 | The Harley Lyrics |  |
25 WHEN ÞE NYHTEGALE SINGES
When þe nyhtegale singes þe wodes waxen grene;
lef ant gras ant blosme springes in Aueryl, y wene,
ant loue is to myn herte gon wiþ one spere so kene,
nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes; myn herte deþ me tene.
lef ant gras ant blosme springes in Aueryl, y wene,
ant loue is to myn herte gon wiþ one spere so kene,
nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes; myn herte deþ me tene.
Ich haue loued al þis ȝer, þat y may loue namore;
ich haue siked moni syk, lemmon, for þin ore.
Me nis loue neuer þe ner, ant þat me reweþ sore.
Suete lemmon, þench on me, ich haue loued þe ȝore.
ich haue siked moni syk, lemmon, for þin ore.
Me nis loue neuer þe ner, ant þat me reweþ sore.
Suete lemmon, þench on me, ich haue loued þe ȝore.
Suete lemmon, y preye þe of loue one speche;
whil y lyue in world so wyde oþer nulle y seche.
Wiþ þy loue, my suete leof, mi blis þou mihtes eche;
a suete cos of þy mouþ mihte be my leche.
whil y lyue in world so wyde oþer nulle y seche.
Wiþ þy loue, my suete leof, mi blis þou mihtes eche;
a suete cos of þy mouþ mihte be my leche.
Suete lemmon, y preȝe þe of a loue-bene;
ȝef þou me louest ase men says, lemmon, as y wene,
ant ȝef hit þi wille be, þou loke þat hit be sene.
So muchel y þenke vpon þe þat al y waxe grene.
ȝef þou me louest ase men says, lemmon, as y wene,
ant ȝef hit þi wille be, þou loke þat hit be sene.
So muchel y þenke vpon þe þat al y waxe grene.
Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye, Norhamptoun ant Lounde,
ne wot y non so fayr a may as y go fore ybounde.
Suete lemmon, y preȝe þe þou louie me a stounde.
Y wole mone my song
on wham þat hit ys on ylong.
ne wot y non so fayr a may as y go fore ybounde.
Suete lemmon, y preȝe þe þou louie me a stounde.
Y wole mone my song
on wham þat hit ys on ylong.
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