the aurora
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And as that Ryall raud ouir the rude mure,
Him betyde ane tempest that tyme, hard I tell,
The wind blew out of the Eist stiflie and sture,
The deip durandlie draif in mony deip dell;
Sa feirslie fra the Firmament, sa fellounlie it fure,
Thair micht na folk hald na fute on the heich fell
In point thay war to parische, thay proudest men and pure,
In thay wickit wedderis thair wist nane to dwell.
Amang thay myrk Mountanis sa madlie thay mer,
Be it was pryme of the day,
Sa wonder hard fure thay
That ilk ane tuik ane seir way,
And sperpellit full fer.