| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
SIR CAWLINE |
||
|
XI
' But rise up wightlye, man, for shame !
Ne'er lie here soe cowardlye ! Itt is told in my father's hall
For my love you will dye.'—
XII
i Itt is for your love, fayre ladye,
That all this dill I drie ; For if you wo'ld comfort me with a kisse, Then were I brought from bale to bliss,
No longer here wo'ld I lye.'—
XIII
' Alas! soe well you know, Sir Knight, I cannot be your feere.'—
' Yet some deeds of armes fain wo'ld I doe
To be your bacheleere.'—
XIV
' On Eldritch Hill there grows a thorn,
Upon the mores brodinge; And wo'ld you, Sir Knight, wake there all night To day of the other morninge ? xv
' For the Eldritch King, that is mickle of might,
Will examine you beforne: There was never a man bare his life away Since the day that I was born.'—
XVI
i But I will for your sake, ladye,
Walk on the bents soe browne, And I'll either bring you a readye token,
Or I'll ne'er come to you again.'
wightlye] briskly, stoutly. mores] moors. brodinge]
growing, sprouting. examine] put to the test. beforne]
before (morning). bents] rough grasses. 16 |
||