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So, as my young Scotch minstrel sings and plays, 'Christ keep these birdis bright in bowers, Sic peril lies in paramours!" We must now return to Marmaduke.
Loving his folke, and such prosperitee, Is it of him, as we in books do find; May he oure hertes setten* and unbynd: Hath he upon oure hertes such maistrye? Or is all this but feynit fantasye? For giff he be of so grete excellence That he of every wight hath care and charge, What have I gilt+ to him, or done offense, That I am thral'd, and birdis go at large? * Setten, incline.
"And as I sat, the birdis harkening thus, Methought that I herd voicis suddainly."
So, as my young Scotch minstrel sings and plays, 'Christ keep these birdis bright in bowers, Sic peril lies in paramours!" We must now return to Marmaduke.
"This was in midst of month of May, When birdis sing on ilka spray, Melland their notes, with seemly soun, For softness of the sweet seasoun. "And leavis of the branchis spreeds, And blomis bright, beside them, breeds And Fieldis strawed are with flow'rs Well savouring of seir colours; And all things wor this, blyth, and gay." Mingling. Their. This Day is published, price 5s.
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