The Rowley Poems - ELINOURE AND JUGA.

ELINOURE AND JUGA.

 

ONNE Ruddeborne <1> bank twa pynynge Maydens sate, Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre cleere; Echone bementynge <2> for her absente mate. Who atte Seyncte Albonns shouke the morthynge <3> speare. The nottebrowne Elinoure to Juga fayre Dydde speke acroole <4>, wythe languishment of eyne, Lyche roppes of pearlie dew, lemed <5> the quyvryng brine.

ELINOURE.

O gentle Juga! heare mie dernie <6> plainte, To fyghte for Yorke mie love ys dyghte <7> in stele; O maie ne sanguen steine the whyte rose peyncte, 10 Maie good Seyncte Cuthberte watche Syrre Roberte wele. Moke moe thanne deathe in phantasie I feele; See! see! upon the grounde he bleedynge lies; Inhild <8> some joice <9> of lyfe, or else mie deare love dies.

JUGA.

Systers in sorrowe, on thys daise-ey'd banke, Where melancholych broods, we wyll lamente; Be wette wythe mornynge dewe and evene danke; Lyche levynde <10> okes in eche the odher bente, Or lyche forlettenn <11> halles of merriemente, Whose gastlie mitches <12> holde the traine of fryghte <13>, 20 Where lethale <14> ravens bark, and owlets wake the nyghte.

No moe the miskynette <15> shall wake the morne, The minstrelle daunce, good cheere, and morryce plaie; No moe the amblynge palfrie and the horne Shall from the lessel <16> rouze the foxe awaie; I'll seke the foreste alle the lyve-longe daie; Alle nete amenge the gravde chyrche glebe <17> wyll goe, And to the pallante spryghtes lecture <18> mie tale of woe.

Whan mokie <19> cloudis do hange upon the leme Of leden <20> Moon, ynn sylver mantels dyghte; 30 The tryppeynge Faeries weve the golden dreme Of Selyness <21>, whyche flyethe wythe the nyghte; Thenne (botte the Seynctes forbydde!) gif to a spryte Syrr Rychardes forme ys lyped, I'll holde dystraughte Hys bledeynge claie-colde corse, and die eche daie ynn thoughte.

ELINOURE.

Ah woe bementynge wordes; what wordes can shewe! Thou limed <22> ryver, on thie linche <23> maie bleede Champyons, whose bloude wylle wythe thie waterres flowe, And Rudborne streeme be Rudborne streeme indeede! Haste, gentle Juga, tryppe ytte oere the meade, 40 To knowe, or wheder we muste waile agayne, Or wythe oure fallen knyghtes be menged onne the plain.

 

Soe sayinge, lyke twa levyn-blasted trees, Or twayne of cloudes that holdeth stormie rayne; Theie moved gentle oere the dewie mees <24>, To where Seyncte Albons holie shrynes remayne. There dyd theye fynde that bothe their knyghtes were slayne, Distraughte <25> theie wandered to swollen Rudbornes syde, Yelled theyre leathalle knelle, sonke ynn the waves, and dyde.

 

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