Cuckoo Song

title=

c. 1250

SUMER is icumen in,Lhude sing cuccu!Groweth sed, and bloweth med,And springth the wude nu—Sing cuccu!Awe bleteth after lomb,Lhouth after calve cu;Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,Murie sing cuccu!Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:Ne swike thu naver nu;Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!

SUMER is icumen in,Lhude sing cuccu!Groweth sed, and bloweth med,And springth the wude nu—Sing cuccu!

Awe bleteth after lomb,Lhouth after calve cu;Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,Murie sing cuccu!

Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:Ne swike thu naver nu;Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!

lhude] loud. awe] ewe. lhouth] loweth. sterteth] leaps. swike] cease.

c. 1300

BYTUENE Mershe ant AverilWhen spray biginneth to spring,The lutel foul hath hire wylOn hyre kid to synge:Ich libbe in love-longingeFor semlokest of alle thynge,He may me blisse bringe,Icham in hire bandoun.An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent,Ichot from hevene it is me sent,From alle wymmen my love is lentAnt lyht on Alisoun.On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,Hire browe broune, hire eye blake;With lossum chere he on me loh;With middel smal ant wel y-make;Bote he me wolle to hire takeFor to buen hire owen make,Long to lyven ichulle forsakeAnt feye fallen adoun.An hendy hap, etc.Nihtes when I wende and wake,For-thi myn wonges waxeth won;

On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,Hire browe broune, hire eye blake;With lossum chere he on me loh;With middel smal ant wel y-make;Bote he me wolle to hire takeFor to buen hire owen make,Long to lyven ichulle forsakeAnt feye fallen adoun.An hendy hap, etc.

Nihtes when I wende and wake,For-thi myn wonges waxeth won;

on hyre lud] in her language. ich libbe] I live. semlokest] seemliest. he] she. bandoun] thraldom. hendy] gracious. y hent] seized, enjoyed. ichot] I wot. lyht] alighted. hire her] her hair. lossum] lovesome. loh] laughed. bote he] unless she. buen] be. make] mate. feye] like to die. nihtes] at night. wende] turn. for-thi] on that account. wonges waxeth won] cheeks grow wan.

LEVEDI, al for thine sakeLonginge is y-lent me on.In world his non so wyter monThat al hire bountè telle con;Hire swyre is whittore than the swon,Ant feyrest may in toune.An hendy hap, etc.Icham for wowyng al for-wake,Wery so water in wore;Lest eny reve me my makeIchabbe y-yerned yore.Betere is tholien whyle soreThen mournen evermore.Geynest under gore,Herkne to my roun—An hendy hap, etc.

LEVEDI, al for thine sakeLonginge is y-lent me on.In world his non so wyter monThat al hire bountè telle con;Hire swyre is whittore than the swon,Ant feyrest may in toune.An hendy hap, etc.

Icham for wowyng al for-wake,Wery so water in wore;Lest eny reve me my makeIchabbe y-yerned yore.Betere is tholien whyle soreThen mournen evermore.Geynest under gore,Herkne to my roun—An hendy hap, etc.

2.levedi] lady. y-lent me on] arrived to me. so wyter mon] so wise a man. swyre] neck. may] maid. for-wake] worn out with vigils. so water in wore] as water in a weir. reve] rob. y-yerned yore] long been distressed. tholien] to endure. geynest under gore] comeliest under woman’s apparel. roun] tale, lay.

c. 1300

LENTEN ys come with love to toune,With blosmen ant with briddes roune,That al this blisse bryngeth;Dayes-eyes in this dales,Notes suete of nyhtegales,Vch foul song singeth;

3.to toune] in its turn.

