Briddes Roune - Lenten ys come | Текст песни

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• Briddes Roune
• Lenten ys come

Lenten ys come with loue to toune,
With blosmen ant with briddes roune,
That al this blisse bryngeth.
Dayeseyes in this dales,

Notes suete of nyhtegales,
Vch foul song singeth.
The threstelcoc him threteth oo;
Away is huere wynter wo
When woderoue springeth.

This foules singeth ferly fele
Ant wlyteth on huere [wynne] wele
That al the wode ryngeth.
The rose rayleth hire rode;
The leues on the lyhte wode

Waxen al with wille.
The mone mandeth hire bleo;
The lilie is lossom to seo,
The fenyle ant the fille.
Wowes this wilde drakes,

Miles murgeth huere makes
Ase strem that striketh stille.
Mody meneth, so doth mo;
Ichot Ycham on of tho
For loue that likes ille.

The mone mandeth hire lyht,
So doth the semly sonne bryht,
When briddes singeth breme.
Deawes donketh the dounes;
Deores with huere derne rounes,

Domes forte deme.
Wormes woweth vnder cloude;
Wymmen waxeth wounder proude,
So wel hit wol hem seme.
Yef me shal wonte wille of on,

This wunne weole Y wole forgon,
Ant wyht in wode be fleme.

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