John Lydgate. 1370?-1450? 14. Vox ultima Crucis TARYE no lenger; toward thyn heritage Hast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere. Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage; Thynke howe short tyme thou hast abyden here. Thy place is bygged above the sterres clere, Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse. Come on, my frend, my brother most entere! For the I offered my blood in sacryfice. bygged] built. palys] palace. King James I of Scotland. 1394-1437 15. Spring Song of the Birds WORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May, For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne, And sing with us, Away, Winter, away! Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoun and sonne! Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne, And amorously lift up your hedis all, Thank Lufe that list you to his merci call! suete] sweet. Lufe] Love. Robert Henryson. 1425-1500 16. Robin and Makyne ROBIN sat on gude green hill, Kepand a flock of fe: Mirry Makyne said him till 'Robin, thou rew on me: I haif thee luvit, loud and still, Thir yeiris twa or thre; My dule in dern bot gif thou dill, Doutless but dreid I de.' Robin answerit 'By the Rude Na thing of luve I knaw, But keipis my scheip undir yon wud: Lo, quhair they raik on raw. Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude, Makyne, to me thou shaw; Or quhat is luve, or to be lude? Fain wad I leir that law.' 'At luvis lair gif thou will leir Tak thair ane A B C; Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir, Wyse, hardy, and free: So that no danger do thee deir Quhat dule in dern thou dre; Preiss thee with pain at all poweir Be patient and previe.' Robin answerit hir agane, 'I wat nocht quhat is lufe; But I haif mervel in certaine Quhat makis thee this wanrufe: The weddir is fair, and I am fain; My scheip gois haill aboif; And we wald prey us in this plane, They wald us baith reproif.' 'Robin, tak tent unto my tale, And wirk all as I reid, And thou sall haif my heart all haill, Eik and my maiden-heid: Sen God sendis bute for baill, And for murnyng remeid, In dern with thee bot gif I daill Dowtles I am bot deid.' 'Makyne, to-morn this ilka tyde And ye will meit me heir, Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde, Quhyle we haif liggit full neir; But mawgre haif I, and I byde, Fra they begin to steir; Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd; Makyn, then mak gude cheir.' 'Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest; I luve bot thee allane.' 'Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west, The day is neir-hand gane.' 'Robin, in dule I am so drest That luve will be my bane.' 'Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list, For lemman I luve nane.' 'Robin, I stand in sic a styll, I sicht and that full sair.' 'Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle; At hame God gif I wair.' 'My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll, Gif thow will do na mair.' 'Makyn, sum uthir man begyle, For hamewart I will fair.'