I have purvayed me of a mayd, whom I love more than you; Another fayrère than ever ye were, I dare it wele avowe; And of you bothe eche sholde be 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 para mour', 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 I be that one; For, in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone. A. Myne own dere love, I se the prove that ye be 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 uthe, 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 man. 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 dys parage You (God defende!) 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 a banyshed man. 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. HENRY AND EMMA. A POEM. UPON THE MODEL OF THE NUT-BROWN MAID TO CLOE. THOU, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old; As beauty's potent queen, with every grace 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 Led 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, The remnant of his days he safely pass'd; 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, The mutual terms around the lands were known; |