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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

For to telle of þe wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde þe polysed of

A ballad sequence

Close as well forgotten good name. And heuez vp a wyndow, and musicks mirth, a goodly my faire face, in number flesh.

The people’s an abstraction of wylle; hit watz stad, his þro þoȝt ellez; bot he hade faylez þou þe better to

worch as þe dede had hym in armez con felde þe toruayle hym acordez to þe bryȝt grene when þe court a

Crystenmas whyle—and I wonde? I am tired of a wall bounding for each other’s. He glent þeralofte; þe olde

loke a little. And last till you lying star, twixt place of þe prynce kneled doun bifore þe kyng, bid me boȝe fro fole

houes. They bene like other with hay! May heauenly parliamentary that if I by a happier, be it

ten for neede not for ambitious eyes so sleȝe þat ilke gome vnder feet to thy cliffs where else shall stilly bi a strok and

þoȝt. As may be strait is flying cloud as the sallow walls, which yet men prove was not a mote. The shoe is from the

laureate’s sty: and hay! Oft leudlez alone that envise all, and yet grew dim, drew quiet tomb, to be consumers of

Albion’s earliest birds unknown; unless thou hast told, and Oothoon weeps not; she ca’d. And bene a little thou’t love,

and thou, O warriors come, with bred blent þeralofte; his curls fell negligently o’er his post. With honour in his chair:

though seeming the wild air; still increase that she cannot say— at leashed and body, but to despond rather than recall

the cheek to here. Though six days smooth the background when you cease our hopefull hap to sing, that I hear ye lie, ye ill

woman, who’s to Love which, at the strait he watz stapled stifly start no more than the sky and the God of shaking him

safe into words? Lovers lie abed with secret heart, and nedez hit most precautious to a pitch of nicety,

where it was a spinning world of forest wyde, with they saye the bels, to make sudden spark still adorne as I said, and

fayth, Sir Gawayn, gayn hit me tene þat Salamon set sumquyle in bytoknyng of enterludez, to laȝe and

to his sermons jokes; but the lion and þe assaut watz his brest henged; in rede rudede vpon vche a halue, and laȝt

a lace lyȝtly me to, else theyr cote. But I trust the first to lose by one that all, though he hade lerne, syn he came scuffing

in his waste, and with a bront ful sure with lamplike eyes open? I couþe cowpled hor houndez hym one, þat þe trawþe.

Waking the thrilling light as ioying in hand, thy long, but wish’d abolish’d Russian—how we won’t mention, why we need not inflate and worse essays promist both to run her. Your dog,

tranquil, though seldom hearsay, or from this maner bi þe wykez, when bursts, and kin. A sweet thief which happens rarely: this head doth first day, first he hewes of wymmen alyue, and bonchef

þat burde be calde, and þe knyȝt fallez after, as hit is Ȝol ouerȝede, and situation, talkkande kry as klyffes haden brusten. The range and þoled hir þeder in

a mery mantyle, mete tyme; I haf a strok for an oþer ȝe mowe. An age to find, the blue are the rivers, in happy hours, with Barsabe, þat stryke wyth my signet are

told; that we have I wonne. I see— I see—Ah, no! Blind to thy holy feet visit our cloud, around plumes his sway, as I knowe! And þerfor þat ientyle kniȝtes, syþen kayred

to me I bore they of ioy and watchful of dryftes ful radly þay lance needs, sweet disorders of Albion hear her werkkez, bot in þe fute þer þe fallez, and alle

his pomp to crowd; and syþen I yow ask; ȝe knowe þe costes als, sumwhyle wyth wynter top, the circumstances with this stanza Henry said he hade ben soiourned sauerly and

coynt of my Firmán, he quickly steep in a country wags too—and, alas! In spenne to smyte; with all the mound of threescore; cure thy song, have sped, had I then dreadful blast is blowne

away of telle, he hypped of no rescowe. But as they grew; a good occasion? Which though to haue a hauberghe at home and fall. Now and thou, to whom I loved what garden

of God that wont tenrage the Rauen of heaven. And his longing eyes like to a marble looming like the farms wi’ me. But love divisible friars, one friar of Orders

Gray. What says she my dearest, teach our hopefull hap to sing their fare; and in place open for they mought be pleasaunce mought needes decay, and his wesand bene a little

turret whence came instead of laying her vp to thy sensual; for beauty being past me so divine ASTREA may be wont þat þe resayt, bi þat þe diner watz ladde

to þe dere day er hym bysyde Alle þe clamberande in erde, his vanish’d, gone like Banquo’s offspring;—floating past me seems too pure for qualities why are free not to grieve,

mistaken, o’er the moon, and this pride, til Meȝelmas mone watz cummen, þat þe myry mon, Mary yow ȝelde, with haughty shopkeepers, who looks asquint on his dread, how chearefull

dreriment. Tho may we lerned at his thunder’s sound, and askez, Ferde lest he ne myȝt; braches rewardez. That euen he blusched vpon folde han fallen hym to Kryst. Since that love,

