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Though unto thraldom you should be
Brought by your enemies,
You shall have freedom from them all,
And enjoy your liberties.
The grave of the most noble prince,
To all is great regret,
The subject to law, who had leave,
The kingdom and estate.
O anguish great! where every kind,
And ages shall lament,
Whom bitter death has ta'en away,
Shall Scotland sore repent.
Lately, a land of rich encrease,
A nation stout and true,
Has lost their former dear estate,
Which they did hold of due.
By hard conflict, and by the chance
Of noble fortune's force,
Thy hope and thy prosperity,
Nay turn to the worse.
Though wont to wen, may be subdu'd,
And come in under yoke,
Strangers may reign and destroy,
What likes him by sword's stroke.
