He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill Slain with his schour of mortal hail, Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nought flee:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. He has reft Merseir his endite, That did in luve so lively write, So short, so quick, of sentence hie:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. He has tane Rowll of Aberdene, And gentill Rowll of Corstorphine; Two better fallowis did no man see:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. anteris] adventures. schour] shower. endite] inditing. fallowis] fellows. In Dunfermline he has tane Broun With Maister Robert Henrysoun; Sir John the Ross enbrast has he:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. And he has now tane, last of a, Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw, Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. Good Maister Walter Kennedy In point of Death lies verily; Great ruth it were that so suld be:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. Sen he has all my brether tane, He will naught let me live alane; Of force I man his next prey be:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. Since for the Death remeid is none, Best is that we for Death dispone, After our death that live may we:-- _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. _21._ wichtis] wights, persons. man] must. dispone] make disposition. ANONYMOUS 15th Cent. _22._ _May in the Green-Wood_ In somer when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long, Hit is full merry in feyre foreste To here the foulys song. _22._ sheyne] bright. To se the dere draw to the dale And leve the hilles hee, And shadow him in the leves grene Under the green-wode tree. Hit befell on Whitsontide Early in a May mornyng, The Sonne up faire can shyne, And the briddis mery can syng. ‘This is a mery mornyng,’ said Litulle Johne, ‘Be Hym that dyed on tre; A more mery man than I am one Lyves not in Christiantè. ‘Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,’ Litulle Johne can say, ‘And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme In a mornynge of May.’ _23._ _Carol_ 15th Cent. I sing of a maiden That is makeles; King of all kings To her son she ches. He came al so still There his mother was, As dew in April That falleth on the grass. _23._ makeles] matchless. ches] chose. He came al so still To his mother’s bour, As dew in April That falleth on the flour. He came al so still There his mother lay, As dew in April That falleth on the spray. Mother and maiden Was never none but she; Well may such a lady Goddes mother be. _24._ _Quia Amore Langueo_ 15th Cent. (?)