[NPM] today's poem
A! Mercy, Fortune
Anon. English, 15th c.
A! Mercy, Fortune; have pitee on me,
And thinke that thu hast done gretely amisse
To parte asondre them whiche ought to be
Alwey in on. Why hast thu do thus?
Have I offended thee? Nay, iwisse!
Then turne thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.
And thinke what sorowe is the departing
Of two trewe hertes loving feithfully:
For parting is the most soroughfull thinge,
To min entent, that ever yet knewe I.
Therfore, I pray to thee right hertely
To turn thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.
For till we mete, I dare well say, for trouth,
That I shall never be in ease of herte.
Wherfor I pray you to have of me sume routh,
And release me of all my paines smerte,
Now -- sith thu woste it is nat my deserte.
Then turne thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.
Anon. English, 15th c.
A! Mercy, Fortune; have pitee on me,
And thinke that thu hast done gretely amisse
To parte asondre them whiche ought to be
Alwey in on. Why hast thu do thus?
Have I offended thee? Nay, iwisse!
Then turne thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.
And thinke what sorowe is the departing
Of two trewe hertes loving feithfully:
For parting is the most soroughfull thinge,
To min entent, that ever yet knewe I.
Therfore, I pray to thee right hertely
To turn thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.
For till we mete, I dare well say, for trouth,
That I shall never be in ease of herte.
Wherfor I pray you to have of me sume routh,
And release me of all my paines smerte,
Now -- sith thu woste it is nat my deserte.
Then turne thy whele and be my frende again,
And sende me joy where I am nowe in pain.