The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie Edited by James Cranstoun |
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XLII. | XLII.
[AN ADMONITIOUN TO ȜOUNG LASSIS.] |
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The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | ||
195
XLII. [AN ADMONITIOUN TO ȜOUNG LASSIS.]
A bony “No,” with smyling looks agane,
I wald ȝe leirnd, sen they so comely ar.
As touching “ȝes,” if ȝe suld speik so plane,
I might reprove ȝou to haif said so far.
Noght that ȝour grant, in ony wayis, micht gar
Me loth the fruit that curage ocht to chuse;
Bot I wald only haif ȝou seme to skar,
And let me tak it, fenȝeing to refuse;
I wald ȝe leirnd, sen they so comely ar.
As touching “ȝes,” if ȝe suld speik so plane,
I might reprove ȝou to haif said so far.
Noght that ȝour grant, in ony wayis, micht gar
Me loth the fruit that curage ocht to chuse;
Bot I wald only haif ȝou seme to skar,
And let me tak it, fenȝeing to refuse;
And warsill, as it war against ȝour will,
Appeiring angrie, thoght ȝe haif no yre:
For haif, ȝe heir, is haldin half a fill.
I speik not this, as trouing for to tyre:
Bot, as the forger, vhen he feeds his fyre,
With sparks of water maks it burne more bald;
So, sueet denyall doubillis bot desyr,
And quickins curage fra becomming cald.
Appeiring angrie, thoght ȝe haif no yre:
For haif, ȝe heir, is haldin half a fill.
I speik not this, as trouing for to tyre:
Bot, as the forger, vhen he feeds his fyre,
With sparks of water maks it burne more bald;
So, sueet denyall doubillis bot desyr,
And quickins curage fra becomming cald.
Wald ȝe be made of, ȝe man mak it nyce;
For dainties heir ar delicat and deir,
Bot plentie things ar prysde to lytill pryce;
Then thought ȝe hearken, let no wit ȝe heir,
Bot look auay, and len thame ay ȝour eir:
For, folou love, they say, and it will flie.
Wald ȝe be lovd, this lessone mon ȝe leir;
Flie vhylome love, and it will folou thee.
For dainties heir ar delicat and deir,
Bot plentie things ar prysde to lytill pryce;
Then thought ȝe hearken, let no wit ȝe heir,
Bot look auay, and len thame ay ȝour eir:
For, folou love, they say, and it will flie.
Wald ȝe be lovd, this lessone mon ȝe leir;
Flie vhylome love, and it will folou thee.
The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | ||