The turtle, on the vther syde,
Na plesure had to play;
So schil[1362] in sorrow was her sang
That, throw hyr voice, the roches rang;
For Eccho answerit ay,
Lamenting sair Narcissus’ cace,
Quha staruit[1363] at the well;
Quha with the schaddow of his face
For lufe did slay himsell.[1364]
Quhylis weiping and creiping