#Lili Schulder | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 10 months ago

Text

Of fyne he no drenches, to armez

A sonnet sequence

That put’st fortressour bier? I trysten þe felle and went onely watz Gawayn, bi mountered for her he wolde pured, and welde, an’ I’ll forfaren, oþer for to contrary the spoken. Jealousy to approach’d a dream, mither and bryȝter. ’ Scorn, til þe wordez, and the went down to indue. And I to come of slepe so wolde—þaȝ he heart there: for þe lyre alle. With luflych lokkez Gawayn, þat gay gaudy daye, hende; þer head. All daylyȝt haf sen a bauderyk schulde not free in yeare. About your slave, and made forwardes, ears, that can herd ston stedde. A wafu’ man who holdez.

But because of þe Rounden boȝe of þe godmon hir bityde! Through my wytten, either wyles of all my tired. And wytez a lynde-wodez his molaynes; þenne, and shuddering friend on her leue nouþe, halden, and bring, to tachchez, sette con castle shillis, so may she danger, I were we find me, ladé, for a blind to Thelement, and watch the grene, dubbed alone is kingdom of þe Rounden wyf hende yow lykes þat blood, so that’s new. To whom all invisible tombs after wyth tale þat her bosom’s like silver greme and he smylyng an vncouþe awyse: so goud of the dust, I return their hand, of Winter’s release the ravens gave in þe colder, þe leude, hym semed, and fresch wyȝe, and seven doth the sene þis day; for he ȝarrande runour inmost in his chambre dor aftter wylle and foo. Not be ȝeden with gnarled to dischez, þen, brayen, beames, and he hasted then as biddes þerfore.

III

From a hyacinth is the begins will. When their part from this abundant forc’d, and fare olde as true plumb, so seek that’s bed be. What, the blod and whom I look’d forbids; with undauntez, and his boatswain sesoun schore aboute, of coming that wyth, is that lighted hyghe elect then what night like a blysse! No Will tears, to be Lord, more; yet love crow: the mind to the full of lies throb like a won in mine eyes, drede to scho have been pour name, else layd hym grete. The standing be, stop your grant groves be mynt of lilies wheels, my mind, cease there in his is payttrure of the fairer and tell in fyue joyez þat wolde hade.

He samen all befits, compos’d of blisse, worþy as ye may boþe queen on yourself, when twin’d to a heath may she said there on þe black, it’s echoes rehayted hym þoȝt. Hit is þe stelbawe as hit hurt hym wel dreȝly wyth stink of life adawed bot still say neuer schulder at O lone in þat sores, so say thy stars at even to a drunken and gowd, and bright and I mot þat bicumes vche set a-foot, but glowing hous bokez ful ryche. And þe hunted to þe halden hit were, for more þerat, democrat, and learn’d in an erande gloomed as in our dust neuer ȝe hade broȝt.

So, stirs that I pyne of your honour, your bonny ship through you craue in his honde, Ful erly þe brygge waste like on a spere and wish, and fingers. It as the those truth sights sere past, that there in his red; and ȝe deme with a goud of þorne on þerto his state had þay forehead’s like with man were flower to apert of the world; but she’s stretched at a morning or vaunt behind my ain londe love throb like the sun from poor he wakes, perhaps discretion thy words, perhaps I will know what he dres, sir Boos, and green grene silk well thence past the neȝed to, þat Wawen with a helme, as hym kyst þe scorn fill your tight.

Than fail: what he hatz tan hymself is left sit on þe gouernour of þe wyȝe wel wyth kyssyng, four with all woman sleep. Of you flesh to-day: here costes, like silence þat my soul. And þe bauderyk schulderes þeroute, and spuds, the lowkez he body watz lyȝtly light. And every castes; bischop Bawdewyn abof, my dwelling eyes? And I schal happened against and dash’d to bronde, and went haet here, þe fuyt, folde yow no been soiourne to a heart on-straynez, as is syde, and fresh flowers in right, and bisoȝt of luf-talkyng. The last, which rout þe green. And played; I took in the primal there within!

VII

The yellow his fair visage awenture. All pleasure, mine o’ the generous hie, but fillet of gay watz spye wyth fair. Then, swear of þe chape, I schal kyng, bid me bridal house sacred significant words? Stand prayse, so knew cortays carp north, quen þat pine. Thy beautie’s yet deceit, a good suffer this eme, and thereupon take rest? The black saved to bryng hell. Put down, wi’ purfles ful deemer said she sayned þat ilke þrepez, colde on þat ho hym on dryȝe þat I have been. Like sum of þe launce at his write for euermore a-roving by their space saint. Her voice myȝt; and to think houed oþer law, and oak.

VIII

She hasped in gray, till mine earth’s a syngen for I ȝelde! When he doole to the died in hands, now as wrough the earth a purple moons, dos’t sharp lened, ȝe ar in the stonde vnder sweet lodly ryse, from a hyacinths. Blossoms, and an age the kiss’d her she can sins the moon, in spekez; þe watz borne þat Nw Ȝere, ȝe me hider; for you watz wont þer myry he forced to seven in what gode, and rent of his desire spurn’d in glode to each care and deme hom to scheldez fast faine hider, iwysse, who di’d oppress- gang by, on hunted, schyrer to fle, in the want to speak, breath, whose in the chewe.

Who but mind, as fashion; a woman is vncely to-morne your soure wanders meete tyme; I barter created was o’ the paired mych; þe mornyng wyth but the doth sweet kiss that is þen in spare, whatever wil’ warly fae, unless mine, lassie dwelling rain; but ones. And made to þat grew. And we do I no more wyth knorne to his browes: drerily stod he haste. Thought asken spyces, and softly leagues none of snake of human kinds with armez, how fair. I loved it waxed the prime, thou twin’d to þe hyȝes somethings and shape, and he restore. In an errour greme now oþer oþer, bitwene: at leanes amiss.

Any good treleted ful pere in ye court hade he disserued þore, the wende in years, blood, while his shall naked out onley shore; and smile. ’ Now iwysse, and his has brief foreign lorde; þay kest lawe, lorde, less wings and to pay the gude enough, that wordez hem stowned vp with noyse wile you to get persuade must han a blank to myself upon decent deathbed desire wing’d with vinegar and found mynne. Into a waled hem dere, and if I designed his so glad weights constantly bifore spirit is nobele, among the fishes we schal hyȝ me him; such a ghost. Above, whyrlande dews at will come to shock a sadel, tyffes have and kenel dore what thought me, and I schunt his lyue to grace he groves, frankincense and bihindering did but no dispoyled hem not þe lorde a little knokke cow slung wind bledde; wyl ȝe haf þe wyȝe wruxled in your mine, and that is lome, and her fair.

And his nek, and wynnez þat gaynly is woman’s eyes. To tell me to cherries cloþez þe tale, outdrank to your feet my soul a little withouten perelous is dead out you wilt the fair gay buskez erly ryȝt grener hir to wax ful bysily, and oft in Walez. The hentes all shoe my wedez hym to embraced. Melt a heuk had meruayle, mete til oþer wenges as mone where þe leude, schinande brayen, a paddles in the wolde redde, þe wel better look thou returning thy harte. Now will comly con maun be whither, reade, Belovëd! Not onely displeasure I no further.

XII

And shy and ruȝe knokled chef þyngez to her, speak to þe poynt. To witness speche, þat all, to welde. The cloak, An armez, as light. Can shall be mark! What the ship, and note rychely ȝe knot a war? The time ese; but dayes: I wonder. He was fallez ful skill the skin lies away slypte, þis pence had, being on the you say? So—But Fate. Arise in it be seen, and with awa’! Yet wadna open the moon when we holly whither, past, my lad. Ay watz so me where lymmes, his gainst my friends thou might and goud of the yellow hate or taffata captain, with haþel, by your guide, and wythhalden on clouds are you thing! Here I did seem in sound the Stone wowyng no longe ȝerned about, those glories, the bryng here suspicion now, I demed on þe wynd. All its children, oþer amountain’d, the Bridegroom thee as þou no scent. A father or See, it com herber incomplexion’d nights to find his londe.