THE threstlecoc him threteth oo,Away is huere wynter wo,When woderove springeth;This foules singeth ferly fele,Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele,That al the wode ryngeth.The rose rayleth hire rode,The leves on the lyhte wodeWaxen al with wille;The mone mandeth hire bleo,The lilie is lossom to seo,The fenyl ant the fille;Wowes this wilde drakes,Miles murgeth huere makes;Ase strem that striketh stille,Mody meneth; so doth mo(Ichot ycham on of tho)For loue that likes ille.The mone mandeth hire lyht,So doth the semly sonne bryht.When briddes singeth breme;Deowes donketh the dounes,Deores with huere derne rounesDomes forte deme;

THE threstlecoc him threteth oo,Away is huere wynter wo,When woderove springeth;This foules singeth ferly fele,Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele,That al the wode ryngeth.

The rose rayleth hire rode,The leves on the lyhte wodeWaxen al with wille;The mone mandeth hire bleo,The lilie is lossom to seo,The fenyl ant the fille;Wowes this wilde drakes,Miles murgeth huere makes;Ase strem that striketh stille,Mody meneth; so doth mo(Ichot ycham on of tho)For loue that likes ille.

The mone mandeth hire lyht,So doth the semly sonne bryht.When briddes singeth breme;Deowes donketh the dounes,Deores with huere derne rounesDomes forte deme;

him threteth oo] is aye chiding them. huere] their. woderove] woodruff. ferly fele] marvellous many. wlyteth] whistle, or look. rayleth hire rode] clothes herself in red. mandeth hire bleo] sends forth her light. lossom to seo] lovesome to see. fille] thyme. wowes] woo. miles] males. murgeth] make merry. makes] mates. striketh] flows, trickles. mody meneth] the moody man makes moan. so doth mo] so do many. on of tho] one of them. breme] lustily. deowes] dews. donketh] make dank. deores] dears, lovers. huere derne rounes] their secret tales. domes forte deme] for to give (decide) their decisions.

WORMES woweth under cloude,Wymmen waxeth wounder proude,So wel hit wol hem seme,Yef me shal wonte wille of on,This wunne weole y wole forgonAnt wyht in wode be fleme.

3.cloude] clod. wunne weole] wealth of joy. y wole forgon] I will forgo. wyht] wight. fleme] banished.

c. 1300

ICHOT a burde in boure bryht,That fully semly is on syht,Menskful maiden of myht;Feir ant fre to fonde;In al this wurhliche wonA burde of blod ant of bonNever yete y nuste nonLussomore in londe.Blou northerne wynd!Send thou me my suetyng!Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!With lokkes lefliche ant longe,With frount ant face feir to fonge,With murthes monie mote heo monge,That brid so breme in boure.

With lokkes lefliche ant longe,With frount ant face feir to fonge,With murthes monie mote heo monge,That brid so breme in boure.

4.Ichot] I know. burde] maiden. menskful] worshipful. feir] fair. fonde] take, prove. wurhliche] noble. won] multitude. y nuste] I knew not. lussomore in londe] lovelier on earth. suetyng] sweetheart. lefliche] lovely. fonge] take between hands. murthes] mirths, joys. mote heo monge] may she mingle. brid] bird. breme] full of life.

WITH lossom eye grete ant gode,With browen blysfol under hode,He that reste him on the Rode,That leflych lyf honoure.Blou northerne wynd, etc.Hire lure lumes liht,Ase a launterne a nyht,Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht,So feyr heo is ant fyn.A suetly swyre heo hath to holde.With armes shuldre ase mon wolde,Ant fingres feyre forte folde,God wolde hue were myn!Blou northerne wynd, etc.Heo is coral of godnesse,Heo is rubie of ryhtfulnesse,Heo is cristal of clannesse,Ant baner of bealtè.Heo is lilie of largesse,Heo is parvenke of prouesse,Heo is solsecle of suetnesse,Ant lady of lealtè.For hire love y carke ant care,For hire love y droupne ant dare,For hire love my blisse is bareAnt al ich waxe won,

WITH lossom eye grete ant gode,With browen blysfol under hode,He that reste him on the Rode,That leflych lyf honoure.Blou northerne wynd, etc.