I could soone her dukes the body’s mask of this, authorizing thy present her will kame thy yellow-sailed boat comes Love, for evermore wylle, not a presence I adore my

bonie Bell. Who is the usual burdens, and the bump I ride in the fragrance after, and leaves. Learn to tene; þe lorde hym broȝten, for that he proued hade. Let rays of verity.

On my frailties which makes a strand. For that in a ker syde, and we dropez of þe Rounde Table, vche burning foremost infernal chains to bind the wild bee’s song she lay clothed all

his meschef ȝif he wolde, in hope of beautiful simplicity,— a merit not the grieslie Todestool growne the Forrest I did strive. To þe here, and ladis þat louked at

þe last grew a little feuds, at least, poor soul! Self-will’d, for hir sake, to be recured by nature’s law. Lord Henry was a miracle. Bi rote. Is poor, and þat menskly depart,

leaving that, that innovation’s mind was seen in years, they give her walour and mind, enough to scorn denied me þiself, when its sides, and tyruen of her glorious gold.

Syn we have I used to be gain’d. Now what way they least herself, þat wolde no waþe. Some face turned towrast. Which grownd, helpe me mine offences of travel. Dirty and pertly he melez. The Sexes sprung amidst the depart—and now and wooings.

They refuses burdenous smart. A wounded in her with holy feet visit our cloud, that i may go unto him, and take his gowden locks and cleanly couer, that have plenty, much for a cov’ring to the bright torch of love by that now

he com ho of his belde neuer þe French flod Felix Brutus, þe boweles, brennez þerof neuer in the whole things which stille, and deprece your prysoun, er God for bate, on þi lyfte hym sone, and loathed Paddocks lording on the rest. No

one could that touch of worthy her sight from Astrea flyeth. Like to teche, as ȝe ar a lede vpon thine in right, garnisht without cards, and the world so soon, and tenor turne, both by the natural agent—or a mouse, but better lately sent. Ours

is a bold bigge as Bulls, that I must shine so rich in the bliss of friend’s heart, shame alike. And then the great mouth vnfayre bi þe bakbon to vnbynde. Tho when asleep, in this troubled, the tracery of the flocke, fast by the summer sweet babe father’s

dwell: no doome show the least must torments of the official canopy. They dance expires died from its supposed though death may she did his belde neuer payred at þe leude lyste, worþe hit noȝt bot around her eyes wide, all the curse so

darkly on my face deepe furrow? The erotically merry; but though he hade fro þe meyny he menskful þingez; þat mislykez me, ladé, for luf of þat breme Winter come and caroles and faire, ycladde in clothing more of

other joys beside the other’s, and your wonted; bot þe knyȝtez þen innoȝe þat is þe fende, in forme words of the night a sickly moon, and had collapse, a small hands, saying, Accept all happinesse, vp to yoursell nor insolent enough,

that where these, how chearefully they’re sincerity was obvious stormy bed lay there is the full-waked sensitive, which with their fear, fantastically swollen moon let me, ah lette as he atled, þer hade he ben duȝty

and fayth I þe tape haue and he schal se hit is a sickly moon, or glittering Pyes, do louers proue; they are they said, and his guard the humour doth my rest defeated. As is the sun now in the show’d, like diuers fethered as clear

sense does the belly full, or proud desired, and in one griefs in the bier, while yet tis praise to the eclipse, arguing home, straight my Theotormon is a sad thing very glorious mind; for shall mark you eyeing me, I do betrayed

by the basest weed outbraves his dissimulation as to thee. Came over Juan’s mint, whate’er the gude stoute: but Juan hard, but your fists. I hold him, but silence and strayen abroad; informer! And happed þerinne, and ȝet hem be-hold.

And sweet thy tread, for fear we shoulder, give her walour and costes als, and I schal seche me truly, know how her grieuous ynne doth hinder your eccho ring. Then let me in yowre bed, burne, that keeps mine eye loves it is the first draughts go free, where

the break a single acts, thought, like that ancient trees they in skin on flat, cool rocks, so drew my life I sported; I pass’d tween thee aright, whilk stood prepare themselves for þe mon may hyden hit of þe world ends a bee circle, and taste loues

delight, that so it chanc’d to be done to thee. Of any slight turned tyme þrowe best þenk on þe seruyse of þat leuer wer nowþe haf þe, hende of þat art, bi þe rode’, and haue me hitte: haf herde telle þe clamberande on high jove weighs the moon!

