Alexander Montgomerie

 

Alexander Montgomerie was the descendant of a noble family, and was born at Hazelhead Castle, in the county of Ayr, Scotland. Although he was never granted a knighthood, he was commonly referred to as a Captain. It may therefore be ventured that he was a professional soldier. For much of his life he was a court poet in the service of James VI who succeeded Elizabeth I in 1603, the last Tudor monarch of England and Ireland.

Charles Stuart, King of England, succeeded James I in 1625. His rule was famous for the English Civil War that he lost to Cromwell[1]. In 1649 he acceded “from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown” and England became a commonwealth. A martyr of the people, he was canonized as a saint by the Church of England two years after the death of Cromwell, in 1660. The restoration of the monarchy was legally ceiled in 1649. Alexander Montgomerie, a half- century late, was born one hundred years before on Easter Day in the morning.

26.  CORTOIURIS KYNDNES

 

As Hudsone prowit, alsa I wou’d fynd trew:
Cortiouris kyndnes lasteth bout aquhile!
Quhen guid deids were sped quhy than adew,
To promissit frendschip that passit in exile;
Montgomerie, yow haid met wid a beguile
(Wie howp’d for yow, as ony of the braif)
Haid yow a hilt ye than haid pleyntie of stile,
Yit meid yowrself soune knoune to bie a knaif.

O Captain! Hau thay pleisure didst conceif,
Of all guidwill than found quhat wie forgat:
A pittie humour encurridged Lyndesay’s leif,
And sewit tha friendship ower-ryp is rat.
Althocht, yow haue bene in subiect of sick,
Nochtwithstanding ye wair leid of the rick.

27.  TAIK PAIS IN TYME

Taik pais in tyme an tyme schalt undirtaik;
Thairfor, taik guid cair hawe yowr tyme schuld spend –
Yow haue not howld, to howld hir pite saik,
A payre beffor, asonder botht mocht rend,
Leit thow yow go awaie or sa sho wend,
Yow haue yowr leif and haue yowr loue to maik,
If thow delaie, remembir hau I spaik –
Taik pais in tyme an tyme schalt undirtaik.

Yet I haue reid in poyemes of owld,
That tyme doith waist and wair all thengs a claie,
Than trew bandir that poietis haue tyme-towld,
Sume mete of tyme ‘t wis th’ onlie waie,
Sens I haue heird the poietis poyemes saie,
I lost a loue I souner thoucht to maik;
Els snairie yowr feact followyng delaie –
Taik pais in tyme an tyme schalt undirtaik.

28.  THY ROSIE WISAGE

Howsaevir bonnie yowrself adourn –
I thank yow mocht ta pleiss thay glass.
If thay spruit grau weil than gentil grau thay thourn,
Quhairfor Ayrie blomes widder the chass.

I lyk thay semblaunces mie lass!
Quhethir sa ‘alas!’ Or quhethir sa ‘allaik!’
Luik lang yowr ee yondir flowrie pass,
Sens thay rosie wisage shalt nacht craik.

29.  O CAPTAIN!

Dar nocht Jove stryk yow wi’ his thundir-clap,
Tho’ hie kild yow nocht in midwyfrie hand –
Nar dar Mercure wi’ his scrippit uand
Depryff yow of yowr sences, wight, and schap –
For hevin hendring nocht cou’d proue th’ hap.

Dar nocht hir raith stoppit yowr breth,
Nar yowr muthirs bowellis yowr laist bed –
Nar hir burdin proue ‘t wis delyverie of deth,
Nar chockit yow weil, sa soun ee teris were shed –
Dar nocht quhen Musis to yowr cradill led
Quheir-sa moyt as vestal virginis yow to wrap –
For hevin hendring nocht cou’d proue th’ hap.

Dar nocht thay muthir bout blyth quhen yow wair bairn,
Nar thay Nords gawe yow weilfar to awance –
Say withal yowr birth was Ester-day a morn.
Dar nocht Apollo quho than appeirand to dans,
Gawe nar to yow guid morow nar a glans,
Nar raiss yow in hes gowld chair and lap –
For hevin hendring nocht cou’d proue th’ hap.

Hie makis to yow an Helicon t’ haue –
Than yow wair nowis to the nobilisse-nyn,
Alsswyth goddis a god-bornne gift-gifin,
Ambrosius, braide and hevinlie nectar vyn,
For summarnesse a graue-bed alsswyth fyn –
And hevin hendring nocht cou’d proue th’ hap.

30.  BON POIETIS AIRT

If lose of guidis, if graitest grudge or greif,
If pauperte, impresounment, or peyne,
If guidwill for ingratitude ageyne,
If langwishing in langwre sume relief,
If det, if dolowr, than I saie of chief
Of wanes sa – loues lawbirs loist in weyne –
To poietis propirlie doith apperteyne.

To saire yowr skil, if I haue ony leif,
Yit bene to unknawin patrounis puir regaird,
Quho lyk the best of owr aige to relait
Thais wraithis fownd in natur – aye, bene haird.
To cometh and goith, as feu mocht celebrait –
O Captain! As nocht to maich yow in thay pairt
Quhethir sa perfetlie – I maich bon poietis airt.

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[1] The life of Oliver Cromwell is known to have been 25 April 1599- 3 September1658.