Ane godlie dreame, compylit in Scottish meter be M.M. gentlevvoman in Culros, at the requeist of her freindes

Ane godlie Dreame compylit in Scotish Meter be M. M. Gentelwoman in Culros , at the requeist of her freinds . VPon ane day as I did mourne fall soir . With sindrie things quhairwith my saull was gretlie My greif mcreasit & grew moir & moir My comfort fled and could not be releifit , With heauines my heart was sa mischeifit , I loath it my lyfe , I could not eit nor drink , I micht not speik nor luik to nane that letfit , Bot musit alone and diuers things did think . The wretchit warld did sa molest my mynde , I thocht vpon this fals and Iron age . And how our harts war sa to vice inclynde , That Sathan seimit maist feirfullie to rage . Nathing in earth my sorrow could asswage , I felt my sin maist stranglie to incres , I greifit my Spreit that wont to be my pledge ▪ My saull was drownit into maist deip distres All merynes did aggrauate my paine , And earthlie joyes did still incres my wo : In compante I na wayes could remaine , Bot fled resort and so alone did go . My sillie saull was tostit to and fro , With sindrie thochts quhilk troublit me full soire I preisit to pray , bot sichs ouerset me so , I could do nocht bot sich and say no moir ▪ The twinkling 〈…〉 My heart was easit quhen I had mournit my fill : Than I b●gan my lamentatioun , And said , O Lord , how lang is it thy will , That thy puir Sancis sall be afflictit still ? Allace , how lang sall subtill Sathan rage ? Mak haist O Lord , thy promeis to fulfill , Mak haist to end our painefull pilgraumge . Thy sillie Sancts ar tostit to and fro , Awalk , O Lord , quhy sleipest thou sa lang ? We haue na strenth agains our cruell fo , In sichs and sobbis now chaingit is our sang . The warld preuails , our enemies ar strang , The wickit rage , bot wee ar puir and voaik : O shaw thy self , with speid reuenge our wrang , Mak short thir days , euen for thy chosens saik . Lord Iesus cum and saif thy awin Elect , For Sathan seiks our sunpill sauls to slay : The wickit warld dois strainglie vs infect , Most monsterous sinnes increasses day be day . Our luif growes cald , our zeill is worne away , Our faith is faillit , and we ar lyke to fall : The Lyon roares to catch vs as his pray , Mak haist , O Lord , befoir wee perish all . Thir ar the dayes that thou sa lang foretald , Sould cum befoir this wretchit warld sould ende Now vice abounds and charitie growes cald , And euin thine owne most stronglie dois offend . The Deuill preuaillis , his forces he dois bend , Gifit could be to wraik thy children deir : Bot wee ar thine , thairfoir sum succour send , Resaue our saullis , wee irk to wander heir . Quhat 〈…〉 cloggit ar with sin , In filthie vyce our sensles saules ar drownit : Thocht wee resolue wee neuir can begin , To mend our lyfes , bot sin dois still abound . Quhen will thou cum ? quhen sall thy trumpet sound ? Quhen sall wee sie that grit and glorious day ? O saue vs Lord , out of this pit profound , And reif vs from this loathsum lump of clay . Thou knawis our hearts , thou sies our hail desyre , Our secret thochts thay ar not hid fra thee : Thocht wee offend thou knawis we stranglie tyre , To beir this wecht our spreit wald faine be free . Allace , O Lord , quhat pleasour can it be , To leif in sinne that fair dois presse vs downe : Oh , giue vs wings that wee aloft may flie , And end the fecht that wee may weir the crowne . Befoir the Lord quhen I had thus complainit , My mynde grew calme , my heart was at great reste ▪ Thocht I was faint from fuid yit I refrainit , And went to bed , becaus I thocht it best . With heauines my spreit was sa opprest , I fell on sleip , and sa againe me thocht I maid my mone , and than my greif increst , And from the Lord with teares I succour socht . Lord Iesus cum ( said I ) and end my greif . My spreit is vexit , the captiue wald be frie : All vice abounds , O send vs sum releif , I loath to liue , I wishe desoluit to be . My spreit dois lang and