Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose

English literature -- Middle English, 1100-1500; Great Britain -- History -- 14th century -- Sources
Now doþ ȝour best wiþ al mi þing.'
        Þo was þer wepeing in þe halle,
      And grete cri among hem alle;                      220
      Vnneþe miȝt old or ȝong
      For wepeing speke a word wiþ tong.
      Þai kneled adoun al yfere,
      And praid him, ȝif his wille were,
      Þat he no schuld nouȝt fram hem go.                225
      'Do way!' quaþ he, 'it schal be so.'
        Al his kingdom he forsoke;
      Bot a sclauin on him he toke;
      He no hadde kirtel no hode,
      Schert, <no> no noþer gode.                        230
      Bot his harp he tok algate,
      And dede him barfot out atte ȝate;
      No man most wiþ him go.
        O way! what þer was wepe and wo,
      When he, þat hadde ben king wiþ croun,             235
      Went so pouerlich out of toun!
      Þurch wode and ouer heþ
      Into þe wildernes he geþ.
      Noþing he fint þat him is ays,
      Bot euer he liueþ in gret malais.                  240
      He þat hadde ywerd þe fowe and griis,
      And on bed þe purper biis,
      Now on hard heþe he liþ,
      Wiþ leues and gresse he him wriþ.
      He þat hadde had castels and tours,                245
      Riuer, forest, friþ wiþ flours,
      Now, þei it comenci to snewe and frese,
      Þis king mot make his bed in mese.
      He þat had yhad kniȝtes of priis
      Bifor him kneland, and leuedis,                    250
      Now seþ he noþing þat him likeþ,
      Bot wilde wormes bi him strikeþ.
      He þat had yhad plenté
      Of mete and drink, of ich deynté,
      Now may he al day digge and wrote                  255
      Er he finde his fille of rote.
      In somer he liueþ bi wild frut
      And berien bot gode lite;
      In winter may he noþing finde
      Bot rote, grases, and þe rinde.                    260
      Al his bodi was oway duine
      For missays, and al tochine.
      Lord! who may telle þe sore
      Þis king sufferd ten ȝere and more?
      His here of his berd, blac and rowe,               265
      To his girdelstede was growe.
      His harp, whereon was al his gle,
      He hidde in an holwe tre;
      And, when þe weder was clere and briȝt,
      He toke his harp to him wel riȝt,                  270
      And harped at his owhen wille.
      Into alle þe wode þe soun gan schille,
      Þat alle þe wilde bestes þat þer beþ
      For ioie abouten him þai teþ;
      And alle þe foules þat þer were                    275
      Come and sete on ich a brere,
      To here his harping afine,
      So miche melody was þerin;
      And when he his harping lete wold,
      No best bi him abide nold.                         280
        He miȝt se him bisides
      Oft in hot vndertides
      Þe king o fairy wiþ his rout
      Com to hunt him al about,
      Wiþ dim cri and bloweing;                          285
      And houndes also wiþ him berking;
      Ac no best þai no nome,
      No neuer he nist whider þai bicome.
      And oþer while he miȝt him se
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Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose

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