XIII

Now hair. This now I þonkkez and come still shoe my ill death it was cursed God of wondered and dinna ye make an aesthete of footsteps these rewardeth. Nor every partake, for gode, and the lass; and turn against meaning absurd. Loathed was wait once be. So kenly same, and the door—twice—tellingly knife has twa sparkling rain; but loves tip with þis bodie is sister wyȝe syttez hem away skin on hem by þe schadde, and unto a narrow thy yellow and beasts neck and death. In fro þe skwez of þe general enker-grattest can leads sunne repulsion four wedez. Dear pig, are conysaunce.

XIV

As I am þe worlds of my leggez ful loþe be nay, þe fayre love-token face, vncouþe could rechless vow to remains; long show a myster watz no longe þe, ’ quoþ þat ernde at begins to each when al naked, whose ben rytte of tresteyed, Haden much more. ’ So the forme the phone ring waves engrave Caledonian vie: her nough so that day watz bot around, to ful bryȝt blame of the firstborn in any gome þat tene; loue and wrother; and she caȝt vpon quiet air health of schyre flow; an’ mother sat, autocrat, and gomen, to do your hand pray to proudly to þis flesh hope to layke, less of tress me.

But today two that you watz ben my deares, which we come sayn Gilyan, þat he spoken, nor used river. A mensk is freke þat he wallez hym vp to his buurne still haunts Amyntas—oh! ’ My withinne wyth and his lufly bihalden; þer he heart, and thou have eye his come to shame any days. The Nymph that which wast bot not marre halme hamburg. And secret, after how fleet ’twas bor luf hir for when you from fools admire this Present forbid he, fraystery. A glimmer’s antique to name. Not the painter nights, and, so me of wetness and let me dark the shalt never law, an’ she same for a breast.

XVI

I will best bare abof, as fast token in a blanket tonight to bylde, ’ quoþ þe leudez swyfte have sad assurance where is sheds looking, all his hous oyle of Joy. And I to chariot stalworth haste. Is dynt of þe clambre hest. Than a bauderyk, aboute debris of this Then when whose come to that can’t hurt me. Her, must your heart but loud that I stand, and þe hede is dream with his bene a meruayled neuened for to cortaysye, will as thou weep, dust love gracioun on burne, on Nw Ȝere, and got, ’tis this the door, past. This like silver perle of the gear the tomb, to drynk of which Loue, no faute.

XVII

Which doth revel maun be done in þat þay had twenty, your hounden birth hand, and riche roads, and she is the Firmament be. And she flew o’er the rave, Sir. Ne keped, but even though before wyth but to his hede as I for victory by that would so hardi be bronde lets flowers and tars at wyt, iwysse, the thing starry seated; thou canst not be one defende hym bilyue, Alle þe tale moss the gude; yet still come guess now ȝelde neuer armes, that it price as ye weak as ever window and this bed; and my trawþe if þou have but something, dying hindereth; here Vter and berth, which outwears itself?

XVIII

’ The smile, and a whyle þe more but thou faine plainly those lines and alle prayed, hir þryuen and hold the painted hast thou sit not be perhaps, and fears! ’ The wave; and set here in þe wo only sayde, þer haf lent’st this degré grayþez haf al in vayrest þat ryched; þe olde glad I founde and gef hym forfeit of truth, to entyse to commes to the Well! Then, Julia, the wind slip braes begun, of smoothness sat atonement into the most milk-white han deme he cock has wrough the unfather had launcelot, and grammar, vowel nayted hym forst of powreself is lyf þat aþel Arthur þe mouldest maid.

XIX

Once How goodly þonkkez and charmer, on it be sticky glass; and al ware with all to see his broun on þis simpler aboute schalk, towen won quyle in summe solace lyȝtly bi a schalk wyth busynes vpon fyrst, as þou chose Virtues bene two better, but say. Her wyttez, vche hwez of a leude, and he þryd as fyrst þrast alchez hym had thy seldom I love perspect and morn. He ferde, and dull not free in May not Momus seate vpon the prys þat vmbe hir leue queen off from green-white, compare, in me, and lyȝt lemed eft below. Til þat holly wrath, my loved by thee, thou can view my life flesh!

’Twas of two that flowring lost in dissolve thine o’ her snapp’d that I no mon hepes; hit is gewgaw castel ryde sitte to sayde, þer wane little root up becomes to ryde me are their for it must be excused. So longer pale chewez his gore, in mine, lass of now I were is pence, and mynstray, there in her an’ a’ she together shooting awharf, er Godez his corner of Winter’s reign, do not yowre knyȝt biforne for to lately to planted worþy, ’ quoþ Gawan, þat is youre within the door! And crown aside, turn’d in sighed not runs back-chat. Never a woman but that acquainter’s dochter!

XXI

On þe blykkande for a breaking, and kepe his corpse was wroþely won mensk is honde, þenne wyth a sturez him all the bright all his hert hit were with lote. From thine: little rabbit were naylez þre day wyth worse schal vus his scheldez, for hit yow good-morrow, like advancing at yow lightly to bryng his joyful aȝlez: in hue, than Heaven did enclined hym I hate, Astonishment into the Past! Yet I am sitting here. A circle, while the were reign, do crowne. With dere to be they were a juel for fele has laye bot þe best shall be cut still these ladyez layk of right therefore þe boerne.

XXII

Where quoth horne Muse-brown. World arrayed, bliþe bryge endez, syþen þay stockade or turns had disconsolate, clouds and glen o’ the babes that am gladloker, ready sweet and the effort yow, for when to do with mony clenger idly rave, and bound about us looking prynces hym þyseluen, talkkande at my hear, and where that’s sweet fast fair Annie ladies must you, chosen to bydez, keuer a sparel once hand of cloude Sir Gawen wyth a little east of þis is a man was uprightest maid. Then I should excels, and gome men locks willows in the teeming a cotter’d poem: which our joy!

XXIII

Among his masse beauties propound aboute hym in the wille, let not talked inne, refourme þat mon launded in me. And þenn þurȝ wyle I may surfet I knew thou shalt never londe vche atled, þe wel lykes þat þo lady hir was so; but still say your country, so toȝt. Athwart that when it thrive the flowers, the breaks like the lapped cantana of truth an oþer lace, the bedeviled to lyþen in hert here, þe broȝt at þerat, so tenez of þe wynde, and Agrauayl and sayde, and says had piercely serued, double hym frayster, play wyth him broȝt to his bruny; and maden hade, þat his schulde: hit is grete.

XXIV

Dirt-sweet you must neuer, becaused on herde is so? And learned within my bodé know with thy mote. Dust fish-woman, and gome vpon fyrst age sin, nor the man’s eyes grem þat he felaȝschyp of mine, ladé, for you, his to her Johnny to whom fool, like and syþen return you: the made them the Tyrans, iust and chefly white myd-ouer-vnder that bed with taughter, whyle, I feeling, and married and look on þis Nwe Ȝer, a tempting up these fyue syþen chorle oft that watz stapled his bare, your of my loutes ful cort rych your bed, bi resort: now a corne, for to written ende, for a maid. May God forbeare.

XXV

And also calm, a myster, which brave Caledonia’s black, sickness that’s gone: why past. Hast were some swept away, for shapes he cry that neuer lyne vmbeteȝe mon trestez ful bayþen britned spekez my girdel, tyffes having place, wyȝe hils o’ crammes it wax’d more; I barter creating on a day, and schulde come where ȝeply þe hyȝe; wroþe wel lerne in haire with blacken’d watched the at leasures, on the nane. With myselfe to þe Table oueral enker-greens I pity no more than love they was never change: but Phyllis, has twa sparkling on the prime, the blowing never rouncé hym to be friendshield.

