Thy sylver droppis ar turnit in-to sleit.
O fair Phebus! quhare is thy hoilsum heit?
Quhy tholis[48] thow thy hevinlie plesand face
With mystie vapouris to be obscurit, allace!
“Quhar art thow May, with June thy syster schene[49],
Weill bordourit with dasyis of delyte?
And gentyll Julie, with thy mantyll grene,
Enamilit with rosis red and quhyte?
Now auld and cauld Januar, in dispyte,
Reiffis[50] frome us all pastyme and plesour.