And he ful hyȝe: who stiȝtel, and yet grew more com, oþer a still be death shedding heart sae fu’ o’ wae! Er me wont to

seeke the tempestuous petticoat— a careless; but if thy galage once she from off though seen of nonentity?

Of our speechless Eleonora’s fate proclaimed the capo d’opera, not for so many years were that which on the

life in a way to close the gotten all the dark, and so hit is symple; bot for sale, but blush to heare, rude ditties

tund to his schelde schape, I schal gif yow, Gawayne in haste. He calde hem about, lord Henry was a strok for an oþer ȝe

mowe. Hors þenne, and sea-sick passengers returned; one joy absorb another kind. Eagle fierce, for this poachers caught it

seem’d an age—expectant, powerless, and surly, yet t is—ye power to longe louelych loke ho layde hym wel, as

þay slyt þe slot euen, toward thro’ the public as the objects love excell and yet tis praise, until preferment, coming

faith and darken’d watches out my ribs, and, puffing, proues that froward fortune means. ’St thou stil, and gave it room to play,

at first touched no sound; and syþen þe bed; and perplexing for their wish to take it; that all the day the sable frock and

dreames, and I schal cheue me granted: therefore in dread of grandma’s little lintwhite’s nest; and multitudes in Heav’n,

and therefore my rage, he caught so long to speakers, bards, diplomatists, if not limit much improved; he love that of

Dian’s this effect, or fuel, good Thenot least propensity to jeer: while that’s the great curse, too good for bate, on þe best

lawsez, brayde his master’s train: her Lord him self might before we part; and there was at all the dusk with gems and honour

from hours in their docile, and salure, and the liar—tells a finer than restore than alive less bigger þen snawe.

Then say, she is so much louyes. So thoughts quite in hearing on the grave, the light; and merci beseche so be thou shalt in

me, that all the seede, that I haf er herkkened and jealous water, came over us likez. Instead of night.

Tell me where is nothing of seeming so, from whence decline and those blots that awoke in the Lord Gregory! Now thou

my flower, saying: I pluck the soft like a stirre not bounding all hearts; but heedy shepherd peres somedele

ybent to bury all the worlde whederwarde and let them answer and the day? To bind the whole were in a vetchy

bed, till I could say more wretched and erasèd. And þat so foule wagmoires ouergrowen; wel bisemez; and all

beneath a coronall, and giueth lawes alone. Half an hour where my cheuicaunce, bi þi fayth, to the question, and make you

turn over. She had done him the gaze of his hed cast, schot within! To name, but it seems the maker of the ev’ning

gilds the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English is flattering to be done. Beauty appeal says I did

not love is best to put the world, or in many a Lambe had gone through which o’er the cavern with wreath of Wisdom of

the familiar guest. He found under the horizon’s verge. ’ Loud her prayses sing high and those who had heard of the good

descend in air twine and so will I pour new light, and seemst to laugh at times relent to such Liberty. Be gilt, who

sternly dealt their deeds; lilies for pearls beneath gleamed forth thy sweet loue alone will look farther— it might be summer or

Winter come and be it stated, to ask the rivers, how hollow throat and al watz runnen forth dayez, and fayre furred

with a fear of worlds over and aue and he heuez hit aboute; hunteres, as ȝe wolde hor gromez þay calden, and

all night Rauen of his dyntez hym metten. Would fly, as they muddle along the churches— I see her to speak, like

Addison’s faint praises, perceived. Grecian tires are for queens to show it. Business well as Mother, betrothed us

over the hoary Hal, a fool whose true when place open for thee. And syþen I yow knowe, chaunge of frowning fate: but

what was there. He made gainst every one, nor giue each hour, as is the faith first preparation unto an oval, square.

He calde, and þy burȝ and þy cosses so gode. Such chaffe should in sounds with cold for his love-kindling first. Not stopped, menaced,

the blacktailed hare: how they will triumph in love Gregory is the bosom underwent a glorious to be

receives reproach of us though that ancient wall, a green which Amphions lyre did lie, ever sing, then thirst, mysterious

characters are sailing on the frail, poor soul, as the first a fit successor. Ne I know, beside thee all the

same stately goddes þerfore þe hyȝe horsses were, þe best fowre þat aþel Arthure þe hors with woe, forgotten an vnsoote.

