Bytuene Mersh ant Aueril

Not an original GBD post, this one - more of a re-post really. In fact, this anonymous early Middle English love-poem pre-dates the internet by quite some way. However, it never ceases to make me smile, despite being sappy to the point of sickliness. Incidentally, replacing "Alysoun" with another girl's name is an easy win for a quick and enigmatic love poem! Enjoy.

Bytuene Mersh ant Aueril,
When spray biginneth to springe,
The lutel foul hath hire wyl
On hyre lud to synge.

Ich libbe in loue-longinge
For semlokest of alle thynge;
He may me blisse bringe;
Icham in hire baundoun.

An hendy hap Ichabbe yhent;

Ichot from heuene it is me sent;
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent
Ant lyht on Alysoun.

On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
Hire browe broune, hire eghe blake;

With lossum chere he on me loh,
With middel smal ant wel ymake.
Bote he me wolle to hire take
Forte buen hire owen make,
Longe to to lyuen Ichulle forsake,

Ant feye fallen adoun.

An hendy hap Ichabbe yhent;

Ichot from heuene it is me sent;
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent
Ant lyht on Alysoun.

Nihtes when Y wende ant wake---
For-thi myn wonges waxeth won--
Leuedi, al for thine sake

Longinge is ylent me on.
In world nis non so wyter mon
That al hire bounte telle con;
Hire swyre is whittore then the swon,
Ant feyrest may in toune.

An hendy hap Ichabbe yhent;

Ichot from heuene it is me sent;
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent
Ant lyht on Alysoun.

Icham for wowyng al forwake,
Wery so water in wore;
Lest eny reue me my make
Ychabbe y-yyrned yore.

Betere is tholien whyle sore
Then murnen euermore;
Geynest vnder gore,
Herkne to my roun.

An hendy hap Ichabbe yhent;

Ichot from heuene it is me sent;
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent
Ant lyht on Alysoun.

For a full translation, and to truly appreciate the amazing people at the Wessex Parallel Web Texts Project click this link.

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From The Centrifuge

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