Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie; Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree, Or til a reed ourblawin with the win'. Twa gods guidis me; the ane of them is blin', Yea and a bairn brocht up in vanitie; The next a wife ingenrit of the sea, And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. Unhappy is the man for evermair That fills the sand and sawis in the air; But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, That feedis in his hairt a mad desire, And follows on a woman throw by the fire, Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn. |