Egwina, haste, & ope the
portalle
doore,
Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of warre ne more.
Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of warre ne more.
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
O Celmonde! I maie deftlie rede bie thee, 1120
Whatte ille betydethe the enfouled kynde;
Maie ne thie cross-stone[120] of thie cryme bewree!
Maie alle menne ken thie valoure, fewe thie mynde!
Soldyer! for syke thou arte ynn noble fraie,
I wylle thie goinges 'tende, & doe thou lede the waie. 1125
HURRA.
The mornynge 'gyns alonge the Easte to sheene;
Darklinge the lyghte doe onne the waters plaie;
The feynte rodde leme slowe creepeth oere the greene,
Toe chase the merkyness of nyghte awaie;
Swifte flies the howers thatte wylle brynge oute the daie; 1130
The softe dewe falleth onne the greeynge grasse;
The shepster mayden, dyghtynge her arraie,
Scante[121] sees her vysage yn the wavie glasse;
Bie the fulle daylieghte wee scalle AElla see.
Or Brystowes wallyd towne; damoyselle, followe mee. 1135
AT BRYSTOWE.
AELLA AND SERVITOURES.
AELLA.
'Tys nowe fulle morne; I thoughten, bie laste nyghte
To have been heere; mie stede han notte mie love;
Thys ys mie pallace; lette mie hyndes alyghte,
Whylste I goe oppe, & wake mie slepeynge dove.
Staie here, mie hyndlettes; I shal goe above. 1140
Nowe. Birtha, wyll thie loke enhele mie spryte,
Thie smyles unto mie woundes a baulme wylle prove;
Mie ledanne boddie wylle bee sette aryghte.
Egwina, haste, & ope the portalle doore,
Yatte I on Birtha's breste maie thynke of warre ne more. 1145
AELLA, EGWINA.
EGWINA.
Oh AElla!
AELLA.
Ah! that semmlykeene to mee
Speeketh a legendary tale of woe.
EGWINA.
Birtha is--
AELLA.
Whatt? where? how? saie, whatte of shee?
EGWINA.
Gone--
AELLA.
Gone!
