07.01.2011, 16:34
William Fowler
1560 - 1612
Upon the utmost corners of the warld
And on the borders of this massive round,
Quhaire fates and fortoune hither hes me harld,
I doe deplore my greiffs upon this ground,
And seing roring seis from roks rebound
By ebbs and streames of contrair routing tyds
And Phebus chariot in there waves ly dround,
Quha equallye now night and day devyds,
I cal to mynde the storms my thoughts abyds,
Which ever wax and never dois decress,
For nights of dole dayes joys ay ever hyds
And in there vayle doith al my weill suppress:
So this I sie; quhaire ever I remove,
I chainge bot sees, but can not chainge my love.
1560 - 1612
Upon the utmost corners of the warld
And on the borders of this massive round,
Quhaire fates and fortoune hither hes me harld,
I doe deplore my greiffs upon this ground,
And seing roring seis from roks rebound
By ebbs and streames of contrair routing tyds
And Phebus chariot in there waves ly dround,
Quha equallye now night and day devyds,
I cal to mynde the storms my thoughts abyds,
Which ever wax and never dois decress,
For nights of dole dayes joys ay ever hyds
And in there vayle doith al my weill suppress:
So this I sie; quhaire ever I remove,
I chainge bot sees, but can not chainge my love.