thristeth efter thee , As thristie ground requyris ane shoure of raine ▪ My heart is dry , as fruitles barren tree I feill my selfe , how can I heir remaine ▪ Into my dreame I thocht thair did appeir : Ane sicht maist sweit , quhilk maid me well content , Ane Angell bricht with visage schyning cleir , With luifing luiks and with ane smyling cheir : He askit mee , quhy art thou thus sa sad ? Quhy grones thou so ? quhat dois thou duyning heir With cairfull cryes in this thy bailfull bed ? I heir thy sichs , I sie thy twinkling teares , Thou seimes to be in sum perplexitie : Quhat meanes thy mones ? quhat is the thing thou feares Quhom wald thou haue ? in quhat place wald you be Fainte not sa fast in thy aduersitie , Mourne not sa sair , sen mourning may not mend : Lift vp thy heart , declair thy greif to mee , Perchance thy paine brings pleasure in the end . I sicht againe , and said allace for wo , My greif is greit , I can it not declair : Into this earth I wander to and fro , Ane pilgrime puir consumit with siching sair . My sinnes allace , increasses mair and mair , I loath my lyfe , I irk to wander heir : I long for Heauen , my heritage is thair , I long to liue with my Redimer deir Is this the caus ( said he ) ryse vp anone , And follow mee and I sall be thy gydt : And from thy sichs leif off thy heauie mone , Refraine from teares and cast thy cair asyde , Trust in my strenth , and in my word confyde , And thou sall haue thy heauie hearts desyre : Ryse vp with speid , I may not lang abyde , Greit diligence this matter dois requyre . My Saull rejoysit to heir his words sa sweit , I luikit vp and saw his face maist fair : His countenance reuiuit my wearie Spreit , Incontinent I cuist asyde my cair . With humbill heart I prayit him to declair Quhat was his name ? he answerit me againe , I am thy God for quhom thou sicht sa sair , I now am cummit : thy teares ar not in vaine , I am the way , I am the treuth and lyfe . I am thy spous that brings thee store of grace ▪ I am thy luif quhom thou wald faine imbrace , I am thy ioy , I am thy rest and peace . R●se vp anone and follow efter mee , I sall the leid into thy dwelling place : The Land of rest thou langs sa sair to sie I am thy Lord that sone sall end thy race . With ioyfull bea rt I thankit him againe , Reddie am I ( said I ) and weill content To follow thee , for heir I leiue in paine , O wretch vnworth , my dayes ar vainlie spent . Nocht ane is just bot all ar fearcelie bent , To rin to vyce , I haue na force to stand : My sinnes increase quhilk maks me fair lament , Mak haist , O Lord , I lang to sie that Land . Thy haist is greit , he answerit me againe , Thou thinks thee thair , thou art transportit so : That pleasant place most purchaist be with paine , The way is strait , and thou hes far to go . Art thou content to wander to and fro , Throw greit deserts throw water and throw fyre ▪ Throw thornes and breirs and monie dangers mo , Quhat says thou now ? Thy febill flesh will ty●e ▪ Allace said I , howbeit my flesh be walk , My spreit is strang and willing for to flie : O leif mee nocht , bot for thy mercies saik , Performe thy word , or els for duill I die . I feir no paine , sence I sould walk with thee , The way is lang , ȝit bring me throw at last : Thou answeirs weill , I am content said hee , To be thy guyde , bot sie thou grip me fast . Than vp I rais and maid na mair delay , My febill arme about his arme I cast : He went befoir and still did guyde the way , Thocht I was waik , my spreit did follow fast . Throw mos and myres , throw ditches deip wee past , Throw pricking thornes , throw water & throw fyre : Throw dreidfull dennes quhilk maid my heart agast , Hee buir mee vp quhen I begouth to tyre . Sumtyme wee clam on craigie Montanes hie , And sumtymes slaid on vglie brayes of sand : They war sa stay that wonder was to sie , Bot quhen I feirit hee held mee be the hand . Throw thick and thin , throw sea and eik be land , Throw greit deserts wee wanderit on our way : Quhen I was walk