ELDER ENGLISH POETS.

I

Elder Poets.

YOURE two eyn will sle me sodenly,
I may the beauté of them not sustene,
So wendeth it thorowout my herté kene

2.

And but your words will helen hastely
My hertis wound, while that it is grene,
Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly.

3.

Upon my trouth I sey yow feithfully,

That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene;

For with my deth the trouth shal be sene.
Youre two eyn, &c.

AMGOLIAD

RONDEAU.

II.

I.

So hath youre beauté fro your herté chased
Pitee, that me n'availeth not to pleyn:
For daunger halt youre mercy in his cheyne.

2.

Giltless my deth thus have ye purchased;
I sey yow soth, me nedeth not to fayn:
So hath youre beauté fro your herté chased.

3.

Alas, that nature hath in yow compassed
So grete beauté that no man may atteyn
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyn.
So hath youre beauté &c.

III.

I.

Syn I fro love escapèd am so fat,

I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene;
Syn I am fre, I count hym not a bene.

2.

He may answere, and sey this and that,
I do no fors, I speke ryght as I mene;
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat.

3.

Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokés clene:

For ever mother is non other mene,

Syn I fro love escaped &c.

Geoffrey Chaucer.