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9. For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.
2. Stevyn out of kechone cam, wyth boris' hed
on honde; He saw a sterre was fayr and brygt over Bed
3. He kyst ? adoun the boris hed and went in to
the halle: “I forsak the, Kyng Herowdes, and thi werkes
10. O they rade on and further on,
Until they came to a garden green:
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.” 40 11. "O no, O no, True Thomas,” she says,
"That fruit maun not be touched by thee, For a' the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie. 12. “But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.” 13. When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
"Lay down your head upon my knee,” 50 The lady sayd, “ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies' three.
6. “Lakit me neyther mete nor drynk in Kyng
14. "O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi thorns and briers ? That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.
15. "And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven? ?
Tho some call it the road to heaven.
8. “Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe, ne non ryche
wede; Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born xal helpyn us
at our nede."
9. “That is al so soth, Stevyn, al so soth, iwys,o As this capoun crowe xal that lyth here in
16. “And see ye not that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae ? 3
Where you and I this night maun gae. 17. “But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see,
You will neer get back to your ain countrie.” 18. He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green, 70 And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
ST. STEPHEN AND HEROD
1. Seynt Stevene was a clerk in Kyng Herowdes
halle, And servyd him of bred and cloth, as every
a lovely lawn hillside
THE BEGINNING OF THE RENAISSANCE
SIR THOMAS WYATT (1503-1542)
A RENOUNCING OF LOVE
Farewell, Love, and all thy laws forever!
THE LOVER COMPLAINETH THE UNKIND
NESS OF HIS LOVE
THE DESERTED LOVER CONSOLETH HIM
SELF WITH REMEMBRANCE THAT ALL WOMEN ARE BY NATURE FICKLE
Divers doth use, as I have heard and know,
and wail, and never for to lynn;?
been, They call them false, and think with words to win The hearts of them which otherwhere doth grow. But as for me, though that by chance indeed Change hath outworn the favour that I had, I will not wail, lament, nor yet be sad, Nor call her false that falsely did me feed; But let it pass, and think it is of kind 3 That often change doth please a woman's mind.
My lute, awake, perform the last
As to be heard where ear is none,
The rocks do not so cruelly
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain
May chance thee lie withered and old
THE LOVER HAVING DREAMED OF ENJOY
ING OF HIS LOVE, COMPLAINETH THAT THE DREAM IS NOT EITHER LONGER OR TRUER
Unstable dream, according to the place,
3 of nature, natural
And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon; Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want, as I have done.
Now cease, my lute, this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And ended is that we begun. Now is this song both sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done.
A DESCRIPTION OF SUCH A ONE AS HE
WOULD LOVE A face that should content me wondrous well, Should not be fair, but lovely to behold, Of lively look, all grief for to repell, With right good grace, so would I that it should Speak without word, such words as none can tell; The tress also should be of crisped gold. With wit and these perchance I might be tried, And knit again with knot that should not slide.
OF THE MEAN AND SURE ESTATE
She feedeth on boiled bacon, meat and roast,
And at this journey she maketh but a jape; '
And to the door now is shc come by stealth,
thou so loud?” And by the hand she took her fair and well. “Welcome,” quoth she, “my sister, by the
Rood !" She feasted her, that joy it was to tell The fare they had; they drank the wine so clear, And as to purpose now and then it fell, She cheered her with “Ho, sister, what cheer!" Amid this joy befell a sorry chance,
50 That, welaway! the stranger bought full dear The fare she had, for, as she looks askance, Under a stool she spied two steaming ? eyes In a round head with sharp ears. In France Was never mouse so fear'd, for, though unwise Had not i-seen such a beast before, Yet had nature taught her after her guise To know her foe and dread him evermore. The towney mouse fled, she knew whither to go; Th' other had no shift, but wanders sore 60 Feard of her life. At home she wished her tho, And to the door, alas! as she did skip, The Heaven it would, lo! and eke her chance
was so, At the threshold her silly foot did trip; And ere she might recover it again, The traitor cat had caught her by the hip, And made her there against her will remain, That had forgotten her poor surety and rest For seeming wealth wherein she thought to reign. Alas, my Poines, how men do seek the best 70 And find the worst by error as they stray! And no marvel; when sight is so oppressed, And blind the guide, anon out of the way Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life. O wretched minds, there is no gold that may Grant that ye seek; no war; no peace; no strife. No, no, although thy head were hooped with gold,
WRITTEN TO JOHN POINS My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin, They sang sometime a song of the field mouse That, for because her livelihood was but thin, Would needs go seek her townish sister's house. She thought herself endured too much pain; The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse That when the furrows swimmed with the rain, She must lie cold and wet in sorry plight; And worse than that, bare meat there did remain To comfort her when she her house had dight; 10 Sometime a barly corn; sometime a bean, For which she laboured hard both day and night In harvest time whilst she might go and glean; And where store' was stroyed ? with the flood, Then welaway! for she undone was clean. Then was she fain to take instead of food Sleep, if she might, her hunger to beguile.
“My sister," quoth she, “hath a living good, And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile. In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry In bed of down, the dirt doth not defile Her tender foot, she laboureth not as I. Richly she feedeth and at the richman's cost, And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry. By sea, by land, of the delicates, the most Her cater seeks and spareth for no peril,
Sergeant with mace, halberd, sword nor knife,
some, These wretched fools shall have nought else of me; But to the great God and to his high dome, None other pain pray I for them to be, But when the rage doth lead them from the right, That, looking backward, virtue they may see, Even as she is so goodly fair and bright, And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms across, Grant them, good Lord, as Thou mayst of Thy
might, To fret inward for losing such a loss.
What cold again is able to restore
HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SUR
REY (15172-1547) DESCRIPTION OF THE RESTLESS STATE
OF A LOVER The sun hath twice brought forth his tender green And clad the earth in lively lustiness, Once have the winds the trees despoiled clean, And new again begins their cruelness, Since I have hid under my breast the harm That never shall recover healthfulness. The winter's hurt recovers with the warm, The parched green restored is with the shade. What warmth, alas! may serve for to disarm 9 The frozen heart that mine in flame hath made?
DESCRIPTION OF SPRING, WHEREIN
EACH THING RENEWS, SAVE ONLY THE
LOVER The soote : scason that bud and bloom forth brings With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale; The nightingale with feathers new she sings; The turtle to her make hath told her tale: