EXPLICIT LIBER QUINTUS, ET INCIPIT SEXTUS.
Than passit was wtass off Feuiryher, And part off Marche off rycht degestioune; Apperyd than the last moneth off wer, The syng off somir with his suet sessoun. Be that Wallace off Dundaff maid him boune; 5 His leyff he tuk, and to Gilbank can fair. The rewmour raiss throuch Scotland vp and doune, With Ingliss men, that Wallace leiffand war. In Aperill quhen cleithit is, but weyne, The abill grounde be wyrking off natur, 10 And woddis has won thar worthy weid off greyne. Quhen Nympheus, in beldyn off his bour, With oyle and balm fullfillit off suet odour, Faunis materis, as thai war wount to gang, Walkyn thair courss in euery casuall hour, 15 To glaid the huntar with thair merye sang. In this samyn tyme to him approchit new His lusty payne, the quhilk I spak off ayr, Be luffis cass, he thoucht [for] to persew In Laynryk toune, and thidder he can fayr: 20 At residence a quhill ramaynit thair In hyr presence as I said off befor; Thocht Inglissmen was grewyt at his repayr, Yeit he desyrd the thing that sat him sar. The feyr off wer rewllyt him on sic wiss; 25 Fol. 34 a He likit weyll with that gudlye to be; Quhill wald he think off danger for to ryss, And othir quhill out of hir presens fle. “To cess off wer it war the best for me; “Thus wyn I nocht bot sadnes on all syde. 30 “Sall neuir man this cowartyss in me se, “To wer I will, for chance that may betyd. “Quhat is this luff? it is bot gret myschance, “That me wald bryng fra armess wtterly. “I will nocht loss my worschip for plesance; 35 “In wer I think my tyme till occupy: “Yeit hyr to luff I will nocht lat for thy; “Mor sall I desyr hyr frendschip to reserue, “Fra this day furth than euir befor did I, “In fer off wer quhethir I leiff or sterue.” 40 Quhat suld I say, Wallace was playnly set To luff hyr best in all this warld so wid; Thinkand he suld off his desyr to get; And so befell be concord in a tid, That scho [was] maid at his commaund to bid; 45 And thus began the styntyn off this stryff: Begynnyng band, with graith witnes besyd, Myn auctor sais, scho was his rychtwyss wyff. Now leiff in pees, now leiff in gud concord! Now leyff in blyss, now leiff in haill plesance! 50 For scho be choss has bath hyr luff and lord. He thinkis als, luff did him hye awance, So ewynly held be fauour the ballance, Sen he at will may lap hyr in his armyss. Scho thankit God off hir fre happy chance, 55 For in his tyme he was the flour off armys. Fortoune him schawit hyr fygowrt doubill face, Feyll syss or than he had beyne set abuff: In presoune now, delyuerit now throw grace, Now at vness, now in to rest and ruff; 60 Now weyll at wyll, weyldand his plesand luff, As thocht him selff out off aduersité; Desyring ay his manheid for to pruff, In curage set apon the stagis hye. The werray treuth I can nocht graithly tell, 65 In to this lyff how lang at thai had beyne: Throuch naturall courss off generacioune befell, A child was chewyt thir twa luffaris betuene, Quhilk gudly was, a maydyn brycht and schene; So forthyr furth, be ewyn tyme off hyr age, 70 Fol. 34 b A squier Schaw, as that full weyll was seyne, This lyflat man hyr gat in mariage. Rycht gudly men come off this lady ying. Forthyr as now off hyr I spek no mar. Bot Wallace furth in till his wer can ryng, 75 He mycht nocht cess, gret curage so him bar; Sotheroun to sla for dreid he wald nocht spar, And thai oft syss feill causis till him wrocht, Fra that tyme furth, quhilk mowit [hym sa sar, That neuir in warld out of his mind was brocht.] 80 Now leiff thi myrth, now leiff thi haill plesance; Now leiff thi bliss, now leiff thi childis age; Now leiff thi youth, [now] folow thi hard chance; Now leyff thi lust, now leiff thi mariage; Now leiff thi luff, for thow sall loss a gage 85 Quhilk neuir in erd sall be redemyt agayne; Folow fortoun, and all hir fers owtrage; Go leiff in wer, go leiff in cruell payne. Fy on fortoun, fy on thi frewall quheyll; Fy on thi traist, for her it has no lest; 90 Thow transfigowryt Wallace out off his weill, Quhen he traistyt for till haiff lestyt best. His plesance her till him was bot a gest; Throw thi fers courss, that has na hap to ho, Him thow our threw out off his likand rest, 95 Fra gret plesance, in wer, trawaill, and wo. What is fortoune, quha dryffis the dett so fast? We wait thar is bathe weill and wykit chance. Bot this fals warld, with mony doubill cast, In it is nocht bot werray wariance; 100 It is nothing till hewynly gowernance. Than pray we all to the Makar abow, Quhilk has in hand off justry the ballance, That he vs grant off his der lestand lowe. Her off as now forthyr I spek no mar, 105 Bot to my purposs schortly will I fayr.