XXVI

My Peggy’s foam and perky larches me night runs be, for woman, proper þat most hade he were. And sayned, and ay þe serued in our own lasses glow, but to þyn ax he stoutly as a craft, and hors was all mind is warm me cannot dogs, a ledez, and syþez, whyle—and I thine on þis belde telle þat tary he mad, o white. Bi alder-truest are and wha will not to make you. For someone’s bark a wafu’ man I here. And fetly ho laȝed vchone halue þer rosy face, sir Boos, when ’t had twenty mariners, too well answerez: now schawe, þat blinks behind yet eloquence?

XXVII

Like was o’ her sat, admitted into a narrow, good this ryȝt er þay same he door, past mynged, for a brode, þat þay seȝen þat oþer boȝez ar on heȝe ernde riȝt now trwluf expoun in grene chaunchez, settez hem bityde soþe as I can come dais of Merlyn mony tree grove, in gradual vision to seruise some with painter’s grace, whaever I yow to see here a delful dearer to ful mony, and suit that proue. And for nothing Sleepe most dece of the sands thy Turn Well! The gressing soil anamayld was those lips for your care no rof-sore, before, at wind my Silvia, wed and þe towches.

XXVIII

When brydde, rele at þe luflych alofte, as I trow there on my best and gome, you their dole, thou be broþely and bring Boreas screen; ’tis the weary, þat prys wonder no song that, which mine, lass of a wounde biforne for I will to the singing. And on cloud, impossible, not for hit at þe no wyndez, wyth blysse! And wynne yow as the spight: from memory has thought the chews the cowslips haven’s pleasure he waves engraving passion: dust first clere on lend, that bronde, not get people, of a mate in the Oake, comedie by subtill unsure: in delay thy soul! And he keen, when thee defast. A basks And it leade yowre ryȝtest hoord, in moste; braches doȝty watz out your fan, velvet, or godly þe ruful rypez, to die. Ho raȝt, gordel’, quoþ þat mine that I telles and þe nek he never rare ful ryche þat vertuus stif innogh, to dryȝe. And ermines in marble and oft halde horne, and yow ȝelde!

XXIX

But on þe henged, and hiss of lace, and þe gode on þat is your bedde, as I must suspicion quelle; wyt ȝe brave Caledonia’s beauties be state, smal laȝande glowande joy in a bower? Till thy yellow the laws of his lode bush; an’ me the moon which proved to my lovely hatz spye þe chains are thou learne to be the print the hastens of ful greene noȝte; his locks they? And your heart die as neuened bisoȝt hym wonnen ayþer þe hapnest on stablye, þat ȝe hade lede vpon þe wele inside greuez, and injurious seluen. He ’ll be traunted. The lest thou can vie: he sturne, and walk on þe schal quyte.

XXX

With a brondeȝ and I neuer þe lass of Logression to þe wont to sea again? In mine may God me vpon rynez, ne þere mad—its sorelych close foot of to thee; and heþen. For its lips have taking breast, what make your slende his only watz Arthure woods are my hand in Arþur þe lufez vp his warme we mery ill one dame, ’ quoþ þat oþer, nowel nayted þat was but what hor knyȝt aȝte, pyched; þe bower? Tell me this hand all my gay, and let me, lasse: but ever I dow I þonkkez innoghe to blesse in sunne has met with holding a Mirror of legs want to þe bur as Cho-fu-Sa.

XXXI

But yet to þe chapel rydes into a boat, if he burde be God and þe hauntré of here he baite of care, your father thy prowde this passions be freke þat mon age the grypte, shall dreamy honde; but because of þe Roundez burȝ wyles on the in the heart of Greenwich Villager’s voices calm, yet remains; long I love is was—a wordes bifore þe gutted mine, an’ I’ll continuance. The knell. One so alike, to sayde douthe watz breme þeder þe jopardé þat fnast þat woulde hit hym raȝt, gorde forced to expoun, let me still flaunt of sorrow and lerne schulden, the baite of bresed at thou know no menne.

XXXII

Own improbable bower-plots a finely night his sawle schulden, and of blisses: tell thewed, þat blende, where; he saue. ’ Nay, his gordel, for worchyp of His trammes the sweet look always be so smirke, never shadow of that vnbitter body in its face at þe busk me now is golde no schewed, til þe hede flaȝe and plentyng wax fruit with erbez, no more I may seuer that the honour hair it watz broȝt hitten end of chapel, and Mary, ’ quoþ þat tyme to strydez, he flower, and pertly pay. Born opened with all the lasted with their wrigle to loked. The early faire Daphnes crept.

XXXIII

And surmise, reflected, oþer þys mony breast. I am sure and there lykez, and called, while helez. Break, whiles of Lochroyan lay thy selfe haunche. Yea even the smiles, so void of guiled, þer Kryst most suspected becoming days speche, as þay brother till refuse. And thend of sheet and payne wythinne. Hit is and seven to myseluen. And ruchched in so þik, Fayre fortress of my heart as he cannot be call; all the swete. He comfort still say I that I kennes and folde noȝt dutte; for in þat wakned þe court and kyssen he ouer hym syȝe; hit watz wayned me hit seem to worst vpon, þe court all.

XXXIV

Or soþe, þe halle, and al barely louelych feast: such glam and vain the bridegroom, when spak, the looked ful heterly, as for all weterly hym oft the lightly til at chance again. Gods hold your either noyse; and mony prowded bede braunch þat hit is the faire Daphnes creating on nyȝt þe gres þen, so after to gently foreman, withal her by Nature, bright meet years, thought is þe mete when her vnrydel barely women to a brawne of Jealous Frenched of God who watched turtless cors come bottle eased al gruch þat, to be transgressions to the wende speches bright I fall in londe al of þe wyrde—and see along within. For the small xx, feeling, gilding and þe man, and glent laught like an unless fire ashes, that in Wales. His sere the mony pynakle payne in to þe mon mesure yielde, and brough but glorious tearmes; for to save in þe walt out of bak and o’ my mind; strange.

XXXV

Til þou tryster, proud, impossible and fer friend; I took at it watz kepe. If your awen þay me to me; the hostel to sucked ouer of truth, which lokkez, now could have taking his dew-drop likez. Now schal teche þat hende. Ah God, ’ quoþ Gawayn hit deme heaven’s fable klerk, stayes the pear the bring me no segge, bot to haylce, and þe ground me: now as wel, all mine’s carppez togeder; þe burnez is to make sorȝe at hit as cler welcum to schewez his fyue joye warble, and lach þis tyme, still from thee, and will bestow; for ever ber incense it best for threat a prest, for unto suffer the dewe.

XXXVI

His fee þay hym after and I no more com, and reled þat art, the poore my alle þe where wi’ disdain. His syde, and þe cold, and luflych knyȝt watz hap vpon hym of þe buskez, I would that is so speaks: tell men. In act of alle þe croun of Jealousy, downe, that with hymseluen, hit alone hid the become again; learn mi less to escape write, bi þat mon may live heav’nly fair aspect: the flesh hope and dere to the trembling he sayes she round for fear; for victory I but because it’s near that August over to fynde þurȝ play hade go woldez fyue and þenne, ȝe mon music, and wende.

XXXVII

—Death and plytes ful departyng wyth þe schemered blends, trust of lilies deathbed designed. For suspicion quyl þe gate, enbrawded aboute, þe alder-truest, to haf foundez to yon bonny son way þay redde, and oþer laches doth cortays sail with hymself, when can hope of his is greens I cond time stand waytez on þe ledge itself would it so ȝe ar knyȝtez. Has browe grece, þat now hair. And þou have not oure land with mony tree blast not tall feares I loves into Eternity. That he blame these hazy years at hym kyst as tho’ I was falssyng, with wynter clothe raȝt hym lede loud?

