The Exhortatioun to the Lordis
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O Lusty lords, & barrounis yat bene bauld
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That for gude caus ar now assemblit heir
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Pluk up zour harts, lat not zour curage cauld
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And prise ye lord zour capitane in weir.
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Will ze him serve ze neid nocht for to feir,
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The craft, the wit, nor policie of man
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For quhy the Lord will zit zour Baner beir,
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As he hes done sen first this caus began.
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Have ze forzet how that he did us luif,
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That time at leith quhen strangers did persew
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Our enemeis harts ze saw that he did muif
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To cum ouir Tweid us to help and reskew.
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Quhair we and thay; our enemeis ovirthrew
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Making us fre that lang in thrall had bene,
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Syne in this Realme plantit his gospel trew
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but scheding blud, quhilk hes not oft bene sene
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Fra ze began from blude to purge this land
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Thay murtherars thay never durst zow bide
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He gaif hir anis, and put hir in zour hand
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But ony blude, upon Carbarrie syde.
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Syne efter that, quhen lymmers loust the bryde
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He faucht for zow upon the Langsyde hill
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Zour fais wist not in what hoil yame to hyde
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Sum chaist, sum slane, sum tane into zour will.
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He send Moyses to governe zow and gyde
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Zour commounweill to reule and als redres
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quhair throw yis realme but rest did rin & ryde
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To bring the same, to rest and quyetnes.
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His diligence my toung can not expres
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Planting Justice baith in Burgh and land
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Danting rebels, quhilk proudly did transgres,
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His maik rang not, gif yat his dayis had stand.
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Richt prudently the Lord he did provyde
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For zow from tyme, he saw yat he was slane,
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And wald not thorll, zow be without a gyde
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Bot efter Moyses he raist Josua agane.
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Zow to conduct to ye land of Canan
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Mair Fortunat nor Moyses was befoir
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In fairis of weir ane worthy Capitane
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The Gentiles lands to yow for to restoir.
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Thair Parliament of Linlithgow he did stay
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Syne Breichen gat it, baid him not ane blast
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Down was gevin ouir, for feir of weir assay
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Paslay he wan, and now Dunbartane last
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His Capitanis maid all his fais agast,
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Sum tane, sum slane, sum chaist into the se
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Thir deids suld not, with silence be ouir past,
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Bot worthie ar Eternall Memorie.
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Zour Godly caus hes now tane gude succes
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In Ingland lait, I neid it not declair,
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Quhair my lord Chancelar tuik greit besines
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With your gude freind the Clerk of Registair
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Thair travell, wit, nor gudis yai did not spair
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For to uphald the Kings Authoritie,
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In presence of thay strangers that wer thair
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Working for him in his Minoritie.
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Ze do tryumph, albeit that ze be few
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Zour enemeis thay dar zow not ganestand,
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Quhat ze do schaip, ye Lord himself dois sew
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Quhat ze devyse, he wirkis it with his hand.
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Thairfoir mak haist, lat nane be in this land,
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To leif lyke Lords, syne proudly to rebell
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Gar thame baith sweir and subscrive ye band
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Or failzeand this, do with thait levings mell.
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And gif ze dreid, yat sum will aithis ouir haill,
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And will not keip, nor zit observe thair bands
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For startling hald the Kow fast be the taill
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Appoint nane sic but pledgis in zour hands.
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And keip thame sure, sen ze se as it stands
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For cum that tyme that all yat sort desyris,
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Thay wil but dout send zow in uncouth lands
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To seirche and seik, your meit into the myris.
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Sen thair Intent, to zow was never gude
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As be thair deids richt cleirly may be sene
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Gif thame na leif to play with yow buk heid,
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As thay haif done, ay waitand on yair quene.
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Bot puneis all the quhilk ye knaw unclene
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Of outher blude, & quyte yame for yair meids
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And spair all sic will serve his grace serene,
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And had na wyte of nouther of thair deids.
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I wald ye did sum mair at this Conventioun,
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Nor did your fais at thairs thay held at Pace
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Quhat yai did yair, I neid not to mak mentioun
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Bot weill I wait, sum of yame rewis yat race.
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Zit top of wit was borne up throw ye streit,
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This commounweil had stand in better cace
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Had it fallin in his toung fell in his feit.
