Rondel of Luve

Lo quhat it is to lufe, Lern ye that list to prufe; Be me, I say, that no ways may The grund of grief remuve: Bot still decay both nicht and day. Lo quhat it is to lufe!

Lufe is ane fervent fyre Kendillit with desyre, Schort plesour, lang displesour, Repentance is the hyre; Ane puir tresour without messour. Lufe is ane fervent fyre.

To lufe and to be wyiss; To rege with gude adwyiss; Now thus, now than, so gois the game; Incertaine is the dyiss. Thair is no man, I say, that can Both lufe and to be wyiss

Flé alwayis frome the snair: Lerne at me to beware It is ane pane, and double trane, Of endless wo and cair. For to refrane that danger plane, Flé alwyis frome the snair.