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.