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.
"The Lament for the Makars", line 1
Neither our vices nor our virtues further the poem.William Dunbar
He that may be but sturt or stryfe,William Dunbar
Among my friends love is a payment. It is an old debt for a borrowing foolishly spent.William Dunbar
I would be a falcon and go free. I tread her wrist and wear the hood, Talking to myself, and would draw blood.William Dunbar
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 excellisFair be thy wives, right lovesom, white and small;Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis:London, thou art the flour of Cities all.William Dunbar
Noble men in the quiet of morning hear Indians singing the continent's violent requiem.William Dunbar
Desire paces Eternityas if it had bounds, craving death. The Word climbs upward into Its crown.William Dunbar
The great house of our humanity No longer stands.William Dunbar
My deathe chasis my lyfe so besalieThat wery is my goist to fle so fast.William Dunbar
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