LADY BOTHWELL's LAMENT

Balow, my babe, lye still and sleip, It grieves me sair to see thee weip; If thou'lt be silent I'll be glad, Thy maining maks my heart full sad; Balow my boy, thy mither's joy; Thy father breids me great annoy.

Whan he began to seik my luve, And wi his sucred words to muve; His feining fause, and flattering cheir, To me that time did nocht appeir; But now I see that cruel he Cares neither for my babe nor me.

Lye still, my darling, sleip a while, And whan thou wakest sweitly smile; But smile nae as thy father did To cozen maids: nay, God forbid, What yet I feir, that thou sold leir Thy father's heart and face to beir!

Be still, my sad one: spare those teirs, To weip whan thou hast wit and yeirs; Thy griefs are gathering to a sum, God grant thee patience when they cum; Born to proclaim a mother's shame, A father's fall, a bastard's name.