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Blow, northerne wind |
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Send thou me my sweting |
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Blow, northerne wind |
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Blow, blow, blow! |
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Ichot a burde in bowre bright |
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That sully semly is on sight |
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Menskful maiden of might |
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Fair and fre to fonde |
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In all this wurhliche won |
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A burde of blod and of bon |
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Never yet I nuste non |
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Lussomore in lode |
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Hire lure lumes light |
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Ase a launterne anight |
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Hire be blikieth so bright |
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So fair he is and fine |
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Swetly swire he hath to holde |
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With armes, shuldre ase mon wolde |
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And fingres faire for to folde |
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God wolde she were mine |
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To Love I putte pleintes mo |
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How Siking me hath siwed so |
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And eke Thoght me thrat to slo |
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With maistry yef he mighte |
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And Sorewe sore in balful bende |
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The he wolde for this hende |
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Me lede to my lives ende |
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Unlahfulliche in lighte |
