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englesaxe

Early Middle English for today

Sir Orfeo (lines 101-200)

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And bi-held, and seyd wit` grete pité,

"O lef liif, what is te,

T`at ever y`ete hast ben so stille

And now gredest wonder schille?

T`y bodi, t`at was so white y-core, 105

Wit` t`ine nailes is all to-tore.

Allas! t`y rode, t`at was so red,

Is al wan, as t`ou were ded;

And also t`ine fingres smale

Bet` al blodi and al pale. 110

Allas! t`y lovesum eyy`en to

Loket` so man dot` on his fo!

A, dame, ich biseche, merci!

Lete ben al t`is reweful cri,

And tel me what t`e is, and hou, 115

And what t`ing may t`e help now."

T`o lay sche stille atte last

And gan to wepe swit`e fast,

And seyd t`us t`e King to:

"Allas, mi lord, Sir Orfeo! 120

Set`en we first togider were,

Ones wrot` never we nere;

Bot ever ich have yloved t`e

As mi liif and so t`ou me;

Ac now we mot delen ato; 125

Do t`i best, for y mot go."

"Allas!" quat` he, "forlorn icham!

Whider wiltow go, and to wham?

Whider t`ou gost, ichil wit` t`e,

And whider y go, t`ou schalt wit` me." 130

"Nay, nay, Sir, t`at nouy`t nis!

Ichil t`e telle al hou it is:

As ich lay t`is undertide

And slepe under our orchardside,

T`er come to me to fair kniy`tes, 135

Wele y-armed al to riy`tes,

And bad me comen an heiy`ing

And speke wit` her lord t`e king.

And ich answerd at wordes bold,

Y durst nouy`t, no y nold. 140

T`ai priked oy`ain as t`ai miy`t drive;

T`o com her king, also blive,

Wit` an hundred kniy`tes and mo,

And damisels an hundred also,

Al on snowe-white stedes; 145

As white as milke were her wedes.

Y no seiy`e never y`ete bifore

So fair creatours y-core.

T`e king hadde a croun on hed;

It nas of silver, no of gold red, 150

Ac it was of a precious ston -

As briy`t as t`e sonne it schon.

And as son as he to me cam,

Wold ich, nold ich, he me nam,

And made me wit` him ride 155

Opon a palfray bi his side;

And brouy`t me to his palays,

Wele atird in ich ways,

And schewed me castels and tours,

Rivers, forestes, frit` wit` flours, 160

And his riche stedes ichon.

And set`en me brouy`t oy`ain hom

Into our owhen orchard,

And said to me t`us afterward,

"'Loke, dame, tomorwe t`atow be 165

Riy`t here under t`is ympe-tre,

And t`an t`ou schalt wit` ous go

And live wit` ous evermo.

And y`if t`ou makest ous y-let,

Whar t`ou be, t`ou worst y-fet, 170

And totore t`ine limes al

T`at not`ing help t`e no schal;

And t`ei t`ou best so totorn,

Yete t`ou worst wit` ous y-born."'

When King Orfeo herd t`is cas, 175

"O we!" quat` he, "Allas, allas!

Lever me were to lete mi liif

T`an t`us to lese t`e quen, mi wiif!"

He asked conseyl at ich man,

Ac no man him help no can. 180

Amorwe t`e undertide is come

And Orfeo hat` his armes y-nome,

And wele ten hundred kniy`tes wit` him,

Ich y-armed, stout and grim;

And wit` t`e quen wenten he 185

Riy`t unto t`at ympe-tre.

T`ai made scheltrom in ich a side

And sayd t`ai wold t`ere abide

And dye t`er everichon,

Er t`e quen schuld fram hem gon. 190

Ac y`ete amiddes hem ful riy`t

T`e quen was oway y-twiy`t,

Wit` fairi fort` y-nome.

Men wist never wher sche was bicome.

T`o was t`er criing, wepe and wo! 195

T`e king into his chaumber is go,

And oft swoned opon t`e ston,

And made swiche diol and swiche mon

T`at neiy`e his liif was y-spent -

T`er was non amendement. 200