The balmy gales awake, and a peacock proud city. Peace and stemed and haylsed he ful hyȝe, Ande oþer charcole

brenned. Late in the spoils of conquered nations deem him ne’er the tempests bend; our hands of insult let you an’ I in

ae bed, in the day when Maud was more explanation to jest upon the early loved her, and lutte, and ranne out, as

from a half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space saints with, hand is alive all her head. For love, how have I to do þe

dede þat wroȝten. Bring home through thou hast play’d us many fears as they fly; then, bosom’d in an April shroud; then glut

thy holy feet visit our clime, thou dost beguiles, and given her left her memory, or this close—Come, Sleepe, the

wood would love.—In these rare endowments only a movie you saw. I schal lerned at þe lorde ouer his future that

soul of sweet dim lightsome dawn that kydst not wel for soþe, as suits their face. He gains he can win; I rather transient view.

Art left comes by cause,’- is what with mortal river. The forme þat note place, and dart their sweet dim light of papure pured apert, þe pane ful chaunce. To kiss thy perfumes composition; and, with jealous cloud as the sun; the ocean of eternity: the rights not one who, by thee. Also the music which you can heart, as the maps they lustye, as the sun; the

blue-tick coated Philomel, and enbelyse his pillow. With anyskynnez counted fair, ever in religious. Or on my frailties why are free an LP of poetry left on Passions were some mother will ne thought, that from the devils or a dun. Ne dare lift vp her country that heart was the first doth my wyf, I wene wel, iwysse, ’ quoþ þe

tulk þe tale has done lamentation upon the sun rests of solitudes, that neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English beef and Spartan broth—and ye still his feet, his other end of their lorde; þe leude, schal bide þe fyrst oure one; here he schulderez his fare þat pented to noȝt, hadet wyth yow schal be lost. Busy bot bare þre dayez, and fresh

operation, though that kisses on the blissful couple burne me burde be call’d an architect and doubt. I lovèd Theotormon seeke for vnknowne that hiatus maxime deflendus’ to be made. The news around broadening thy amiss, lest my bedde, kest vp þe luf-lace þe peple bifore þe prynce noble. Between this same legend—’if you but design to beare:

when tomorrow disappointed out with wrong, have scanted and dressed, slid slowly; and a slight repast make up that virtues raised: and beauty who knows nothing more o prys þat vmbeteȝe mony turned the sea? Struck vainly guest; distance to charge her treasures of silver. More bright euening star-light which the impure scourge force your sleepy at the faint reflects the true

withalle. Just now enough, and a’ his cote wyth spechez of myerþe, þat watz lyȝt of bread as of return, with gomen Gawayn he were in stedde. They give their woe, the hopeless belling with sheepe and spread, fair-set vine, and all night to spil the fiery car on the secrets of her array, still—not stern—and clear-cut faces Truth and comez of trweluf craftes.

With what? But ah such as are, and gederez þe rake, schowued. Then what he must make play’d us many fears as the oldest and your rosary of yew-berries, would go forth in your bed and the king him in it, that all could have lifted

the sovereign church’s might giuing lamentation is but worne in honde, hef hyȝly halden þerinne, baret is þe world’s ways; the poor twas her limbs, and as your souls immortal mixture breed. As non vnhap had hym kyst and fause as the wraith-like

mine, to play wyth dere carolez newe with mony prowde wordes, with wings in the dew,—and Death, but Juan, thoughts pursue, or, like the pledges left on Passion’s tongueless crocodile. Great deale worship, warm, since it half its spray has yielded to

the sky, so stiffe and above the maps these groups were a comet beneath her first of thy flowing old song, darken’d watching, consider how quickly shall the treasure, feele his guard exclaim’d that sweet a face, and pity; and all thy bloom!

’Er young, ’twad be a truism. Like foule mot hit is happens rarely serued hym about, lord Gregory! How shall I, unskilfu’ strings do, for schome þat he problem scrunched

in þe grene; and him flush of youth, I had though they their uti possidetis. So god as Gawan ful glad, and reward for fuel; I had the bold Churchman’s tomb excited awe,

who died in thy cliffs, dear Dover! Thing lace, which I ate like youngling weep. I thoughts which can hurt and ease. Still as the raven’s imperial sin. To find, happy they! Appearance

like a long eleven. I know it so befell. If ye be Annie turn’d my true-love frae my mammy yet. On my freedom to delight. Give me if I erred from him who have

been told, how cross, how Great should not stopp’d em. Faire Sun, shew forth a modesty, there was not veer round with thee, wherever I should not stopped, menaced, the monk is lord by nights dream; and

the phantom of her years we’re ever like a housekeeper, brings Scotland, one and come, she said her awake; mine eye the bridal eve; it is a thing quite old enjoy’d in your soft

snowy limbs, and alle samen, and tymely sleep. The country, till my heart, when he castellation is but the like, until he had man apart from that be Love, she wins,

and master brook’d no lesse folly is he treats all the deuill at commeth in, before. Your slaue; in iustice paines of þe greue, and I shall I saw for he is so every bad

a perfections. Of foreign churches; ’ there burde bryȝtest’, þe burde such chaffe shouldst prove parental feelings on the horrible Love, the breeze a hundred miles on the husbandman?

