I was war of a lady gay,

Come rydyng ouyr a fair le:

Zogh I suld sitt to domysday,
With my tong to wrabbe and wry,
Certenly all hyr aray,

It beth neuyer discryuyd for me.
Hyr palfra was dappyll gray,
Sycke on say neuer none;
As the son in somers day,
All abowte that lady schone.
Hyr sadel was of a rewel bone,
A semly syght it was to se,
Bryht with mony a precyous stone,
And compasyd all with crapste;
Stones of oryens, gret plente,
Her hair about her hede it hang,
She rode ouer the farnyle,

A while she blew, a while she sang,
Her girths of nobil silke they were,
Her boculs were of beryl stone,

With sylk and sendel about bedone,

Hyr patyrel was of a pall fyne,

And hyr croper of the arase,

Her brydil was of gold fyne,

On euery syde forsothe hang bells thre,

Her brydil reynes

He sayd Yonder is Mary of Might,

That bar the child that died for me,

Certes bot I may speke with that lady bright,

Myd my hert will breke in three;
I schal me hye with all my might,
Hyr to mete at Eldyn Tre.
Thomas rathly up her rase,
And ran ouer mountayn hye,
If it be sothe the story says,
He met her euyn at Eldyn Tre.
Thomas knelyd down on his kne
Undir nethe the grenewood spray,
And sayd, Lovely lady, thou rue on me,
Queen of Heaven as you may well be.
But I am a lady of another countrie,
If I be pareld most of prise,

I ride after the wild fee,

My ratches rinnen at my devys.
If thou be pareld most of prise,
And rides a lady in strang foly.
Lovely lady, as thou art wise,
Giue you me leue to lige ye by.
Do way, Thomas, that were foly,
I pray ye, Thomas, late me be,
That sin will fordo all my bewtie.
Lovely ladye, rewe on me,

And euer more I shall with ye dwell,
Here my trowth I plyght to thee,
Where you belieues in heuin or hell.
Thomas, and you myght lyge me by,
Undir nethe this grene wode spray,
Thou would tell full hastely,
That thou had layn by a lady gay.

Lady, mote I lyge by the,
Undir nethe the grene wode tre,
For all the gold in chrystenty,
Suld you neuer be wryede for me.
Man on molde you will me marre,

And yet bot you may haf your will,

Trow you well, Thomas, you cheuyst ye warre;

For all my bewtie wilt you spill.

Down lyghtyd that lady bryzt,

Undir nethe the grene wode spray,
And as ye story sayth full ryzt,
Seuyn tymes by her he lay.

She sayd, Man, you lyst thi play,

What berde in bouyr may dele with thee,
That maries me all this long day;
I pray ye, Thomas, let me be.
Thomas stode up in the stede,
And behelde the lady gay,

Her heyre hang down about hyr hede,
The tane was blak, the other gray,
Her eyn semyt onte before was gray,
Her gay clethyng was all away,
That he before had sene in that stede
Hyr body as blow as ony bede.
Thomas sighede, and sayd, Allas,
Me thynke this a dullfull syght,
That thou art fadyd in the face,
Before you shone as son so bryzt.
Tak thy leue, Thomas, at son and mone,
At gresse, and at euery tre,

This twelmonth sall you with me gone,
Medyl erth you sall not se.

Alas, he seyd, ful wo is me,

I trow my dedes will werke me care,
Jesu, my sole tak to ye,

Whedir so euyr my body sal fare.
She rode furth with all her myzt,
Undir nethe the derne lee,
It was as derke as at midnizt,
And euyr in water unto the kne;
Through the space of days thre,
He herde but swowyng of a flode;
Thomas sayd, Ful wo is me,
Now I spyll for fawte of fode;
To a garden she lede him tyte,
There was fruyte in grete plente,
Peyres and appless ther were rype,
The date and the damese,

The figge and als fylbert tre;
The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste,
The papigaye about gan fle,

The throstylcock sang wald hafe no rest.
He pressed to pulle fruyt with his hand,
As man for faute that was faynt;
She seyd, Thomas, lat al stand,
Or els the deuyl wil the ataynt.
Sche seyd, Thomas, I the hyzt,
To lay thi hede upon my kne,
And thou shalt see fayrer syght,
Than euyr sawe man in their kintre.
Sees thou, Thomas, yon fayr way,
That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn?
Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay,
Whan synful sawles haf derayed their payne.
Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way,
That lygges lawe undir the ryse?
Streight is the way, sothly to say,
To the joyes of paradyce.

Sees thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way,
That lygges ouyr yone how?
Wide is the way, sothly to say,

To the brynyng fyres of helle.
Sees thou, Thomas, yone fayr castell,
That standes ouyr yone fair hill?

Of town and tower it beereth the belle,
In middell erth is none like theretill.
Whan thou comyst in yone castell gaye,
I pray thee curteis man to be;
What so any man to you say,
Loke thu answer none but me.
My lord is servyd at yche messe,
With xxx kniztes feir and fre;
I shall say syttyng on the dese,
I toke thy speche beyond the le.
Thomas stode as still as stone,
And behelde that ladye gaye;

Than was sche fayr, and ryche anone,

And also ryal on hir palfreye.

The grewhoundes had fylde thaim on the dere, The raches coupled, by my fay,

She blewe her horne Thomas to chere,

To the castell she went her way.
The ladye into the hall went,
Thomas folowyd at her hand;
Thar kept her mony a lady gent,
With curtasy and lawe.
Harp and fedyl both he fande,
The getern and the sawtry,
Lut and rybid ther gon gan,
Thair was al maner of mynstralsy,
The most fertly that Thomas thoght,
When he com emyddes the flore,
Fourty hertes to quarry were broght,
That had ben befor both long and store.
Lymors lay lappyng blode,

And kokes standyng with dressyng knyfe,
And dressyd dere as thai wer wode,

And rewell was thair wonder.

Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre,

All that leue long day.

Ladyes that were gret of gre,

Sat and sang of rych aray.

Thomas sawe much more in that place,

Than I can descryve,

Til on a day, alas, alas,

My lovelye ladye sayd to me,

Busk ye, Thomas, you must agayn,

Here you may no longer be:

Hy then zerne that you were at hame,

I sal ye bryng to Eldyn Tre.

Thomas answer'd with heuy

And said, Lowely ladye, lat me be,

For I say ye certenly here

Haf I be bot the space of dayes three.

Sothly, Thomas, as I telle ye,

You hath ben here thre yeres,