Lament for the makers

William Dunbar
When He Was Sick

I that in health was and gladness
Am troublit now with great sickness
And feblit with informity:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Our pleasance here is all vainglory,
This false world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the fiend is slee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

The state of man does change and vary,
Now sound, now sick, now blithe, now sary,
Now dansand merry, now like to die,
   Timor mortis conturbat me

No state in earth here standis sicker;
As with the wind wavis the wicker,
So wannis the worlds vanity:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Unto the death goes all estates,
Princes, prelates, and potestates,
Baith rich and poor of all degree:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He takis the knightes into the field
Enarmit under helm and shield;
Victor he is at all melee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

That strong unmerciful tyrand
Takis on the mothers breast soukand
The babe full of benignity:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He takis the campion in the stour,
The captain closit in the tower,
The lady in bower full of beauty:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He sparis no lord for his puissance,
Nor clerk for his intelligence;
His awful stroke may no man flee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Art magicians and astrologgis,
Rethoris, loggicians, and theologgis,
Them helps no conclusions slee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

In medicine the most practicianis,
Leechis, surgeons, and physicianis,
Themself fra death may not supplee,
   Timor mortis conturbat me

I see that makers among the lave
Plays here their pageants, syne goes to grave;
Sparit is nocht their facultee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He has done piteously devour
The noble Chaucer of makers flower,
The Monk of Bury, and Gower all three:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

The good Sir Hugh of Iglintoun,
Ettric, Herriot, and Wintoun,
He has taen out of this country:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

That scorpios fell has done infeck
Maister John Clerk, and James Affleck,
Fra ballat making and tragedie:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Holland and Barbour he has berevit;
Alas! that he not with us levit
Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Clerk of Tranent eke he as tane,
That made the anteris of Gawaine;
Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill
Slain with his schour of mortal hail,
Which Patrick Johnstoun might nocht flee:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He has reft Merseir his endite,
That did in love so lively write,
So short, so quick, of sentence high:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

He has tane Rowll of Aberdeen,
And gentil Rowll of Corstorphine;
Two better fellows did no man see:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

In Dunfermline he has tane Broun
With Maister Robert Henrysoun;
Sir John the Ross enbrast has he:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

And he has now tane, last of a',
Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw,
Of whom all wichtis has pitie:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Good Master Walter Kennedy
In point of death lies verily;
Great ruth it were that so should be:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Since he has all my brether tane,
He will nocht let me live alane;
Of force I must his next prey be:
   Timor mortis conturbat me

Since for the death remeid is none,
Best is that we for death dispone,
After our death that live may we:
   Timor mortis conturbat me