Classic Poem

A SANG.

Quhen Phebus in the ranie cloude
Oursylit had the bemis bricht;
And all wes lowne, befor wes loude,
Causit be sylence of the nicht;
I saw sittand ane werie wicht,
Murning, and making dreirie mone;
Quhilk full sobirlie sat, and sicht,
" Welcum eild, for youth is gone!"

The gaynis of my yeiris gent,
The flouris of my fresche youtheid,
I wait nocht how away is went;
And wallowit as the winter weid.
My curage waxis deif, and deid:
My rubie cheiks, wes reid as rone,
Ar leyn, and lauchtane as the leid.
Welcum eild, for youth is gone!

As shadow in the sonnis beme;
Or primrois in the winter schoure;
So all my days is bot ane dreme:
And haif the sleiping of ane hour!
For my plesance of paramour,
This proverb now I mon propone,
Exempil is said als sueit als sour.
Welcum eild, for youth is gone!

And nap is nurisand eftir none;
Ane fyre is fosterand for my feit;
With dowbill sokkis for my shone,
And mittans for my handis meit.
At Luifis lair I list nocht leit:
I lyke best quhen I lig alone.
Now all is sour, befoir wes sueit.
Welcum eild, for youth is gone!
My curland hair, my cristel ene,
Ar beld, and bleird, as all may se.
My bak, that sumtyme brent hes bene,
Now cruikis lyk ane camok tre.
Be me your sampill ye may se;
For so said wourthy Salomon,
Elding is end of erthlie glie.
Welcum eild, for youth is gone!

O fresche youtheid of yeiris grene!
O tendyr plant of hie curage!
As thow art now, so have I bene;
Als plesand and of sic parage.
Youtheid have [thow] mind on age,
And deid that closis all in stone;
Sen heir lestis none heretage.
Welcum eild, for youth is gone!