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Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my sweting, Blow, northerne wind, Blow, blow, blow! Ichot a burde in bowre bright That sully semly is on sight, Menskful maiden of might, Fair and fre to fonde. In all this wurhliche won A burde of blod and of bon Never yet I nuste non Lussomore in londe. Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my sweting, Blow, northerne wind, Blow, blow, blow! Hire lure lumes light Ase a launterne anight, Hire be blikieth so bright, So fair he is and fine. Swetly swire he hath to holde, With armes, shuldre ase mon wolde, And fingres faire for to folde God wolde she were mine! Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my sweting, Blow, northerne wind, Blow, blow, blow! To Love I putte pleintes mo, How Siking me hath siwed so; And eke Thoght me thrat to slo With maistry yef he mighte; And Sorewe sore in balful bende The he wolde for this hende Me lede to my lives ende Unlahfulliche in lighte. Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my sweting, Blow, northerne wind, Blow, blow, blow! |