II.

HIGH up for zou is ordaind a Place,

Abune all Saints in great Solace,

In Happyness and Dignity,

Tailziors and Soutars blift be ze,

III.

THE Caufe to you is not unkend,

Natures Negic&t ye do amend,

Be Craft and great Agility,

Tailziors and Soutars blist be ze.

IV.

SOUTARS with Schune weil made and meit,

Ze mend the Faults of illfard Feit,

Quherfore to Heaven zour Sauls will flie, Soutars and Tailziors blist be ze.

V.

THERIS Bot in this Fair a Flyrock,
That has upon his Feit a Wyrock,
Knoul Taes, or Mouls in nae Degre,
But ze can hyde them, blist be ze.

AND Tailziors ze with weil made Clais,
Can mend the wart made Man that gaes,
And mak him feimly lyke to fee,

Tailziors and Soutars blift beze.

VII.

THOCHT ane fuld haif a broken Back,
Haif he a Tailzior gude, quhat-rak,

Heill cover it richt carftely,

Tailziors and Soutars blist be ze.

VIII.

Of all great Kindes may ze claim,
The cruke Backs, and the Criple, Lame,
Ay howdrand Faults with zour fuplic,
Tailziors and Soutars blist be ze.

IX.

IN Eard ze kyth fic Ferlys heir,
In Heavin ze fall be Saints full cleir,
Tho' ze be Knaves in this Countrie.
Soutars and Tailziors blist be ze,

Quod DUNBAR.

The Lovers Mane that dares not

affay.

Q

I.

UHEN Flora had owrfrett the Firth,

In May of ilka Moneth Quene,

Quhen Merle and Mavis fings with Mirth,
Sweit Melling in the Schaws fae fchene,
When Luvers all rejosit bene,

And mailt difyrous of thair Prey,
I hard a lufty Lover mene,

I luve, but I dare not assay!

II.

STRANG ar the Pains I daylie pruve,

But zit with Patience I sustene,

I am fae fettert in the Luve,

Only of my fweit Lady fchene,
Quhilk for her Bewtie micht be Quene,
Nature fae craftily alway,

Has done depaint that fweit Serene,

Quhom I luve, and dare not assay.

SCHо is fae bricht of Hyd and Hew,

I love but hir allone I wene,

Is nane hir Luve that may efchew,
That blenks fae of that dulce Amene ;
Sae comelie cleir ar bir twa Ene,
That scho mae Luvers does effrey,

Then eir of Greice did fair Helene,
Quhome I luve, and dare not affay.

Quod STEWART.

Ane litle Interlude of the Droichs.

1.

IRRY, hary, hobbilschow,

H"

Se ze not quha is cum now,

But zit wate I nevir how,

Brocht with the Quhirl-wind;
A Sargeand out of Soudoun Land,
A Gyane ftrang in Limbs to ftand,
That with the ftrength of my awin Hand

May Bairs and Bugles bind,

II.

QUHA is then cum heir, but I
A bauld and bowfteous Bellomy,
Amang zou all to cry a Cry

With a maist michty Soun ?

I generit am of Gyans kynd,
Frae hardy Hercules be Strynd,
Of all the Occident and Ynd,

My Elders woir the Croun,