and had no force to stand , Ȝit with ane luik hee did refresh mee ay . Throw waters greit wee war compellit to weyd , Quhilk warsa deip that I was lyke to drowne : Sumtyme I sank , bot ȝit my gracious gyde , Did draw me out half deid and in ane sowne . In wods maist wyld and far fra anie towne , Wee thristit throw , the breirs together stak : I was sa waik thair strenth did ding me downe , That I was forcit for feir to flie aback . Curage said hee , thou art mid gait and mair , Thou may not tyre nor turne aback againe : Hald fast thy grip , on mee cast all thy cair , Assay thy strenth , thou sall not fecht in vaine , I tauld thee first , that thou sould suffer paine , The neirer heauen , the harder is the way : Lift vy thy heart and let thy hope remaine , Sence I am guyde thou sall not go astray . Fordwart wee past on narow brigs of trie , Ouer waters greit that hiddeouslie did roir : Thair lay belaw that feirfull was to sie , Maist vglie beists , that gaipit to deuoir . My heid grew licht and troublit wonderous foir , My heart did feir , my feit began to slyde ? Bot quhan I cryit , hee heard mee euermoir , And held mee vp , O blissit be my guyde . Wearie I was , and thocht to sit at rest , Bot hee said na: thou may not sit nor stand , Hald on thy course and thou sall find it best , Gif thou desyris to sie that pleasant Land . Thocht I was waik , I rais at his command , And held him fast : at lenth he leit mee sie That pleasant place , quhilk semit to be at hand , Tak curage now , for thou art neir , said hee . I luikit vp vnto that Castell fair , Glistring lyke gold , and schyning siluer bricht : The staitlie towres did mount aboue the air , Thay blindit mee , thay cuist sa greit ane licht . My heart was glaid to sie that joyfull sicht , My voyage than I thocht was not in vaine . I him besocht to guyde mee thair aricht , With manie vowes neuer to tyre againe , Tocht thou ve neir , the way is wonderous hard , Said hee againe , thairfoir thou mon be stout , Fainte not for feir , for cowarts ar debard , That hes na heart to go thair voyage out . Pluck vp thy heart and grip mee fast about , Out throw ȝon trance together wee man go : Gif this war past , wee haue not manie mo . I held him fast , as hee did gif commund , And throw that trance together than wee went : Quhairin the middis grit pricks of Iron did stand , Quhairwith my feit was all betorne and rent . Tak curage now said hee , and be content , To suffer this : the pleasour cuins at last : I answerit nocht , bot ran incontinent , Out ouer them all , and so the paine was past . Quhen this was done my heart did dance for joy , I was sa neir , I thocht my voyage endit : I ran befoir , and socht not his conuoy , Nor speirit the way , becaus I thocht I kend if : On staitlie steps maist stoutlie I ascendit , Without his help I thocht to enter thair : Hee followit fast and was richt fair offendit , And haistelie did draw mee down the stair , Quhat haist said hee , quhy ran thou so befoir ? Without my help , thinks thou to clim sa hie ? Cum down againe , thou ȝit mon suffer moir , Gif thow desyres that dwelling place to sie : This staitlie stair it is not maid for thee , Hald thow that course , thow sall be thrust aback : Allace said I , lang wandring weiriet mee , Quhilk maid mee rin the neirest way to tak . Than hee began to comfort mee againe , And said my friend thou mon not enter thair : Lift vp thy heart , thou ȝit mon suffer paine , The last assault perforce it mon be fair . This godlie way althocht it seime sa fair , It is to hie thou cannot clim so stay : Bot luik belaw beneath that staitlie stair , And thou sall sie ane vther kynde of way . I luikit down and saw ane pit most black , Most full of smuke and flaming fyre most fell : That vglie sicht maid mee to flie aback , I feirit to heir so manie shout and yell : I him besocht that hee the treuth wald tell , Is this said I , the Papists purging place ? Quhair thay affirme that sillie saulles do dwell , To purge thair sin , befoir thay rest