WESTRON WYNDE

  

Westron wynde, when wylt thow blow,          

The smalle rayne downe can rayne?   

Cryst, yf my love were in my armes   

And I yn my bed agayne.                               

 

This other day I hard a may                

Ryght peteusly complayne;                

She sayd allway withowt denay                      

Her hart was full of payne.

 

   He nony, nony nony nony no,

   He nony, nony nony nony nony no,

           

She said, alas, withowt trespas            

Her dere hart was untrew;                               

“In every place I wot he hace             

Forsake me for a new. “                    

 

Sith he untrew hath chosen a new

And thynkes with her to rest,

And will not rew, and I so trew,

Wherfore my hart will brest.

 

And now I may in no maner a way

Optayne that I do sew,

So ever and ay withowt denay,

Myne owne swet hart, adew.

 

“Adew, derlyng, adew, swettyng,

Adew, all my welfare!

Adew, all thyng to god perteynyng,

Cryst kepe yow frome all care.

 

Adew, full swete, adew, ryght mete

To be a lady’s pere!”

With terys wete ans yës replete

She said, “Adew my dere!

 

Adew, farewell, adew la bell,

Adew, bothe frend and foo!

I cannott tell wher I shall dwell,

My hart it grevyth me so.”

           

She had nott said but at-abryde

Her dere hart was full nere

And saide, “Goodbye mayde, be not dysmayde,

My love, my derylyng dere,”

 

In armys he hent hat lady gent;

In voydyng care and mone

That day thay spent to ther intent

In wyldernes alone.

 

— Anon.