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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Стр. 38
... never wycche ne wyle ; Ych am a maide , that me of thunche , luef me were gome boute gyle . " XI . [ Fol . 67 , ro . ] A WAYLE Whyt as whalles bon , A grein in golde that godly shon , A tortle that min herte is on , in tounes trewe ...
... never wycche ne wyle ; Ych am a maide , that me of thunche , luef me were gome boute gyle . " XI . [ Fol . 67 , ro . ] A WAYLE Whyt as whalles bon , A grein in golde that godly shon , A tortle that min herte is on , in tounes trewe ...
Стр. 51
... wurhliche won , A burde of blod ant of bon Never zete y nuste non lussomore in londe . Blou , etc. With lokkes lefliche ant longe , With frount ant face feir to fonde , With murthes monie mote heo monge , that brid so E 2 LYRIC POETRY . 51.
... wurhliche won , A burde of blod ant of bon Never zete y nuste non lussomore in londe . Blou , etc. With lokkes lefliche ant longe , With frount ant face feir to fonde , With murthes monie mote heo monge , that brid so E 2 LYRIC POETRY . 51.
Стр. 52
... never nes y - heryed with the heste . Heo is dereworthe in day , Graciouse , stout , ant gay , Gentil , jolyf so the jay , worhliche when heo waketh ; Maiden murgest of mouth , Bi est , bi west , by north ant south 52 SPECIMENS OF.
... never nes y - heryed with the heste . Heo is dereworthe in day , Graciouse , stout , ant gay , Gentil , jolyf so the jay , worhliche when heo waketh ; Maiden murgest of mouth , Bi est , bi west , by north ant south 52 SPECIMENS OF.
Стр. 82
... never non . " When he ros , tho fel hire sorewe , Hire blisse sprong the thridde morewe , blythe moder were thou tho . Levedy , for that ilke blisse , Bysech thi sone of sunnes lisse , thou be oure sheld azeyn oure fo . Blessed be thou ...
... never non . " When he ros , tho fel hire sorewe , Hire blisse sprong the thridde morewe , blythe moder were thou tho . Levedy , for that ilke blisse , Bysech thi sone of sunnes lisse , thou be oure sheld azeyn oure fo . Blessed be thou ...
Стр. 83
Percy Society. Blessed be thou , ful of blysse , Let us never hevene misse , thourh thi suete sones myht ! Loverd , for that ilke blod , That thou sheddest on the rod , thou bring us in to hevene lyht AMEN . XXVIII . [ Fol . 79 , vo ...
Percy Society. Blessed be thou , ful of blysse , Let us never hevene misse , thourh thi suete sones myht ! Loverd , for that ilke blod , That thou sheddest on the rod , thou bring us in to hevene lyht AMEN . XXVIII . [ Fol . 79 , vo ...
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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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Стр. 179 - 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.
Стр. 84 - 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!
Стр. 132 - 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?
Стр. 27 - 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.
Стр. 63 - 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...
Стр. 5 - 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.
Стр. 95 - 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?
Стр. 46 - 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?
Стр. 64 - 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.
Стр. 9 - 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?