ROBERT HENRYSON

'Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne,

A word for ony thing ; For all my luve, it sail be thyne,

Withowttin departing. All haill thy hairt for till haif myne

Is all my cuvating ; My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne,

Will neid of no keping.'

4 Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,

In gestis and storeis auid, The man that will nocht quhen he may

Sail haif nocht quhen he wald. I pray to Jesu every day,

Mot eik thair cairis cauld That first preissis with thee to play

Be firth, forrest, or fauld.'

'Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,

The weddir is warme and fair, And the grene woid rycht neir us by

To walk attour all quhair: Thair ma na janglour us esp*y,

That is to lufe contrair ; Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I,

Unsene we ma repair.'

' Robin, that warld is all away, And quyt brocht till ane end :

And nevir agane thereto, perfay, Sail it be as thow wend ;

��hard] heard. gestis] romances. mot eik] may add to

be] by. janglour] talebearer. wend] weened.

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