« הקודםהמשך »
I have purvayed me of a mayd, whom I love more than you; Another fayrëre than ever ye were, I dare it wele avowe; And of you bothe eche sholdebe wrothe with other, as I trowe : It were myne ese, to lyve in pese; so wyll I, yf I Can ; Wherfore I to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed man. B. Though in the wode I undyrstode ye had a paramour, All this may nought remove my thought, but that I will be your: And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, and courteys every hour; Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll commaunde me, to
my power: For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, yet wolde Ibe that one ; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. Myne own dere love, Ise the prove that yebe kynde, and true;
Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe, the best that ever I knewe.
Be mery and glad, be no more sad, the case is chaunged newe;
For it were 1uthe, that, for your truthe, ye sholde have cause to rewe : Be nat dismayed; whatsoever I sayd to you, whan I began, I will nat to the grene wode go, I am no banyshed IIlan. B. These tydings be more gladder to me than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they sholde endure: but it is often sene, Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke the wordes on the splene: Ye shape some wyle, me to begyle, and stele from me, I wene: Than were the case worse than it was, and I more wo-begone; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you
alone. A. Ye shall nat nede further to drede; I wyll not dysparage You (God defendel) syth you descend of so grete lynage.
Nowe understande,-to Westmarlande, which is myne herytage,
I wyll you bringe; and with a rynge, by way of maryage
I wyll you take, and lady make, as shortely as I Can :
Thus have ye won an erlys son, and not abanyshed Islat.Ile B. Here may ye se, that women be, in love, meke, kynde, and stable: Late never man reprove them than, . . . . But, rather, pray God, that we may to them be comfortable, Which sometyme proved such as he loved, yf they be charytable. Forsoth, men wolde that women sholde be meke to them eche one; Moche more ought they to God obey, and serve but hym alone.
THOU, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command
No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old ;
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Tame With mingled waves for ever flow the same, In times of yore an ancient baron liv'd ; Great gifts bestow'd, and great respect receiv'd. When dreadful Edward with successful care Iled his free Britons to the Gallic war; This lord had headed his appointed bands, In firm allegiance to his king's commands; And (all due honours faithfully discharg’d) Had brought back his paternal coat enlarg’d With a new mark, the witness of his toil, And no inglorious part of foreign spoil. From the loud camp retir’d and noisy court, In honourable ease and rural sport, The remnant of his days he safely pass'd ; Nor found they lagg'd too slow, nor flew too fast. He made his wish with his estate comply, Joyful to live, yet not afraid to die. One child he had, a daughter chaste and fair, His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir. They call'd her Emma; for the beauteous dame, Who gave the virgin birth, had borne the name; The name th’ indulgent father doubly lov’d; Por in the child the mother's charms improv’d. Ket as, when little, round his knees she play’d, He call'd her oft in sport his Nut-brown Maid, The friends and tenants took the fondling word (As still they please, who imitate their lord); Usage confirm'd what fancy had begun; The mutual terms around the lands were known ;