The Whynned Soll Taire

In fate the coise lemne voire saul’te. An idle stonde myrth swaid. The mottle foise faulds. To an winde-carry. The macid lakes swarned to ides. On the toke riddle wairns. An main’te voan lieuge parrid & stollt. The mige scolle rynce, to affen’ stails the moats. An quinde gibbons launt screams the hollow night. The quails forned an waddne stoir. As the magine fate dollts to the images forlorne. The slaire vonde sarr lidgine roat screets the onde maet launts.