Hee lyves; & stylle maie use
The behylte[108] blessynges of a future yeare.
The behylte[108] blessynges of a future yeare.
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
The worlde ys darke wythe nyghte; the wyndes are stylle;
Fayntelie the mone her palyde lyghte makes gleme;
The upryste[106] sprytes the sylente letten[107] fylle,
Wythe ouphant faeryes joynyng ynne the dreme;
The forreste sheenethe wythe the sylver leme; 930
Nowe maie mie love be sated ynn yttes treate;
Uponne the lynche of somme swefte reynyng streme,
Att the swote banquette I wylle swotelie eate.
Thys ys the howse; yee hyndes, swythyn appere.
CELMONDE, SERVYTOURE.
CELMONDE.
Go telle to Birtha strayte, a straungerr waytethe here. 935
CELMONDE, BIRTHA.
BIRTHA.
Celmonde! yee seynctes! I hope thou haste goode newes.
CELMONDE.
The hope ys loste: for heavie newes prepare.
BIRTHA.
Is AElla welle?
CELMONDE.
Hee lyves; & stylle maie use
The behylte[108] blessynges of a future yeare.
BIRTHA.
Whatte heavie tydynge thenne have I to feare? 940
Of whatte mischaunce dydste thou so latelie saie?
CELMONDE.
For heavie tydynges swythyn nowe prepare.
AElla sore wounded ys, yn bykerous fraie;
In Wedecester's wallid toune he lyes.
BIRTHA.
O mie agroted breast!
CELMONDE:
Wythoute your syghte, he dyes. 945
BIRTHA.
Wylle Birtha's presence ethe herr AElla's payne?
I flie; newe wynges doe from mie schoulderrs sprynge.
CELMONDE.
Mie stede wydhoute wylle deftelie beere us twayne.
BIRTHA.
