He lukit oure his left shouldir
To se quhat he mocht se:
There he behelde seuin bonnye maydis
Cumyng tryppyng oure the le!
Sic beautye ee had neuir seine,
Nor euir agayne shall se,
Sic luvelye formis of flesche and blude,
On yerde can neuir be;
The joie that bemit in ilken ee
Wase lyke the risyng sonne,