TO HIS MAISTRES.

So suete a kis yistrene fra thee I reft

In bouing doun thy body on the bed,

That evin my lyfe within thy lippis I left.

Sensyne [1519] from thee my spirit wald neuer shed [1520].

To folou thee it from my body fled,

And left my corps als cold as ony kie [1521].

Bot vhen the danger of my death I dred [1522],

To seik my spreit I sent my harte to thee;

Bot it wes so inamored with thyn ee,

With thee it myndit lykuyse to remane.

So thou hes keepit captive all the thrie,

More glaid to byde then to returne agane.

Except thy breath thare places had suppleit,

Euen in thyn armes thair doutles had I deit.

Suete Nichtingale in holene [1523] grene that han[ts]

To sport thy-self, and speciall in the spring,

Thy chivring chirlis [1524], vhilks changinglie thou [chants,]

Maks all the roches round about thé ring;

Vhilk slaiks my sorou, so to heir thé sing,

And lights my louing langour at the leist;

Yit, thoght [1525] thou sees not, sillie, saikles [1526] thing!

The piercing pykis brods [1527] at thy bony breist [1528].

Euin so am I, by plesur lykuyis preist [1529],

In gritest danger vhair I most delyte.

Bot since thy song for shoring [1530] hes not ceist

Suld feble I for feir my conqueis quyt [1531]?

Na, na,—I love thé, freshest Phœnix fair!

In beuty, birth, in bounty but compair [1532].

William Hodge & Co., Printers, Glasgow