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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS [WHEN HE WAS SEIK], by WILLIAM DUNBAR Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I that in heill [or, heal] was and glaidness [or, gladness]. Last Line: Timor mortis conturbat me. Variant Title(s): Dunbar's Lament When He Was Sick;the Fear Of Death Confounds Me;timor Mortis Conturbat Me Subject(s): Death; Holidays; Mourning; New Year; Dead, The; Bereavement | |||
I that in heill wes and glaidness, Am trublit now with gret seikness, And feblit with infirmitie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Our plesance heir is all vane glory This fals Warld is bot transitory The flesche is brukle, the Feynd is sle; Timor Mortis conturbat me. The stait of Man dois change and vary Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary, Now dansand mirry, now like to die; Timor Mortis conturbat me. No Stait in Erd heir standis sicker, As with the wynd wavis the wickir, So wavis this warldis vanite; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Unto the Deid gois all Estaitis Princis, Prellattis, and Potestaitis, Baith riche and puire of all degre; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He takis the knychtis in to feild, Anarmit under helme and scheild, Victour he is at all mellie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. * * * I see that Makaris amang the laif Playis heir thair padyanis, syne gois to graif; Spairit is nocht thair faculte; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes done peteouslie devour The noble Chawcer of makaris flouir The Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thre; Timor Mortis conturbat me. * * * He hes Blind Hary, and Sandy Traill Slaine with his schot of mortall haill Quhilk Patrick Johnestoun mycht nocht fle; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes reft Merseir his endyte, That did in luve so lifly write, So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes tane Roull of Abirdene, And gentil Roull of Corstorphine; Two bettir fallowis did no man se; Timor Mortis conturbat me. In Dumfermelyne he hes tane Brown With Maister Robert Henrisoun Schir Johne the Ross embraist hes he; Timor Mortis conturbat me. And he hes now tane, last of aw, Gud gentill Stobo and Quintyne Schaw Of quhome all wichtis hes petie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Gud Maister Walter Kennedy, In poynt of dede Iyis veraly, Gret reuth it were that so suld be; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Sen he has all my Brether tane, He will nocht lat me leif alane, On forse I mon his nyxt pray be; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Sen for the Deid remeid is non, Best is that we for deid dispone, Eftir our deid that leif may we; Timor Mortis conturbat me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUNGERFIELD by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE MOURNER by LOUISE MOREY BOWMAN HECUBA MOURNS by MARILYN NELSON THERE IS NO GOD BUT by AGHA SHAHID ALI IF I COULD MOURN LIKE A MOURNING DOVE by FRANK BIDART ON THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST by WILLIAM DUNBAR |
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