XLIII.THAT OF YE LOVE-PHILTRE: AN OLD-ENGLISH LEGEND.
Sir Peter de WynkinHe loved a fair mayde,And he wooed ye fair maydeFor hys bride.But ye ladye cried "no,"With a toss of her head,And Sir WynkinDisconsolate sighed."Now out! and alas!And alack-a-day me!"He sang himIn sorrowful tones,"She loveth me notYet, beshrew me!" said he,"There's a wizard I wot ofCalled—Jones."Caldweller Ap Jones,Was a wizard of note,And he dwelt in a caveHard at hand.Love-philtres and potionsHe sold for a groat,To ye rich and ye poorOf ye land.Sir Wynkin, he soughtThis same wizard straightway,And he told him hysDolorous plight.The wizard cried, "Ha!If you'll do as I say,Thys small matterCan soon be set right.""Thys potion—a love-philtreMade extra strong—To ye ladye, by you,Must be given.""Oddzooks!" quoth Sir Wynkin."Ye ladye ere longShall receive it,Or e'er I be shriven."Ye bower was highWhere ye fair ladye slept,But Sir Wynkin climbed upFrom ye basement.By means of ye ivyHe painfully crept,And ye potion placedOutside the casement.
Sir Peter de WynkinHe loved a fair mayde,And he wooed ye fair maydeFor hys bride.But ye ladye cried "no,"With a toss of her head,And Sir WynkinDisconsolate sighed."Now out! and alas!And alack-a-day me!"He sang himIn sorrowful tones,"She loveth me notYet, beshrew me!" said he,"There's a wizard I wot ofCalled—Jones."Caldweller Ap Jones,Was a wizard of note,And he dwelt in a caveHard at hand.Love-philtres and potionsHe sold for a groat,To ye rich and ye poorOf ye land.Sir Wynkin, he soughtThis same wizard straightway,And he told him hysDolorous plight.The wizard cried, "Ha!If you'll do as I say,Thys small matterCan soon be set right.""Thys potion—a love-philtreMade extra strong—To ye ladye, by you,Must be given.""Oddzooks!" quoth Sir Wynkin."Ye ladye ere longShall receive it,Or e'er I be shriven."Ye bower was highWhere ye fair ladye slept,But Sir Wynkin climbed upFrom ye basement.By means of ye ivyHe painfully crept,And ye potion placedOutside the casement.
Sir Peter de WynkinHe loved a fair mayde,And he wooed ye fair maydeFor hys bride.But ye ladye cried "no,"With a toss of her head,And Sir WynkinDisconsolate sighed.
Sir Peter de Wynkin
He loved a fair mayde,
And he wooed ye fair mayde
For hys bride.
But ye ladye cried "no,"
With a toss of her head,
And Sir Wynkin
Disconsolate sighed.
"Now out! and alas!And alack-a-day me!"He sang himIn sorrowful tones,"She loveth me notYet, beshrew me!" said he,"There's a wizard I wot ofCalled—Jones."
"Now out! and alas!
And alack-a-day me!"
He sang him
In sorrowful tones,
"She loveth me not
Yet, beshrew me!" said he,
"There's a wizard I wot of
Called—Jones."
Caldweller Ap Jones,Was a wizard of note,And he dwelt in a caveHard at hand.Love-philtres and potionsHe sold for a groat,To ye rich and ye poorOf ye land.
Caldweller Ap Jones,
Was a wizard of note,
And he dwelt in a cave
Hard at hand.
Love-philtres and potions
He sold for a groat,
To ye rich and ye poor
Of ye land.
Sir Wynkin, he soughtThis same wizard straightway,And he told him hysDolorous plight.The wizard cried, "Ha!If you'll do as I say,Thys small matterCan soon be set right."
Sir Wynkin, he sought
This same wizard straightway,
And he told him hys
Dolorous plight.
The wizard cried, "Ha!
If you'll do as I say,
Thys small matter
Can soon be set right."
"Thys potion—a love-philtreMade extra strong—To ye ladye, by you,Must be given.""Oddzooks!" quoth Sir Wynkin."Ye ladye ere longShall receive it,Or e'er I be shriven."
"Thys potion—a love-philtre
Made extra strong—
To ye ladye, by you,
Must be given."
"Oddzooks!" quoth Sir Wynkin.
"Ye ladye ere long
Shall receive it,
Or e'er I be shriven."
Ye bower was highWhere ye fair ladye slept,But Sir Wynkin climbed upFrom ye basement.By means of ye ivyHe painfully crept,And ye potion placedOutside the casement.
Ye bower was high
Where ye fair ladye slept,
But Sir Wynkin climbed up
From ye basement.
By means of ye ivy
He painfully crept,
And ye potion placed
Outside the casement.
"She'll find it," quoth he,"Ere the morrow is past.Curiosity'll prompt herTo drink it.Ye magic will act,And she'll love me at last.Ah me! 'Tis sweet joyE'en to think it."But alack! and alas!Ye endyng was sad,Ye love-philtre causedQuite a commotion.For—a toothless old grand-dameYe fair ladye had,Andshefound, andshedrankYe love potion!!
"She'll find it," quoth he,"Ere the morrow is past.Curiosity'll prompt herTo drink it.Ye magic will act,And she'll love me at last.Ah me! 'Tis sweet joyE'en to think it."But alack! and alas!Ye endyng was sad,Ye love-philtre causedQuite a commotion.For—a toothless old grand-dameYe fair ladye had,Andshefound, andshedrankYe love potion!!
"She'll find it," quoth he,"Ere the morrow is past.Curiosity'll prompt herTo drink it.Ye magic will act,And she'll love me at last.Ah me! 'Tis sweet joyE'en to think it."
"She'll find it," quoth he,
"Ere the morrow is past.
Curiosity'll prompt her
To drink it.
Ye magic will act,
And she'll love me at last.
Ah me! 'Tis sweet joy
E'en to think it."
But alack! and alas!Ye endyng was sad,Ye love-philtre causedQuite a commotion.For—a toothless old grand-dameYe fair ladye had,Andshefound, andshedrankYe love potion!!
But alack! and alas!
Ye endyng was sad,
Ye love-philtre caused
Quite a commotion.
For—a toothless old grand-dame
Ye fair ladye had,
Andshefound, andshedrank
Ye love potion!!
Fell madly in loveWith Sir Wynkin 'tis said,And declared that ye KnightHad betrayed her.So, distraught, from ye countrySir Wynkin he fled,And he died at ye wars—A Crusader.
Fell madly in loveWith Sir Wynkin 'tis said,And declared that ye KnightHad betrayed her.So, distraught, from ye countrySir Wynkin he fled,And he died at ye wars—A Crusader.
Fell madly in loveWith Sir Wynkin 'tis said,And declared that ye KnightHad betrayed her.So, distraught, from ye countrySir Wynkin he fled,And he died at ye wars—A Crusader.
Fell madly in love
With Sir Wynkin 'tis said,
And declared that ye Knight
Had betrayed her.
So, distraught, from ye country
Sir Wynkin he fled,
And he died at ye wars—
A Crusader.