To luve unluvit it is ane pane;
For scho that is my soverane,
Sum wantoun man so he hes set hir,
That I can get no lufe agane,
Bot brekis my hairt, & nocht the bettir.
Quhen that I went with that sweit may,
To dance, to sing, to sport and pley,
And oft tymes in my armis plet hir;
I do now murne both nycht & day,
And brekis my hart, & nocht the bettir.
Quhair I wes wont to se hir go
Rycht trymly passand to and fro,
With cumly smylis quhen that I met hir;
And now I leif in pane & wo,
And brekis my hairt, and nocht the bettir.
Quhattane ane glaikit fule am I
To slay myself with malancoly,
Sen weill I ken I may nocht get hir!
Or quhat suld be the caus, and quhy,
To brek my hairt, and nocht the bettir?
My hairt, sen thou may nocht hir pleiss,
Adew, as gude lufe cumis as gaiss,
Go chuss ane udir and forget hir;
God gif him dolour and diseiss,
That brekis thair hairt and nocht the bettir.
Poem: To Luve Unluvit by Alexander Scott
MY heart is high above, my body is full of bliss,
For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss
I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again,
I am her serviture, she is my soverane;
She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill,
She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal;
I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command;
I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand;
The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil;
Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill.
My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust,
My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust!
We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft,
Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft.
We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short,
We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport.
I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht,
And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt;
Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair,
Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair.
And then is all the sorrow forth of remembrance
That ever I had a-forrow in luvis observance.
Thus never I do rest, so lusty a life I lead,
Quhen that I list to test the well of womanheid.
Luvaris in pain, I pray God send you sic remeid
As I have nicht and day, you to defend from deid!
Therefore be ever true unto your ladies free,
And they will on you rue as mine has done on me.
My Heart is High Above by Anonymous British - Famous poems, famous poets. - All Poetry
O luely, luely, cam she in
And luely she lay doun:
I kent her be her caller lips
And her breists sae sma’ and roun’.
A’ thru the nicht we spak nae word
Nor sinder’d bane frae bane:
A’ thru the nicht I heard her hert
Gang soundin’ wi’ my ain.
It was about the waukrife hour
When cocks begin to craw
That she smool’d saftly thru the mirk
Afore the day wud daw.
Sae luely, luely, cam she in
Saie luely was she gaen;
And wi’ her a’ my simmer days
Like they had never been.
The Tryst by William Soutar - Scottish Poetry Library
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