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Sen God hes put the sword into your hand
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Justice to do alyke to riche and pure,
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Tak heid yairsoir and na wife brek command
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Be circumspect of this your charge and cure
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Gif ye neglect, than God I yow assure
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Will from yat rowme thoill yow to be detrusit
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Planting uthers into that charge ye bure
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And gif yat sword to yame can rychtly us it.
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Be bent yairfoir, and byde not this in blunder,
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Baith the word of God & commounweil avance
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Ze neid na ma bor Gedionis thre hunder
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To quhip your fais or yat get help of France
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Mak to lyke men sen ye haif ordinance,
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Ding draffen doun yat hald quhairin yai pryde yame
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Bring in ye north with bumvart bow & Lance,
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Gif thay rebell with fyre and sword ouir ryde yame
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how & quhat way ye suld appost your bordour
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Maddeis counsall is verray excellent
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Scho did preserive ane gude & godly ordour
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That to performe, had ye bene diligent:
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Hard ye the pure, I wait ye wald lament
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Sa cruelty thay Tyranis dois oppres thame,
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Slaying yameselfis, yair gudis reft and rent
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For feir of God, I pray yow to redres thame.
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Quhat man did hoip of grange now dois appeir
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His cloikit craft of malice dois outspring,
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As in his Proclamatiouns ye may heir
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He dois Rebell and will not serve the King,
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Tratours yai ar, agane yow to maling,
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He being Crownit in lauchfull Parliament,
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Quha dances fastest with him into yat Ring,
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To his Crowning haith sweir & gaif consent.
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Quhen the Regent gaif him that hauld ye saw
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He was the Kingis, & sweir thairtoir to stand,
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Albeit yat now, his grace he will nocht knaw,
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Nor zit Lennox for Regent of this land.
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Zit Robert Hepburne being in his hand
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And saifly enterit within that place,
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He said he was reset by his command
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And send Robert to my Lord Regents grace.
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Quhill yat he gat yat hauld and hous in hand,
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Into this caus he was baith bent and bauld
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Bot fra thyne furth than he gaif ouir yat band
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And in this caus he leit his curage cauld.
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This is the treuth, as trew men to me tauld,
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That samin tyme his maister was on lyve
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He wald not lat him enter in that hauld
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with na servands bot outher four or fyve.
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He hes not onlie suervit fra our actioun
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Bot dowbill murther he dois fortifie
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Desyring bargane of ony of our factioun,
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Of his degre, estait, and qualitie.
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We have nane sic, ye knaw in cumpanie,
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Him for to match, quhilk playit ye dowbil knaif
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For first he slew ane Maister cruellie,
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And syne betraist the last ye may persaif.
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Bot zit I knaw yair is ane hundreth heir
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Of gentillmen, and cum of Royall Race
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On hors or fute, with quhinger sword or speir,
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Dar weill him matche, & meit him face for face
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And preif him fals and Tratour in this cace
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He dar not fecht for this is his refuge,
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He wald compeir at every tyme and place
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Gif that he had ane unspectit Judge.
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And als ye se, he planely dois accuse,
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The Regents grace of cruell Tyrannie
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Aganis his fais quhilk he dois schaw and use
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In casting doun baith place and policie,
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Sen thay misknaw thair Just Authoritie,
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And will not serve, nor zit obey commands
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Ze may be Law subvert thair places hie,
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Syne tak fra thame yair lyvis geir and lands.
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I knaw thir letters ye sand into Dunbartane
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Quhilk dois declair his dowbil deids Inding
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Is only caus, I am baith sure and certane
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Quhilk garris him mak yis boist & manassing.
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Bot yit ye knaw it is ane commoun thing
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For weill I wait ye have sene mony sic,
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Tuiche anis the gaw, & yan the hors wil fling
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Fra tyme ye spur and hit him on the quik.
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It is your hous that maks him be sa bauld,
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Agane baith God and King for to disdane
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Except the Lord be watchman of the hauld,
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The Psalmist sayis thair watching is in vane
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As ye have sene within thir monethis twane,
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Ane greiter strenth ye gat as I record,
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Swa will ye zone, to God gif ye be bane
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And swa commits your wisdomis to the Lord
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