Chief British Poets of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries: Selected PoemsWilliam Allan Neilson, Kenneth Grant Tremayne Webster |
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Page 96
... doon his pilgrimage . 70 With him ther was his sone , a yong SQUYER , 80 A lovyere , and a lusty bacheler , 8 With lokkes crulle , as they were leyd in presse.9 Of twenty yeer of age he was , I gesse . Of his stature he was of evene 10 ...
... doon his pilgrimage . 70 With him ther was his sone , a yong SQUYER , 80 A lovyere , and a lusty bacheler , 8 With lokkes crulle , as they were leyd in presse.9 Of twenty yeer of age he was , I gesse . Of his stature he was of evene 10 ...
Page 98
... doon the sterres in the frosty night . This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd . A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd , 270 In mottelee , 21 and hye on horse he sat , Up - on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat ; His botes clasped faire ...
... doon the sterres in the frosty night . This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd . A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd , 270 In mottelee , 21 and hye on horse he sat , Up - on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat ; His botes clasped faire ...
Page 104
... doon yow mirthe , wiste I how . And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght , To doon yow ese , and it shal coste noght . 770 ' Ye goon to Caunterbury ; God yow spede , The blisful martir quyte yow your mede . And wel I woot , as ye goon by ...
... doon yow mirthe , wiste I how . And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght , To doon yow ese , and it shal coste noght . 770 ' Ye goon to Caunterbury ; God yow spede , The blisful martir quyte yow your mede . And wel I woot , as ye goon by ...
Page 105
... doon yow som confort . And if yow lyketh alle , by oon assent , Now for to stonden at my jugement , And for to werken as I shal yow seye , To - morwe , whan ye ryden by the weye , 780 Now , by my fader2 soule , that is deed , But ye be ...
... doon yow som confort . And if yow lyketh alle , by oon assent , Now for to stonden at my jugement , And for to werken as I shal yow seye , To - morwe , whan ye ryden by the weye , 780 Now , by my fader2 soule , that is deed , But ye be ...
Page 107
... doon so ferforthly his might Up - on the tyraunt Creon hem to wreke , That al the peple of Grece sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus y - served , As he that hadde his deeth ful wel de- served . And right anoon , with - outen more ...
... doon so ferforthly his might Up - on the tyraunt Creon hem to wreke , That al the peple of Grece sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus y - served , As he that hadde his deeth ful wel de- served . And right anoon , with - outen more ...
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Common terms and phrases
amang anon baith bonny Chaucer Child Waters coude dede deid doun fair ficht flour forto frae fresche furth gane Gawain gold grace greit grene gret grete gude haif haill hame hath herte hevin king knight kyng lady lord lordis lufe lusty maid mair micht Middle Scots mony mycht myght mynd nane never nevir nocht noght othir quene quhar quhat Quhen quhich Quhilk quod quoth richt Robin Robin Hood rycht sall sche Schir scho seyde seyn shal sone suld swich Syne taen Tam Lin thai thaim thair thame thar thare thee ther thing thir thocht thou thow Timor Mortis conturbat toun trew trow tyme unto wald Wallace warld weill wele whan whyl wolde wyse wyth yald
Popular passages
Page 86 - For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt. For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may nat wepe al-thogh him sore smerte. 230 Therfore, in stede of weping and preyeres, Men moot yeve silver to the povre freres.
Page 84 - Of court, and been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But, for to speken of hir conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Page 267 - The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he ; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. " O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir, To sail upon the se ! " Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all.
Page 301 - So thus did both these nobles die, Whose courage none could stain. An English archer then perceived The noble earl was slain ; He had a bow bent in his hand, Made of a trusty tree; An arrow of a cloth-yard long To the hard head drew he. Against Sir Hugh Mountgomery So right the shaft he set, The gray goose-wing that was thereon In his heart's blood was wet. This fight did last from break of day Till setting of the sun; For when they rung the evening-bell The battle scarce was done.
Page 84 - After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe. At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle; She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe.
Page 248 - And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Whan ye gang ovir the sea O? " " The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, Mither, mither, The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, For thame nevir mair wul I see O." 7. " And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, Edward, Edward ? And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir ? My deir son, now tell me O." " The curse of hell f rae me sail ye beir, Mither, mither, The...
Page 89 - He sette nat his benefice to hyre, And leet his sheep encombred in the myre, And ran to London, un-to seynt Poules, To seken him a chaunterie for soules...
Page 92 - Now, lordynges, trewely Ye been to me right welcome hertely : For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a compaignye At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.
Page 86 - A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also That un-to logik hadde longe y-go. As lene was his hors as is a rake, And he nas nat right fat, I undertake, But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly. Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy; For he had geten him yet no benefyce, Ne was so worldly for to have offyce.
Page 252 - In behint yon auld fail dyke I wot there lies a new-slain knight ; And naebody kens that he lies there But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. " His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. " Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.