Quote
"Nis no fur so hot in helle All to mon That loveth derne and dar nout telle Whet him is on."
M
Middle English LyricMiddle English Lyric
Middle English Lyric
Middle English lyric a genre of English literature, is characterized by its brevity and emotional expression. Conventionally, the lyric expresses "a moment," usually spoken or performed in the first person. Although some lyrics have narratives, the plots are usually simple to emphasize an occasional, common experience. Even though lyrics appear individual and personal, they are not "original"; ins
"Nis no fur so hot in helle All to mon That loveth derne and dar nout telle Whet him is on."
"Icham of Irlaunde Ant of the holy londe Of Irlande. Gode sire, pray ich the, For of saynte charite, Come ant daunce wyt me In Irlaunde."
"Hand by hand we shule us take, And joye and blisse shule we make; For the devel of helle man hath forsake, And Godes Son is maked our make. A child is boren amonges man, And in that child was no wam: That child is God, that child is man, And in that child oure lif bigan."
"An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent, Ichote from hevene it is me sent; From alle wymmen my love is lent Ant lyht on Alisoun."
"I sing of a maiden That is makeles; King of all kings To her son she ches."
"For hire love in slep y slake, For hire love al nyht ich wake, For hire love mournynge y make More then eny mon. Blou northerne wynd! Send thou me my suetyng! Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!"
"She sente me the cherye Withouten ony ston; And so she dede the dove Withouten ony bon; She sente me the brer Withouten ony rinde; She bad me love my lemman Withoute longing."
"Of on that is so fayr and bright Velut maris stella, Brighter than the day is light, Parens et puella: Ic crie to the, thou see to me, Levedy, preye thi Sone for me, Tam pia, That ic mote come to thee, Maria."
"Louerd, þu clepedest me, An ich nagt ne ansuarede þe, Bute wordes scloe and sclepie: "Þole yet! þole a litel!" Bute "yiet" and "yiet" was endelis, And "þole a litel" a long wey is."
"Were beth they biforen vs weren, Houndes ladden and hauekes beren And hadden feld and wode?"
"Mirie it is while sumer ilast With fugheles song, Oc nu necheth windes blast And weder strong. Ej! Ej! what this nicht is long, And ich with wel michel wrong Soregh and murne and fast."
"Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu! Groweth sed, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu– Sing cuccu!"