#  A Voyage to Compostella 

 



*\[The glosses appear in italics; Furnivall's characteristically enthusiastic summary is printed in boldface.\]*

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**Men may leve all gamys**





You leave all fun behind you 



**That saylen to Seynt Jamys,**



when you sail to St. James! 



**For many a man hit gramys,**



(annoys, bothers) 



**When they begyn to sayle.** 







**For when they have take the see**



Directly you get 



**At Sandwyche or at Wynchylsee,**



on board 



**At Brystow, or where that hit bee,** 







**Theyr hertes begyn to fayle.**



your heart fails. 















**Anone the mastyr commaundeth fast** 





10

**To hys shypmen in all the hast** 



The shipmen make ready, 



**To dresse hem sone about the mast,**







**Theyr takelyng to make.** 









**With "Howe! Hissa!" then they cry.**



halloo, 



**What, howe, mate, thow stondyst too ny,**

order you out 



**Thy felow may nat hale thee by,**



of their way 



**Thus they begyn to crake.**





(speak, shout) 















**A boy or tweyn anone upstyen**







**And overthwart the sayle-yerde lyen.** 



(climb up) 



**Y-how, taylia! the remenaunt cryen,**





20

**And pull with all theyr myght.** 



and haul at the sails 



**Bestowe the boote, boteswayne, anon,**

Put the boat ready; 



**That our pylgryms may pley theron;**



our Pilgirms 



**For som ar lyke to cowgh and grone**



will groan



**Or hit be full mydnyght.**





ere night















**Hale the bowelyne! Now, ware the shete!**

Haul up the bowline!



**Cooke, make redy anoon our mete**







**Our pylgryms have no lust to ete,** 







**I pray god yeve hem rest.**





Storm's coming. 



**Go to the helm! What, howe! No nere!**





30

**Steward, felow, a pot of bere!**



Steward, a pot of beer!



**"Ye shall have, sir, with good chere** 







**Anon all of the best."**





















**Y-howe, trussa! Hale In the brayles!**







**Thow halyst nat, by God, thow fayles!** 







**O, se howe well oure good shyp sayles!"**





**And thus they say among.** 







**Hale In the wartake! "Hit shal be done."** 





**"Steward, cover the boorde anon**







Steward, lay the cloth



**And set bred and salt therone,**



Give them bread and salt

40

**And tary nat too long!"**





















**Then cometh oone and seyth: "Be mery,** 





**Ye shall have a storme or a pery."**



Storm's coming



**Holde thow thy pese! Thow canst no whery,**





**Thow medlyst wondyr sore.**







**Thys menewhyle the pylgryms ly,**



The poor Pilgrims 



**And have theyr bowles fast theym by,**



have they're bowle



**And cry aftyr hot malvesy**





And cry out for hot Malmsey



**To helpe for to restore.**





















**And som wold have a saltyd tost,** 



they can eat neither 

50

**For they myght ete neyther sode ne rost.**

boiled nor roast. 



**A man myght sone pay for theyr cost**







**As for oo day or twayne.** 









**Som layde theyr bookys on theyr kne** 







**And red so long they myght nat se.** 







**Allas, myne hede woll cleve on thre,**



My head will split   
 in three, says one. 



**Thus seyth another certayne.**



















**Then commeth oure owner lyke a lorde,**

The shipowner comes 



**And speketh many a royall worde,** 





60

**And dresseth hym to the hygh borde** 







**To see all thyng be well.**





to see that all's right 



**Anone he calleth a carpentere,** 







**And byddyth hym bryng with hym hys gere** 





**And make the cabans here and there**



The cabins are 



**With many a febyll cell.**





made ready. 















**A sak of strawe were there ryght good,** 





**For som must lye theym in theyr hood.** 





**I had as lefe be in the wood**



(just as soon) 



**Withoute mete or drynk.** 







70

**For when that we shall go to bedde,**







**The pumpe was nygh oure beddes hede;**

And the pump, 



**A man were as good to be dede**



my goodness, 



**As smell therof the stynk.** 



stinks enough to kill you! 





The text, here slightly regularized and glossed, is from the edition by F.J. Furnivall, The stacions of Rome and The pilgrims' sea voyage, with Clene maydenhod. A supplement to "Political, religious, and love poems," and "Hali meidenhad," Early English Text Society, vol. 25, 1867.