Lament for the Makers 
^{by William Dunbar (1460?-1520?)}

I THAT in heill was and gladness
Am trublit now with great sickness
And feblit with infirmitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Our plesance here is all vain glory,
This fals world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
The state of man does change and vary,
Now sound. now sick, now blyth, now sary,
Now dansand mirry, now like to die: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
No state in Erd here standis sicker;
As with the wynd wavis the wicker
So wannis this world's vanitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Unto the Death gods all Estatis,
Princis, Prelattis, and Potestatis,
Baith rich and poor of all degree: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He takis the knichtis in to the field
Enarmit under helm and scheild;
Victor he is at all mellie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
That strong unmerciful tyrand
Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand,
The babe full of benignitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He takis the campion in the stour,
The captain closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He spairis no lord for his piscence
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awful straik may no man flee. --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Art-magicianis and astrologic,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologis,
Them helpis no conclusionis slee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
In medecine the most practicianis,
Leechis, surrigianis and physicianis,
Themself from Death may nocht supplee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
I see that makaris amang the lave
Playis is here their padyanis, syne gods to grave;
Sparit is nocht their facultie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He has done petuously devour
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,
The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
The good Sir Hew of Eglintoun,
Ettrick, Heriot, and Wintoun,
He has tane out of this cuntrie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
That scorpion fell has done infeck
Maister John Clerk, and James Afflek,
Fra ballat-making and tragedie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Holland and Barbour he has berevit ;
Alas! that he not with us levit
Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane,
That made the aventeris of Gawaine;
Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill
Slain with his schour of mortal hail,
Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nocht flee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He has reft Mersar his endite
That did in luve so lively write,
So short, so quick, of sentence hie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
He has tane Rowll of Aberdene,
And gentill Rowll of Cortorphine;
Two better fallowis did no man see: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
In Dunfermline he has tane Broun
With Maister Robert Henrysoun;
Sir John the Ross enbrasit has he: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
And he has now sane, last of a,
Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw.
Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Good Maister Walter Kennedy
In point of Dedth lies verily;
Great ruth it were that so suld be: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me 
Sen he has all my brothers sane,
He will nocht let me live alane;
Of force I mon his next prey be: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
Since for the Death remeid is none,
Best is that we for Death dispone
After our death that live may we: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me. 
 
_{From The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900 / chosen and edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch. -- Oxford : Clarendon Press ; London ; New York : H. Milford, 1915. pp. 30-33}

Ubi Sunt

Ubi Sunt [uubi suunt], a Latin phrase meaning ‘Where are...’ is a poetic theme in which the poet asks 'Where are' they? or Where have they gone?. The theme was often used in medieval Latin poems on the transitoriness of life and beauty, usually as an opening line or refrain referring to the dead who are then listed in the poem in a kind of roll call.

The phrase serves as the name for a common motif in medieval (and some later) poetry, Latin and vernacular, in which the speaker asks what has become of various heroes and beautiful ladies. The most celebrated example of the motif is François Villon's ‘Ballade des dames du temps jadis’ (c. 1460), with its refrain:

Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?  ['But where are the snows of yesteryear?']