Hire lure lumes liht,Ase a launterne a nyht,Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht,So feyr heo is ant fyn.A suetly swyre heo hath to holde.With armes shuldre ase mon wolde,Ant fingres feyre forte folde,God wolde hue were myn!Blou northerne wynd, etc.

Heo is coral of godnesse,Heo is rubie of ryhtfulnesse,Heo is cristal of clannesse,Ant baner of bealtè.Heo is lilie of largesse,Heo is parvenke of prouesse,Heo is solsecle of suetnesse,Ant lady of lealtè.

For hire love y carke ant care,For hire love y droupne ant dare,For hire love my blisse is bareAnt al ich waxe won,

Rode] the Cross. lure] face. lumes] beams. bleo] colour. suetly swyre] darling neck. forte] for to. hue, heo] she. clannesse] cleanness, purity. parvenke] periwinkle. solsecle] sunflower. won] wan.

FOR hire love in slep y slake,For hire love al nyht ich wake,For hire love mournynge y makeMore then eny mon.Blou northerne wynd!Send thou me my suetyng!Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!

c. 1300

WYNTER wakeneth al my care,Nou this leves waxeth bare;Ofte I sike ant mourne sareWhen hit cometh in my thohtOf this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,Al so hit ner nere, ywys;That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:Al goth bote Godes wille:Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.Al that gren me graueth grene,Nou hit faleweth albydene:Jesu, help that hit be seneAnt shild us from helle!For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.

WYNTER wakeneth al my care,Nou this leves waxeth bare;Ofte I sike ant mourne sareWhen hit cometh in my thohtOf this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.

Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,Al so hit ner nere, ywys;That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:Al goth bote Godes wille:Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.

Al that gren me graueth grene,Nou hit faleweth albydene:Jesu, help that hit be seneAnt shild us from helle!For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.

5.this leves] these leaves. sike] sigh. nys] is not. also hit ner nere] as though it had never been. soth] sooth. bote] but, except. thah] though. faleweth] fadeth. albydene] altogether. y not whider] I know not whither. her duelle] here dwell.

c. 1300

OF on that is so fayr and brightVelut maris stella,Brighter than the day is light,Parens et puella:Ic crie to the, thou see to me,Levedy, preye thi Sone for me,Tam pia,That ic mote come to theeMaria.Al this world was for-loreEva peccatrice,Tyl our Lord was y-boreDe te genetrice.Withaveit went awayThuster nyth and comz the daySalutis;The welle springeth ut of the,Virtutis.Levedy, flour of alle thing,Rosa sine spina,Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king,Gratia divina:Of alle thu ber’st the pris,Levedy, quene of paradysElecta:Mayde milde, moder esEffecta.

OF on that is so fayr and brightVelut maris stella,Brighter than the day is light,Parens et puella:Ic crie to the, thou see to me,Levedy, preye thi Sone for me,Tam pia,That ic mote come to theeMaria.

Al this world was for-loreEva peccatrice,Tyl our Lord was y-boreDe te genetrice.Withaveit went awayThuster nyth and comz the daySalutis;The welle springeth ut of the,Virtutis.

Levedy, flour of alle thing,Rosa sine spina,Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king,Gratia divina:Of alle thu ber’st the pris,Levedy, quene of paradysElecta:Mayde milde, moder esEffecta.

on] one. levedy] lady. thuster] dark. pris] prize.

7.Of a rose, a lovely rose,Of a rose is al myn song.

c. 1350

LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,How this rose began to sprynge;Swych a rose to myn lykyngeIn al this word ne knowe I non.The Aungil came fro hevene tour,To grete Marye with gret honour,And seyde sche xuld bere the flourThat xulde breke the fyndes bond.The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,That is bothe bryht and schen:The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.The ferste braunche is ful of myht,That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,The sterre schon over Bedlem bryhtThat is bothe brod and long.The secunde braunche sprong to helle,The fendys power doun to felle:Therein myht non sowle dwelle;Blyssid be the time the rose sprong!The thredde braunche is good and swote,It sprang to hevene crop and rote,Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote;Every day it schewit in prystes hond.

LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,How this rose began to sprynge;Swych a rose to myn lykyngeIn al this word ne knowe I non.

The Aungil came fro hevene tour,To grete Marye with gret honour,And seyde sche xuld bere the flourThat xulde breke the fyndes bond.

The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,That is bothe bryht and schen:The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.

The ferste braunche is ful of myht,That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,The sterre schon over Bedlem bryhtThat is bothe brod and long.

The secunde braunche sprong to helle,The fendys power doun to felle:Therein myht non sowle dwelle;Blyssid be the time the rose sprong!

The thredde braunche is good and swote,It sprang to hevene crop and rote,Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote;Every day it schewit in prystes hond.

lestenyt] listen. word] world. xuld] should. schen] beautiful. hevene qwyn] heaven’s queen. bote] salvation.

PREY we to here with gret honour,Che that bar the blyssid flowr,Che be our helpe and our socourAnd schyd us fro the fyndes bond.

1260-1340

NO thyng ys to man so dereAs wommanys love in gode manere.A gode womman is mannys blys,There her love right and stedfast ys.There ys no solas under heveneOf alle that a man may neveneThat shulde a man so moche glewAs a gode womman that loveth true.Ne derer is none in Goddis hurdeThan a chaste womman with lovely worde.

8.nevene] name. glew] gladden. hurde] flock.

d. 1395

A! Fredome is a noble thing!Fredome mays man to haiff liking;Fredome all solace to man giffis,He levys at ese that frely levys!A noble hart may haiff nane ese,Na ellys nocht that may him plese,

9.liking] liberty. na ellys nocht] nor aught else.

GYFF fredome fail; for fre likingIs yarnyt our all othir thing.Na he that ay has levyt freMay nocht knaw weill the propyrtè,The angyr, na the wretchyt domeThat is couplyt to foule thyrldome.Bot gyff he had assayit it,Than all perquer he suld it wyt;And suld think fredome mar to priseThan all the gold in warld that is.Thus contrar thingis evirmarDiscoweryngis off the tothir ar.

9.yarnyt] yearned for. perquer] thoroughly, by heart.

1340?-1400

10.

O yongefresshe folkes, he or she,In which that love up groweth with your age,Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee,And of your herte up-casteth the visageTo thilke god that after his imageYow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayreThis world, that passeth sone as floures fayre.And loveth him, the which that right for loveUpon a cros, our soules for to beye,First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove;For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye,That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye.And sin he best to love is, and most meke,What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?

And loveth him, the which that right for loveUpon a cros, our soules for to beye,First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove;For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye,That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye.And sin he best to love is, and most meke,What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?

10.repeyreth] repair ye. starf] died.

11.

HYD, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun;Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere;Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun,Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun;Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne;My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere,Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,And Polixene, that boghten love so dere,And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne;My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere,And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,And Canace, espyed by thy chere,Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun,Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun;Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne;My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.

Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere,Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,And Polixene, that boghten love so dere,And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne;My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.

Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere,And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,And Canace, espyed by thy chere,Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun,Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun;Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne;My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.

11.disteyne] bedim. y-fere] together.

12.

YOUR eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene,So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.And but your word wol helen hastilyMy hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene,Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene.Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully,That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene;For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene,So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.

YOUR eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene,So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.

And but your word wol helen hastilyMy hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene,Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene.

Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully,That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene;For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,I may the beautè of hem not sustene,So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.

SO hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;So hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.Allas! that nature hath in yow compassedSo greet beautè, that no man may atteyneTo mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.So hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

SO hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;So hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.

Allas! that nature hath in yow compassedSo greet beautè, that no man may atteyneTo mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.So hath your beautè fro your herte chacedPitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

SIN I fro Love escaped am so fat,I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

halt] holdeth.

HE may answere, and seye this or that;I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,And he is strike out of my bokes cleneFor ever-mo; ther is non other mene.Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

HE may answere, and seye this or that;I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.

Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,And he is strike out of my bokes cleneFor ever-mo; ther is non other mene.Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

12.sclat] slate

1368-9?-1450?

13.

ALLAS! my worthi maister honorable,This landes verray tresor and richesse!Deth by thy deth hath harme irreparableUnto us doon: hir vengeable duresseDespoiled hath this land of the swetnesseOf rethorik; for unto TulliusWas never man so lyk amonges us.Also who was hier in philosophieTo Aristotle in our tonge but thou?The steppes of Virgile in poesieThou folwedist eeke, men wot wel ynow.That combre-worlde that the my maister slow—Wolde I slayn were!—Deth, was to hastyfTo renne on thee and reve the thi lyf ...

Also who was hier in philosophieTo Aristotle in our tonge but thou?The steppes of Virgile in poesieThou folwedist eeke, men wot wel ynow.That combre-worlde that the my maister slow—Wolde I slayn were!—Deth, was to hastyfTo renne on thee and reve the thi lyf ...

13.hier] heir. combre-worlde] encumberer of earth. slow] slew.

SHE myghte han taried hir vengeance a whileTil that sum man had egal to the be;Nay, lat be that! sche knew wel that this yleMay never man forth brynge lyk to the,And hir office needes do mot she:God bad hir so, I truste as for the beste;O maister, maister, God thi soule reste!

1370?-1450?

14.

TARYE no lenger; toward thyn heritageHast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere.Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage;Thynke howe short tyme thou hast abyden here.Thy place is bygged above the sterres clere,Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse.Come on, my frend, my brother most entere!For the I offered my blood in sacryfice.

14.bygged] built. palys] palace.

1394-1437

15.

WORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May,For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne,And sing with us, Away, Winter, away!Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoùn and sonne!Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne,And amorously lift up your hedis all,Thank Lufe that list you to his merci call!

15.suete] sweet. Lufe] Love.

1425-1500

16.

ROBIN sat on gude green hill,Kepand a flock of fe:Mirry Makyne said him till‘Robin, thou rew on me:I haif thee luvit, loud and still,Thir yeiris twa or thre;My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,Doutless but dreid I de.’Robin answerit ‘By the RudeNa thing of luve I knaw,But keipis my scheip undir yon wud:Lo, quhair they raik on raw.Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude,Makyne, to me thou shaw;Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?Fain wad I leir that law.’‘At luvis lair gif thou will leirTak thair ane A B C;Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,Wyse, hardy, and free:So that no danger do thee deirQuhat dule in dern thou dre;Preiss thee with pain at all poweirBe patient and previe.’

Robin answerit ‘By the RudeNa thing of luve I knaw,But keipis my scheip undir yon wud:Lo, quhair they raik on raw.Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude,Makyne, to me thou shaw;Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?Fain wad I leir that law.’

‘At luvis lair gif thou will leirTak thair ane A B C;Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,Wyse, hardy, and free:So that no danger do thee deirQuhat dule in dern thou dre;Preiss thee with pain at all poweirBe patient and previe.’

kepand] keeping. fe] sheep, cattle. him till] to him. dule in dern] sorrow in secret. dill] soothe. but dreid] without dread, i. e. there is no fear or doubt. raik on raw] range in row. lude] loved. leir] learn. lair] lore. heynd] gentle. feir] demeanour. deir] daunt. dre] endure. preiss] endeavour.

ROBIN answerit hir agane,‘I wat nocht quhat is lufe;But I haif mervel in certaineQuhat makis thee this wanrufe:The weddir is fair, and I am fain;My scheip gois haill aboif;And we wald pley us in this plane,They wald us baith reproif.’‘Robin, tak tent unto my tale,And wirk all as I reid,And thou sall haif my heart all haill,Eik and my maiden-heid:Sen God sendis bute for baill,And for murnyng remeid,In dern with thee bot gif I daillDowtles I am bot deid.’‘Makyne, to-morn this ilka tydeAnd ye will meit me heir,Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde,Quhyle we haif liggit full neir;But mawgre haif I, and I byde,Fra they begin to steir;Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd;Makyn, then mak gude cheir.’‘Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest;I luve bot thee allane.’‘Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west,The day is neir-hand gane.’

