ROBERT HENRYSON
Robin brayd attour the bent;
Then Makync cryit on hie, 'Now may thow sing, for I am schent!
Quhat alis lufe at me ?)
Makync went hame withowttin fail,
Full wery cftir cowth wcip, Then Robin in a ful fair daill
Assemblit all his scheip. Be that sum part of Makynis aill
Out-throw his hairt cowd crcip; He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,
And till her tuke gude keip.
'Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne,
A word for ony thing; For all my luve, it sal be thyne,
Withowttin departing. All haill thy hartc for till haif myne
Is all my cuvating; My scheip to-morn, quhyll houris nyne,
Will neid of no keping.'
'Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,
In gestis and storeis auld, The man that will nocht quhcn he may
Sail haif nocht quhen he wald.
brayd] strode. bent] coarse grass. schent] destroyed alis] ails. cowth] did. be that] by the time that,
till] to. tuke keip] paid attention. hard] heard,
gestis] romances.
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