I not quhat mater put in memorie;
The poeitis auld, in style heroycall,
In breve[98] subtell termes rethorycall,
Of everlike[99] mater, tragedie and storie,
So ornatlie, to thair heych[100] laude and glorie,
Haith done indyte; quhose supreme sapience
Transcendith far the dull intellygence
Of poeitis now in-tyll our vulgare toung.
For quhy? the bell of rethorick bene roung
Be Chawceir, Goweir, and Lidgate laureate.