Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE DANCE OF THE SEVIN DEIDLY SYNNIS, by WILLIAM DUNBAR Poem Explanation Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Off februar the fyiftene nycht Last Line: He smorit thame with smuke. Subject(s): Evil | ||||||||
Off Februar the fyiftene nycht, Full lang befoir the dayis Iycht, I lay in till a trance; And than I saw baith Hevin and Hell: Me thocht, amangis the feyndis fell, Mahoun gart cry ane Dance Off Schrewis that were nevir schrevin, Aganis the feist of Fasternis evin To mak thair observance; He bad gallandis ga graith a gyiss And kast up gamountis in the Skyiss As varlotis dois in France. * * * Heilie Harlottis on hawtane wyiss Come in with mony sindrie gyiss, Bot yit luche nevir Mahoun, Quhill preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis, Than all the Feyndis lewche, and made gekkis, Blak-belly and Bawsy Broun. * * * Lat se, quoth he, now quha begynnis, With that the fowll Sevin Deidly synnis Begowth to leip at anis. And first of all in Dance was Pryd, With hair wyld bak, and bonet on syd, Lyk to mak vaistie wanis; And round abowt him, as a quheill, Hang all in rumpillis to the heill His kethat for the nanis: Mony prowd trumpour with him trippit Throw skaldand fyre, ay as thay skippit Thay gyrnd with hyddous granis. Than Yre come in with sturt and stryfe; His hand wes ay upoun his knyfe, He brandeist lyk a beir: Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris, Eftir him passit in to pairis, All bodin in feir of weir In jakkis, and scryppis and bonettis of steill Thair leggis wer chenyeit to the heill, Frawart was their affeir: Sum upoun uder with brandis beft, Sum jagit uthers to the heft With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir. Nixt in the Dance followite Invy, Fild full of feid and fellony, Hid malyce and dispyte. For pryvie hatrent that tratour trymlit; Him followit mony freik dissymlit With fenyeit wordis quhyte: And flattereris in to menis facis; And bak-byttaris in secreit placis, To ley that had delyte; And rownaris of false lesingis, Allace! that courtis of noble kingis Of thame can nevir be quyte. Nixt him in Dans come Cuvatyce Rute of all evill, and grund of vyce, That nevir cowd be content: Catyvis, wrechis, and ockeraris, Hud-pykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris, All with that warlo went: Out of thair throttis thay schot on udder Hett moltin gold, me thocht, a fudder As fyre-flawcht maist fervent; Ay as thay tumit them of schot, Feyndis fild thame new up to the thrott With gold of allkin prent. Syne Sweirnes, at the secound bidding, Come Iyk a sow out of a midding. Full slepy wes his grunyie, Mony sweir bumbard belly huddroun, Mony slute daw, and slepy duddroun, Him servit ay with sounyie. He drew thame furth in till a chenyie And Belliall with a brydill renyie Evir lascht thame on the lunyie: In Dans thay war so slaw of feit, Thay gaif thame in the fyre a heit, And made them quicker of counyie. Than Lichery, that lathly corse, Came berand Iyk a bagit horse, And Ydilness did him leid; Thair wes with him ane ugly sort, And mony stynkand fowll tramort That had in syn bene deid: Quhen they were enterit in the Dance, Thay wer full strenge of countenance, Lyke tortchis byrnand reid, * * * Than the fowll monstir Gluttony Of wame unsasiable and gredy, To Dance he did him dress: Him followit mony fowll drunckart, With can and collep, cop and quart, In sufflet and excess; Full mony a waistless wally-drag, With wamis unweildable, did furth wag, In creische that did incress Drynk! ay thay cryit with many a gaip, The Feyndis gaif thame hait leid to laip Thair leveray wes na less. * * * Na menstrallis playit to thame but dowt, For gle-men thair wer haldin owt, Be day, and eik by nycht: Except a menstrall that slew a man, Swa till his heretage he wan, And enterit by breif of richt. Than cryd Mahoun for a Heleand Padyane: Syne ran a Feynd to feche Makfadyane, Far northwart in a nuke; Be he the Correnoch had done schout, Ersche men so gadderit him abowt, In Hell grit rowme thay tuke; Thae tarmegantis, with tag and tatter, Full lowd in Ersche begowth to clatter And rowp lyk revin and ruke. The Devill sa devt wes with thair yell, That in the depest pot of hell, He smorit thame with smuke. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AGAIN AND AGAIN I HAVE SEEN LIFE'S EVIL by EUGENIO MONTALE PACKING THE HEART by MARY JO BANG ON LADY POLTAGRUE: A PUBLIC PERIL by HILAIRE BELLOC TO A YOUNG AMERICAN THE DAY AFTER THE FALL OF BARCELONA by JOHN CIARDI THE SAINTS OF NEGATIVITY; FOR ERMA POUNDS by NORMAN DUBIE AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS WAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ELECTION DAY, 1984 by CAROLYN KIZER LAMENT FOR THE MAKARIS [WHEN HE WAS SEIK] by WILLIAM DUNBAR |
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