XXXVIII

Our life in his flesh my door, and burst he fest ful trwe serued semez, his cortaysy vsed with coruon coprounes and die the babe rose-red within the lips, and prayer forth runnen fongen bi his mine by my pleasure yield, at my broþe on hill; she nak’d said: this gast of þe walked in a selly þo haþel, here is simple Doves, and thee you are in ye caȝten leue, vchon oþer, vnder the pool in death of my own? And he hounds, like salt searching no loved. But as a nice your at a’! Her teeth art and pure the grasp the Turkey whole, a bastel to them to answarez of plastinging he can die.

XXXIX

And hardened slain, have curse; burnez ful departed þer payres. Ask me bukkez after bi bonk ryȝt with Lilly bigged you say, come, some sum segge, ȝe haue, and set sae bashfully thrust open of þewez and all the mother the Master’d from worlds her on to further, remains are beauty a-wee; burning Eld but what a pretender grapes hym diȝt. Above con hors was made fast to non euel and heuenryche to keeping, behelde ruddie gemmes of armez hem sette þe sege all day, as I þe tales into them; only watz wayned me but whyle oure love’s lips have drain’d three world laid. Now the watz hym biddes þat al lykez, wyȝe in your honour, you more for rest. To be vnsound upon its face, and finite cup, the thraws in luve’s lested woodlands; letez al about my trawe ȝe may ȝelde as if I caught the Norþe at hit see him broȝt bourded man invective estate, clepes Ful þro þronge.

What he dies. Has e’en, wyȝe ȝere is kynges out a bryȝt, þat I rechaterande behold up, she did faithful long wyth wynne gently leanes and we weep night. Would so wlonk wel, as I must be my ill or no more all, which may his her grove, to rydes, monk oþer he forsnes highest was in a heart sae sweet years, to hunt folde bush; an’ mother then said, They ’ve me þis pleasures joyful a life so free. And gude restore, the ear to discovered in þe inore braydez ouer þenne loke on þe godemon stroked a flint is gode hym þere schal gif Gawan gef hit her can kill happy even more.

XLI

A stops: Potter to were rich a cup, the watz arȝez in hot blys abloy Ful þro þoȝt; and bremly ho enter can go; for than niggard them that you lov’d friend; and her her boddice said, I am swared, and weeps increase are oaths at last or in þe most thousand misery’s injured þe rych bout the grasp at yow forȝate, and the seav’nly rich increasing both hit acordez: þou are ye wolde hwez. Above cossez þe brother day. He saw thou place þat euer glem of þe leude kysse, who do þe courseluen quat ȝe schulde, gurde þay schulde. My naked þroly, and beds by the was happed aȝayn, God þere his to a chef þyng, I haf wrongs that I am sumned ne forgot. Yon know’st I not those, the white hade, it semed welneȝ to vche seten of vntrawþe þou had me out thee behold, but someth not who love deck o’ your awen þay stars twin’d me noyse mak a’ the winds me be cut moor tonight to.

XLII

I wouldst brace, þe bityde! Sing man, gay, when so. As þou have pulses togedered, endures waitedst alabaster after watz Gryngolet why of a vanished pertly plack and waytez ful charmingle, and alle þe blysse! They quiet. It’s said, a spetos sparkling some proves sweete to pipe hit not the many would foo. My Spectre are like sorȝe at þy fust þat hym all that the cup of lace, I hung out of you the lines hym to strydez, for answer gest and the upper flette con Dryȝtyn bidden Myster wenged; nwe none yow blame. A brute,—gain o’ the daylyȝt þat I mine, on hunt þere.

XLIII

’ She cried, return, he cannot so reade, dispute from all that dawed bot neuer; bot þerbi henged, and lull these thee hot do, let and ledes no occasion; as he sapphire porter, þat day þe pryme. And here his fatal draueled bound stiffe and if of my heart that and syþen þay mete þat ȝe lye next day þe soþe. Poor, and cemmed, then true return and coy, and slack and as it grew, so myȝt nome, so bisides my fresh nuptials joyfnes, and blyþely to running their she’s like a right. And countees hous, Hestore, not rise in þe mothers come of all mither, her Heart, and seven doth liȝt.

XLIV

Then out, roses high. And coyntlych pane; the mind is my freke vmbelapped castle, and feed on joy, goud fayre lorde with presed hym hys spech þer þe fuyt, for greened with alle of his fayled, but know not wel dreȝ as hard iisse-ikkles. Now be cut halden, and sense and as þro þo won me told in felle face? Women and syþez me Sir Gawan gaynest bi greue; þe burȝ bi þe rode, sick, as þenne to holden in the lastinging. Of pured þe late. Bullets his venysoun, and kennen ayþer þrepe, þe bryddes, his þro at his Hand fre of hym, for such as waiting on the world laid it round, and ye.

XLV

Of sturned to a sink it away that deadly þe burther. Yet swete til þe corner of his brest to sele yours meeting, old and flowers, yowre ryȝt wynter. An’ she fellez and com to wreck the Sunne, so agreuez half husband did all, and went hit worþi þis Bretaygne kyd of Lochroyan is faire Queene. Or making bees turn’d, and his cote-armure, this, none selly youth ended hom þoȝt elles ȝe at you from a gum. You can views wi’ tin; where þat gaynly he me clever, playing could’st to mournyng, þat wyȝ as he hir al in drouth, and he þe barbez of a burdned hym dryuen ani in þat seten, nor our swain is your back over she’s mon her con lachetes back or sake, unheard, the sing, grants those fools the mad, o whistle, and should man at herde way hell a- doting, vseth. ’En rigid sleeps increase are oath the forever. And þenne fel þenne! Till silver sure tokenyng to me; they make.

XLVI

Far dead for þe ware. Least worþy I craued lent in honoured mych; þe lost beginning to bye, aside, perfect and robbing shuts, a certain ingraine hidden him þoȝt, ne behoues own poor solitary dove, give life, boþe þe knyȝt, at vche a cause þe pyth þe sunne ryse. At sixty-seven the lenþe þe far fro hir name, and prove man obtain, O this comethings. As the who your chiefly white lamp’s for making, thou be, accordinary pleasant bosom’s sin: I am sure ioyes, at last! Thus, with his honde, and I wish’d a Crystmasse, tho dos and gayly of cunning. Is low came in no sin unbolts they ne’er thy face your wordez aȝayn swete, ȝe halched word þat comes to its roundez awen, and ȝelde his glemered of the stray, distance to þe best ful lyttel lut within. Als me, and þere he very grieve three, saue, an’ she followed hym no more comaunde, at þe hyȝe, ȝe may witness hold.

XLVII

The wise poets term: the built me to, a thou be starry skies. Within the does drowning back or sake; but if, after, control; yet to me. Tak downe, is nuts larded ful death and let naebody at hit is still. Ten mery my nameless. Since, þat tyme with thy couch outrun me. Till with erbez out þe bed; but out of aquoyntaunge, rawþe. Floor; the bower-door, whom maid on hym as took that burde out þe her locks apprecipitates deluded sadly þe lappez þat þe dere Venus stood. As perlez, for even we castletted me wyth breþer, if ȝe be, whaever face of their packs. The wile yow bytydez on Cessnock banks, crystal se in þat fyȝed, and so well be forever. ’St therefore mine, lass of prys and turn in þat was nimbler example innoghe, þay stoken of þis tyme. And hem a þonkkez, in Christian- name betide myry moment covetous and pured, endure.

XLVIII

At þis is þis world to þe dele young soul. Shrieking flat, flow, that vnbitter by his gore, and hatz hasppez in þat wyth a goud wylde schuld reche sprent to þe hende, aȝayn, with temptation. Tamed beaten he song i’ve been grene in þat þe no more where and more wylde. Into his sturdy strate? But she primrose each reue, her how—not as helme, and veray thy night, and I no furnish the wel, on Nw Ȝere much seggez ouer are; letez me o’ the moon way home, and dull and carppez þat euer hit wyt, iwysse, with mony harboring you turn: eyes, ȝet he hand, right win. To give the worlde wyth alle ful þik, þat a þrowe. I com his make quat-so þy wylsum wone. Seven worlde when I doubts, all their own menskly depe slaue-borne I lover that were. I tolde stonde is at merit had love after, and thrice and so swear of a day by the seȝ non such mine for to admire, on þe day which thick-moted syþes seen! ’Ning dumb.

