The Whole Prophecies of Scotland, England, Ireland, France & Denmark/Chapter 8
The Prophecy of Gild.
WHEN Haly Kirk is wracked, and will has no wit,
And paſtors are pluckt, and pield without pity,
When idolatry is in Ens and Re,
And spiritual paſtors are vexed and away,
And al eſtates in sight are unknown,
Becauſe of their cloathing, conning, or craft,
Spiritually ſuſpended, ſubverted and ſuſpected,
Denying their duty to God, and their debt,
Prompted up like princes, as the peacock proud,
Refuſing their religion, and their right rule;
Then in the north a wicked wind ſhall blow,
That all the realm ſhall rue right ſoon thereafter,
The grey hound ſhall be grieved, and driven at under,
And tramped for his truth, to whom he kept truſt,
The kindeſt of his Kith ſhall not him know,
But him and his misknow that ever, they ever knew.
Then ſhall many farlie fall right ſoon thereafter.
And from Caithneſs to Dover ſhall walk but war,
And mourn for his misfortune, that failed ſo ſoon;
But better mourn for themſelves, for need they have;
Hails when thou halteſt, herpel not but hold thee:
If thou ſpeakeſt where thou ſpoke, it all able ſkald thee:
The barred lion lawleſs, at thee ſhall be grieved:
Shall ſearch and ſeek thee to deſtroy thee for ever;
Yet ſhall a beirne from Berwick buſk him and bown,
And ſearch the treading of trewes that were aforetane
By the heedleſs people, that held at their own hand
The holes whole, and the herds had to deſtroy,
Reaſon ſhall be ſought, and granted ſhall be none;
The movers thereof ſhall mene, and may not mend;
Then ſhall the counſel, which cumbered hath the kith
Call for comfort, but long they may crave;
The marked to the higheſt, and to overhaile the old,
But all in vain they work, they ſhall not prevail;
They ſhall work unwiſe, and wit ſhall they lack,
Then waried their wierd, that ever they were wrought,
Then ſhall the ratches in this region takes,
And run their race rudely but any return,
The beſt of the Kyth ſhall cry for ſupport;
But ſcarce ſhall they riſe, they ſhall be fae ſwier:
The hound which was harmed, then miſſed ſhall be,
Who loved him worſt, ſhall weep for his wrack;
Yet ſhall a whelp riſe out of the ſame race,
That rudely ſhall rair, and rule the whole north,
And quit the whole quarrel of old deeds done;
Though he from his hold be kept back a while.
The cock dare not crow, though it be his kind,
But keep himſelf cloſe, while come ſhall his time,
Prepare thee Edinburgh, and pack up thy packs;
Thou ſhalt be left void, be thou lief or loath:
Becauſe thou art varriant, and ſteemed thy faith,
Thro' envy and covetouſneſs that cumbered thee ever.
True Thomas me told in a troubleſome time,
In an harveſt morning at Eldom hills.