“Now syth that ye have shewed to me the

secret of your mynde, I shalbe playne to you agayne, lyke as ye shal

“I thinke not nay, but as ye saye, it is noo

maydens lore; But love may make me for your sake, as ye

“Syth I have here ben partynere with you

of joy and blysse, I muste also parte of your woo endure, as

"I shal, as now,

do
more for

you

than longeth to womanhede, To short my here, a bowe to bere to shote in

"A barons childe to be begyled, it were a curssed dede,

To be felaw with an outlawe, almyghty God forbede!

Yet bettyr were the power 3 squyer alone to forest yede,4

Than ye shal say, another day, that be 2 wyked dede

my

Ye were betrayed; wherfore, good maide, the best red 5 that I can,

Is that I too the grenewode goo, alone, a banysshed man."

"Whatsoever befalle, I never shal of this thing you upbraid;

But yf ye goo and leve me so, than have ye me betraied.

140

I 2

EARLY TUDOR LYRICS (c. 1500)

Thys ender nyght 2
I saw a syght,

A star as bright as day;
And ever among
A maydyn song:

By-by, baby, lullay!
Thys vyrgyn clere
Wythowtyn pere

Unto hur son gane say: “My son, my lorde, My fathere dere,

Why lyest thow in hay?
“Methynk by ryght
Thow, kyng and knyght,

Shulde lye in ryche aray,
Yet none the lesse
I wyll not cesse

To syng, By-by, lullay!”
Thys babe iull bayne 4
Aunsweryd agayne,

And thus, me-thought, he sayd : “I am a kyng Above all thyng,

Yn hay yff I be layde;
“For ye shall see
That kynges thre

Shall cum on the twelfe day.
For thys behest
Geffe me thy brest

And sing, By-by, lullay!"

I. RELIGIOUS LYRIC

3

18

I

Who shall have my sayr lady? Who but I? Who but 1 ? Who? Who shall have my fayr lady? Who hath more ryght therlo?

24

30

2 the other night

* readily

'Quid petis, o fily?” "Mater dulcissima, ba-ba!” "Quid petis, o fili?” "Michi plausus oscula da-da!”

2

36

“My son, I say
Wythowtyn nay 1

Thow art my derling dere;
I shall the kepe
Whyle thow dost slepe
And make the ? goode chere;
“And all thy wylle
I wyll fulfill,

Thou wotyst hyt well yn fay.
Yet more then thys,
I wyll the kys

And syng, By-by, lullay."
“My moder swete,
When I have slepe,

Then take me up on lofte;
Upon your kne
Thatt ye sett me

And dandell me full soft;
“And in your arme
Lap me ryght warme

And kepe me nyght and day;
And yff I wepe
And cannott slepe,

Syng, By, baby, lullay.”.
“My son, my lorde,
My fader dere,

Syth all ys at thy wyll,
I pray the, son,
Graunte me a bone,

Yff hyt be ryght and skylle;
“That chylde or man,
Whoever can

Be mery on thys day,
To blys them bryng
And I shall syng:

By-by, baby, lullay!”
“My moder shene,
Of hevyn quene,

Your askyng shall I spede,
So that the myrth
Dysplease me nott

Yn wordes nor in dede.

IO

3

Yfie that he say he can not syng,
Sum oder sport then lett hym bryng,
That yt may please at thys festyng,

For now ys the tyme of Crystymas.
Make we mery, etc.

8

72

"Syng what ye wyll, So ye fullfyll

My ten commaundements ay. Yow for to please Let them nott sesse

To syng, Baby, lullay." 1 certainly 2 thee 3 beautiful

I 2

4

Yffe he say he can nowght do,
Then, for my love, aske hym no mo,
But to the stokke then lett hym go,

For now ys the tyme of Crystymas.
Make we mery, etc.

1 satisfied

78

4