Alexander Scott

A Rondel of Love

LO, quhat it is to love
    Learn ye that list to prove,
By me, I say, that no ways may
    The ground of grief remove,
But still decay both nicht and day:
    Lo, quhat it is to love!

    Love is ane fervent fire
    Kindlit without desire,
Short pleasure, long displeasure,
    Repentance is the hire;
Ane pure tressour without measour;
    Love is ane fervent fire.

    To love and to be wise,
    To rage with good advice;
Now thus, now than, so gois the game,
    Incertain is the dice;
There is no man, I say, that can
    Both love and to be wise.

    Flee always from the snare,
    Learn at me to beware;
It is ane pain, and double trane
    Of endless woe and care;
For to refrain that danger plain,
    Flee always from the snare.