From the Harley Lyrics
The Fair Maid of Ribbesdale
See the glossary to the Riversaide Chaucer for words not explained in the margins.
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Mosti riden by Ribbesdale Wilde wommen forto wale And welde which ich wolde, Founde were the fairest one That ever was mad of blod and bone In boure best with bolde. As sonnebem hire bleo is bright In vche londe heo leometh light Thourh tale as mon me tolde; The lily lossum is and long With riche rose and rode among A fildor fax to folde. Hire hed when ich biholde upon The sonnebeem aboute noon Me thoghte that I seghe; Hire eyen aren grete and gray ynogh That lussom when heo on me logh lovely one Ybend wax either breghe The mone with hire muchele might Ne leneth non such light a-night That is in hevene heghe As hire forhed doth in day For whom thus muchel I mourne may; For duel to deth I dreighe Heo hath browes bend an high Whit bitwene and nought too nigh; Lussum lif heo ledes; Hire nose is set as hit wel semeth I deghe, for deth that me demeth; Hire speche as spices spredeth. Hire lockes lefly aren and longe For sone heo mighte hire murthes monge With blisse when hit bredes; Hire chin is chosen and either cheke Whit ynogh and rode on eke As roser when hit rose redes. Heo hath a mury mouth to mele With lefly rede lippes lele Romauns forto rede; Hire teth aren white as bon of whal Evene set and atled al As hende mowe taken hede. Swannes swire swithe wel ysette neck A spanne lengore then I mette That freoly is to fede; Me were levere kepe hire come Then beon pope and ride in Rome be Stithe upon stede. When I biholde upon hire hond The lilye white lef in lond Best heo mighte beo; Either arm an elne long ell Baloygne mengeth al bimong As baum is hire bleo. balm Fingres heo hath fair to folde Mighte ich hire have and holde In world wel were me; Hire tittes aren an-under bis As apples two of Parays Youself ye mowen seo. Hire girdel of bete gold is al Umben hire middel smal That triketh to the to; Al with rubies on a rowe Withinne corven craft to knowe And emeraudes mo. The bocle is al of whalles bon Ther withinne stont a ston That warneth men from wo; The water that hit wetes in Ywis hit wortheth al to win That seggen seyden so. Heo hath a mete middel smal, Body and brest wel made al, As Feynes withoute fere; Either side soft as silk Whittore then the moren milk With leofly lit on lere. Al that ich you nempne noght Hit is wonder wel ywroght And elles wonder were; He mighte sayen that Crist hym seghe That mighte nightes negh hire leghe; Hevene he hevede here. |
If I might choose control whichever I wanted best for a bold one in a chamber her complexion everywhere. . . she gleams as I was told (mon = one) lovely rosy hue, rednes, mixed in golden thread a tress to enfold saw large and very gray she. . . smiled both brows bent great power lends, gives high dole. . .draw She She leads a lovely life die for her who dooms me to death are lovely she. . . mingle an occasion for joy arises choice, excellent ruddy also rose bush. . . reddens with roses She. . . speak loyal, admirable whale bone set out, arranged As elegant people will notice a span (9 inches) longer than I found before elegant is to feed I would rather await her arrival strong dear i.e., better than the lily (a measurement; now 45 inches) baleen, whale bone mingled therein balm. . . complexion under fine linen Paradise (As) you can see for yourself beaten around her small waist adorns (her) skill of carving make known emeralds buckle stands a jewel guards changes all [poison] to wine Those who saw it said so She. . . suitable Phoenix without peer morning milk color on her cheek do not specify to you looked on him (benevolently) Who could lay by her at night He would have his Heaven here |
- This text has been heavily regularized and glossed from the edition by Karl Boeddeker, Altenglischen Dichtungen des Ms. Harl. 2253. Berlin, 1878 [Widener 12414.13]. (Better edition is G.L. Brook, Harley Lyrics. Manchester, 1956 [PR1203 .H34].)