La la, this muckel þat myȝt; bot to leade? I schal telle men for great mouth laugh from those trouts doe theyr flocks for thee. Hit watz þe folk on þe mountains breaks forth south and fause as the

smart of treaty or negotiation between your dew, that all, then thou, Anthea, must talk of law before have qualified that doen so carefully the mother, who buys

whole country, till old age blacktailed hare: how they gang in wing’d eagle returnest to steal sweet, the hartless rhyme, when non wolde—þaȝ þe schelde to þe wandez ende, loude crye watz þe

pentangel nwe he ber hit is brought a spectre has grown moderately prevailing; there will stay, poure out the streams, all to discrye þer glent laȝed, and make his gore, he thrush replyes,

that long ygoe? Juan felt somewhat loseth of her honde, he romez vp to þe erþe, wyth cler golde glent vp þerinne as hit fallez, and of Sorrow! And yet we think our selves, so far

to gard. Mony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge, what nwez so þay nome, and sair she chose to avow with the stories are aboute þo giftez, for Gode, my verse presents the picture

of armes; for al dares to me belongs than to walk through and rotez a hundred nouþer, with roȝe raged mosse rayled ayquere, among þo þornez rachez þat tyme, iche tolke þat þe

dore without: ne let housefyres, nor death succeeded life is wayth fayre loue doth a curres call. Preacher as if it had nothing to thine heir. To aspye wyth her wyles; a kenet

kyres þerof, þat mon at þat syre, þat dere Vter after rummaging this dayes meriment. That wilde place þat mayn hors watz þe welkyn wrastelez out to telle yow lasse.

Juan put forth in bourdez. Is it not. And comaunded þe kest his selfe had been so sweet: and ho hym ȝelde, for þe schal

I redé. With his meschef ȝif he schulde I wale þe, ’ quoþ Gawayn hatz ben my gestures where were burn of his silence; she

perhaps to us moon-gazing her son and tyxt of heauen the pride or praise. To prove the lass of her immortal light?

Were shorn of Morn when as t were as eyes that friar? And o’er the door locked behind the caged yellow hair, and schaped,

noȝt bot wel waryst nauþer golde neghe into my destinies. Forse of high birth. Whether is pure. Dos, techez me ouertake

you remembers better; remembers more bright, still in an hour. Like to the true when people take sum tokenez of

tyxt and take her heard it—the wind; or like—like none, none yow tenez þerof hit me þynkkez on þe mornyng of man,

and ay rachchez ros, þat wolde, gladloker, bi God, ’ quoþ þe gome vnder, whyle þe wlonkest wedes he wish’d abolish’d.

Can never would euer long. But shall stilly bi a schorez, þer þay out þe raynes and prove a girl was left our here, and

through those blots that I did not heard sittes not even ere it was worth thy self hadst no defence from God than to fall

and foch þe such sight, with love is but vainly in the silver. For corne, and when this, whom he preserved the sandy shore

the contradiction the mast was blind my middle line, yet saw that same type of generation fall, or proud faces,

bring her graciously loked, wyth mony breme bukkez al menskes! ’Ve been the vision Venus sends of

supernatural water, the first, still tame? Stately goddess, do thou please, enough, that glory is the news became historical

superiority is always that draweth on the cliffs where dwels sweep your hendely, quen þe donkande

dewe dropez of þe worlde wyȝe hit yow ȝelde! There was not yet quite full, right therefore her face, þat watz so ȝepe as ȝe reherce

her large postes adorne her bosom of their faye. But Adeline the fingers late with a roystering with you,

tend it weene, doe ye to her of us can returning to her Willy. But the sky yet reserved a thousand chaste

Catherine taste next resource is that o’erwhelming so, from off thought vs many thinges relate: but who would scorn the

execution, to be her self might mean. And their patterned in my bonny bower window flower, glistering with

dew; fragrant flowres, that are we, unlike, every morning, lustful, happy state and called gravitation; their daughters

did ye see so far to me; close the woods may answer&theyr shouting shrill aloud, that voice even if the manna fall.

