The Ressoning betwixt Aige and Youth

YOUTH.
Quhen fair Flora, the goddas of al flowris,
Baith firth and field freschly hed ourfret,
And perly dropis of the balmy schowris
Thir wodis grene hed with the wattir wet,
Musand alone in a mornyng I met
A mery man, that al of myrth cowd mene,
Syngand this sang that rycht swetly wess set:
" O youth, be glaid in to thi flowris grene."

AIGE.
I lukit furth a litill me befor,
And saw ane catyf one a club cumand,
With chekis leyne and lyart lokis hoir;
His eyne wes hoi, his voce wes hace hostand,
Walowit richt wan, waik as ane wand;
A bil he bure apone his brest abone,
In letteris leill but lyis, with this legyand:
" O youth, thi flowris fadis ferly sone."

YOUTH.
This young man lap apone the land ful lycht,
And mervalit mekil of his makdome maid;
" Waldyne I am," quod he, " and wondir wycht,
With brawne as bair, with brest burle and braid;
No grume on ground my gardone may degraid.
Nor of my pytht may pair wyrtht half a prene;
My face is fair, my figour may nocht faid:
" O youth, be glaid in to thi flowris grene."

AIGE.
This senyour sang bot with a sobir stevyne;
Schakand his berd, he said, " My barne, let be;
I wes within thir sexty yeir and sevyne
A frek one fold, als fair, als frech, als fre,
Als glaid, als gay, als ying, als yaip as ye;
Bot now tha dayis ourdrevin are and done;
Luk thow my laythly lycome gyf I le:
O youth, thi flowris fadis ferly sone."

YOUTH.
This mirrie man of mirth yit movit mair:
" My cors is clene without corruptioun,
My self is sauf fra seiknes and fra sair,
My wibtis fyve in dew proportioun,
My curage is of clene complexioun,
My hairt is haill, my levar, and my splene:
Thairfoir to reid this roll I haif no ressoun:
O youth, be glaid in to thy flowris grene."

AIGE.
The bevar hoir said to the burlie berne:
" This breif thow sail abyd, sone be thow bald;
Thy strenth, thy stait, thocht it be stark and sterne,
The feveris fell for eild, sal gar the fald;
Thy cors sail cling, thy curage sail wax cald,
Thy heill sail hink, and tak ane hurt bot hone,
Thy wittis fyve sail wane, thocht thow nocht wald:
O youth, thy yeiris faidis ferlie sone."

YOUTH.
Ane uthir verse this young man yit coud syng:
" At luffis law I think a quhil to leit,
In court to cramp clenly in my clething,
And luk amang thir lusty ladeis sweit;
Of mariagis to mel with mowis meit,
In secretness, quhar we may nocht be sene,
And sa with birdis blythly my balis beit:
O youth, be glaid in to thi flowris grene."

AIGE.
This awstrene greif ansuerit angirly:
" For thi cramping thow sail baith cruke and cowre;
Thy fleschely lust thow sail also defy,
And pane the sail put fra paramour;
Than will no bird be blyth of the in bouir;
Quhen thi manheid sail wendin as the mone,
Thow sail assay gif that my song be sour:
O youth, thi flowris fedis fellone sone."

This galyart grutchit with sic grit greif,
He on his wayis wrethly went but wene;
This lene awld man luche not, bot tuk his leif,
And I abaid undir the levis grene:
Of the sedullis the suthe quhen I had sene,
Of trewth, me thocht, thay triumphit in thair toun:
" O youth, be glaid in to thi flowris grene!
" O youth, thi flowris faidis fellone sone! "