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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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32

16. [Departe, departe, departe.]

Quod Scott off þe Maister of Erskyn.

Departe, departe, departe,
Allace! I most departe
Frome hir þat hes my hart,
With hairt full soir,
Aganis my will indeid,
And can find no remeid,
I wait the panis of deid
Can do no moir.
Now most I go, allace!
Frome sicht of hir sueit face,
The grund of all my grace,
And souerane:
Quhat chanss that may fall me
Sall I nevir mirry be,
Vnto þe tyme I se
My sweit agane.
33

I go, and wait nocht quhair,
I wandir heir and thair,
I weip and sichis rycht sair,
With panis smart;
Now most I pass away away
In wildirness & wilsum way;
Allace! this wofull day
We suld departe.
My spreit dois quaik for dreid,
My thirlit hairt dois bleid,
My panis dois exceid;
Quhat suld I say?
I wofull wycht allone,
Makand ane petouss mone,
Allace! my hairt is gone,
For evir and ay.
Throw langour of my sueit,
So thirlit is my spreit,
My dayis ar most compleit,
Throw hir absence:
Chryst, sen scho knew my smert,
Ingrawit in my hairt,
Becaus I most departe
Frome hir presens.
Adew, my awin sueit thing,
My joy and conforting,
My mirth and sollesing
Of erdly gloir:
Fair weill, my lady bricht,
And my remembrance rycht.
Fair weill, and haif gud nycht;
I say no moir.
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