Quhy did the god's ordaine ane michtie monarchis mynde
Vithin the presoun of my corps to be inclos'd and pynde?
Quhy did they predecree suche intestine debate,
Suche evill weeris to be betuixe my calling and conceite?
Give as sum say there be ane transmigratioune thenn,
Evin at sum princes fall or death my balefull birth began,
And as he dyit his saull and spirit hes flowin into me,
Quhilk maks my munting mynde so fare above my fate to flee;
Ȝit doubt I give or no my predecessoures gone,
That umquhile prince hes juster caus or I for to bemone.
Hee pleanes perhaps because within a world so wylde
His princelie and heroike thouchts suld daylie be defylde;
I murne againe becaus my fonnde conceatid thoucht,
Doune weyit (allace) be my unworthe, resolves and turns to noucht.
Sine ane or bathe be plagued I cannoucht weell defyne:
The punishement maȝ weell be his, but all the pane is myne.
Ȝit thinke, secuirelie think, tho thow be baslie borne,
Suppois the schell be cast away ȝet will the perle be worne.
But heere ane fresche alarum my heart does now assaill,
To think and noucht reveele my thouchtis, me thinks cannot availl,
For quhereto can they serve, be they from her obscuired,
For quhom my present and my past displeasures I indured;
Sen schee even lyke the foule quha liftes within her beake
The schell fische heiche into the air that it may fall and breake,
Sen schee I say hes heysit myne hearte above the skyes,
Sall schoe not knaw quhat's in my mynde, I murmure and devyis.
Ȝes, surelie ȝes, but how, by word, by wryte or baith,
Sall I reveell my hidin harmes, my long conceillit skayth?
By none of thois, for quhy, my rivell for I see
Hes made ane dullfull interdyte betuix my dame and me.
O happie, happie he, to live in suche estaite;
He come in tyme, curst be the tyme -- allace, I come to late.
Ȝet let him beere with this, sence fanncie maks me fonde,
He sall noucht love her him allone, and he hade sworne upound.
My richt's salbe als goode as heeis, I sweere by Jove above,
Althoucht hee war me fare in lucke, he wares me noucht in love.
He loves (allace) and findes in love rewairde againe;
I wate I love alsweell as he, and finds no thing but pane.
I ade this meikle mair that breids my hart releif:
Quhen schoe her bewtie doeth behold in glasses of my greif,
My lynnes maȝ schaw my love, my love may schow my pane,
And schoe within my panes may spye her bewties force agane.
For give I soucht rewairde schee wold replye, I knaw,
It wer ane great disgrace to her for to descend sua law
To love or reaffect ane wretche ane puissante power,
By birth and bloode ignoble borne, inglorious and obscuire.
Ȝet were it noucht eneuche I sould leive of to loofe,
Ore from the worlds miracle my mynde for to remove,
All thinges againe deformed in chaos massd shalbe,
Befoir ane retrospiciante I sall ceass from loving the.
retrospiciante: backward-looking
First let omeriane blacke eternall nicht ourvaill,
omeriane: (?) Homericourvaill: cover over
The earthis circumference befoir my fixit faithe sall faill.
These monomathicke jarris betuix my self and the
monomathicke: in single combatjarris: quarrels
Out of my mynde sall nawaȝes make my fixit Idea flee!
My love quhere it is laid sall grow and floorishe greene,
And suche apostasie in me at no tyme shalbe seene.
For how cann I from love or from my thoughts refraine,
And how can I but love my thouchtes, and thinke on love agane?
Tuyse am I now reduceit to my pretendit theame,
And give my selfe, my thouchtis or her, I wate not quhat to blame.
Give her, I wer unwise, or give my thouchts or me,
O thenn are na caus for a caus, but caus sould quarrellit be!
But ohe! as sum alledge, love harboures aye the heart,
There is na plague beneth the pole of quhilk I have na pairt,
And all the duillefull dintes that in despaire cann duell
Conglomerat's in armes hudge my pleesures to expell.
Ȝit give, as I have saide, ane transmigratioune be,
Quhy doe noucht these my raging thouchts tak journey now and flee,
And seek sum saifer schoire quherein at large to fleit?
For I have deyed ten thousande deids sen they and I did meit.
Wald God I anes had dyed: thenn hade my fanncies flede;
But in suppoised death is lyfe by thoucht susteint and fed.
Thenn sall I saye I live, or sall I saye I dee?
I am noucht dead, and give I sould alledge I live, I lie!
The babell of my mynde hes drevin me so awaye
That, as I wate noucht quhat I think, I wate not quhat I saye;
Ȝit weell I wate I love, and ȝit shee wates noucht this:
Thus is wyteles of my woe and still bereav's my bliss
(Ane paradoxe, I graunte, and ȝit ane theame most trew,
Quhois certane groundes breeds surest greefes,
quhilk I cannoucht eschew).
And ȝit give trew love might trew loves rewarde obtene,
Thenn weell I wote my waiting on wald not be wair't in vane;
But while my sanct espyes in saddest songs my syte,
Shee thinkes I have na mynde of love, but wryt's becaus I wryte.
But ȝet while schee on me for to conferre wald call,
Oft have I sworne by heavin and eirthe my mistres warrs them all,
And oft have wee discouerit what, quhy, quhairefoir and how
I lov'd my dame, and oft wald schee baith love and all allow.
Ȝet durst I not behold her to herself to schow,
But thesawriz'd my hiddin harmes and ay-conceallit woe,
And as the fearefull babe quho knawes his task perqueir
And sett's the buike asyde befoir the appoynted hour draw neir
And ou'r and ou'r againe his leassoune doeth repeate,
That hee may satisfie and pleis the maister quhen they meit,
Ȝit quhenn ane compt is tane all fleis from out his thoucht
And quhat he knew he quyte foreȝet's, feir setts his mynde afloucht:
Evin sua it faires with me, my harong clearlye cunde,
harong: speechcunde: learned
Her presence hes obliterate befoir I have begunde,
And oft have I determened my passiones to displaye,
And ȝit immediatelie I weiping went awaye.
O in my loveing lynes, O blind with brusit teares,
Hes schee espyit my passiones strong, my stryving hop's and feirs;
Oft hes schoe sweetlye said, 'thy mistres were to blame,
Gif cruell schee, to the that soe her praises doeth proclame.
And ware thow myne,' said schoe, I surelie wald be loath
Thy love, thy hoip, thy faithe sould finde or raip rewarde of wrath.'
Thus cannoucht I but thinke and half perswade my sell
Schee knawes I love her best of all, suppois I dare not tell.
Ȝit leist my name sould be transsumpit heir and theire,
Inrol'd with foolische soulls who feides on apprehensions bair,
I schaipe with spidie haist to sett asyde all shame,
And by sum meanes to manifest my dule unto my dame,
Quhois most renouned name for me sall nevir be knowne,
But in my mynde sall still remaȝne in bloodie figures drawne.
So sall my love to her, and with my love my paine,
May ather by my presence be or poesie maid plaine.
I cease regraiting still that wicked weirds hes wroucht
regraiting: lamentingweirds: fates
Such annalogicke descrepaunce betuix me and my thoucht,
Quhilk maks me thus, allace! but pietie to be pyn'd,
Quhenn I beheld suche monsterous greit greefis within my mynd;
And still sall I bewaill till thouchts there actions breid
And mak ane ramigratioune there from quhence they did proceid.
And sua till vengit tyme my wish'd contentment bring,
I end and on the heichts of hoip my hovering thouchtis sall hing.
