 | The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie |  |
XXXVII. [THE SAME.]
My plesuris past procures my present pain;My present pain expels my plesurs past;
My languishing, alace! is lyk to last;
My greif ay groues, my gladenes wants a grane;
My bygane joyes I can not get agane,
Bot, once imbarkit, I must byde the blast.
I can not chuse; my kinsh is not to cast:
To wish it war, my wish wald be bot vane:
Ȝit, vhill I sey my senses to dissaive,
To pleis my thoght, I think a thousand things,
Quhilks to my breist bot boroude blythnes brings:
Anis hope I had, thoght nou dispair I haive:
A stratagem, thoght strange, to stay my sturt,
By apprehensioun for to heill my hurt.
| The Poems of Alexander Montgomerie | |