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ROBENE AND MAKTNE. 249 |
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For all my luve it sail be thyne,
Withouttin departing. All haill! thy harte for till haif myne, 85
Is all my cuvating ; My scheip to morn, quhill houris nyne,
Will neid of no keping."
" Robene, thou hes hard soung and say,
In gestis and storeis auld, 90
The man that will not quhen he may,
Sail haifnocht quhen he wald. I pray to Jesu every day,
Mot eik thair cairis cauld, That first preissis with the" to play, 96
Be firth, forrest, or fawld."
" Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The wedder is warme and fair, And the grene woud rycht neir us by
To walk attour all quhair: 100
Thair ma na janglour us espy,
That is to lufe contrair; Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I,
Unsene we ma repair."
" Robene, that warld is all away, 10s
And quyt brocht till ane end, And nevir again thereto, perfay,
Sail it be as thou wend ; |
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