The Brus Book VII (John Barbour Poems)
The king towart the wod is ganeWery forswayt and will of waneIntill the wod sone ...
The king towart the wod is ganeWery forswayt and will of waneIntill the wod sone ...
'I have but oon hool hater,' quod Haukyn, 'I am the lasse to blameThough it be soiled and selde clene ...
'I am Spes, a spie,' quod he, 'and spire after a knyghtThat took me a maundement upon the mount of ...
'This were a wikkede wey but whoso hadde a gydeThat folwen us ech a foot' - thus this folk ...
' I am Ymaginatif,' quod he, 'ydel was I nevere,Though I sitte by myself, in siknesse nor in helthe.I have ...
Treuthe herde telle herof, and to Piers senteTo taken his teme and tilien the erthe,And purchaced hym a pardoun a ...
Thus yrobed in russet I romed abouteAl a somer seson for to seke Dowel,And frayned ful ofte of folk that ...
Thus y-robed in russet . romed I abouteAl in a somer seson . for to seke Do-wel;And frayned full ofte ...
The suereste state and beste degree Is to possesse mediocritye. By proofe we finde in everye storme The hier tree the sorer torne: The ...
The good Dame Mercy with Dame CharyteMy body buryed full ryght humblyIn a fayre temple of olde antyquyte,Where was for ...
Lorde for my slepe and reste this nighte And for this grace preserueinge mee In bodye sounde in mynde vprighte, Honor and prayse ...
Lorde for thy grace geven me this daye With humble thankes I honor thee, And for my synnes I pardon praye With harte ...
Lord that is off myghtys most, Fadyr and Sone and Holy Gost,Bryng us out of synneAnd lene us grace so ...
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,And leves be large and long,Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here ...
As it fortuned me for to passeThrughe straunge countres my solace to take.Whan the feldes were resplendent and couered with ...
Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the rede,That in the frosty contre called Trace,Within thy grisly temple ful of dredeHonoured ...
Part 10 PROLOGUE TO CHAUCER'S TALE OF SIR THOPAS Bihoold the murye ...
In the lusty, fresshe moneth of mayWhen the byrdes reioyse, euery glad speryteWith theyr venerien voyces, i the dawne of ...
Secretary. Ielowsy.Ielowsy.What a world is this/I trow it be a curstFayne wold I marye/yf ye I durstBut I trow syth ...
When heapes of heauie hap, had fild my harte right full, And sorrow set forth pensiuenes, my ioyes away ...
Poets ther ben in plenteous line yt take ye auncient themeOf singing to a ladye's eyen whiche maken them to ...
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