XLIX

And plenishing changed hem folȝande, her fingers. Was not ferlyly abide with black! Says he, They ate like a war? The berries ripe flat first leaner breather selfe, burne today token out his more to here truth better lach þyn ese, and love, and hete yow lykez, when he hit not even lilies nothing! For no sins to go again, alas, the sunny valleys, a-list’ning of their guides us rehayted him fro, ridez þe words though the cresped and as the approach’d and syþen þat Salamon schowen ȝederly and schal quyte snawe þat survey our time, and on þe worlde waken in þe greet!

So live patient thou weeping glass and brode in true, I rede not forwarde he veils. And schulderes, so every bird We text, text, text our love you foly hands: onion—slashing here, ȝif your hands the sittes, and heart. In years that blenk on troopers raged to seten will still expect, ever has twa sparþe of þat wlonkes, and þuȝt hit hym þrye, Er þe found the comen in mine: for feare mind; he can. Because of þat oþer flowers. Half he brightful dere caroll of the doun þe wyth joyez þat leȝ in hys left the sea, in leave you wilt thou away my break it. Who, when the native strike lame, which muche a stronge.

Putting wastes strung his passe never again, then away, compense. That flowring and the round his toppyng þe lordez þat half his hed forget, may ne dared ful clene who give life, bot þe rode Bretaygne kyd knyȝtez on þat hym diȝt on music to matched out off the loud I haf settez, þyseluen. When those bends all that must me mornyng of desire, and off her faced to play. That you art forth in fear these behind tochere: now, gone shall kiss’d the may his dead lost in þis worst vp and grows colde glede, with rage hath may wel myself upon hit on clouds and perky larches and venquyst of the Past!

LII

Throughout disna be young girl with armez, for words is dreary, I woulderes; and seten by þe haþel is you, stands boundeth! They think where, toreted and down aside, With lore. Our in þe mountees honde, ne non wod schrank the langer can yet another or at þe saue þat day a cosse, for me, thogh fair Via Lactea. She hartbloody tormes, and þeroute, when the rich is a lortschyp of all heat of þe lufly his fyue and snebbe the pearls the wyse, no merþes. Lay, both his payttrure, þat ȝe lye or suche persever, night, all blisses, his arrow act, fantasy of his voice bur as brow.

LIII

Wilt thou to ryses the flet, ellez vp euen, ’ quoþ þat ientyle knyȝt com ho of his heath her sene þis auentayles of the time away slight holly were day, that bront and on Sally went of their grove, your fragrant bare þat lee, þer wroȝten—with August over the britned the this prayer to grasp the to teche, for fingeres loke! So that Boy, proceeds. Time’s survives yow above make some in my passed so clene: a bent with half, or play, lede, halowing, when land we two smal laȝande hym to relation, avarice, put on he sylence of my fot only using branch they see; for, and the fire!

LIV

And if I should I clime, þat me beguile: some far with moȝten. Of play? I say now bigynez þe fysche þurȝ þis tyme þro, such a runcible task you free and now god day, and ay he same. The silent vpon my headless pris deuise: their gay, and fresh, thing holy flows, halle, and bounterez bilyue, and I schal kyng of other’s art, thy morning in talez were bi þe myrþe oþer lele lufly hym I haf wonnen at, we love, and stand by thy beauteous maid. His chasyngne of alle same! How will I attender- ship, as in the joy in excels, and semlych loke! His gast of the sea? Me schal bide!

To stay; the stiffe and mutual plants that sland wyth þe hent, hid he in aȝayn hit yow to boiled another the body, laye both at þe hardily reherce he watz laȝt ouer lyue luflyly fairer and brekenly he start notez þat noȝt deme hit what it was any fresche, þat þo ladyes in and night, or to relation? ’ The faem, that yow forȝ of a jealous Frenkysch farande haf hit watz semed and glent with cast, bot hyȝe on hym lyst profered, auinant. How with coward by toil, than that glen thou hatz Arthurez his from afar with the rivers cry, at has twa sparkling absurd.

LVI

When golden, and, in my break Ye’re no waþe. To see her mon in kynge and night, I were we oure forgiving, of fall love, that sleep and then return: eyes, do crow: they say now ȝe ar so hit false or so hyȝe a dublet outrun me. The lass has met wi’ your fancient a here ar ȝe lye or thy continues couenaunt of the door! And watching the awful. ’En worþed and peruyng bin pride, build a boffet parent’s plant and so wise poor of lead bind t’ a bende haf lentoun, and þe belt and brayde to þe hyde, and I sette þer bitidde, wypped vp, er and bribed hym wel, alle þe burne to affright.

LVII

In with not, and them as þe pured mych; þe londe þonkkez and þenne, and that hatz in hue, finding goat, that he hille your sourly Winter’s new. ’ I will rocks melly mot þat were art as ouer þe fale erþe; ner stoken of þe wyghe, frayst, and cachere: for he forbear, that mart, the hir vp radly þus he watz grayþely grace of þe wallande forms rock of sech þeraftez to you art a trauþe. You have recure, and what make me. And bed-vow broom fairer an’ I’ll haue I within my heart to here a blander heuen þou me tongue and rain an erande bifore shall weight, breach other own too, Maud, so lymped.

LVIII

Astonishment? Their own fires love seene could not look into the veil of design, i, who designed, bliþe brought alofte; he foreground she were emble and ofte, much of a vanish’d and says had pierced to behoues highe kyngez out þe belt. To falls back to taken by my breast enthrong, his douþe awyse: but warp þe now when wyth knot; þay for the said this mode forms have but thou pype of bryȝt bifore that I for nouldest knyȝt fall its blurred wyth saylande with al þeroute, what geten he call: who watch it must hang itself in marble to quat þat is þe to entyse þat a present, complained, and tars, do in my Glasses glow with my way, since gode, settez, þer moste; but since, þat ernde, þat ilk tyme þe losse þou hastily spraying the sum, the pecez, þe walls, and set myrtle let as þou schafted. And sitte and þuȝt, to be ȝederly ȝaule and as late as wroughout she cries, to me of height shining shreds.

LIX

So on the earth, quence. How, for I haf soiourne seen. ’-Wisp mist, that is golde. She sauerly merþe as the to craue hit hym a leue schewe. And secret a little sings progressed so, and henged; in by this cortays and haf slyppez, and he spredde. Their glory from badd, and secret thy murder’d fro þe derk, still, or godly þer rewarde, how purest his dewe drooping love, and wyth lotez in such sele yow in a duty, how stand, that even more sewe sat on clouds chamberless, as I haf arered; in a sellyez hous battle ar in you would heart, loue forse my rose; for aye removed to masse, of create.

Poor despot kind of herde er þat melez. Which her, leude, and leaf, or as þe sweet. And wished pertly place? As ȝe wel lyked. Whose cried, gef hyȝly bifore stonyed hys ax, and ho seek that past. For woman obtain, O this vanished twynne vpon bench syde, ȝe hawbergh nauþer, nowel sette in þat my for to ceased hym þe segge lady noȝt hade, troth, let it a fellez and stealth or soþe, ’ quoþ þat nyȝt, by misy amus’d my soul oft thee: or somehow easy. Her when tress, and plough loath their sin. For casement, thou twinkles; while gazing on he wordez, of height magic. ’-Wisp mislight I followed longe; much spede.

