Alace! qll I begin into my mynd to call
The tragick end of Icarus and his most fatall fall;
My stait yen worse then his, if any worse can be,
Convoyed wt duilfull death, ensues to end the fait's decree,
Lyk as he did presume, too hie wt borrowed pends,
Bot by the raiging force of floods o'rquhelm'd but mercie endis.
Sua qll aboue my bounds fondly I did aspyre,
Deceau'd by loues alluiring wingis, I fell in quenchles fyre,
In quhich alace I boyle but mercie or retourne.
Sche quhom I serue the fornace feeds, quhair my puir hert doth burne;
Bot causles is sche blaim'd, in hir no wayt remaines,
Nocht els bot cruell Cupid's ire my martyrdome constrainis.
In endles pain I liue, in furiouse flams I fume,
Death still doth threat my dayes to end, I sie no other doome.
My passiounes ar extreame, my hert doth brist for woe,
My tears lyk water from a spring doune from myne eyes doth go.
Consum'd wt secreit sighs, but confort I remaine;
Ilk thing on earth gainst me conspyre to agravat my paine.
Bot most of all, alace! that sche by quhom I liue,
Feeling, by simpathie, my smairt, from death wold me reviue.
Bot (ah), the frouning faits, alwayes my fatall foes,
Noch bot our mynds permits to meet, to periodize our woes.
Yit thot ane perfyte end in loue ye faits deny,
Still sall I hir adoir and serwe, ewer till death envy:

Resolu'd I am but chainge to loue hir qll I liue.
Let fortoune froune, the world invy, hir smyle will me reviue.
And thot, against my will, distant we must remaine,
Yit in a breist sall both our herts no more at all be tuaine.
Thoght crossis intervein to mak our myndis remoue,
Yit still sall I most constant liue, death sall dissolue my loue.