Page:Cherrie and the slae.pdf/18

6

His youth and stature made me stout, Of doubleness I had nae doubt,
 * But bourded with my boy:

Quoth I, How call they thee, my child? Cupido, Sir (quoth he,) and smil'd,
 * Please you me to employ:

For I can serve you in your suit,
 * If you please to impire,

With wings to flee, and shafts to shoot
 * Or flames to set on fire:
 * Make choice then of those then,
 * Or of a thousand things;
 * But crave them, and have them:
 * With that I woo'd his wings.

What would you give my friend, quoth by To have these wanton wings to flee,
 * To sport thy sp'rit a while?

Or what gif I should lend thee here Bow, quiver, shafts, and shooting gear,
 * Some body to beguile;

That gear (quoth I) cannot be bought,
 * Yet I would have it fain:

What if (quoth he) it cost thee nought,
 * But rendering all again?
 * His wings then, he brings then,
 * And binds them on my back:
 * Go flee now, quoth he now,
 * And sae my leave I tak.