As, sum tyme, dois the curser stert and ryn,
That brokin hes his band, furth of his stall,
Now gois at large out our the feyldis all,
And haldis towart the studys in a rage,
Quhar meris rakis in thar pasturage;
Or than onto the deip rynnand ryver,
Quhar he was wont to drynk the watir cler:
He sprentis furth, and full proud walxis he,
Heich strekand up his hed with mony a ne;
Out our his spaldis and nek land, by and by,
His lokkyrrit mayn schakand wantounly.
Siklyke this Turnus semis, quhair he went . . .