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 halter nor a dauphin with her fin.
Unhappy is the man for evermair
That tills 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 the fire,
Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.
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Fra Bank to Bank
