XXXI. [Fol. 80, vo.] "My deth y love, my lyf ich hate, for a levedy shene, Heo is brith so daies liht, that is on me wel sene; Al y falewe so doth the lef in somer when hit is grene, 3ef mi thoht helpeth me noht, to wham shal y me mene, Sorewe ant syke ant drery mod byndeth me so faste, "Do wey, thou clerc, thou art a fol, with the bydde y noht chyde ; Shalt thou never lyve that day, mi love that thou shalt byde; zef thou in my boure art take, shame the may bi-tyde, The is bettere on fote gon, then wycked hors to ryde." 66 Wey-la-wei! whi seist thou so? thou rewe on me, thy man; Thou art ever in my thoht, in londe wher ich am; zef y deze for thi love, hit is the mykel sham; Thou lete me lyve, ant be thy luef, ant thou my suete lemman." "Be stille, thou fol, y calle the ritht, cost thou never blynne ; Thou art wayted day ant nyht with fader ant al my kynne; Be thou in mi bour y-take, lete they for no synne, Me to holde ant the to slon, the deth so thou maht wynne." "Suete ledy, thou wend thi mod, sorewe thou wolt me kythe; Ich am al so sory mon, so ich was whylen blythe; 66 Wey-la-wey! whi seist thou so? mi serewe thou makest newe; Y lovede a clerk al par amours, of love he wes ful trewe, He nes nout blythe never a day, bote he me sone seze, Ich lovede him betere then my lyf, whet bote is hit to leze ?" "Whil y wes a clerc in scole, wel muchel Ꭹ lore, couthe of Ych have tholed for thy love woundes fele sore; "Thou semest wel to ben a clerc, for thou spekest so stille; Shalt thou never for mi love woundes thole grylle; Fader, moder, ant al my kun, ne shal me holde so stille, nam thyn ant thou art myn, to don al thi wille." That y XXXII. [Fol. 80, vo.] WHEN the nyhtegale singes, the wodes waxen grene, Lef ant gras ant blosme springes in Averyl, y wene, Ant love is to myn herte gon with one spere so kene, Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes, myn herte deth me tene. Ich have loved al this 3er, that y may love namore, Suete lemmon, y preye the of love one speche, Suete lemmon, y preze the of a love bene; zef thou me lovest, ase men says, lemmon, as y wene, Ant zef hit thi wille be, thou loke that hit be sene, So muchel y thenke upon the, that al y waxe grene. Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye, Norhamptoun ant Ne wot y non so fayr a may as y go fore y-bounde; XXXIII. [Fol. 81, ro.] BLESSED be thou, levedy, ful of heovene blisse, So Of the, suete levedy, my song y wile byginne, Myne thohtes, levedy, maketh me ful wan, To the Ꭹ Levedy, seinte Marie, for thi milde mod, Bryhte ant shene, sterre cler, lyht thou me ant lere, In this false fykel world my selve so to bere, y That Levedi, seinte Marie, so fair ant so briht, Al myn help is on the bi day ant by nyht, Levedy, seinte Marie, so fayr ant so hende, Ofte y crie merci, of mylse thou art welle, Alle buen false that bueth mad bothe of fleyshe ant felle; Levedi suete, thou us shild from the pine of helle, Bring us to the joie that no tonge hit may of telle. Jhesu Crist, Godes sone, fader ant holy gost, XXXIV. [Fol. 81 vo.] ASE y me rod this ender day, al of that suete thinge. |