Classic Poem

What mightie motione so my mynd mischeivis?
What uncouth cairs throu all my corps do creep?
What restles rage my Resone so bereivis?
What maks me loth of meit, of drink, of sleep?
I knou not nou what Countenance to keep
For to expell a poysone that I prove
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.

A frentick fevir thrugh my flesh I feill,
I feill a passione can not be exprest.
I feill a byll within my bosum beill
No Cataplasme can weill impesh that pest.
I feill my self with seiknes so possest
A madnes maks my mirth from me remove.
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.

My hopeles hairt unhappiest of hairts
Is hoild and hurt with Cupids huikit heeds
And thirlit throu with deidly poysond dairts
That inwardly within my breist it bleids,
Yit fantasie my fond affection feeds
To run that race but ather rest or rove.
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.

Nou feel I that I nevir felt afore,
Nou knou I that (whill nou) I nevir kneu,
Nou sie I weill that servitude is sore
Bot what remeid? It is no tym to reu.
Whair Love is Lord all libertie adeu.
My baill is bred by destinies above.
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.

All gladness nocht bot aggravats my grief
All mirrines my murning bot augments.
Lamenting toons best lyks me for relief,
My sickness soir to sorou so consents
For cair the cairfull commounly contents
Sik harmony is best for their behove
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.

I felt fra anis I entered in that airt
A grit delyte that leson for to leir
Whill I became a prentise ou'r expert;
For, but a book, I cund it soon perqueir.
My doctours wage and deuty will be deir
I grant, except I get her jelous glove.
Alace, alace that evir I leirnd to love.