Classic Poem

The bewty of hir amorus ene,
Quhen I behald my lady bricht,
Dois pers my Hairt with dairtis kene,
I am so reft be luvis micht;
Rest man I nocht day nor nycht,
My hairt is so in hir service,
Quhilk is the verry lantrene lycht,
Off womanheid ane flour delice.

Scho is the preclair portratour
Fulfillit with all lustines,
Of puchritud the fair figour,
The mirrour eik of all meiknes,
The verry stapill of steidfastnes,
Off flurist fame the strang pavice;
Scho is the gem of gentilnes,
Off womanheid ane flour delice.

Now sen I am hir servitoure
And flurist in my yeiris grene,
I trest I do to lang indure
That will nocht schaw my karis kene;
This to my lady will I mene
That I so lufe without fantice;
She is my soverene and serene,
Off womanheid the flour delice.