16. ROBERT HENRYSON Robin and Makyne ROBIN sat on gude green hill, Kepand a flock of fe: Mirry Makyn said him till 'Robin, thou rew on me: Robin answerit 'By the Rude Lo, quhair they raik on raw. 'At luvis lair gif thou will leir So that no danger do thee deir Quhat dule in dern thou dre; kepand] keeping. fe] sheep, cattle. dule in dern] sorrow in secret. dill] soothe. dread, i. e. there is no fear or doubt. 1425-1500 him till] to him. but dreid] without raik on raw] ange in Robin answerit hir agane, 'I wat not quhat is lufe; 'Robin, tak tent unto my tale, And thou sall haif my heart all haill, 'Makyn, to-morn this ilka tyde Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd; 'Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest; 'Makyn, adieu! the sone gois west, The day is neir-hand gane.' 'Robin, in dule I am so drest 'Gae luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list, 'Robin, I stand in sic a styll, I sicht and that full sair.' 'Makyn, I haif been here this quhyle; At hame God gif I weir.' Robin on his wayis went Then Makyn cryit on hie, 'Now may thow sing, for I am schent! Makyn went hame withowttin fail, Full wery eftir cowth weip; Be that sum part of Makynis aill drest] beset. And till her tuke gude keip. intent] in her inward thought. lemman] mistress. brayd] strode. sicht] sigh. in hir bent] coarse tuke keip] paid attention. schent] destroyed. alis] ails. be that] by the time grass. that. till] to. 'Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne, For all my luve, it sall be thyne, All haill thy hairt for till haif myne My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne, 'Robin, thow hes hard soung and say, The man that will nocht quhen he may I pray to Jesu every day, Mot eik thair cairis cauld 'Makyn, the nicht is soft and dry, Unsene we ma repair.' 'Robin, that warld is all away, hard] heard. be] by. gestis] romances. janglour] talebearer. mot eik] may add to. wend] weened. 17. For of my pane thow maid it play; As thow hes done, sa sall I say, "Murne on; 'Makyn, the howp of all my heill, Makyn went hame blyth anneuche Robin murnit, and Makyn leuche; Scho sang, he sichit sair: And so left him baith wo and wreuch, In dolour and in cair, Kepand his hird under a huche The Bludy Serk HIS hinder yeir I hard be tald THIS Thair was a worthy King; |