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The poems (1902)

Scott, Alexander (1525?-1584?)

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The Wryttar to the Reidaris.
 1. 
1. Ane new ȝeir gift, to the quene Mary, Quhen scho come first hame.
 2. 
2. The iusting and debait vp at the Drum, Betuix Wa Adamsone, and Iohnie Sym.
 3. 
3. Of May.
 4. 
4. [O Lusty May, with Flora Quene.]
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Poems on the Pains and Pleasures of Love.
 5. 
5. [Luve preysis but comparesone.]
 6. 
6. [Haif hairt in hairt, ȝe hairt of hairtis, haill.]
 7. 
7. The anschir to the ballat of hairtis.
 8. 
8. [Hence, hairt, with hir þat most departe.]
 9. 
9. [Quha is perfyte to put in wryt.]
 10. 
10. [I wil be plane and lufe affane.]
 11. 
11. [Only to ȝow in erd that I lufe best.]
 12. 
12. [Rycht as þe glass bene thirlit thrucht with bemis.]
 13. 
13. [“Up, helsum hairt! thy rutis rais, & lowp.”
 14. 
14. [How suld my febill body fure.]
 15. 
15. [Marvilling in mynd, quhat ailis fortoun at me.]
 16. 
16. [Departe, departe, departe.]
 17. 
17. [That evir I luvit allace þairfoir.]
 18. 
18. [Oppressit hairt, indure.]
 19. 
19. [Leif luve & lat me leif allone.]
 20. 
20. [Thocht I in grit distress.]
 21. 
21. [Langour to leive, allace.]
 22. 
22. [Favour is fair in luvis lair.]
 23. 
23. [Returne thee, hairt, hamewart agane.]
 24. 
24. [In June the jem of joy and geme.]
 25. 
25. [Thair is nocht ane winche þat I se.]
 26. 
26. Quod Scott quhen his wyfe left him.
 27. 
27. [Quha lykis to luve.]
 28. 
28. [Lo! quhat it is to luve.]
 29. 
29. [Quhome sould I wyt of my mischance.]
 30. 
30. It cumis ȝow luvaris to be laill.
 31. 
31. [Fra raige of ȝowth the rynk hes rune.]
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Satires.
 32. 
32. The slicht remeid of luve.
 33. 
33. Ane ballat maid to þe derisioun and scorne of wantoun wemen.
 34. 
34. [I mvse and mervillis in my mind.]
 35. 
35. [Ladies, be war þat plesand ar.]
 36. 
36. [Ȝe blindit luvaris luke.]
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Paraphrases of the Psalms.
 37. 
37. The first psalme.
 38. 
38. The fyifty psalme.
  
The Wryttar to the Redare.

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The Wryttar to the Reidaris.

Ye reverend redaris, thir workis revolving richt,
Gif ye get crymis, correct thame to your micht
And curse na clark that cunnyngly thame wrait,
Bot blame me, baldly brocht this buik till licht
In tenderest tyme, quhen knawlege was nocht bricht,
Bot lait begun to lerne and till translait
My copeis awld, mankit, and mvtillait;
Quhais trewth, as standis, yit haif I, sympill wicht,
Tryd furth, thairfoir excuse sumpairt my estait.
[George Bannatyne.]
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