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The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900

ALEXANDER SCOTT

Reading edition

1520?-158-

43.

A Bequest of His Heart

HENCE, heart, with her that must depart, And hald thee with thy soverane! For I had liever want ane heart. Nor have the heart that dois me pain. Therefore, go, with thy luve remain, And let me leif thus unmolest; And see that thou come not again, But bide with her thou luvis best. Sen she that I have servit lang Is to depart so suddenly, Address thee now, for thou sall gang And bear thy lady company.

43. hald] keep. sen] since.

FRA she be gone, heartless am I, For quhy? thou art with her possest. Therefore, my heart, go hence in high, And bide with her thou luvis best. Though this belappit body here Be bound to servitude and thrall, My faithful heart is free entier And mind to serve my lady at all. Would God that I were perigall Under that redolent rose to rest! Yet at the least, my heart, thou sall Abide with her thou luvis best. Sen in your garth the lily quhyte May not remain amang the laif, Adieu the flower of whole delite! Adieu the succour that may me saif! Adieu the fragrant balme suaif, And lamp of ladies lustiest! My faithful heart she shall it haif To bide with her it luvis best. Deploir, ye ladies cleir of hue, Her absence, sen she must depart! And, specially, ye luveris true That wounded bene with Luvis dart. For some of you sall want ane heart As well as I; therefore at last Do go with mine, with mind inwart, And bide with her thou luvis best!

belappit] downtrodden. perigall] made equal to, privileged. garth] garden-close. laif] rest. with mind inwart] with inner mind, i.e. in spirit.

44.

A Rondel of Love

LO, quhat it is to love Learn ye that list to prove, By me, I say, that no ways may The ground of grief remove, But still decay both nicht and day: Lo, quhat it is to love! Love is ane fervent fire Kindlit without desire, Short pleasure, long displeasure, Repentance is the hire; Ane pure tressour without measour; Love is ane fervent fire. To love and to be wise, To rage with good advice; Now thus, now than, so gois the game, Incertain is the dice; There is no man, I say, that can Both love and to be wise. Flee always from the snare, Learn at me to beware; It is ane pain, and double trane Of endless woe and care; For to refrain that danger plain, Flee always from the snare.

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