Lo, Quhat it is to Lufe

Lo, quhat it is to lufe,
Lerne, ye that list to prufe,
Be me, I say, that no ways may
The grund of greif remvfe,
Bot still decay, both nycht and day;
Lo, quhat it is to lufe.

Lufe is ane fervent fyre
Kendillit without desyre,
Schort plesour, lang displesour,
Repentence is the hyre.
Ane pure tressour, without mesour,
Lufe is ane fervent fyre.

To lufe and to be wyiss,
To rege with gud adwyiss.
Now thus, now than, so gois the game,
Incertane is the dyiss.
Thair is no man, I say, that can
Both lufe and to be wyiss.

Fle alwayis frome the snair;
Lerne at me to be ware.
It is ane pane, and dowbill trane
Of endles wo and cair.
For to refrane that denger plane
Fle alwayis from the snair.