Chief British Poets of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries: Selected PoemsWilliam Allan Neilson, Kenneth Grant Tremayne Webster |
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Page 3
... song . Of sacrylage he may be a - ferd ; Or entyrludës , or syngynge , Or tabure bete , or other pypynge , Alle swychë thyng forbodyn es Whyle the prest stondeth at messe . Alle swyche , to every gode preste ys lothe , And sunner wyl he ...
... song . Of sacrylage he may be a - ferd ; Or entyrludës , or syngynge , Or tabure bete , or other pypynge , Alle swychë thyng forbodyn es Whyle the prest stondeth at messe . Alle swyche , to every gode preste ys lothe , And sunner wyl he ...
Page 7
... song as stole to me in the silent hour ; forsooth there floated to me many , to think of her beauty , so clad in clay . O earth , thou marrest a lovely jewel , mine own pearl without a spot ! 3. That spot must needs abound in spices ...
... song as stole to me in the silent hour ; forsooth there floated to me many , to think of her beauty , so clad in clay . O earth , thou marrest a lovely jewel , mine own pearl without a spot ! 3. That spot must needs abound in spices ...
Page 15
... song they sang never the less . ' 75. " Nevertheless no one was ever so cunning , for all the craft that ever he knew , that of that song he could sing one note , except the band that follows the Lamb ; for they are redeemed , far ...
... song they sang never the less . ' 75. " Nevertheless no one was ever so cunning , for all the craft that ever he knew , that of that song he could sing one note , except the band that follows the Lamb ; for they are redeemed , far ...
Page 38
... songs they sang , as Christmas carols and new dance tunes , with all the mannerly mirth that a man can tell of . And ever our lovely knight sat beside the lady . Such seemly cheer she made to the hero , sought with such sly stolen ...
... songs they sang , as Christmas carols and new dance tunes , with all the mannerly mirth that a man can tell of . And ever our lovely knight sat beside the lady . Such seemly cheer she made to the hero , sought with such sly stolen ...
Page 52
... song . 140 That belongs to the Father that formed us all , He looked on Son die Meekly for our misdeeds , to amend us all . And yet wished He no woe to them that wrought Him that pain , us with love , and let His But meekly with mouth ...
... song . 140 That belongs to the Father that formed us all , He looked on Son die Meekly for our misdeeds , to amend us all . And yet wished He no woe to them that wrought Him that pain , us with love , and let His But meekly with mouth ...
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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.