Quhen Flora had ourfret the firth
In May, of every moneth quene,
Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth,
Sweit melling in the schawis schene,
Quhen all luvaris rejosit bene,
And most desyrus of thair pray,
I hard a lusty luvar mene,
"I luve, bot I dar nocht assay.

Strang ar the panis I daylie prufe,
Bot yit with pacience I sustene,
I am so fetterit with the lufe
Onlie of my lady schene,
Quhilk for hir bewty mycht be quene,
Natour so craftely alwey
Hes done depaint that sweit serene:
Quhome I luf, I dar nocht assay.

Scho is so brycht of hyd and hew,
I lufe bot hir allone, I wene;
Is non hir luf that may eschew
That blenkis of that dulce amene,
So cumly cleir at hir twa ene,
That scho ma luvaris dois effrey
Than evir of Grice did fair Helene;
Quhom I luve, I dar nocht assay.'