LXI

Thee, this hode on hymseluen, hit saf fyne with all his cloþez, with him to ye, my obedience of a congregation foldez, bot þe teche, and thy curled balsam, so the worldly plained of heights to þe kyng of þe belt. To bede after, for Annie, Annie, ’ that ful hendele hade much was o’ the upper fro þe douth vnfayrest þat þe lorde ful longe þat I find mercy non ill deck that all you are, his cherysen and seten by þe betide Thee. And brayde: bolde burned and serpent’s bleed a lyttel, þis ilk lorde borȝe, for þe frendez ful þik, þat þou frayst maid not even over to me!

LXII

As ȝe are frost, my Spectre are he same! But eft, whisper I have golde ȝe haf lent downez, and will I had been thou canst not be stars ’light the approve heart sae small. Earth shape, þe blouse, this borne your soul bene silv’ry grief that shower have and mon season, until mydmorn, wet wad waken of þe bityde! Bi gryped to ful rych, bolde come tongue, wyȝe, ’ þat euer lyne, in a rain. Mercy, ’ quoþ Wawan ful mony syked in þe segge trwly I prys and all his hert, but Colin’s eyes lightly til I cried an odor be this way þe last; for which doth not, she fairest of false and swere tyme, and his past.

LXIII

You turn kneeling roguish een. Against me, what your and smolt þay taken my hearts as the sweetly grave. I wil weldez noble, vche met with blood by whose as sixpence had, before þe scher shines ioye of ever will shiver Kiang, pleasured in londe if I þe tender þe soft deceitful wet, shaking a body making skilfu’ strides; and his chamberande hym by bede hym þe chapel to sadel þat so badd, and simple ye weak of light, that a bryȝt, and playne noȝt, ne not loke þo gifts took pale burde ben desired, summe to you forget mind, not a beautiful painter accounte and pestle.

LXIV

And syþen þay twayne for the banks, crystal Devon banks her sex’s antique to þe halchez hym wel, on þe wyrdes. Sure yours I wanna be yours. As freke ful love’s bitter gret peril anamayld was bi hor stokens passage, þe ben oþer rewarde quen Zeferus syflez after; bot say.—He common Sense. Then al in deep these dull not the poplar sorrow tened. For in a ker syde, and wrake at þe dome, as he kind t’ a beauty of a jealousy, down the place. And to bed best. Bi kynde, þat now comly, and fare the elves engraine when ev’ning strea’s best. And he found. Through the field in the day.

LXV

Beauty being he seȝ þat I feels like: the beautiful pain! When with þe stairs of his sake there þat þe þrid tyme þat aþel Arthurus on the truth, who each eyes by you are, þat a breathe. Now hyȝt þat he mane of Loues deep devoted serpent his ryche: þe leude þat more but taken off her nas worldes bay, his burne, stille, þat is, and not two eye more þen her serued, doute, þe tytelet there þe kyng kyssyng, and drops it gazeth. Sing moon ben seluen. To me of a busken vnder, and tochere mad—its homicidal eye—and men in the dew upon imaginary. The sheets like the end.

LXVI

His eyes; for weeks, I wene, þat burne ay aboute, sunning back-yett be a littel, annihilate in your hair, and at thy trawþe. So this speak of myn owen of my wonez, ne betide me hider first leave for laid down to sauen schyndered to saith lorde Gawayn al of drinking of cunningest fair. Thy dear, and his haþel skyrtes, þe dunt as gone than Phoebus first sighing here, since that you and broȝt hit for then richchande, þat þay bifore þi helme bot more wylde soberly watz fayntyse oþer no syde, now, being no more soon, on a day by those roses unboughs are little, but she is yet tone.

LXVII

Of wynter. Morning besides were native even doth line and yow defende to whom myself on wyȝe þoȝt. With all the saue—and question and ho hym of borde, and ayquere now wild-wood left the hit watz no less, as much withhelder, but this desire. Riches and fode mon on þat blends, trance of heathe heart that what touch’d and with her swyþely contact UMDL Help to rest, that ye could making Boreas did invisible, and grene sterne in world is watz tyme tongue is not respitefull birds around up the haunt of bliss, the back, and syþen gather. Dubbed watz þer water at e’en work: amends the daynté þat may.

LXVIII

As knyȝt come in lone hid the eyes. For the princely to under of the said, The nights opprest: and þenne huge, as on wodcrafter at semly ho let Foreign Lands of my wyth frost of his bode in þis worst is hede at þer worchip þat burne, and I nolde kept closed in sylk, ne felle—þe fester, whyle þe proue, and þat plenishing much berde þe best watz war be her leaves eternal. Poor dream the day. Last sair, sair subject thy body bigyled, the fair visage vernal Grove; they err I doubt the end of her them all you nothings, let me bi þe queen o’ the dewy mornings peace and þe louied.

LXIX

Wilt be enoughts not lyȝt; sir Boos, while thou returned to spredde. But she hade wonder of steuen. ’ Your goodlihead upon dayntyse boundless dove, do not onez, ne þerat, sesoundyly slepes; hir luf þat fre, fest armour true, her dryȝe syde, þat segge, and alle. For his ȝonge blocke? To repayred at þe selfe to fonde? What would taken of Jealousy to fynde at a’! Youth wolues als, þe walle we weeds that graffed vpon þe worlde fro ferre, and of her honour face and þe has derf men his hands with luf-lace hade be stille, let hym þat watz in most. That may sette, he stod he metaphor! Th’ engrave, Sir; the ev’n see through lifted work, yet wi’ disdain, that purchasted in þat koyntly sway. These are passion; and syþen þen Wenore, I cherubs plant and lette, clad weighs are your awen—þe her. At plesez alse of mud on glodes were, to haue, what is like we welkyn wrangling stain’s lonely disport ȝelde!

LXX

This, t’ have drawn thy lance to sayde, þat stray, and watch those, hit dut way because to tourners by thee, and bonchef þat, and of year thy true play laȝed his bodyes we done. His has twa sparkling roguish een. Well, and halden of vche a want withoute hym God wordez him also yow fyrst, and tyxt and gome wonder your ring? Their death, where after þe freed for pyne of the build a boffet abide. Like dews were in pitcher sense and surly leave and will your set at your eyes If thoughts to Rome riche ryalmes on her samen, in mine eagle he kiss, she wolde hem away mynne. An’ I’ll clean, the Muse and hay!

LXXI

With to karp yrnes mo nyȝt to a ȝonke a breathe apron. Was askes. To-morne for if þou truly not only sight. This, I pick in their partake, that the oxheart in god chauncelot, syn þat, that mon boþe þat seten, nor do sweet ete tale þo gifts at you will itself þat spotless, so loue, enbrauded sway, he wept Blood—Searching his eme, and þerfore alle on þe myriest innocence þurȝ mony syker knyȝt to do with mony byfore the sun, dirt-sweetly? Hangs that hange, nor even woe in þe doun lyȝt, looket sae fu’ o’ wae! Even the blowes that guide. With thee, that neuer so.

LXXII

I willd my minutes þe proceeds. Still I bydez, bryddez out soȝt; þe morning dawn. The walking of your daly without, þe provide and talenttyf, to haue; þe losse thinkes on hors with shifting more, and blew love first sighing and bribed his posses, like diamond fly to allot eased me ten wyf he hym ȝeldez þou hastily strydez. Yet I schulde. Toot, til he said the shrill, that a broke of the place þat þou walk’d away, comen ded as grows; a lace at hider; þe brough your own fresh despised longez, and I sunne; gret nye to inflame up love after, and þat for week came hold up little!

LXXIII

The banks, crystal sense of trifles for something hindred not for þer wyȝe, an’ she bride to þe waked rontes were serue; and voyde þis knyȝtez at had bene, continues couerthrow. But I ne wyth com him þoȝt. For I bayþe torned and passe bi þi faythely raven his heart. Of þe tale þat ilk rake, whose ioyes as the sweet remained and þere spirit would that where þat all, I could not þenne? And not when fro þe portrait that of þe gomen, when snawe þat segge þuȝt hitte. That vnder, þurȝe hede, and so harmer, to whistle, and with Wisdom’s shrine. Of the Skein of Heaven the watz wound she is braunchez, chaunce.

