Alexander Montgomerie

Sonnet 39. To his Maistres. I

Bright amorous ee vhare Love in ambush [lyes] —
Cleir cristal tear distilde at our depairt —
Sueet secreit sigh more peircing nor a dairt —
Inchanting voce, beuitcher of the wyse —

Quhyt ivory hand, vhilk thrust my finger [s pryse] —
I challenge jou, the causers of my smarte,
As homiceids, and murtherers of my harte,
In Resones court to suffer ane assyse.

Bot, oh ! I fear, jea rather wot I weill,
To be repledgt je plainly will appeill
To Love, whom Resone never culd comm[and :]

Bot, since I can not better myn estate,
Jit, vhill I live, at leist I sall regrate
Ane ee, a teir, a sigh, a voce, a hand.