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 | The poems (1902) |  |
27. [Quha lykis to luve.]
Quha lykis to luve / or þat law pruve,
Lat him beleif this lyfe to leid;
His mynd sall moif / but rest or ruve,
With diuerss doulouris to þe deid:
He sall tyne appetyte
And meit and sleip gife quyte,
And want þe way perfyte
To find remeid.
Lat him beleif this lyfe to leid;
His mynd sall moif / but rest or ruve,
With diuerss doulouris to þe deid:
He sall tyne appetyte
And meit and sleip gife quyte,
And want þe way perfyte
To find remeid.
He sall nocht wit / quhiddir þat it
Be panefull, plesand, weill, or wo;
To stand, or sit / remoif or flit,
To gang, to ly, to byd, or go:
No wit sal be degest
To heir, se, smell, nor test;
Bot as a brutall best
He sall be so.
Be panefull, plesand, weill, or wo;
To stand, or sit / remoif or flit,
To gang, to ly, to byd, or go:
No wit sal be degest
To heir, se, smell, nor test;
Bot as a brutall best
He sall be so.
Fle thocht he wald / lufe sall him hald,
Within þe dungeoun of dispair;
Quhyle hett, quhyle cald / a thowsandfald,
His purpoiss sal be heir and thair;
He sall hald wisdome vyce,
And vertew of no pryce,
Bot as a fule vnwyce
So sall he fair.
Within þe dungeoun of dispair;
Quhyle hett, quhyle cald / a thowsandfald,
His purpoiss sal be heir and thair;
He sall hald wisdome vyce,
And vertew of no pryce,
Bot as a fule vnwyce
So sall he fair.
47
This is the quhy / and causs þat I
Complene so peteously in plane,
I lufe þe wy / will nocht apply,
Nor grant to gife / me grace agane:
The moir scheruice I do
The moir fremmit is scho,
Without respect vnto
My crewall pane.
Complene so peteously in plane,
I lufe þe wy / will nocht apply,
Nor grant to gife / me grace agane:
The moir scheruice I do
The moir fremmit is scho,
Without respect vnto
My crewall pane.
Ȝe luvaris se / gife þat this be
Ane lyfe þat all gude men malignis;
I say for me / it is to fle
Aboif þe pest and plaig þat ringis:
Quhilk is bot curius,
Ay woid and furius,
Ane fyre sulfurius
That men doun bringis.
Ane lyfe þat all gude men malignis;
I say for me / it is to fle
Aboif þe pest and plaig þat ringis:
Quhilk is bot curius,
Ay woid and furius,
Ane fyre sulfurius
That men doun bringis.
My breþir deir / we most forbeir,
And fra this sinfull lyfe evaid ws;
Lat ressoun steir / ȝour hairtis inteir,
And nocht thoill lathly lust to leid ws;
Quhilk is þe verry net
That satane for ws set,
To causs ws quyt forȝet
The Lord þat maid ws.
And fra this sinfull lyfe evaid ws;
Lat ressoun steir / ȝour hairtis inteir,
And nocht thoill lathly lust to leid ws;
Quhilk is þe verry net
That satane for ws set,
To causs ws quyt forȝet
The Lord þat maid ws.
| The poems (1902) | |