Classic Poem

Will thow remorsles fair, still laughe whill I lament,
And sall thy cheefe contentment be, to see me malle-content?
Sall I Narcissus lyke, ane flying shade still chaise
Or lyke Pigmaleon straine a stone, quhilk bare no sence of grace
No! no, my blind loue now, must burrow reassonnes eyes
It was thy fairnes made me sounde, zour wrong name [now] mak me [wise]
My just desert's disdaines to loue ane loveles dame,
The lyfe of Cupidis fyre confides, Into ane mutuall flame
[For] gaue thow but a looke, or gaue thow but a smyle
Ore sent thow furth but ane sweit siche, my sorrow to begyle,
My captiues thouchts perhaps myght be redeem'd from pane
And thois my mutineris malecontents, mycht freinds with hoip agane
But thow as it appears, still cairles of my gude
And as it seem's wald eternize, thy bewtie with my bloode,
Ane great disgrace to the, to me ane monstrous wrong,
Quhilk tyme will teache the to repent, befoir that it be long,
Then, to prevente thy schame, and to abraidge my woe,
Becaus thow will noucht loue thy freinde I'le cease to lufe my foe.