I am as is the nightingale, or as a soul must be
That in the purgatory fires lies longing to be free,
Waiting the blessèd time when I unto your house shall come,
All with the marriage-messenger[32] bearing his branch of broom.
Ah, me! my stars are froward: ’gainst nature is my state;
Since in this world I came I’ve dreed a dark and dismal fate:
I have nor living kin nor friends, mother nor father dear,
There is no Christian on earth to wish me happy here.
There lives no one hath had to bear so much of grief and shame
For your sweet sake as I have, since in this world I came;
And therefore on my bended knees, in God’s dear name I sue,
Have pity on your own poor clerk, that loveth only you!
The Cross by the Way.
(Kroaz ann Hent.)
MEDIÆVAL BRETON
Sweet in the green-wood a birdie sings,
Golden-yellow its two bright wings,
Red its heartikin, blue its crest:
Oh, but it sings with the sweetest breast!
Early, early it ’lighted down
On the edge of my ingle-stone,
As I prayed my morning prayer,—
“Tell me thy errand, birdie fair.”
Then sung it as many sweet things to me
As there are roses on the rose-tree:
“Take a sweetheart, lad, an’ you may;
To gladden your heart both night and day.”
Past the cross by the way as I went,
Monday, I saw her fair as a saint:
Sunday, I will go to mass,
There on the green I’ll see her pass.
Water poured in a beaker clear,
Dimmer shows than the eyes of my dear;
Pearls themselves are not more bright
Than her little teeth, pure and white.