in peace ? The braine of man maist warlie did inuent That Purging place , he answerit me againe : For gredines together thay consent , To say that saulles in torment mon remaine , Till gold and gudes releif them of thair paine , O spytfull spreits that did the same begin : O blindit beists your thochts ar all in vaine , My blude alone did saif thy saull from sin . This Pit is Hell , quhairthrow thou now mon go . Thair is thy way that leids the to the land : Now play the man thou neids not trimbill so , For I sall help and hald thee be the hand . Allace said I , I haue na force to stand , For feir I faint to sie that vglie sicht ? How con I cum among that bailfull hand , Oh help mee now , I haue na force nor mucht . Oft haue I heard , that thay that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 In this greit golfe , sall neuer cum againe : Curage said hee , haue I not bocht thee deir , My precious blude it was nocht shed in vaine . I saw this place , my saull did taist this paine , Or euer I went into my fathers gloir : Throw mon thou go , bot thou sall not remaine , Thow neids not feir , for I sall go befoit . I am content to do thy haill command , Said I againe , and did him fast imbrace : Then louinglie he held mee be the hand , And in wee went into that feirfull place . Hald fast thy grip said hee , in anie care , Let mee not slip , quhat euer thou sall sie : Dreid not the deith , bot stoutlie forwart preis , For Deith nor Hell sall neuer vanquish thee . His words sa sweit did cheir my heauie hairt , Incontinent I cuist my cair asyde : Curage said hee-play not ane cowarts pairt , Thocht thou be waik , ȝit in my strenth confyde . I thocht me blist to haue sa gude ane guyde , Thocht I was waik , I knew that he was strang : Vnder his wings I thocht mee for to hyde , Gif anie thair fould preis to do mee wrang . Into that Pit quhen I did enter in , I saw ane sicht , quhilk maid my heart agast : Puir damnit saullis , tormentit sair for sin , In flaming fyre , war frying wouder fast : And vglie spreits , and as wee thocht them past , My heart grew faint , and I begouth to tyre : Or I was war , ane gripit mee at last , And held me heich aboue ane flaming fyre . The tyre was g●●● , the h●… did 〈…〉 . My faith grew waik , my grip was wonderous sin●l , I trimbellit fast , my feir grew mair and mair , My hands did shaik , that I him hold withall . At lenth thay lousit , than thay begouth to fall , I cryit O Lord , and caucht him fast againe : Lord Iesus cum , and red mee out of thrall , Curage said he , now thou art past the paine . With this greit feir , I stackerit and awoke Crying O Lord , Lord Iesus cum againe ▪ Bot efter this , no kynde of rest I tuke , I preisit to sleip , bot that was all in vaine . I wald haue dreamit , of pleasour after paine , Becaus I knaw , I sall it finde at last : God grant my guyde may still with mee remaine , It is to cum that I beleifit was past . This is ane dreame , and yit I thocht it best . Towryte the same , and keip it still in mynde : Becaus I knew , thair was na earthlie rest , Preparit for vs , that hes our hearts inclynde To seik the Lord , we mon be purgde and fynde , Our dros is greit , the fyre mon try vs fair : Bot yit our God is mercifull and kynde , Hee sall remaine and help vs euer mair . The way to heauen , I sie is wonderons hard , My Dreame declairs , that we haue far to go : Wee mon be stout , for cowards ar debarde , Our flesh on force mon suffer paine and wo. Thir griuelie gaits , and many dangers mo Awaits for vs , wee cannot leiue in rest : Bot let vs learne , sence wee ar wairnit so , To cleaue to Christ , for he can help vs hest . 