Support me, sacred Sisters, for to sing

His praise, vhilk passis the antartik pole.

And fand the futsteppe of the fleing fole,

And from Parnassus spyd the Pegase spring.

The hundreth saxt, by lyne, vnconqueist king,

Quhais knichtlie curage, kindling lyk a cole,

Maks couarts quaik, and hyde thame in a hole:

His brand all Brytan to obey sail bring.

Come, troup of tuinis, about his temple tuyn

Jour laurell leivis with palmis perfytly plet,

Wpon his heid Caesarean to sett.

Immortalije ane nobler nor the Nyne —

A martiall monarch, with Minervas spreit,

That Prince vhilk sail the prophesie compleit.