The Rowley Poems - LightNovelsOnl.com
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AT BRYSTOWE.
aeLLA AND SERVITOURES.
aeLLA.
'Tys nowe fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte To have been heere; mie stede han notte mie love; Thys ys mie pallace; lette mie hyndes alyghte, Whylste I goe oppe, & wake mie slepeynge dove.
Staie here, mie hyndlettes; I shal goe above. 1140 Nowe. Birtha, wyll thie loke enhele mie spryte, Thie smyles unto mie woundes a baulme wylle prove; Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee sette aryghte.
Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle doore, Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of warre ne more. 1145
aeLLA, EGWINA.
EGWINA.
Oh aella!
aeLLA.
Ah! that semmlykeene to mee Speeketh a legendary tale of woe.
EGWINA.
Birtha is--
aeLLA.
Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?
EGWINA.
Gone--
aeLLA.
Gone! ye G.o.ddes!
EGWINA.
Alas! ytte ys toe true.
Yee seynctes, hee dies awaie wythe myckle woe! 1150 aella! what? aella! oh! hee lyves agen.
aeLLA.
Cal mee notte aella; I am hymme ne moe.
Where ys shee gon awaie? ah! speake! how? when?
EGWINA.
I will.
aeLLA.
Caparyson a score of stedes; flie, flie.
Where ys shee? swythynne speeke, or instante thou shalte die. 1155
EGWINA.
Stylle thie loud rage, & here thou whatte I knowe.
aeLLA.
Oh! speek.
EGWINA.
Lyche prymrose, droopynge wythe the heavie rayne, Laste nyghte I lefte her, droopynge wythe her wiere, Her love the gare, thatte gave her harte syke peyne--
aeLLA.
Her love! to whomme?
EGWINA.
To thee, her spouse alleyne[122]. 1160 As ys mie hentylle everyche morne to goe, I wente, and oped her chamber doore ynn twayne, Botte found her notte, as I was wont to doe; Thanne alle arounde the pallace I dyd seere[123], Botte culde (to mie hartes woe) ne fynde her anie wheere. 1165
aeLLA.
Thou lyest, foul hagge! thou lyest; thou art her ayde To chere her louste;--botte noe; ytte cannotte bee.
EGWINA.
Gyff trouthe appear notte inne whatte I have sayde, Drawe forthe thie anlace swythyn, thanne mee flea.
aeLLA.
Botte yette ytte muste, ytte muste bee foe; I see, 1170 Shee wythe somme loustie paramoure ys gone; Itte moste bee foe--oh! how ytte wracketh mee!
Mie race of love, mie race of lyfe ys ronne; Nowe rage, & brondeous storm, & tempeste comme; Nete lyvynge upon erthe can now enswote mie domme. 1175
aeLLA, EGWINA, SERVYTOURE.
