Early English Poetry, Ballads, and Popular Literature of the Middle Ages: Specimens of lyric poetry, composed in England in the reign of Edward the FirstPercy Society, 1841 |
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... grete ant gray y - noh , Th [ at ] lussum when heo on me loh , y - bend wax eyther breze . The mone with hire muchele maht , Ne leveth non such lyht a naht , that is in heovene heze , Ase hire forhed doth in day ; For wham thus muchel y ...
... grete ant gray y - noh , Th [ at ] lussum when heo on me loh , y - bend wax eyther breze . The mone with hire muchele maht , Ne leveth non such lyht a naht , that is in heovene heze , Ase hire forhed doth in day ; For wham thus muchel y ...
52 ページ
... grete ant gode , With browen blysfol under hode , He that reste him on the rode that leflich lyf honoure ! Blou , etc. Hire lure lumes liht , Ase a launterne a nyht , Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht , so feyr heo is ant fyn ; A suetly suyre ...
... grete ant gode , With browen blysfol under hode , He that reste him on the rode that leflich lyf honoure ! Blou , etc. Hire lure lumes liht , Ase a launterne a nyht , Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht , so feyr heo is ant fyn ; A suetly suyre ...
57 ページ
... that the shall lete ! Tharefore me shulden ofte the grete , With salte teres ant eze wepe . Suete Jhesu , kyng of londe , Thou make me fer understonde , That min herte mote fonde , Hou suete bueth thi LYRIC POETRY . 57.
... that the shall lete ! Tharefore me shulden ofte the grete , With salte teres ant eze wepe . Suete Jhesu , kyng of londe , Thou make me fer understonde , That min herte mote fonde , Hou suete bueth thi LYRIC POETRY . 57.
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... that gladieth al my song ; Ich wot al myd i - wisse My joie ant eke my blisse on him is al y - long . When y mi selve stonde , ant with myn ezen seo , Thurled fot ant honde with grete nayles threo ; Blody LYRIC POETRY . 61.
... that gladieth al my song ; Ich wot al myd i - wisse My joie ant eke my blisse on him is al y - long . When y mi selve stonde , ant with myn ezen seo , Thurled fot ant honde with grete nayles threo ; Blody LYRIC POETRY . 61.
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Percy Society. Thurled fot ant honde with grete nayles threo ; Blody wes ys heved , On him nes nout bileved that wes of peynes freo ; Wel , wel ohte myn herte For his love to swerte , ant sike ant sory beo . Jesu milde ant softe , zef me ...
Percy Society. Thurled fot ant honde with grete nayles threo ; Blody wes ys heved , On him nes nout bileved that wes of peynes freo ; Wel , wel ohte myn herte For his love to swerte , ant sike ant sory beo . Jesu milde ant softe , zef me ...
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bien blisse blod bote brede bryht bryng carrion crow Catskin chyld Crist cuer dame dance deth Dieu drynke femme fere feyr ffor fust Godes grete hath haveth hevene heze hire honde huerte Jack Horner JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL Jhesu John John Crowder joie king kyng lady levedy loke thou londe lord lordys Lucy Locket lyht maid Mary mede merry Mès mete molt myht namore noht nout nowell nyht old woman Percy Society Quar Richard to Robin Robin to Bobbin rode ryzt sauntz says Richard says Robin schalle shal shalbe shulde sing sone song sore speke stonde suete Suete Jhesu sunne syng thah ther thoht thou art thow thre thyng tiel trewe tyme wife WILLIAM CHAPPELL withouten Wolcum wolde wylle yf thou
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179 ページ - OLD King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.
84 ページ - Hey, diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, And the dish ran away with the spoon!
132 ページ - One, two, Buckle my shoe; Three, four, Shut the door; Five, six, Pick up sticks; Seven, eight, Lay them straight; Nine, ten, A good fat hen; Eleven, twelve, Who will delve?
27 ページ - The boar's head in hand bear I, Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary ; And I pray you, my masters, be merry Quot estis in convivio. Caput apri defero, Reddens laudes domino.
63 ページ - SO now is come our joyful'st feast; Let every man be jolly, Each room with ivy leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine, And let us all be merry. Now, all our neighbours...
5 ページ - Then came the Holy One, blessed be He ! And killed the Angel of Death, That killed the butcher, That slew the ox, That drank the water, That quenched the fire, That burned the staff, That beat the dog, That bit the cat, That ate the kid That my father bought For two pieces of money: A kid, a kid.
95 ページ - As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives, Every wife had seven sacks, Every sack had seven cats, Every cat had seven kits— Kits, cats, sacks, and wives, How many were going to St. Ives?
46 ページ - Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie. When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing; Wasn't that a dainty dish To set before the king?
64 ページ - Young men and maids, and girls and boys, Give life to one another's joys; And you anon shall by their noise Perceive that they are merry.
9 ページ - Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I've been to London to look at the queen. Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?