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This lady liftit up his clawis clear,

And let him lightly lean upon her knee, And crownit him with diadem full dear,

Of radiant stones most royal for to see;

Saying, The king of beastis mak I thee,
And the chief protector in woods and shaws;
Unto thy lieges go forth and keep the laws.
Then called she all the flowers that grew in field,

Discerning all their fashions and effeirs; qualitie
Upon the awful Thrissil she beheld,
And saw him kepit with a bush of spears ; guarded

Considering him so able for the weirs,
A radiant crown of rubies she him gave,
And said, In field go forth and find the lave;
Nor hold none other flower in sic denty,

such regard As the fresh Rose, of colour red and white : For if thou do, hurt is thine honesty;

Considering that no flower is so perfyt,

So full of virtue, pleasure, and delight,
So full of blissful angelic beautie,
Imperial birth, honour, and dignity.
Then to the Rose she turned her visage,

And said, O lusty daughter most benign
Above the lily's illustrious lineage,
From the stock royal rising fresh and ying,

young
Without one spot or blemish doing spring :
Come, bloom of joy with genius to be crowned,
For o'er the lave thy beauty is renowned.
Then all the birdis sang with voice on hicht, high

Whose mirthful sound was marvellous to hear ;
The mavis sang : Hail Rose, most rich and right,

That does upflourish under Phoebus' spear;
Hail plant of youth, hail prince's daughter dear,
Hail blossom breaking out of the blood-royal,
Whose precious virtue is imperial.
The merle she sang : Hail Rose of most delight,

Hail of all flowers queen and sovereign :
The lark she sang : Hail Rose, both red and white

Most pleasant flower of mighty colours vain :
The nightingale sang Hail Nature's suffragan,

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In beauty, nurture, and every nobleness,
In rich array, renown, and gentleness.
The common voice uprose of birdis small,

Upon this ways, O blessed be the hour
That thou wast chosen to be our principal :

Welcome to be our princess of honour,

Our pearl, our pleasure, and our lover,
Our peace, our play, our plain felicity-
Christ thee conserve from all adversitie!

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SOVEREIGN, I mean of thir side tails,
Whilk through the d'ist and dubs trails,
Three quarters lang behind their heels,
Express again' all conimonweals.
Though bishops, in their pontificals,
Have men for to bear up their tails,
For dignity of their office ;
Richt so ane queen or ane emprice ;
Howbeit they use sic gravity,
Conformand to their majesty,
Though their robe-royals be upborne,
I think it is ane very scorn,
That every lady of the land
Should have her tail so side trailand ;
Howbeit they been of high estate,
The queen they should not counterfeit.
Wherever they go it may be seen;
How kirk and causay they soop clean.
The images into the kirk
May think of their side tails irk ;
For when the weather been maist fair,
The dust flies highest into the air,
And all their faces does begary,
Gif they could speak, they wald them wary.
But I have maist into despite
Poor claggocks clad in Raploch white,
Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees,
Will have twa ells beneath their knees.

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COSE

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Kittock, that cleckit was yestreen,
The morn, will counterfeit the queen.
In baron nor byre she will not bide,
Without her kirtle tail be side.
In summer, when the streets dries,
They raise the dust aboon the skies;
Nane may gae near them at their ease,
Without they cover mouth and neese.
I think maist pane after ane rain,
To see them tuckit up again ;
Then when they step furth through the street,
Their fauldings flaps about their feet ;
Of tails I will no more indite,
For dread some duddron me despite :
Notwithstanding, I will conclude,
That of side tails can come nae gude,
Sider nor may their ankles hide,
The remanent proceeds of pride,
And pride proceeds of the devil,
Thus alway they proceed of evil.
Ane other fault, sir, may be seen-
They hide their face all bot the een ;
When gentlemen bid them gude-day,
Without reverence they slide away.
Without their faults be soon amended,
My flyting, sir, shall never be ended ;
But wald your grace my counsel tak,
Ane proclamation ye should mak,
Baith through the land and burrowstouns,
To shaw their face and cut their gowns.
Women will say, this is nae bourds,
To write sic vile and filthy words ;
But wald they clenge their filthy tails,
Whilk over the mires and middings trails,
Then should my writing clengit be,
None other mends they get of me.

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SATIRE ON THE THREE ESTATES.

My potent pardons ye may see,
Come frae the Cham of Tartary,

Weel sealed with oyster-shells ;

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