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Robert Henryson (Роберт Хенрисон)

Against Hasty Credence

Fals titlaris now growis up full rank,
Nocht ympit in the stok of cheretie,
Howping at thair lord to gett grit thank
Thay haif no dreid on thair nybouris to lie;
Than sowld ane lord awyse him weill I se
Quhen ony taill is brocht to his presence
Gif it be groundit in to veretie,
Or he thairto gif haistely creddence.
Ane worthy lord sowld wey ane taill wyslie,
The tailltellar, and quhome of it is tald,
Gif it be said for luve or for invy,
And gif the tailisman weill avow it wald;
Than eftirwart the pairteis sowld be cald
For thair excuse, to mak lawfull defence:
Than sowld ane lord the ballance evinly hald
And gif not at the first haistie creddence.
It is no wirschep for ane nobill lord
For fals tailis to put ane trew man doun,
And gevand creddence to the first recoird,
He will not heir his excusatioun;
The tittillaris so in his heir can roun
The innocent may get no awdience:
Ryme as it may, thair is na ressoun,
To gif till taillis hestely creddence.
Thir teltellaris oft tymes dois grit skaith,
And raissis mortall feid and discrepance,
And makis lordis with thair serwandis wreith,
And baneist be withowtin cryme perchance.
It is the grund of stryfe and all distance,
Moir perrellus than ony pestillence,
Ane lord in flatterreris to haif plesance,
Or to gif lyaris hestely creddence.
O thow wyse lord, quhen cumis a flatterrer,
The for to pleis and hurt the innocent,
Will tell ane taill of thy familiar,
Thow sowld the pairteis call incontinent,
And sitt doun sadly in to jugement,
And serche the caus weill, or thow gif sentence,
Or ellis heireftir in cais thow may repent
That thow to tailis gaif so grit creddence.
O wicket tung, sawand dissentioun,
Of fals taillis to tell that will not tyre,
Moir perrellus than ony fell pusoun,
The pane of hell thow sall haif to thi hyre;
Richt swa sall thay that hes joy or desyre
To gife thair eirris to heird with patience,
For of discord it kendillis mony fyre,
Throwch geving talis hestely creddence.
Bakbyttaris to heir it is no bowrd,
For thay ar excommunicat in everie place;
Thre personis severall he slayis with ane wowrd -
Him self, the heirar, and the man saiklace;
Within ane hude he hes ane dowbill face,
Ane bludy tung undir a fair pretence.
I say no moir, bot God grant lordis grace
To gife to taillis nocht hestely creddence.

Robert Henryson's other poems:
  1. The Wolf and the Lamb
  2. Orpheus and Eurydice
  3. The Ressoning betwix Aige and Yowth
  4. The Preaching of the Swallow
  5. The Bludy Serk

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