Ladie Culros' Dream: Elizabeth Melvill

“Upon a day as I did morne full sore
For sundrie things wherewith my soull was grieved,
My grieff increased, and grew more and more,
I comfort fled, and could not be relieved;
With heaviness myne heart was sore mischieved,
I loath’d my lyfe, I could not eat or drink;
I might not speak, nor look to none that lived,
But mused alone, and divers things did think.

This wretched world did so molest my mynd,
I thought upon this fals and yron age,
And how our hearts were so to vyce inclyn’d,
That Satan seem’d most frightfully to rage.
Nothing on earth my sorrow could asswadge,
I felt my sinne most stronglie to increase;
I greiv’d the Sprite had want to be my pledge,
My soull was plunged in most deep distress.

All merriness did aggravate my payn,
All earthlie joyes did still increase my wo;
In companie I could no way remayn,
But fled resort, and still alone did go.
My sillie soull was tossed to and fro
With sundrie thoughts, which troubled me full sore;
I preass’d to pray, but sighs ore set me so,
I could do nought but groan, and say no more.

The trickling tears most abundantlye ran down,
Myne heart was eas’d when I had mourn’d my fill:
Then I began my lamantation,
And said, “O Lord! how long is it thy will
That my poor sayncts shall be afflicted still?
Alace! how long shall subtle Satan rage?
Make haste, O Lord, thy promise to fulfill;
Make haste to end my paynfull pilgrimage.” ”