[NPM] today's poem
...I forgot to post one yesterday, but I was too sick and stressed. Sorry about that.
Now bernes, buirdes, bolde and blithe
Anon. English, 14th c.
Now bernes, buirdes, bolde and blithe,
To blessen you her nou am I bounde;
I thonke you alle a thousand sithe,
And prey God save you hol and sounde;
Wherever ye go, on gras or grounde,
He you governe, withouten greve.
For frendschipe that I here have founde,
Ageyn my wille I take mi leve.
For frendschipe and for giftes goode,
For mete and drinke so gret plente
That Lord that raught was on the roode --
He kepe thy comely cumpayne.
On see or lond, wher that ye be,
He governe you withouten greve;
So good disport ye han mad me,
Ageyn mi wille I take my leve.
Ageyn mi wille althaugh I wende,
I may not alwey dwellen here;
For everi thing schal have an ende,
And frendes are not ay ifere.
Be we never so lef and dere,
Out of this world al schul we meve,
And, whon we buske unto ur bere,
Ageyn ur wille we take ur leve.
And wende we schulle, I wot never whenne
Ne whoderward, that we schul fare,
But endeles blisse, or ay to brenne,
To every mon is yarked yare.
Forthi, I rede, uch mon be ware,
And lete ur werk ur wordes preve,
So that no sinne ur soule forfare,
Whon that ur lif hath taken his leve.
Whon that ur lif his leve hath laught,
Ur body lith bounden bi the wowe,
Ur richesses alle from us ben raft,
In clottes colde ur cors is throwe.
Wher are thi frendes? who wol the knowe?
Let see who wol thi soule releve;
I rede the, mon, ar thou ly lowe,
Be redy ay to take thi leve.
Be redy ay, whatever bifalle,
Al sodeynly lest thou be kight;
Thou wost never whonne thy Lord wol calle,
Loke that thi laumpe beo brennynge bright:
For, leve me wel, but thou have light,
Riht foule thy Lord wol thee repreve,
And fleme thee fer out of his sight,
For al to late thou toke thy leve.
Now God that was in Bethleem bore,
He give us grace to serve him so,
That we may come his face tofore,
Out of this world whon we schul go:
And for to amende that we misdo,
In cley or that we clynge and cleve;
And mak us evene with frend and fo,
And in good tyme to take ur leve.
Nou haveth good day, gode men alle,
Haveth good day, yonge and olde,
Haveth good day, both grete and smalle,
And graunt-merci a thousend folde.
Yif ever I mighte, ful fayn I wolde,
Don ought that were unto you leve:
Crist kepe you out of cares colde!
For now is time to take my leve.
Now bernes, buirdes, bolde and blithe
Anon. English, 14th c.
Now bernes, buirdes, bolde and blithe,
To blessen you her nou am I bounde;
I thonke you alle a thousand sithe,
And prey God save you hol and sounde;
Wherever ye go, on gras or grounde,
He you governe, withouten greve.
For frendschipe that I here have founde,
Ageyn my wille I take mi leve.
For frendschipe and for giftes goode,
For mete and drinke so gret plente
That Lord that raught was on the roode --
He kepe thy comely cumpayne.
On see or lond, wher that ye be,
He governe you withouten greve;
So good disport ye han mad me,
Ageyn mi wille I take my leve.
Ageyn mi wille althaugh I wende,
I may not alwey dwellen here;
For everi thing schal have an ende,
And frendes are not ay ifere.
Be we never so lef and dere,
Out of this world al schul we meve,
And, whon we buske unto ur bere,
Ageyn ur wille we take ur leve.
And wende we schulle, I wot never whenne
Ne whoderward, that we schul fare,
But endeles blisse, or ay to brenne,
To every mon is yarked yare.
Forthi, I rede, uch mon be ware,
And lete ur werk ur wordes preve,
So that no sinne ur soule forfare,
Whon that ur lif hath taken his leve.
Whon that ur lif his leve hath laught,
Ur body lith bounden bi the wowe,
Ur richesses alle from us ben raft,
In clottes colde ur cors is throwe.
Wher are thi frendes? who wol the knowe?
Let see who wol thi soule releve;
I rede the, mon, ar thou ly lowe,
Be redy ay to take thi leve.
Be redy ay, whatever bifalle,
Al sodeynly lest thou be kight;
Thou wost never whonne thy Lord wol calle,
Loke that thi laumpe beo brennynge bright:
For, leve me wel, but thou have light,
Riht foule thy Lord wol thee repreve,
And fleme thee fer out of his sight,
For al to late thou toke thy leve.
Now God that was in Bethleem bore,
He give us grace to serve him so,
That we may come his face tofore,
Out of this world whon we schul go:
And for to amende that we misdo,
In cley or that we clynge and cleve;
And mak us evene with frend and fo,
And in good tyme to take ur leve.
Nou haveth good day, gode men alle,
Haveth good day, yonge and olde,
Haveth good day, both grete and smalle,
And graunt-merci a thousend folde.
Yif ever I mighte, ful fayn I wolde,
Don ought that were unto you leve:
Crist kepe you out of cares colde!
For now is time to take my leve.