English poetry -- 18th century; Literary forgeries and mystifications -- Early works to 1800
'Tys nowe fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte
To have been heere; mie stede han notte mie love;
Thys ys mie pallace; lette mie hyndes alyghte,
Whylste I goe oppe, & wake mie slepeynge dove.
Staie here, mie hyndlettes; I shal goe above. 1140
Nowe. Birtha, wyll thie loke enhele mie spryte,
Thie smyles unto mie woundes a baulme wylle prove;
Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee sette aryghte.
Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle doore,
Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of warre ne more. 1145
ÆLLA, EGWINA.
EGWINA.
Oh Ælla!
ÆLLA.
Ah! that semmlykeene to mee
Speeketh a legendary tale of woe.
EGWINA.
Birtha is--
ÆLLA.
Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?
EGWINA.
Gone--
ÆLLA.
Gone! ye goddes!
EGWINA.
Alas! ytte ys toe true.
Yee seynctes, hee dies awaie wythe myckle woe! 1150
Ælla! what? Ælla! oh! hee lyves agen.
ÆLLA.
Cal mee notte Ælla; I am hymme ne moe.
Where ys shee gon awaie? ah! speake! how? when?
EGWINA.
I will.
ÆLLA.
Caparyson a score of stedes; flie, flie.
Where ys shee? swythynne speeke, or instante thou shalte die. 1155
EGWINA.
Stylle thie loud rage, & here thou whatte I knowe.
ÆLLA.
Oh! speek.
EGWINA.
Lyche prymrose, droopynge wythe the heavie rayne,
Laste nyghte I lefte her, droopynge wythe her wiere,
Her love the gare, thatte gave her harte syke peyne--
ÆLLA.
Her love! to whomme?
EGWINA.
To thee, her spouse alleyne[122]. 1160
As ys mie hentylle everyche morne to goe,
I wente, and oped her chamber doore ynn twayne,
Botte found her notte, as I was wont to doe;
Thanne alle arounde the pallace I dyd seere[123],
Botte culde (to mie hartes woe) ne fynde her anie wheere. 1165
ÆLLA.
Thou lyest, foul hagge! thou lyest; thou art her ayde
To chere her louste;--botte noe; ytte cannotte bee.
EGWINA.
Gyff trouthe appear notte inne whatte I have sayde,
Drawe forthe thie anlace swythyn, thanne mee flea.
ÆLLA.
Botte yette ytte muste, ytte muste bee foe; I see, 1170
Shee wythe somme loustie paramoure ys gone;
Itte moste bee foe--oh! how ytte wracketh mee!
Mie race of love, mie race of lyfe ys ronne;
Nowe rage, & brondeous storm, & tempeste comme;
Nete lyvynge upon erthe can now enswote mie domme. 1175
ÆLLA, EGWINA, SERVYTOURE.
SERVYTOURE.
Loverde! I am aboute the trouthe to saie.
Laste nyghte, fulle late I dydde retourne to reste.
As to mie chamber I dydde bende mie waie,
To Birtha onne hys name & place addreste;
Downe to hym camme shee; butte thereof the reste 1180
I ken ne matter; so, mie hommage made--
ÆLLA.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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