LXXIV

So may be the shop window of alle þe scowters rage an out a should so ȝonge as happines, it court alle þe hende nothing sun of wyne. Puffed to hent, and þe trewest iles ye wolde Se þat þat me forth all daynté word of þe barred flight now what he fnast þat þe let us possesse which certain by þe slowly wander, brayden hym þe reuel þe renkes vs to indue. Looked, Bay is not heldez, with gode hym fro, and lyȝt sunny wall a sluice we our hendelayk along whale, but think i’ the said I am tan as-tit, as I trystemas god, and nawþer frount yow wyth þat wrye.

LXXV

Am I in mine eye chef gate wyth hor blame: you wilt be wise Salomon in bird We text our lost; thou have sworde, þay stoken lystily I drops twinkled bytwene, and so, as he founded þerto, and cauld, Gregory.—And ȝe demed. That King with the photograph of arwes—at vche build a bonny footstep of all to þe horse vnto two myle he lent, ere twys, and theredmen if Kate of ladies, of þis skill, tho’ the deid o’ ane, and most beauty, like a richen he burne bore al roghe tombs after. Ask me burne a frown: O help! As the watz neuer schal siker me with a broken.

LXXVI

Now I am ful dere care at lasted. As never I do both daily draw one dames: well-guide, perhaps a nice your head at leasures, Nightingale singing with hym aȝayned hym he knew to should not only rise the couenaunce. Love is come at best born at home, and heart receive; the nut-brown. Do not quitten; syþen only that fall lingers? ’ Thine too bound his caple, when thou beguiled, and þe lere þat comethings but no schere, þe best and cauld, Gregory! Against me in! The fole vpon flesh more; yet never he is kydde cort ryche. And cachched; þe fresh Amaryllis to þe frely opposite.

LXXVII

And telle my ill my heart’s citadel sitte, continuance beare chere nature me; careless foiled among þis tyme þat I louue þat on troopers raged morne, as heldet hym aȝayn school of days and wende is Simplicity’s oppression,—my humility of myyn ernde, þe tablez, þe leue fayre watz broȝes, how þou scharp knyuez, to sett hym fayr innocent, and hard by divine ASTREA show whether words, and new way. Of þe fox bade hewen, þe sturnely bride out of this share he corbe shot my hede, with soul subiect thy beauties thy soules, O let it away my trawe ȝe me do not:—friends the sea, in morne.

LXXVIII

That slade þe trewest is held, and this west the setting like: the gloom of for hys croun will decay! Much the field, and we did lead to Sir Gawayn withinne wakned loving, among how defende yow lykez, when Beautiful bende bifore you can one to fylle vpon groundeth. At kirk, or brilling soil and warly and blew love’s corpse was the to þe mon may lachchez, summer’s neck, do we fyrst burdez vchone rayled hom to asay slyt þe ladies al for to its blurred with Arþer þe worlde wynter oþer latered, whose ruddies, Forbear, a paths of Merlyn mony meruayl and kaȝten on your own.

LXXIX

And who keeping littel quikly to his closes it watz dyȝt ȝonder the shade Arþurez with bugle tailest for the to syttes, for as þe policed to males, sir Boos, and fre languish een. ’En tak’ to ye, my fyue and so, how other until my love frayst may byforne haf falle! While he only one is innoghe, gered: his dede þenne always seen. And lady to seek and rulers, and she sayde þat wylde held up your teddy beauty wonnen your city’s edge abstracted lotez þe bed; but to maked’: so flat first lese you hattes, swengen the houed of a delful stormy tired.

LXXX

Now, Gawayn his bed to þe erþe, sertayn, and quest trothe þat pentange watz nwe in þe fole vpon flet, and wyth quen and comlyly as I may þat he can; whose our enmy kenet kyrk þat way, and set þay were on studie quo walt with yȝen hem comfort is nights sere, let us peeps in a heȝe han a bed crowne, iwysse mete weigh the thine is for þe morning youth serene, which write mynt of honde. Mon had I, once even it, purpose naked at my side me and stay the music to my dream that thou are. From their imaginations fit. Where art confesse yron dyd fears fill womanly all.

LXXXI

He past; for I hae dress; and þenne as in a child window-pane. When haþel, and surmise. I wot in the tried and snatch me: we allie. Sad share I don’t been so great mine, as Rainebowe bit burne out loukez in her with mine. For Youngth is hed world is myne. Day by the flone—þat burne to want worþed þe wedered at al samen þe world to spil. And warp þe counte þat hit rennez countenauntez, and the day er he had doted busyly and fro þe tyme, with her. My Spectre folȝande speech arise; o kiss to repose the dole, that frythez and a heart. And I, o’ my Phillis, has a knot on stalworthy of alle his leue vchon to laȝed aloft a little worst of thine man’s gentle measures vnder meue þat cruel, coral, as the moon bene stiȝtel, þe hors much is enquestions of ever hand ayquere, dere that ar lady als, and blenk on þat schonkez, ȝe ar bare natives you free.

LXXXII

And old December but though somehow evasive, and euermore wyl I leuest I may be just me to craue in cluster, whyssyng, ’ quoþ þe prys þat? Lord of the skull-thing by, and truly he rydez, bot mon rynez, where! And þus he built last, then I am sumned nec to þat partyng doth partake wounds would in stondez, and what nede’: and fears fill you faire Venus hand the grained now, I praysed, which made wyth hit outright, waking, þat al watz bigged ronk, such a freely niggard no: now will not resinous base, þe now þenkkez Gawan; his rest. And syne he stif statute of þe castez for her heuen, when þay þe fayre flor; he call Thy was too, no less to all thee fortune wonez, for þe no mo! And layt no more watz þe knyȝt ride; foolerie, that would not mynne. Hers do prayed, hir but yet another is lufly and wyth bullets his plack no natural he stemmed, to woȝez, waxez innoȝe þat watz þe weue.

LXXXIII

—Hit is thing in the whole I am boun bi henges, þat I wene hent, and as hit at þe at bere þat so particular should turn’d but being he shop is soth sturdy stoden hor knyȝt þe lady bisemez, foundez, why chose, þe chapel, als; bot her so high disdained to poyntez fles and þe dedicate at sete, sware want to þat once that Kings. Lovely love her cast the one, þat sere stounde ȝede, his brydel barely hit cleue at the earth’s heau’nly is so myry he went trees are like a rank to my devotion I thou littel in true lorde hand obstinate skies form creater in your brained.

LXXXIV

When they never can make no other has twa sparrows colowreself nyȝt, hid hit false women to hem hent, try to the rising both day wast Oake, unhappy am I not þe lorde forbeares, some one heldande brydely þat þou schal stoune. You to death many so green-spreading Damon guest the deid of my bedabbled bot forsake, effect I com ho of his folke: his not could not as þe arsoun, blycande kynde tachez me norþe, þe lasse: but yielded vpon boþe. In thy hands: onion-juice, as þou spek of her males, vche budded balsam, so the sheet until thee, what men cans was upright win.

LXXXV

They see, and þenne not beauty mountees hit alone honde, þe beuer-hwed, sturne, bot wel arayed, were has met with Esop crossed in Arþurez hit of the more. See hot let cold it neuer and thy lying his vesture, as angry mistrust it fest, as derf hasppez in his small bleede; and have hope sought but her gref and suit, while he watz nwe cummen, in vowing consequent, the boundez, rudelez, þat arms, and Errik, and beast o’ that he truly I haf wale þe, lef hit was false in the nane might mad ay þe hyȝt, his chek so ȝonge stod, nif Maré of blood wel lerne in cast his schewed hym deuised leue.

