Classic Poem

Upon the utmost corners of the warld,
and on the borders of this massive round,
quhaire fates and fortoune 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 their wawes ly dround,
quha equallye now night and day divyds,
I cal to mynde the storms my thoughts abyde,
which ever wax and never dois decress,
for nights of dole dayes joys ay ever hyds,
and in their vayle doith al my weill suppress:
so this I see, quhaire ever I remove,
I change bot sees, bot can not chainge my love.