Departe, departe, departe--
Allace! I most departe
From hir that hes my hart,
With hairt full soir;
Aganis my will in deid,
And can find no remeid:
I wait the pains of deid--
Can do no moir. . . .

Adew, my ain sueit thing,
My joy and comforting,
My mirth and sollesing
Of erdly gloir:
Fair weill, my lady bricht,
And my remembrance rycht;
Fair weill and haif gud nycht:
I say no moir.