‘Robin, tak tent unto my tale,And wirk all as I reid,And thou sall haif my heart all haill,Eik and my maiden-heid:Sen God sendis bute for baill,And for murnyng remeid,In dern with thee bot gif I daillDowtles I am bot deid.’

‘Makyne, to-morn this ilka tydeAnd ye will meit me heir,Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde,Quhyle we haif liggit full neir;But mawgre haif I, and I byde,Fra they begin to steir;Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd;Makyn, then mak gude cheir.’

‘Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest;I luve bot thee allane.’‘Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west,The day is neir-hand gane.’

wanrufe] unrest. haill] healthy, whole. aboif] above, up yonder. and] if. tak tent] give heed. reid] advise. bute for baill] remedy for hurt. bot gif] but if, unless. daill] deal. mawgre haif I] I am uneasy. reivis] robbest. roiff] quiet.

‘ROBIN, in dule I am so drestThat luve will be my bane.’‘Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list,For lemman I luve nane.’‘Robin, I stand in sic a styll,I sicht and that full sair.’‘Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle;At hame God gif I wair.’‘My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll,Gif thow will do na mair.’‘Makyn, sum uthir man begyle,For hamewart I will fair.’Robin on his wayis wentAs light as leif of tre;Makyne murnit in hir intent,And trowd him nevir to se.Robin brayd attour the bent:Then Makyne cryit on hie,‘Now may thow sing, for I am schent!Quhat alis lufe at me?’Makyne went hame withowttin fail,Full wery eftir cowth weip;Then Robin in a ful fair daillAssemblit all his scheip.Be that sum part of Makynis aillOut-throw his hairt cowd creip;He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,And till her tuke gude keip.

‘ROBIN, in dule I am so drestThat luve will be my bane.’‘Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list,For lemman I luve nane.’

‘Robin, I stand in sic a styll,I sicht and that full sair.’‘Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle;At hame God gif I wair.’‘My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll,Gif thow will do na mair.’‘Makyn, sum uthir man begyle,For hamewart I will fair.’

Robin on his wayis wentAs light as leif of tre;Makyne murnit in hir intent,And trowd him nevir to se.Robin brayd attour the bent:Then Makyne cryit on hie,‘Now may thow sing, for I am schent!Quhat alis lufe at me?’

Makyne went hame withowttin fail,Full wery eftir cowth weip;Then Robin in a ful fair daillAssemblit all his scheip.Be that sum part of Makynis aillOut-throw his hairt cowd creip;He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,And till her tuke gude keip.

drest] beset. lemman] mistress. sicht] sigh. in hir intent] in her inward thought. brayd] strode. bent] coarse grass. schent] destroyed. alis] ails. be that] by the time that. till] to. tuke keip] paid attention.

‘ABYD, abyd, thow fair Makyne,A word for ony thing;For all my luve, it sall be thyne,Withowttin departing.All haill thy hairt for till haif myneIs all my cuvating;My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne,Will neid of no keping.’‘Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,In gestis and storeis auld,The man that will nocht quhen he maySall haif nocht quhen he wald.I pray to Jesu every day,Mot eik thair cairis cauldThat first preissis with thee to playBe firth, forrest, or fauld.’‘Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,The weddir is warme and fair,And the grene woid rycht neir us byTo walk attour all quhair:Thair ma na janglour us espy,That is to lufe contrair;Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I,Unsene we ma repair.’‘Robin, that warld is all away,And quyt brocht till ane end:And nevir agane thereto, perfay,Sall it be as thow wend;

‘Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,In gestis and storeis auld,The man that will nocht quhen he maySall haif nocht quhen he wald.I pray to Jesu every day,Mot eik thair cairis cauldThat first preissis with thee to playBe firth, forrest, or fauld.’

