Squyer That ther nys tygre, ne noon so cruell a best That dwellith eyþer in woode, or in Forest, That nolde hand wepte, yif þ(at) it wepe cowde For sorowe of here. she shright alwey so lowde, For þer was neu(er) yhet, no, man(e) on lyve Yif þat I couth a Fauco(u)n well discryve That herde of suche a noþer, of fairnes As wele of plumage as of gentilnes Of schap(e) and of all þat myght rekened be A Fauco(u)n Peregryne then semed sche Of Fremed londe and eu(er)more þ(er) she stood She swouned new & new for lak of blood Till welnygh is she fallen fro the Tree This Faire kynges doughter Canacee, þat on here Fynger bare þe queynt Ryng þrugh which she vnderstood wele eu(er)y þing That any Fowle may in his ledne seyn And couthe annswere hym in his ledne ageyn She hath vndirstonde what þis Fauco(u)n seyde And well nygh for ruth, almost she deide And to the Tree sche goth full hastily And on þis Fauco(u)n lokith pitously, And helde here lappe a brode for wel she wist The Fauco(u)n most(e) Falle, From the twist Whan þ(at) she swonned next, for lak of blood A longe while to waiten hire sche stood Till at þe last she spake in this manere Vnto the hauke, as ye shall after here What is þe cause if þat it be to tell, þat ye be in this Furiall payne of hell Quod Canacee vnto this hauke aboue Is þis for sorowe of deth or losse of loue For as I trowe thise be causes twoo That causen most, a gentle herte woo Of oþer harme it nedith not to speke For ye yo(ur)silf vpon yo(ur)self to wreke Which p(ro)uyth wele, þat eiþ(er) ne or drede Mote been eucheson of youre cruell dede Syn(e) þat I see, noon oþer wight you chace For loue of god. as doth yo(ur)selfen grace Or what may be yo(ur) help, for west north south or East Ne sawe I neuer or nowe no bride ne best That ferde with hym silf so pitously Ye sle me with youre sorowe vereyly I haue of you so grete compassion For goddes loue come fro þe Tre adoun And as I am a kynges doughter trewe Yif þat I vereily the Causes knewe Of youre dissese, if it lay in my myght I wolde amend it, or [it] were nyght As wisly helpe me grete god of kynde And herbes schal. I right I nough fynde To hele with youre hurtes. hastily Tho shrigh þis Fauco(u)n yhit more pitously
transcription
Squyer That ther nys tygre, ne noon so cruell a best That dwellith eyþer in woode, or in Forest, That nolde hand wepte, yif þ(at) it wepe cowde For sorowe of here. she shright alwey so lowde, For þer was neu(er) yhet, no, man(e) on lyve Yif þat I couth a Fauco(u)n well discryve That herde of suche a noþer, of fairnes As wele of plumage as of gentilnes Of schap(e) and of all þat myght rekened be A Fauco(u)n Peregryne then semed sche Of Fremed londe and eu(er)more þ(er) she stood She swouned new & new for lak of blood Till welnygh is she fallen fro the Tree This Faire kynges doughter Canacee, þat on here Fynger bare þe queynt Ryng þrugh which she vnderstood wele eu(er)y þing That any Fowle may in his ledne seyn And couthe annswere hym in his ledne ageyn She hath vndirstonde what þis Fauco(u)n seyde And well nygh for ruth, almost she deide And to the Tree sche goth full hastily And on þis Fauco(u)n lokith pitously, And helde here lappe a brode for wel she wist The Fauco(u)n most(e) Falle, From the twist Whan þ(at) she swonned next, for lak of blood A longe while to waiten hire sche stood Till at þe last she spake in this manere Vnto the hauke, as ye shall after here What is þe cause if þat it be to tell, þat ye be in this Furiall payne of hell Quod Canacee vnto this hauke aboue Is þis for sorowe of deth or losse of loue For as I trowe thise be causes twoo That causen most, a gentle herte woo Of oþer harme it nedith not to speke For ye yo(ur)silf vpon yo(ur)self to wreke Which p(ro)uyth wele, þat eiþ(er) ne or drede Mote been eucheson of youre cruell dede Syn(e) þat I see, noon oþer wight you chace For loue of god. as doth yo(ur)selfen grace Or what may be yo(ur) help, for west north south or East Ne sawe I neuer or nowe no bride ne best That ferde with hym silf so pitously Ye sle me with youre sorowe vereyly I haue of you so grete compassion For goddes loue come fro þe Tre adoun And as I am a kynges doughter trewe Yif þat I vereily the Causes knewe Of youre dissese, if it lay in my myght I wolde amend it, or [it] were nyght As wisly helpe me grete god of kynde And herbes schal. I right I nough fynde To hele with youre hurtes. hastily Tho shrigh þis Fauco(u)n yhit more pitously
Transcription
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