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The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie

Edited by James Cranstoun

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 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. [TO HIS MAISTRES.]
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XXXVII. [TO HIS MAISTRES.]

O plesand plant, passing in pulchritude!
O lillie, lude of all the Muses nyne!
I laik ingyne to shau thy celsitude;
A tearie fluid does blind thir ees of myne.
Thyn eirs inclyne vnto my cairfull cry:
Sen nane bot I hes for thy person pyne,
Let me not tyn, whom thou intends to try.
Tak tym in tym, for tym will not remane,
Nor come agane, if that it once be lost.
Sen we ar voced, whairfor suld we refrane,
To suffer pain for ony bodies bost?
My vexit ghost, quhilk rageing love dois roste,
Is brint almost, thrugh heit of my desyr;
Then quench this fyre, quhilk runneth ay the poste
Out throu my cost, consuming bain and lyre.

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Nou if this heit descend into my levir,
A fervent fevir sall soon my harte infect;
Thairfor correct this humor nou or nevir,
Or we dissevir, suppose we be suspect.
Go to—vhat rek? and gar the bealing brek;
For, fra it lek, I hald the danger done.
Then speid ȝou soon, that we no tym neglect
To tak effect in waning of the mone.