 | The Works of William Fowler
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LXXIV.
Quhils with more reuthfull and alluiring eyes
thow wings my hope that I may yet aspyre,
and dois prepair the tymber, colls, and treis,
for to reviue my half exti[n]gisht fyre,
so sone I feel the force of thy desyre
tak full effect and fuller me enflame;
yea, never Lunt more Lint nor poulders yre
inkendled soner then ȝow me, my dame.
bot seing the Vntouched [?] with the same,
I twirle [?] a [OMITTED] roll of love, and rubb eache part
of your sueit corse for to enflame the same,
quhilk sone was quensht by coldnes of thy hart:
so nather booke [?] nor songs contentment brings,
for paper flams not [OMITTED] with saddnes sings.
| The Works of William Fowler
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