‘Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,The weddir is warme and fair,And the grene woid rycht neir us byTo walk attour all quhair:Thair ma na janglour us espy,That is to lufe contrair;Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I,Unsene we ma repair.’

‘Robin, that warld is all away,And quyt brocht till ane end:And nevir agane thereto, perfay,Sall it be as thow wend;

hard] heard. gestis] romances. mot eik] may add to. be] by. janglour] talebearer. wend] weened.

FOR of my pane thow maid it play;And all in vane I spend:As thow hes done, sa sall I say,“Murne on, I think to mend.”’‘Makyne, the howp of all my heill,My hairt on thee is sett;And evirmair to thee be leillQuhill I may leif but lett;Never to faill as utheris feill,Quhat grace that evir I gett.’‘Robin, with thee I will nocht deill;Adieu! for thus we mett.’Makyne went hame blyth anneucheAttour the holttis hair;Robin murnit, and Makyne leuche;Scho sang, he sichit sair:And so left him baith wo and wreuch,In dolour and in cair,Kepand his hird under a hucheAmangis the holttis hair.

FOR of my pane thow maid it play;And all in vane I spend:As thow hes done, sa sall I say,“Murne on, I think to mend.”’

‘Makyne, the howp of all my heill,My hairt on thee is sett;And evirmair to thee be leillQuhill I may leif but lett;Never to faill as utheris feill,Quhat grace that evir I gett.’‘Robin, with thee I will nocht deill;Adieu! for thus we mett.’

Makyne went hame blyth anneucheAttour the holttis hair;Robin murnit, and Makyne leuche;Scho sang, he sichit sair:And so left him baith wo and wreuch,In dolour and in cair,Kepand his hird under a hucheAmangis the holttis hair.

16.howp] hope. but lett] without hindrance. anneuche] enough. holttis hair] grey woodlands. leuche] laughed. wreuch] peevish. huche] heuch, cliff.

17.

THIS hinder yeir I hard be taldThair was a worthy King;Dukis, Erlis, and Barronis bald,He had at his bidding.

17.hinder yeir] last year.

THE Lord was ancean and ald,And sexty yeiris cowth ring;He had a dochter fair to fald,A lusty Lady ying.Off all fairheid scho bur the flour,And eik hir faderis air;Off lusty laitis and he honour,Meik bot and debonair:Scho wynnit in a bigly bour,On fold wes nane so fair,Princis luvit hir paramourIn cuntreis our allquhair.Thair dwelt a lyt besyde the KingA foull Gyand of ane;Stollin he has the Lady ying,Away with hir is gane,And kest her in his dungeringQuhair licht scho micht se nane;Hungir and cauld and grit thristingScho fand into hir waine.He wes the laithliest on to lukThat on the grund mycht gang:His nailis wes lyk ane hellis cruk,Thairwith fyve quarteris lang;

THE Lord was ancean and ald,And sexty yeiris cowth ring;He had a dochter fair to fald,A lusty Lady ying.

Off all fairheid scho bur the flour,And eik hir faderis air;Off lusty laitis and he honour,Meik bot and debonair:Scho wynnit in a bigly bour,On fold wes nane so fair,Princis luvit hir paramourIn cuntreis our allquhair.

Thair dwelt a lyt besyde the KingA foull Gyand of ane;Stollin he has the Lady ying,Away with hir is gane,And kest her in his dungeringQuhair licht scho micht se nane;Hungir and cauld and grit thristingScho fand into hir waine.

He wes the laithliest on to lukThat on the grund mycht gang:His nailis wes lyk ane hellis cruk,Thairwith fyve quarteris lang;

ring] reign. fald] enfold. ying] young. fairheid] beauty. air] heir. laitis] manners. bot and] and also. scho wynnit] she dwelt. bigly] well-built. fold] earth. paramour] lovingly. our allquhair] all the world over. a lyt besyde] a little, (i. e. close) beside. of ane] as any. kest] cast. dungering] dungeon. into hir waine] in her lodging. hellis cruk] hell-claw.

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