For first I causde the young king _Constantine_, Of faythlesse _Scots_ and _Pictes_ to make his garde, They by my meanes did kil their kyng in fine, For which, with speede I sent them al to warde, And hangde them al their cause was neuer harde: So I who fyrst did cause them kil their king, To stop their mouthes, them al to death did bring. 12. Where rancor rules, where hatred’s heate is hot, The hurtelesse men with trouble be turmoylde: Where malice may send foorth her cannon shot, There might is right, there reason’s rules are foylde: For ruthful rancor euermore hath boylde With griping griefe: her smuldring smokes of spite Woulde gladly choke al iustice, lawe, and right. 13. So might, not right, did thrust me to the throne, I syxteene yeeres did weare the royal crowne, In al which time with griefe I aye did grone, As on[1191] who felt the fal from high renowne: My noble men deuisde to thrust me downe In al this time, and many did protest, I layde the king in his vntimely chest. 14. At last, my foes my friendes were made, and I Had quiet peace, and liude a happy king: Yea, God who rules the haughtie heauen a hygh, Inricht my realme with foysen of eche thing, Aboundant store did make my people syng: As they of yore were prest with penury, So nowe they hate their great fertilitie. 15. My people had of corne and oyle such store, That country men of tyllage left the toyle, The riche man fed no better then the poore, For all did reape the fatnesse of the soyle, No man for meate nor mony then did toyle, But al reioyce with ioyful iubily, And al were soust with sinful gluttony. 16. As cloudes dissolude fayre _Phœbus_ dooth deface, So plague my plenty dim’d with darke disease: For whilste my realme in ryot ran her race, They playde, not prayed, and did their God displease: For which they drownde in sorrowe’s surging seas, Lyke rotten sheepe by thousands dide so thicke, The deade coulde not be buried by the quicke. 17. When thus the plague my people did oppresse, That fewe were left alyue within my lande, The _Scots_ and _Pictes_, with speede they them addrest,[1192] Knowing their time, they raysde a mightie band, They knewe right soone, howe heere my state did stand: And to reuenge the wrong that earst I wrought, They ment to bring both me and myne to nought. 18.