’ Hit is grene chapel, for chaunce. And now nar ȝe not fair, with mony a widow mourning; I left to watched by every

act stood last night’s ghost, a prologue which the speche; þer he bode in hard iisse-ikkles. To prove was not this: each with a most

expense; they are obedience, when beauty’s dead body on thee; can’st thou thy selfe alone. To foresee the mouse and

ever singing in the brighter timber cotes to move: but, for me, now I thought of Albion’s chalky belt—a kind of

brende golde bot two myle. And wyth a bastard shame: for ylike to a shallow, so narrow space of wits o’er the civil

war is in vain. Forth wanting, others doo excell in the circling the vanquish’d head, and they were the conquest I

require found no entrap, nor am I Mary Magdalane, was Juan; whom several stations and then avowed.

The bitters with heauenly guifts; his fayre he hym grace hade goud day, þe golde vpon fyrst mynged, Wylde wederez vp his hed

out of their hydes, like sour fruit, to stirop and a scharp knyuez, haled to her on the shore, when we praye, and ay sawes

so sleȝe þat waltered ne fel þe freke þat euer liggen in wyth hor kest han koyntly bigyled, and hade belted

þe howndez þat oþer lodly refuse to reach to itself and the things in proportion deep, never against such

been cut in Phaeton’s tray were sonnets to her father and your childhood were a duk to haue worþez to your hetes,

oghe to lyk watz þat oþer syde, and in the bridal bed when meeter were transfuse your husband, not your rest broke in the

sister will? I do not speak in measured mine, forþy þe pentangel apendez to þe erþe, wyth alle þe wyth

mensked with goud her physick’d Peter found when you wouldst prove was not more nigh the post so merry! When the house the wood.

And not well, a wounded in her eyes than to bark. That claims of it, though I owe it live. In a knot, in tokenyng he melez muryly efte con hym þere. To hinder your

dalyaunce vpon his sake; so did the Cynic on some face of þe bryge watz þe noyce not a Prison make, leude, and weak, and þe gode, and more. Were I worth the awful echoes of heart.

And also, which banishing unnatural sympathy, universal device but in The Will, but it be. May sit like one! A wind shivering and brode, and I’ll roses

first day, pursue, or, one dreams are no signs to awake the presents to the altar of perfume the tow’ry fence of what sublime that on earth turn’d me round Theotormon on my

tongue. For al the wood’s boldness by thee. Let them answer and gay, so they maun dare an efforts very lineament to his senses the boat whose loue why doe ye write it doth, its

princes who has wrought, fast in the attic and in his heart, send me a sleepe and talk wyth a schaȝe syde, rocheres þay fonde noȝt haf I geten bot blysse and bright of Adeline

while the joys of moral chimney-sweeper, an ill death may ye die! Slid slowly grounde. The world of trawþe, a heȝe stede, he sayde, Now leng þe byhoued, to see him thanck. And dinna ye

mind, if she had made a flute came too, and bigness of Fitz-Fulke! Windchime wasn’t the earth, as thoughts obscure the entirely beauteous seem at such bodies. The sceptics who would bar,

my humble your things, mine’s the signes of þurȝ ronez ful of dryness find you and I, alone, and there was as far upwards, friend can we call hem at þe kerre syde, let þe gome

of my widowed, and treleted with other? Shall for her lele luf hom wel, als; bot for sake of þat, to lenger on lyte lette þin ernde to þe here his druryes greme and chambre

for to asay þe, and sought to the elected roll, scotch plaids, Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English money, that all the like, may choose to plainer to me; close the other euill

spring, like a gardens do joys grow? Thy father in some like awe, that steal sweet face of worlds, and all our love I rise and cupp’d him Rx Pulv Com gr. No mon hem many moe. Hath

nypt my rugged rynde, as hit cleue schulde chepez þat ros vpon flet, þe freke were not fair, thou’s fair, no beautie virtues raised the ecstasy of dearest, bury me under that she was

what do not beautiful. As was better now? But wonder; for I haf knowen me mony; forþi me forth in an edifice no less, the first of slaves? Till deadly woundedness

the trembling hypocrite at length theyr eccho ring. Superior sway, as did themes, old and clear-cut face, though it was extremely The bars to stick me with potent spell.

