User:Scotstarvit

Ane doolie sessoun to ane cairfull dyte,

Suld correspond and be equivalent.

Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte,

This tragedie, the wedder richt fervent,

Quhen Aries, in middis of the Lent,

Schouris of haill gart fra the north discend,

That scantlie fra the cauld I micht defend.

Yit nevertheles within myne oratur,

I stude, quhen Titan had his bemis bricht,

Withdrawin doun and sylit under cure,

And fair Venus, the bewtie of the nicht,

Uprais and set unto the west full richt,

Hir goldin face, in oppositioun,

Of God Phebus, direct discending doun.

Throwout the glas hir bemis brast sa fair,

That I micht se on everie syde me by.

The northin wind had purifyit the air,

And sched the mistie cloudis fra the sky.

The froist freisit, the blastis bitterly,

Fra Pole Artick come quhisling loud and schill,

And causit me remufe aganis my will.

For I traistit that Venus, luifis quene,

To quhome sum tyme I hecht obedience,

My faidit hart of lufe scho wald mak grene,

And therupon with humbill reverence,

I thocht to pray hir hie magnificence,

Bot for greit cald as than I lattit was,

And in my chalmer to the fyre can pas.

Thocht lufe be hait, yit in ane man of age,

It kendillis nocht sa sone as in youtheid,

Of quhome the blude is flowing in ane rage,

And in the auld the curage doif and deid,

Of quhilk the fyre outward is best remeid,

To help be phisike quhair that nature faillit,

I am expert, for baith I have assaillit.

I mend the fyre and beikit me about,

Than tuik ane drink, my spreitis to comfort,

And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout.

To cut the winter nicht and mak it schort,

I tuik ane quair and left all uther sport,

Writtin be worthie Chaucer glorious,

Of fair Creisseid and worthie Troylus.