William Dunbar

Man, pleis thy makar and be mirry,
And sett not by this warld a chirry.

Man, please thy maker and be merry,
And set not by this world a cherry.

William Dunbar (c. 1460 – c. 1520) was a makar or Scottish Chaucerian poet. He was taken as a model by those writers of the Scottish Renaissance who followed Hugh MacDiarmid's slogan "Dunbar – not Burns!"

Quotes

Ay farest faderis hes farrest fowlis.

Aye fairest feathers have the farthest fowls.

• Man, pleis thy makar and be mirry,
  And sett not by this warld a chirry.
  • Man, please thy maker and be merry,
    And set not by this world a cherry.
  • "Of Covetyce"

• My deathe chasis my lyfe so besalie
  That wery is my goist to fle so fast.
  • My death chases my life so busily,
    That weary is my ghost to flee so fast.
  • "To a Lady", line 15

• All wemen of us suld haif honoring,
  Service and luve, aboif all uthir thing.
  • All women of us should have honouring,
    Service and love above all other thing.
  • "In Praise of Women", line 33

• All luve is lost bot upone God allone.
  • All love is lost but upon God alone.
  • "The Merle and the Nightingale", stanza 2

• Ay farest faderis hes farrest fowlis.
  • Aye [always] fairest feathers have the farthest fowls.
  • "Schir, Yit Remimber", line 21

    Compare: Burns, "Here's to thy health my bonie lass", st. 4

• So nixt to simmer, winter bein,
  Nixt eftir comfort, cairis kein,
  Nixt derk midnicht the mirthful morrow;
  Nixt eftir joy ay cumis sorow.
  So is this warld, and ay hes bein.
  • So next to summer, winter will be,
    Next after comfort, cares keen,
    Next dark midnight the mirthful morrow;
    Next after joy aye comes sorrow.
    So is this world, and aye has been.
  • "Of the Changis of Lyfe", st. 4

• 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.
  • "To a Lady"

    rois] rose · wenit] weened, esteemed · garth] garden-close · seyne] see · rew] rue (regret) · mene] mourn, complain

The Lament for the Makars (c. 1505)

• I that in heill wes and gladness,
  Am trublit now with gret seiknes,
  And feblit with infermité;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.
  Our plesance heir is all vane glory,
  This fals warld is bot transitory,
  The flesche is brukle, the Fend is sle;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.
  • I that in health was and gladness,
    Am troubled now with great sickness,
    And feeble with infirmity;
      The fear of death disturbs me.
    Our pleasure here is all vainglory,
    This false world is but transitory,
    The flesh is brittle, the Fiend is sly;
      The fear of death disturbs me.
  • Line 1

• On to the ded gois all estatis,
  Princis, prelotis, and potestatis,
  Baith riche and pur of al degre;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.
  He takis the knychtis in to feild,
  Anarmit under helme and scheild;
  Victour he is at all mellie;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.
  • Unto the dead go all estates,
    Princes, prelates, and potentates,
    Both rich and poor of all degree;
      The fear of death disturbs me.
    He takes the knights into field,
    Unarmed under helm and shield;
    Victor he is at every melee;
      The fear of death disturbs me.
  • Line 14

• He hes done peteouslie devour,
  The noble Chawcer of makaris flouir,
  The Monk of Bery, and Gower, all thré;
    Timor mortis conturbat me.
  • He has done pitiously devoured
    The noble Chaucer, of makers flower,
    The Monk of Berry, and Gower, all three;
      The fear of death disturbs me.
  • Line 49

Misattributed

• Strong be thy wallis that about the standis;
  Wise be the people that within the dwellis;
  Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis;
  Blith be thy chirches, wele sownyng be thy bellis;
  Riche be thy merchauntis in substance that excellis
  Fair be thy wives, right lovesom, white and small;
  Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis:
  London, thou art the flour of Cities all.
  • "London, thou art of townes A per se", line 41.
  • John Stow's ascription of this poem to Dunbar, though unchallenged for centuries, is no longer accepted.

External links

• The Complete Works