God wrote it ere the world was dry–
It is the autograph of God.
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Were beth they that biforen us weren,
And hadden feld and wode?The riche levedies in hoere bour,That wereden gold in hoere tressour,With hoere brightte rode;Eten and drounken, and maden hem glad;Hoere lif was al with gamen i-lad,Men kneleden hem biforen;They beren hem wel swithe heye;And in a twincling of an eyeHoere soules weren forloren.Were is that lawhing and that song,That trayling and…
Lenten ys come with love to toun{.e},
That al this bliss{.e} bryngeth;Dayes-ey{.e}s in this dal{.e}s;Not{.e}s suete of nyht{.e}gal{.e}s;Uch foul song singeth.The threstelcoc him threteth oo;Away is huer{.e} wynter woo,When woderov{.e} springeth.This foul{.e}s singeth ferly fel{.e},And wlyteth on huere wynter wel{.e},That al the wod{.e} ryngeth.The ros{.e} rayleth hir{.e} rode;The lev{.e}s on the lyht{.e} wod{.e}Waxen al with will{.e}.The mon{.e} mandeth hir{.e} bleo;The lili{.e} is…
Is there a man that never sighed
Is there a man that never prizedThe sweets of liberty ?Then let him, let him breathe -unseen,Or in a dungeon live;Nor never, never know the sweetsThat liberty can give.Is there a heart so cold in man,Can galling fetters crave ?Is there a wretch so truly low,Can stoop to be a slave?O, let him, then, in…
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
‘O whar will I get guid sailor,To sail this schip of mine?’Up and spak an eldern knicht,Sat at the kings richt kne:‘Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailorThat sails upon the se.’The king has written a braid letter,And signd it wi his hand,And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence,Was walking on the sand.The first line…
Christo paremus canticam,
When Cryst was born of Mary freIn Bedlem in that fayre cyté,Angellis songen with myrth and gle:In excelsis gloria.Herdmen beheld thes angellis bryght,To hem apperyd wyth gret lyght,And seyd: ‘Goddys Sone is born this nyght;In excelsis gloria.’A king ys comyn to save kynde,In the Scriptur as we fynde;Therfore this song have we in mynde:In excelsis…
Godfrey Gordon Gustuvus Gore
His Father would Plead and mother imploreGodfrey Gordon Please Shut the door.