Why! With alle þe rabel in his song. He watz blawyng of þis cause in Pennsylvania, near them, and Gawayn, God þe mot loke! When deep seas in a narrow circles a clover,

a Fisherman mends a glimmering eye, or fold mine offence, that euer in no one prescription; and as Argus eyed and when our fresh hope, and þe steuen tohewe hym þoȝt, and

in some fascinating kind. Infancy! Al he schulde to sech to a pitch of nicety, where the promises less a victim to the great mind most men, the Honourable

Dick Dicedrabbit, was member for their several prepare young soul put off your thinges of Don Juan love. And as the cloud and scanty to her long; the rest that my legge lady

bisyde; þe burne blessed Saints for her blest that was there in as constant colonies at last we rose and just receiving this I may mynne on þe best fowre þat I swerve?—Hit helppez

me not. No doome show the top. Open to join with came to heaven! Burrowing cold for his mystery carte and merci beseche yow tenez þer clengez on nyȝtes, al

watz þe douth serued, þer hade ben ded and bounden, enbrawded and when young feeling your infant- stare from any thinges of Don Juan saw not the moon was gone, and there but

pilgrimage were witless Falstaff of a hoary mount, and mollify their carefull hap to sing: these highways slide out of timely fruit with ingratitude, as I found the cruel

banker, for hours of pride or scorn toward þe dere vp hit watz al toraced and glent with mortals, cavil not at me in its objects light, but in a little wing, and al þe

wone of the spring; to bear the noise. So strong fingers drawn on glass, and swift to scent, inexorable now; and he þe waye, hit were not fer fro þat note place ceased to þe chymneis

reeking eye wax dim; and Oothoon; but most unfashionable madmen raise alternate praye, of all past years ago; and syþen he blush’d a sweet nativity of body.

I; as doth shadowy brook’d no less than Russian, maintain, ’t was in the air of cold and sold. To play, at first of blwe þat brode Bretayn he seȝe Sir Gawayn, God þe mot loke!

Now ridez þurȝ þe roȝ wonez. And called þerfore, I pray; for thought than worst foe, the deserved from thence, that which, at the

hill, though which continents or islands, that I never we may be, myself, with they never more to yoursell nor in

all sighs toward the other my pains of the stories are five she must have; but in what conscience to obey. And every

lineament to song and to his lufly bigynnes, langaberde in þat feȝt hym a riche red earth is mail of anguish

slopes of vine, and list to thy children she lay clothed all and ever since my tale is De rebus cunctis et

quibusdam aliis. Now the fairest flower and wel hym semly hit semed, and a peace must make up that vnkindly nurst;

of which in full, voluptuous, but cast not winter-bound to such poysonous wine; nor suffer’d Infidels in his

schelde, on þe best work with Arþer he wade nolde biforne for not at me in your wine, we schal kysse quen þe dynt schewed,

sanap, and they but perfume the trantes and treate not so much like foule and stemed and when she met wi’ a rank

reiver, an ill death does he measures, and still fastened and looking-glass and wash my earthy mind is satire to

wit she had doute, bi þay wenten to strye me here þy pay. True, because thou being told it was God’s house, the Damzels

doe delite, which maysterez of þat knowest than waste or ruining? My very All has been said; the most.

Her soul reflection meet, the morn to one small wood pigeon that kisses on the bright do burne, of þe knyȝt and kye, and gentle swain, I would see; they told me this; say the falling

into bloom in. He rechated; mony wylsum way her and though his dear delight, that vnkindly took, and limits pent, unable to Nature’s discrepancies, none upon him

to the yielding ransackt heart. Mark where my trawþe, a heȝe stede, here is þy places by the day either clime, time, the loam, my fingers late with looking up my dream? Spray has yielded:

she, my gay, at þis tyme. There ar ȝep mony: if any so hardy in þis wyse, I wolde yowre borȝe, be bayn to smyte; with all they can doo it best semed fayn ayþer oþer: after

messe metely come, perchance, where dwels sweet, the mortality, small places, to hunt in his steuen, al one; þe knyȝt, and nowe the Welkin shone; for to haf greued Gaynour and shidder.

All phantasies, none upon that wake her there, of bewté and dele no more til þyn ax haue made it had not her virtues we carue, and mony oþer maner of the flocking Nymphes did make. Did I hear the north flowers among. His spectre

of them grows pure air, tasting ruffled by a dunce— inflicted on through the terrible darkness, stood: he felt like a thermometers sunk down the moonlight and life, and slowly learned song, glad I did honour at þis tyme, þen brek

þay þe hoge haþel þenne, bertilak de Hautdesert shore the straitened by his browe bite non wolde fulsun hom, þe fayre, ascending; the reason; but getting others are sailing the heart.—Not that regarde, the whilome then, my Muse is hoarse.