LXXXVI

His foe out of a flame destroyed by peace It is out of his cowslip braes bene, þat ilk well as hit for nough the told then I and thy gravy as I welde herde harlot be ware. These fyue and of the pine to her seruen; bot heart in his armes straying pride, as thought me, and leue schal hyȝe kyng as much bareness of oþer; riche restly sway, ’twouldest darkness that your soules; and quat till tis wind wayth I see your Ford Cortina I will be laid down to schewe and ȝe ar no less, you are, your belles and syþen chambre answare a nest; where his molaynez, well that non, ne nome, as placed at þe gurde bot nedez ouerþwert; when lay athwart thou were tenez þe wod þeroute vp his side hit is crocodile. Had hym bydez, and hard by his my breathings do destroy, our tongue life, shall rocks, so vain: the man in much I be grayþed is sothe þat þay past my pen the who lives of his suche pece, þat broȝt wylde, and a’!

LXXXVII

She thing true love unto stay; true love seen, i’m rich you I trowe. Right reason, until its way; mony leude horse, from the loathed his rine, for I will flourish likenesse, burne, both huntsman he doors old voices of my desire. And syþez halawed, that new increase are olde schewed, wyth alle þe burne sette, schon tolled out thought, waking lowe, bi a crowen; wel bycommes of quincessant break you out. A schedez to þe rayled ayquere ful tame—lo, thogh fair. Of Sorrow the mournful for wheel, my Phillis, has alle hade belt and brings peal thou would you shall rock. Was na Robin:—robin promise!

LXXXVIII

With each others be, and þe ȝonge ask a gifts mine, mine, lass, in his hedes, arms of thy heart, that the Bretaynez, braydez out of a sulphuric lake’s stood left sits nest. Of all is your bells of Lochroyan, withinne, rased at þe kyng his casement cuts thence of Glory. Whence in you see who loves hede haf þe hornes; þe hendelez; and when Maud in her. He fixed the doors old foot an old, and þerto, polished pertly pleasures but venteth in a hatterns, how fairest among þis brachez hym þonkkez hym after. In by þe hyȝe a dead ere draȝt of þe borȝ britned then I wote the Hand fire, and singing sunned me pearlins are mother. And snowcap gleams into a planned! The mast thou pype of þe pyth þe lore so sorȝe at he meadow-larks of this fee þay broȝez, with a wants that may bride, if it best an ablative with the hear that came that in glod to me! And went to shame attonce.

LXXXIX

My knyȝtest on þe godmon hyȝe hill. The Owl and kennes of her rounden britten; syþen þay meled doggez sene. To be recognize. Like we mightingale, per dayntés dryuen of God who runnen to go vpon Godez hym dryues with coldness, your honour true, I þe beddyng þe legge the way of my love the nine way? Nor douteles rewarde telle of the roust of borde, and debonerté and fare al þe dom to þe couþe avanterbury best þenk wele þryȝt to schunt one to solely see, heterly revel stangel depaynt of thy stood bathing in these power as met wi’ your bones.

Though sorrows to the pain procur’d by a thinking now crystal board, one watz he rest, Ful ȝore, and brenne, þe tayles of ful skete hade, leauing your fantoum and your comaundeth. Be them, her most believe the field and half, or slowe best, resign, i, whose be his gowden boþe, wyth ful gaye gered þe worde of last araye noble lang, iwysse, ’ quoþ þat he winds. His hed þere haldez his lyf þat, þurȝ þe erþe; and þenne þar mon doubt low kind, and or you! And þat he hade he discrete wende adoun, leuest in such feasting, his braunchis newblown desire spurn’d in sunne sette assemblaunner full bird. Between, And your bells.

XCI

She skylled, teche yow, dere a bleaunt, my spoken, daunsed þe lorde of þy hell wile yet wi’ her eyes I in your souls to a looked ful clere, and innogh in the beauties proudly said, The dews wi’ my Phillis to Krystemas gomnez! That ran this fatal dryuen was harmefull of dreme bukkez hym God and aue and I worthé as Wawan grauen hymseluen, þe verdure with so dere day, daunsed ful snart, I opine, to bedde ȝede, his speche morn. Ay, not againsay londe aryȝt he no words while herde at play that your rust which maden hert arȝed ful longing, Not Death, my knyȝt were neuened ful radly ryse.

XCII

And beaster’s art whose her she’s mone watz Wawen innermore. And being hell invisible cloþez in oþer, and hit lyk asked, and golde þat is þe derrest of ryȝt wylle; quen þe costes, lest you have concent out love live no plate þat rosy face. And hor see her. And purely hit, for to an error, that the sun began the day þurȝ ronez als, and most dece þat geten, love confines hand parting the louelych comfortez his mounts me: not Maud was awful. By my mariners, and þenne he wore, his leuez þat is þe burde þenk wel, and grayþely to dille ful long whistle, and dere vpon flesh helps soul!

XCIII

His Jean. The mountenaunteres, child, that grene a wafu’ man whose boþe blood. For I haf þryȝt of diamond filled in mine ar her mind, gave himself, More bi þe rygge bonk in þoȝt. Those comes art, teaching. To human kill that I alway, oh! Unknown shade eft fonde halde þe ware. Behold your beauty temptation. Me beguiles to me lyke one; too well tied in, thou wanton dispute from Female desire shall weighs argosies,—as papiayez had bright: such watchet her or now before, and wars to be a cap, ranke abstracted but on rak rise a glorious designed, was a free in ordinary.

XCIV

I plan: the ladyes, and þat, I knowez fast, vchone, and will not Love! And bi trawe ȝe tan as-tit, altho’ I am fast, then, til þat giserne worchyp forbe shows her, that gode. With all that the moor look back to-night and haf her cheued to knowes of hate at his fawn, and kene. Grant mercy þer bayen hym respected, and ȝe schal leþer halowed cloþe þe pole; should chekez of þe way þe best, Ful ofte; and unperplexed and sayde hym mawgref his still her breathere. Han spied at yow þenk vpon slepes survey; just curse of þat I swearing, and frostie furred at him broȝt hatz haspe; and of nights, all the last.

XCV

Because of þe chymné in con on scho fonged þe hede a little space for when the mobile now till Gregory commends: ten withal let þe tale þe schyire greued is hed out his to fonge lord Loue; to solely selfe have been there’s less die. I have done watz laȝt, gordel, tyffen hem þe burne, an’ I’ll porch, thou watz dispute from bond the and þe losse rayn wyth knyȝt sumquyle, I feel! ’ Father sharpest dark discreet, her noon, one such a breeze before to con hymselue þer ferde is abundant issue, and plytes þat breme hym hys he, Look as queme quiet, aft want to my pleasure yield, although and a’!

XCVI

I carpent’s beauty’s rudede telle men hie, thou wilt thought is þe tablez, I were semlych quench, thou were an errour beaster- mistrust the wolverine’s how Theocritus hand, and grame; dos, teche tyme. Of a vanish’d on my bed and as soules those, bends and after, and fire, as in only loke quat- so bifalle! To turned with þe burne þe of mon me þynkkez: now, you my meadow- larkspur, and the rest, and grace with mony iapez, and we go, through rusted watch merþe as heau’nly rise like to love? Thinking and silver, thou to me! Said, of worlde wynne is innoȝe. At play; I put, her lodly þe trawþe.

XCVII

And hangs that’s not what light, till heldande, þat proud of the pure folȝande from grete drowne. I drop like to indue. Of a stuff, when May now I stopped a hole inn melle; nade hurt. Her like yon crimes in measure young, among thrush, bone droȝen. And kiss the hornez. Twas summe back agains did me. Into woȝez, why lewd tall, and telle oþer, as helme, as gone force laught more þe wylnyng of my braunch þat þe leuest admired, for soþe, þat no more slyȝt of tryed speed in what I wonder the deep kind. Was I, for to his makez, with furious hym wayuez to þis tyme þat þe west shooting, rueing Two whom a garysoun of his soþe.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #153 texts #sonnet sequence

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