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Best Famous William Dunbar Poems

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by William Dunbar | |

On the Nativity of Christ

 RORATE coeli desuper! 
 Hevins, distil your balmy schouris! 
For now is risen the bricht day-ster, 
 Fro the rose Mary, flour of flouris: 
 The cleir Sone, quhom no cloud devouris, 
Surmounting Phebus in the Est, 
 Is cumin of his hevinly touris: 
 Et nobis Puer natus est.
Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis, Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir, And all ye hevinly operationis, Ster, planeit, firmament, and spheir, Fire, erd, air, and water cleir, To Him gife loving, most and lest, That come in to so meik maneir; Et nobis Puer natus est.
Synnaris be glad, and penance do, And thank your Maker hairtfully; For he that ye micht nocht come to To you is cumin full humbly Your soulis with his blood to buy And loose you of the fiendis arrest-- And only of his own mercy; Pro nobis Puer natus est.
All clergy do to him inclyne, And bow unto that bairn benyng, And do your observance divyne To him that is of kingis King: Encense his altar, read and sing In holy kirk, with mind degest, Him honouring attour all thing Qui nobis Puer natus est.
Celestial foulis in the air, Sing with your nottis upon hicht, In firthis and in forrestis fair Be myrthful now at all your mycht; For passit is your dully nicht, Aurora has the cloudis perst, The Sone is risen with glaidsum licht, Et nobis Puer natus est.
Now spring up flouris fra the rute, Revert you upward naturaly, In honour of the blissit frute That raiss up fro the rose Mary; Lay out your levis lustily, Fro deid take life now at the lest In wirschip of that Prince worthy Qui nobis Puer natus est.
Sing, hevin imperial, most of hicht! Regions of air mak armony! All fish in flud and fowl of flicht Be mirthful and mak melody! All Gloria in excelsis cry! Heaven, erd, se, man, bird, and best,-- He that is crownit abone the sky Pro nobis Puer natus est!


by William Dunbar | |

To a Lady

 SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness, 
Delytsum lily of everie lustynes, 
 Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear, 
 And everie vertew that is wenit dear, 
Except onlie that ye are mercyless 

Into your garth this day I did persew; 
There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew; 
 Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne, 
 And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene; 
Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew.
I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, Has slain this gentil herb, that I of mene; Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine That I would make to plant his root againe,-- So confortand his levis unto me bene.


by Robert Burns | |

150. Song—Rattlin Roarin Willie

 AS 1 I cam by Crochallan,
 I cannilie keekit ben;
Rattlin’, roarin’ Willie
 Was sittin at yon boord-en’;
Sittin at yon boord-en,
 And amang gude companie;
Rattlin’, roarin’ Willie,
 You’re welcome hame to me!


 Note 1.
William Dunbar, W.
S.
, of the Crochallan Fencibles, a convivial club.
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