〈…〉 opp●●●● That loue the Lord and lang for Heauen sa his : Chainge not your mynde , for ye haue chesen the best , Prepair your selues , for troblit mon ye be . Faint not for feir in your aduersitie , Althocht that ye lang luiking be for lyfe : Suffer ane quhyle and ye sall shortlie sie The Land of rest , quhen endit is your stryfe . In wildernes quhen ye mon be tryit a quhyle , Ȝit fordwart preis and neuer flie aback : Lyke pilgrimes puir and strangers in exyle , Throw fair and foull your journay ye mon tak . The Deuill , the warld and all that thay can mak , Will send thair force to stop yow in your way : Ȝour flesh will faint and sumtyme will grow slak , Ȝit clim to Christ and hee sall help yow ay . The thornie cairs of this deceitfull lyfe , Will rent your heart , and mak your saull to bleid : Ȝour flesh and spreit will be at deidlie stryfe , Ȝour cruell fo will hald yow still in dreid . And draw yow down , ȝit ryse againe with speid , And thocht ye fall ȝit ly not loytring still : Bot call on Christ to help yow in your neid . Quha will nocht faill his promeis to fulfill . In floudes of wo quhen ye ar lyke to drowne , Ȝit clim to Christ and grip him wonder fast . And thocht ye sink and in the deip fall downe , Ȝit cry aloud and hee will heir at last . Dreid nocht the death nor be not fair agast , Thocht all the eirth against yow sould conspyre : Christ is your guyde , and quhen your paine is past , Ȝe sall haue joy aboue ȝont hearts desyre . Thocht in this earth ye sall exaltit be , Feir salve left to humbill yow withall : For gif ye clim on tops of Montaines hie , The heicher vp the nearer is your fall . Ȝour honie sweit sall mixit be with gall , Ȝour short delyte sall end with paine and greit : Ȝit trust in God for his assistance call , And he sall help and send yow sum releif . Thocht waters greit do compas yow about , Thocht Tirannes freat , thocht Lyouns rage & roir ▪ Defy them all and feir not to win out , Ȝour guyde is neir to help yow euermoir . Thocht prick of Iron do prick yow wonderous soir , As noysuin lusts that seik your saull to slay : Ȝit cry on Christ and hee sall go befoir , The neirer Heauen , the harder is the way . Rin out your race ye mon not faint nor tyre , Nor sit nor stand , nor turne aback againe : Gif ye desyre to haue your hearts desyre , Preis fordwart still althocht it be with paine . Na rest for yow sa lang as ye remaine , Ane pilgrim puir into thy loathsum lyfe : Fecht on your faucht it sall not be in vaine , Ȝour riche rewarde is worth ane gritter stryfe Gif efter teires ye leif ane quhyle in ioy , And get ane taist of that Eternall gloir , Be nocht secure nor slip nocht your conuoy , For gif ye do ye sall repent it soir . He knawes the way , and he mon go befoir , Clim ye alane ye sall nocht mis ane fall : Ȝour humblit flesh it mon be troublit moir . Gif ye forget vpon your guyde to call . Gif Christ be gaine , althocht ye ●elint to ●is , With golden wings aboue the firmament : Come down againe , ye sall nocht better be . That pryde of yours ȝe sall richt sair repent . Than hald him fast with humbill heart ay bent , To follow him , althocht throw Hell and Death : Hee went befoir , his saull was torne and rent For your deserts hee felt his fathers wraith . Thocht in the end ye suffer torments fell , Clim fast to him , that felt the same befoir : The way to Heauen , mon be throw Death and Hell , The last assault will troubill yow full soir . The Lyoun than maist cruellie will roir , His tyme is short , his forces hee will bend : The gritter stryfe , the gritter is your gloir , Ȝour paine is short , your joy sall neuer end . Rejoyce in God , let nocht your curage faill , Ȝe chosin Sancts that ar afflictit heir : Thocht Sathan rage , hee neuer sall preuaill , Fecht to the end and stoutlie perseueir . Ȝour God is trew , your blude is to him deir , Feir nocht the way sence Christ is your conuoy : Quhen Clouds ar past the weather will grow cleir , Ȝe saw in teares , bot ye sal reap in joy . Baith deith and hell , hes lost thair cruell sting , Ȝour Captaine Christ , hes maid them all to ȝeild : Lift vp your hearts and praises to him sing , Triumph for joy , your enemies ar keilde . The Lord of Hostis that is your strenth and sheild The Serpents h●id h●s stoutlie trampit downe : Trust in his strenth , pas fordwart in the feild , Ouercum in fecht and ye sall weare the Crowne .