Robene and Makyne

Robene sat on gud grene hill,
Kepand a flok of fe:
Mirry Makyne said him till:
" Robene, thow rew on me;
I haif the luvit lowd and still,
Thir yeiris two or three;
My dule in dern, bot gif thow dill,
Dowtless but dreid I de."

Robene answerit: " Be the rude,
Nathing of lufe I knaw,
Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wude,
Lo, quhair thay raik on raw;
Quhat hes marrit the in thy mude,
Makyne, to me thow schaw;
Or quhat is lufe, or to be lude?
Fane wald I leir that law."

" At luvis lair gife thow will leir,
Tak thair ane A, B, C:
Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,
Wyse, hardy, and fre;
So that no denger do the deir,
Quhat dule in dern thow dre;
Preiss the with pane at all poweir,
Be patient and previe."

Robene answerit hir agane:
" I wait nocht quhat is luve;
Bot I haif mervell incertane
Quhat makis the this wanrufe:
The weddir is fair, and I am fane,
My scheip gois haill aboif;
And we wald play us in this plane,
Thay wald us bayth reproif."

" Robene, tak tent unto my taill,
And wirk all as I reid,
And thow sail haif my hairt all haill,
Eik and my madinheid.
Sen God sendis bute for baill,
And for murnyng remeid,
I dern with the, bot gif I daill
Doutles I am bot deid."

" Makyne, to morne this ilka tyde,
And ye will meit me heir,
Peraventure my scheip ma gang besyd,
Quhill we haif liggit full neir;
Bot maugre haif I and I byd,
Fra thay begin to steir;
Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd;
Makyne, than mak gud cheir."

" Robene, thow reivis me roif and rest;
I luve bot the allone."
" Makyne, adew, the sone gois west,
The day is neirhand gone."
" Robene, in dule I am so drest,
That lufe wil be ray bone."
" Ga lufe, Makyne, quhairevir thow list,
For lemman I lue none."

" Robene I stand in sic a styll;
I sich, and that full sair."
" Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhyle;
At hame God gif I wair."
" My huny, Robene, talk ane quhill,
Gif thow will do na mair."
" Makyne, sum uthir man begyle,
For hamewart I wile fair."

Robene on his way is went,
Als licht as leif of tre;
Mawkin murnit in hir intent,
And trowd him nevir to se.
Robene brayd attour the bent;
Then Mawkyne cryit on hie,
" Now ma thow sing, for I am schent!
Quhat alis lufe at me? "

Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill,
Full wery eftir cowth weip:
Than Robene in a ful fair daill
Assemblit all his scheip.
Be that sum pairte of Mawkynis aill
Outthrow his hairt cowd creip;
He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,
And till hir tuke gude keip.

" Abyd! abyd! thow fair Makyne,
A word for ony thing;
For all my luve it sal be thyne,
Withowttin depairting.
All haill, thy harte for till haif myne
Is all my cuvating;
My scheip to morne quhill houris nyne
Will neid of no keping."

" Robene, thow hes hard soung and say,
In gestis and storeis auld,
The man that will nocht quhen he may
Sail haif nocht quhen he wald.
I pray to Jesu every day
Mot eik thair cairis cauld,
That first preissis with the to play,
Be firth, forrest, or fawld."

" Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The wedder is warm and fair,
And the grene woid rycht neir us by
To walk attour all-quhair;
Thair ma na janglour us espy,
That is to lufe contrair;
Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I
Unsene we ma repair.'"

" Robene, that warld is all away,
And quyt brocht till ane end,
And nevir agane thairto, perfay,
Sail it be as thow wend;
For of my pane thow maid it play,
And all in vane I spend;
As thow hes done, sa sail I say,
Murne on, I think to mend."

" Mawkyne, the howp of all my heill,
My hairt on the is sett,
And evirmair to the be leill,
Quhill I may leif but lett;
Nevir to faill, as utheris feill,
Quhat grace that evir I gett."
" Robene, with the I will nocht deill;
Adew, for thus we mett."

Malkyne went hame blyth anneuche,
Attour the holtis hair;
Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche;
Scho sang; he sichit sair;
And so left him, bayth wo and wreuche,
In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a huche,
Amangis the holtis hair.