5.

For hire love in slep y slake,
For hire love al nyht ich wake,
For hire love mournynge y make
More then eny mon.

Blou northerne wynd!

Send thou me my suetyng!

Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou !

This World's Joy

WYNTER wakeneth al

my care,

Nou this leves waxeth bare;

Ofte I sike ant mourne sare

When hit cometh in my thoht

Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.

Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,

Al so hit ner nere, ywys;

That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:

Al goth bote Godes wille:

Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.

Al that gren me graueth grene

Nou hit faleweth albydene:

Jesu, help that hit be sene

Ant shild us from helle!

c. 1300

For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.

5. this leves] these leaves. sike] sigh. ner nere] as though it had never been.

thah] though. faleweth] fadeth.

albydene] altogether.

except.
y not whider] I know not whither. her duelle] here dwell,

6.

A Hymn to the Virgin

OF

F on that is so fayr and bright
Velut maris stella,

Brighter than the day is light,

Parens et puella:

Ic crie to the, thou see to me,
Levedy, preye thi Sone for me,
Tam pia,

That ic mote come to thee

Maria.

Al this world was for-lore
Eva peccatrice,

Tyl our Lord was y-bore

De te genetrice.

With ave it went away

Thuster nyth and comz the day

Salutis ;

The welle springeth ut of the,

Virtutis.

Levedy, flour of alle thing,

Rosa sine spina,

Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king,

Gratia divina:

Of alle thu ber'st the pris,

Levedy, quene of paradys

Electa:

Mayde milde, moder es

C. 1300

Effecta.

on] one.

levedy] lady.

thuster] dark.

prís] prize.

7.

Of a rose, a lovely rose,
Of a rose is al myn song.

LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and 3ynge,

How this rose began to sprynge;
Swych a rose to myn lykynge

In al this word ne knowe I non.

The Aungil came fro hevene tour,
To grete Marye with gret honour,
And seyde sche xuld bere the flour

That xulde breke the fyndes bond.

The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,
That is bothe bryht and schen:
The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,

Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.

The ferste braunche is ful of myht,
That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,
The sterre schon over Bedlem bryht
That is bothe brod and long.

The secunde braunche sprong to helle,
The fendys power doun to felle:
Therein myht non sowle dwelle ;

Blyssid be the time the rose sprong!

The thredde braunche is good and swote,
It sprang to hevene crop and rote,
Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote;

Every day it schewit in prystes hond.

lestenyt] listen. word] world. hevene qwyn] heaven's queen.

xuld] should. bote] salvation.

C. 1350

schen] beautiful,

8.

9.

Prey we to here with gret honour,
Che that bar the blyssid flowr,

Che be our helpe and our socour

And schyd us fro the fyndes bond

ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE

Praise of Women

O thyng ys to man so dere

Νο

1260-1340

As wommanys love in gode manère.

A gode womman is mannys blys,
There her love right and stedfast ys.
There ys no solas under hevene
Of alle that a man may nevene
That shulde a man so moche glew
As a gode womman that loveth true.
Ne derer is none in Goddis hurde
Than a chaste womman with lovely worde.

JOHN BARBOUR

Freedom

A! Fredome is a noble thing!

Fredome mayse man to haif liking;

Fredome all solace to man giffis,

d. 1395

He livis at ese that frely livis !

A noble hart may haif nane ese,

Na ellys nocht that may him plese,

8. nevene] name. glew] gladden. liberty. na ellys nocht] nor aught else.

hurde] flock.

9. liking]

10.

Gif fredome fail'th; for fre liking
Is yharnit ouer all othir thing.
Na he that ay has livit fre
May nocht knaw well the propertè,
The anger, na the wretchit doom
That is couplit to foul thraldome.
But gif he had assayit it,

Then all perquer he suld it wit;
And suld think fredome mar to prise
Than all the gold in warld that is.
Thus contrar thingis evermar
Discoweringis of the tothir are.

GEOFFREY CHAUCER

The Love Unfeigned

YONGE fresshe folkes, he or she,

1340?-1400

In which that love up groweth with your age,

Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee,

And of your herte up-casteth the visage
To thilke god that after his image

Yow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayre
This world, that passeth sone as floures fayre.

And loveth him, the which that right for love
Upon a cros, our soules for to beye,
First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove;
For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye,
That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye.
And sin he best to love is, and most meke,

What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?

9. yharnit] yearned for.

10. repeyreth] repair ye.

perquer] thoroughly, by heart. starf] died.