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Now skruketh rose and lylie flour,
That whilen ber that suete savour

In somer, that suete tyde;
Ne is no quene so stark ne stour,
Ne no luedy so bryht in bour

That ded ne shal by glyde:

Whoso wol fleysh-lust for-gon and hevene-blisse abyde On Jhesu be is thoht anon, that therled was ys sidef. To which we may add a song, probably written by the same author, on the five joys of the blessed Virgin.

Ase y me rod this ender day,

By grene wode, to seche play;
Mid herte y thohte al on a May.
Suetest of alle thinge:

Lythe, and ich ou tell may

Al of that suete thinges.

In the same pastoral vein, a lover, perhaps of the reign of king John, thus addresses his mistress, whom he supposes to be the most beautiful girl, "bituene Lyncolne and Lyndeseye, Northampton and Lounde""

When the nyhtegale singes the wodes waxen grene,
Lef, and gras, and blosme, springes in Avril y wene.
Ant love is to myn herte gon with one spere so kene
Nyht and day my blod hit drynkes myn herte deth me tenei.
Ich have loved al this yer that y may love na more,
Ich have siked moni syk, lemon, for thin ore,
Me nis love never the ner, and that me reweth sore;
Suete lemon, thench on me, ich have loved the zore,
Suete lemon, y preye the, of love one speche,

While y lyve in worlde so wyde other nulle y seche*.
[With thy love, my suete leof, mi blis thou mihtes eche
A suete cos of thy mouth mihte be my leche.]

f MSS. ibid. f. 80.

Ibid. f. 81. b.

h London.

i MSS. ibid. f. 80. b. [The same conVOL. I.

D

fusion adverted to above, prevailed in the disposition of this song. The present copy follows the manuscript.-EDIT.] Ibid. f. 80. b.

Nor are these verses unpleasing, in somewhat the same mea

sure.

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,
Zef mi thoht helpeth me noht to whom schal I me mene?

Another, in the following little poem, enigmatically compares his mistress, whose name seems to be Joan, to various gems and flowers. The writer is happy in his alliteration, and his verses are tolerably harmonious.

Ichot a burde in a bour, ase beryl so bryht,
Ase saphyr in selver semly on syht,
Ase jaspe' the gentil that lemethm with lyht,
Ase gernet in golde and ruby wel ryht,
Ase onycle he ys on yholden on hyht;
Ase diamaund the dere in day when he is dyht:
He is coral yend with Cayser and knyght,
Ase emeraude a morewen this may haveth myht.
The myht of the margarite haveth this mai mere,
For charbocle iche hire chase bi chyn and bi chere,
Hire rode ys as rose that red ys on rys",
With lilye white leves lossum he ys,

The primrose he passeth, the parevenke of prys,
With alisaundre thareto ache and anys:

Coynte as columbine such hire cînde' ys,
Glad under gore in and in grys

gro

He is blosme upon bleo brihtest under bis

With celydone ant sange as thou thi self sys, &c.
From Weye he is wisist into Wyrhale,

Hire nome is in a note of the nyhtegale;
In an note is hire nome nempneth hit non
Who so ryht redeth ronne to Johon.s

I jasper. garnet.

m

streams, shines.
onyx. P branch.

white complexion.

quaint.
MSS. ibid. f. 63.

The curious Harleian volume, to which we are so largely indebted, has preserved a moral tale, a Comparison between age and youth, where the stanza is remarkably constructed. The various sorts of versification which we have already seen, evidently prove that much poetry had been written, and that the art had been greatly cultivated, before this period.

Herkne to my ron,
As ich ou tell con,

Of a mody mon,
Hihte Maximion,

Clerc he was ful god,

Of elde al hou yt ges.

Soth withoute les.

So moni mon undirstod.

Nou herkne hou it wes."

For the same reason, a sort of elegy on our Saviour's crucifixion should not be omitted. It begins thus:

I syke when y singe for sorewe that y se

When

y with wypinge bihold upon the tre,

Ant se Jhesu the suete

Is hert blod for-lete,

For the love of me;

Ys woundes waxen wete,

Thei wepen, still and mete,

Marie reweth the. "

Nor an alliterative ode on heaven, death, judgement, &c.

Middel-erd for mon was mad,
Un-mihti aren is meste mede,
This hedy hath on honde yhad,
That hevene hem is hest to hede.
Icherde a blisse budel us bade,
The dreri domesdai to drede,
Of sinful sauhting sone be sad,
That derne doth this derne dede,
This wrakefall werkes under wede,

In soule soteleth sone.

W

Thah he ben derne done.

MSS. ibid. f. 82.

" Ibid. f. 80.

W

Ibid. f. 62. b.

Many of these measures were adopted from the French chansons *. I will add one or two more specimens.

On our Saviour's passion and death.

Jesu for thi muchele miht

Thou zef us of thi grace,
That we mowe day and nyht
Thenken o thi face.

In myn herte hit doth me god,
When y thenke on Jhesu blod,
That ran doun bi ys syde;
From is herte doune to ys fot,
For ous he spradde is herte blod
His wondes were so wyde.

On the same subject.

Lutel wot hit any mon

Hou love hym haveth y bounde,

That for us o the rode ron,

Ant bohte us with is wounde;

The love of him us haveth ymaked sounde,
And y cast the grimly gost to ground:

Ever and oo, nyht and day, he haveth us in is thohte,

He nul nout leose that he so deore bohte. Z

The following are on love and gallantry. The poet, named Richard, professes himself to have been a great writer of love-songs. Weping haveth myn wonges* wet,

For wilked worke ant wone of wyt,
Unblithe y be til y ha bet,
Bruches broken ase bok byt:
Of levedis love that y ha let,
That lemeth al with luefly lyt,
Ofte in songe y have hem set,
That is unsemly ther hit syt.

* See MSS. Harl. ut supr. f. 49. 76. y Ibid. f. 79. Probably this song has been somewhat modernised by tran

scribers.

z Ibid. f. 128. These lines afterwards occur, burlesqued and parodied, by a writer of the same age.

[cheeks, A. S. pang, Ital. guancia.]

Hit syt and semeth noht,
Ther hit ys seid in song
That y have of them wroht,

Y wis hit is all wrong. a

It was customary with the early scribes, when stanzas consisted of short lines, to throw them together like prose. thus:

As

"A wayle whyt as whalles bon | a grein in golde that godly shon | a tortle that min herte is on | in tounes trewe | Hire gladship nes never gon | whil y may glewe."b

Sometimes they wrote three or four verses together as one

line.

With longyng y am lad | on molde y waxe mad | a maide marreth me,

Y grede y grone un glad | for selden y am sad | that semly

for te se.

Levedi thou rewe me | to routhe thou havest me rad | be bote of that y bad my lyf is long on the.

Again,

Most i ryden by rybbes dale | widle wymmen for te wale | ant welde wuch ich wolde :

Founde were the feirest on that ever was mad of blod ant bon | in boure best with bolde.d

This mode of writing is not uncommon in antient manuscripts of French poetry. And some critics may be inclined to suspect, that the verses which we call Alexandrine, accidentally assumed their form merely from the practice of absurd transcribers, who frugally chose to fill their pages to the extremity, and violated the metrical structure for the sake of saving their vellum. It is certain, that the common stanza of four short lines may be reduced into two Alexandrines, and on

2 MSS. ibid. f. 66.

b Ibid. f. 67.

Ibid. 63. b.

d Ibid. f. 66.

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