

With myrk cluddis and myst of Ignorance,
affetterrit in this warldis vane plesance,
And bissines of temporalite;
To kene the self a styme it may nocht se,
For stammeris on eftir effectioun,
Fra Ill to war ale thus to hale gois doun,
That is wan howp throw lang hanting of syn,
and fowll dispair that mony fallis In.
Than orpheus our ressoun is full wo,
and twichis on his harp and biddis ho,
Till our desyre and fulich appetyte
Bidis leif this waridis full delyte.
Than pluto, god and quene of hellis fyre,
Mone grant to ressoun on forss the desyre.
Than orpheus hes wone euridices,
Quhen our desyre with ressoun makis pess,
And seikis up to contemplatioun,
of syn de[te]stand the abutioun.
Bot ilk man suld be wyse, and warly se
That he bakwart cast nocht his myndis E,
Gifand consent, and delectatioun,
off fleschly lust and for the affectioun;
for thane gois bakwart to the sone agane
our appetyte, as it befoir was slane,
In warldly lust and vane prosperite,
and makis ressoun wedow for to be.

Now pray we god sen our affectioun
Is allway promp and reddy to fall doun,
That he wald undirput his haly hand
of mantenans, and gife us forss to stand
In perfyte luve, as he is glorius.
And thus endis the taill of orpheus.