Exhortation

Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died  And stranded after a month at sea.  .  .  . There is a pain in my inside.  Why have the Gods afflicted me? Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith!  Wow! I am sick till I cannot see! What is the sense of Religion and Faith :  Look how the Gods have afflicted me!    Pagan  How can the skin of rat or mouse hold  Anything more than a harmless flea?.  .  . The burning plague has taken my household.  Why have my Gods afflicted me? All my kith and kin are deceased,  Though they were as good as good could be, I will out and batter the family priest,  Because my Gods have afflicted me!

Medi/Eval  My privy and well drain into each other  After the custom of Christendie.  .  .  . Fevers and fluxes are wasting my mother.  Why has the Lord afflicted me? The Saints are helpless for all I offer--  So are the clergy I used to fee. Henceforward I keep my cash in my coffer,  Because the Lord has afflicted me.    Material  I run eight hundred hens to the acre  They die by dozens mysteriously.  .  .  . I am more than doubtful concerning my Maker,  Why has the Lord afflicted me? What a return for all my endeavour--  Not to mention the L.  S.  D! I am an atheist now and for ever,  Because this God has afflicted me!

Progressive  Money spent on an Army or Fleet  Is homicidal lunacy.  .  .  . My son has been killed in the Mons retreat,  Why is the Lord afflicting me? Why are murder, pillage and arson  And rape allowed by the Deity? I will write to the Times, deriding our parson  Because my God has afflicted me.    Chorus  We had a kettle: we let it leak:  Our not repairing it made it worse. We haven't had any tea for a week.  .  .  The bottom is out of the Universe!

Conclusion  This was none of the good Lord's pleasure,  For the Spirit He breathed in Man is free; But what comes after is measure for measure,  And not a God that afflicteth thee. As was the sowing so the reaping  Is now and evermore shall be. Thou art delivered to thine own keeping.  Only Thyself hath afflicted thee!

Plague Poetry

15 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by Candia in History, Language, Literature, Poetry, Religion

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

15th century, Dunfermline, fabulist, Makar, Middle Scots, Robert henryson, Scottish poetry, the plague, University of Glasgow, vernacular

Maybe we would take a different perspective on disease and punishment nowadays, but an interesting 15th century perspective, nevertheless…

Photo : Kim Traynor, 2011. Wikipedia.

Ane Prayer for the Pest

by Robert Henryson

O eterne god, of power infinyt,

To quhois hie knawledge na thing is of obscure

That is, or was, or evir salbe, perfyt,

in to thy sicht, quhill that this warld indure;

Haif mercy of us, Indigent and peure;

Thow dois na wrang to puneiss our offens:

O Lord, that is to mankynd haill succure,

Preserve us fra this perrelus pestilens.We the beseik, o Lord of lordis all,

thy eiris inclyne and heir our grit regrait;

We ask remeid of the in generall,

That is of help and comfort desolait;

bot thow with rewth our hairtis recreat,
We ar bot deid but only thy clemens:
We the exhort, on kneis law prostrait,
Preserf us fra this perrellus pestilens.We ar richt glaid thow puneiss our trespass
be ony kind of uthir tribulatioun,
Wer it thy will, o lord of hevin, allaiss,
that we sowld thus be haistely put doun,
and dye as beistis without confessioun,
That nane dar mak with uthir residence.
O blissit Jesu, that woir the thorny croun,
Preserve us frome this perrelus pestilens.Use derth, o lord, or seiknes, and hungir soir,
and slaik thy plaig that is so penetryve.
Thy pepill ar perreist: quha ma remeid thairfoir,
bot thow, o lord, That for thame Lost thy lyve?
Suppoiss our syn be to the pungityve,
Oure deid ma nathing our synnys recompens.
Haif mercy, lord, we ma not with the stryve:
preserve us etc.Haif mercy, lord, haif mercy, hevynis king!
Haif mercy of thy pepill penetent;
Haif mercy of our petouss punissing;
retreit the sentence of thy Just Jugement
Aganis us synnaris, that servis to be schent:
Without mercy, we ma mak no defens.
Thow that, but rewth, upoun the rude was rent,
preserve us frome this perrellus pestilens.Remmember, Lord, how deir thow hes us bocht,
That for us synnaris sched thy pretius blude,

Now to redeme that thow hes maid of nocht,
That is of vertew barrane and denude;
Haif rewth, Lord, of thyne awin symilitude;
Puneiss with pety and nocht with violens.
We knaw it is for our Ingratitude
That we ar puneist with this pestilens.

Thow grant us grace for till amend our miss,
And till evaid this crewall suddane deid;
We knaw our syn is all the cause of thiss,
for oppin syn thair is set no remeid.
The Justice of god mon puneiss than bot dreid,
for by the law he will with non dispens:
quhair Justice laikis thair is Eternall feid,
of god that sowld preserf fra pestilens.

Bot wald the heiddismen that sowld keip the law
Pueneiss the peple for thair transgressioun,
Thair wald na deid the peple than owrthraw:
bot thay ar gevin so planely till oppressioun,
That god will not heir thair intercessioun;
bot all ar puneist for thair Innobediens
be sword or deid withowttin remissioun,
And hes Just cause to send us pestilens.

Superne/ Lucerne/ guberne/ this pestilens,
preserve/ and serve/ that we not sterve thairin.
Declyne/ that pyne/ be thy Devyne prudens.
O trewth/ haif rewth/ lat not our slewth us twin.
Our syt/ full tyt/ wer we contryt/ wald blin.
Dissiver/ did never/ quha evir the besocht.
Send grace/ with space/ and us Imbrace/ fra syn.
Latt nocht be tynt that thow so deir hes bocht.

O prince preclair/ this cair/ cotidiane,
We the exhort/ distort/ it in exyle.
Bot thow remeid/ this deid/ is bot ane trane,
for to dissaif/ the laif/ and thame begyle.
Bot thow sa wyiss/ devyiss to mend this byle
Of this mischief/ quha ma releif/ us ocht
for wrangus win/ bot thow our syn ourfyll?
Latt not be tynt etc.

Sen for our Vyce/ that Justyce/ mon correct,
O king most hie/ now pacifie/ thy feid:
Our syn is huge/ Refuge/ we not suspect;
As thow art Juge/ deluge us of this dreid.
In tyme assent/ or We be schent with deid;
We us repent/ and tyme mispent forthocht:

Thairfoir/ Evirmoir/ be gloir/ to thy godheid
Lat nocht be tynt that thow sa deir hes bocht.