 | The Durham Prologue |  |
Pes, lordyngs, I prai ȝow pes,
And of ȝour noys ȝe stynt and ses,
Oure gamen to lett ne cry in pres
For ȝour courtasy.
Þat we ȝow play it is no les,
Godmen, sikirly.
And of ȝour noys ȝe stynt and ses,
Oure gamen to lett ne cry in pres
For ȝour courtasy.
Þat we ȝow play it is no les,
Godmen, sikirly.
Oure myrth we make of a knyght
Þat in his tyme was bold and wyght,
Rich of rent, man mekill of myght,
Proper and aupert.
Swilk hap gan fall þat on him light
Þat put him to pouert.
Þat in his tyme was bold and wyght,
Rich of rent, man mekill of myght,
Proper and aupert.
Swilk hap gan fall þat on him light
Þat put him to pouert.
Þan he sight full wondre sore,
Þat so rich had ben before,
And had nothyng to leue on more;
His hert was full of grefe.
Þe fende apierd vntill him þor
As man at his myschiefe.
Þat so rich had ben before,
And had nothyng to leue on more;
His hert was full of grefe.
Þe fende apierd vntill him þor
As man at his myschiefe.
He saide, ‘Man, lat be þi drede,
Þou leue on me and my lede
And þou sall haue all þat þe nede
Vntill þi lyues ende.’
Bot sikirly, als we cone rede,
Of Mary milde þan was his mende.
Þou leue on me and my lede
And þou sall haue all þat þe nede
Vntill þi lyues ende.’
Bot sikirly, als we cone rede,
Of Mary milde þan was his mende.
Mary had of him pité,
And till hir son scho knelid on kne,
Sayd, ‘Son, ȝon body gif me.
I chalange be right.’
Þus fro þe fendes pousté
Boured scho þe knyght.
And till hir son scho knelid on kne,
Sayd, ‘Son, ȝon body gif me.
I chalange be right.’
Þus fro þe fendes pousté
Boured scho þe knyght.
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Me nedis ȝow no more to tell
O þis thing how it befell;
Bot ȝe sall her, and ȝe will dwell,
How þat it sall be plaied.
He kep ȝow all þat herid hell,
And sithen vp staied.
O þis thing how it befell;
Bot ȝe sall her, and ȝe will dwell,
How þat it sall be plaied.
He kep ȝow all þat herid hell,
And sithen vp staied.
| The Durham Prologue | |