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In the end, none wears a robe so wide, But he shall fall as leaf from bough.

Paris and Helen

where are they,

*

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That were so bright and fair of face? Amadas and Ydoine gay,

Tristram, Yseult, and all that race? Hector, strong in battle array,

And Cæsar, great in worldly place? They all have glided from earth away

As sheaf from the hill, that leaves no trace. 72

They're now as though they never were here; Of them are many wonders told,

Were it not pity for one to hear

How they were tortured and died of old, And what they suffered in life while here. All their heat is turned to cold. Thus all this world doth false appear;

Foolish is he who in it is bold.

Although he were a man as strong

As Henry is, our gracious King, And fair as Absalom the young,

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Whose match no man on earth could bring, His pride were soon not worth a song, In value less than a red herring. O maid, if thou wilt love full long, I will show thee a loyal king. Ah, my sweet, if thou but knew

The blessed virtues of this Lord! He is fair and bright of hue,

Both glad of cheer and mild of word, Of lovesome grace, of trust most true,

Free-hearted, rich in wisdom's hoard;
Never shouldst thou have need to rue,
If thou but trust thee in his ward.

He is the strongest man in land,
As far as men can speak with mouth,
And all are liegemen in his hand,
East and west, north and south.
Henry, King of English land,

Doth hold of him and to him boweth.
O maid, he sends thee his command,
His will to be thy friend avoweth.

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ful, fair 31 had not equal 33 pride were not a herring longest a lover 38 I will teach thee a 39 didst know 40 qualities 4 hue, appearance tenance mood of lovable desire 45 able 46 thou wouldst never need to repent might'st thou put thyself grace they are holds bows 53 sends 54 messenger desires known to thee.

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Bytuene Mersh1 and Averil,

MIDDLE ENGLISH LYRICS

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(Unknown Authors)

ALYSOUN (c. 1300)

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Betwixt old March and April gay,
When sprays begin to spring,
The little bird in her own way
Follows her will to sing.

But I must live in love longing
For one who is the fairest thing.
'Tis she who may to bliss me bring,
For she my love hath won.

A blessed fortune is my lot,

'Tis sent to me from Heaven, I wot, To other women my love turns not But lights on Alison.

Fair enough in hue her hair,

Her brows are brown, and black her She smiled on me with lovesome air; Trim is her waist and neat and fine. Unless thou'lt take me to be thine, Thy own dear love, O lady mine, Of longer living shall I pine, By death shall be undone.

A blessed fortune is my lot, etc.

Often at night I toss and wake;

eyne.

For this my cheeks are pale and wan. Lady, 'tis all for thy dear sake Longing has fallen me upon.

ΙΟ

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In world is none so wise a man That all her goodness tell he can. Her neck is whiter than the swan; My heart she has undone.

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Then 39 mournen evermore.

Geynest under gore,40

Herkne to my roun! 41

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A blessed fortune is my lot, etc.

Weary as water in weir I wake,
And woo thee more and more,
Lest some one rob me of my make.21
For I have heard of yore,
Better to suffer a while full sore,
Than go a-mourning evermore.

Gayest under gore,

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UBI SUNT QUI ANTE NOS FUERUNT? (c. 1350)

Were beth they that biforen us weren,
Houndes ladden 2 and havekes beren,3
And hadden feld and wode?

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Where are they that lived of yore?
Hounds they led and hawks they bore,
And held both park and chase.

The ladies in their bowers fair,
Who bound with gold their lovely hair,
And winsome were of face;

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