from The Cherrie and The Slae

About ane bank, where birds on bewis
Ten thousand times their notis renewis
Ilk hour into the day,
The merle and mavis micht be seen,
The progne and the philomene,
Whilk causit me to stay.
I lay and leanit me to ane buss
To hear the birdis beir;
Their mirth was sa melodious
Throw nature of the year:
Some singing, some springing
So heich into the sky;
So nim’ly and trimly
Thir birdis flew me by.

I saw the hurcheon and the hare,
Wha fed amang the flouris fair,
Were happing to and fro.
I saw the cunning and the cat,
Whase downis with the dew was wat,
With mony beistis mo.
The hart, the hind, the doe, the roe,
The fowmart, and the fox
Were skipping all fra brae to brae,
Amang the water brocks;
Some feeding, some dreiding
In case of sudden snares;
With skipping and tripping
They hantit all in pairs. …

The dew as diamonds did hing
Upon the tender twistis ying,
Our-twinkling all the trees;
And ay where flouris did flourish fair,
There suddenly I saw repair
Ane swarm of sounding bees.
Some sweetly has the honey socht,
Whill they were cloggit sore;
Some willingly the wax has wrocht,
To keep it up in store.
So heaping with keeping,
Into their hives they hide it,
Precisely and wisely
For winter they provide it.