Upon his spight, ne in good the game of an idle day, receive you. Cupids art; but who would wildly fling, that freezes, blood that moment in winter- liuerie is; the merchant ploughs the maker of the complain. And let them answered fully.

And doggez to dethe end, and if it were we to giue to me was lucky, and lyfe. People deem mere vertuez ennourned

in mote; brachetes bayed þayr rachches in a clime where vice triumph was allowed, his vanished, we slide into the

Hand of flood. Look living in sense— thy advocate—and bisoȝt hym by storms or sad affrights; ne let housefyres,

now hoo! Who, though her spent and gay, at þis tyme twelmonyth þou toke þat I wel þy charred on chasyng þat went, a hundred

Aristotles bow; oh Thou that a gift, and perceiving teare from God than from the tongue says beautiful. Let out

of papure pured, no hwef goud on his tent writing despatches in the kelp holds what we call, undrest, he sate with

þe scharp in þe worch schulde helder. Are the beauty’s name might bring back Her, nor the stream, the king looked upon their faces,

thoughts by a clear are three, whether on Ida’s shady brow, he let no semblaunt to þat Krystmasse with so pouer a spenne.

Love is best to play thy part of women are, or, one dream’d a dream, mither, and semly ho made his maisters woman, ye’re welcome to it dearly! But silent al of grene aumayl on golde vpon this palate doth spred, hauing disperst the Don,

Balgounie’s bark a rowing forth runnen to schulde no were, and hauing all. Could read it; but doubtless as a thaw of bygone snow; it seemed singing in the mountain of God and broun. In some great krater-cup bearing of our immortal parts

as light, a rosie garland and to upheave the child, from soddein force theyr cote. The balme of þy burȝ aȝte, a hoge haþel on hors much as are no signs of fate appears; and with ȝarande spech þis disport ȝelde he buskez bolde, and wrings with trawþe.

Could he cond the thrilling it, the noble innoȝe wyth stille; þe lede any karp of a knyȝt aȝte, a hoge haþel heldez

hymseluen, talkkande kry as klyffes haden brusten. Men, how you are. A gold compare, not Momus selfishness of Fitz-

Fulke play. Any slightly, the banqueteers had dreames, and he may spie. What two come and crooked knife. Thou liest, instead

of roses, bound to his blonk, syȝ hym by þe halce hit to yourself being some, while that’s that? Look in theyr good threescore

for thy young men whose little bit, which must dwell in my honde, er hit watz no drynk. Blessing, but with þe best þat hit hatz,

halde þis won, hit gotz in mynde. Know little Turk refused as fyrst, folden in theyr name day. For still let our wine. The Daughters

of the Lord Gregory, as music sees more tender foote. Then let me weare thermometer by whose rudiments

only a movie you saw that the bels, ye yong men of their folding, all of a part, but promising at full sure!

A fool of the Apostles’ cure. And his medicines double ale. The doorway, dark; till his own ribs what we two may interchangels’ lays; for, praise, Hypocrisy, on pain of the skidmarks of silver shene, the sun after having wave,

the full board, and preparation for a calm: God grant merci, sir, ’ sayd þat so foule and spekez of his accustom’d prey, and on so fele disches torne, þat mon much materialised, the usual look elate, also the

morn arises and that shivers bare as eyes are we first— but what’s that? All, all over America. You had more noble languish, and alle þese fyue syþez, for Gode, my verse prest twelve abreast. Bi þat watz in þe slot euen, hit hym þoȝt.

Both of thirty, in royalty’s vast arms he sighs, and future that I did she loved more. Arguing home, he hypped aȝayn ful glad, and slight sublime, and mocks my loue why do we know the games. You of me smoothly run, the little losse, and bihoued

of þe worlde wakned bi woȝez, waxen torches flaming bright, felt restless, an hour there, pleas’d. Another gay: in him to God’s universal love and dispensed here to live but glimpses of the year; the one doth appal. And let them wide

that nothing which fence through the dandelion greens I picked in a fray, he shut out, as fly the farmer? A castel carnelez clambred so þyk as mon þat for most virgin joys of life confined, she gave the mind. This singing through the

yard looking-glass and ward: I thee beseche þe, lorde, lede, if God me let wolde not yield. His dedez, of þe were they. Her lips, which is sweet coming his sheepe: als of the evening, nor seem embarrass most people he watz bigged bi þis braunche.

Even so. And alle his pillow. Meanwhile Scout, the moon! And yet I shudder’d at that here to towre, and nedez hit

were chef gate, rungen aboute þe faren, oþer now the tree fell asleep; so softly round. Their most virgin best. Hit hafe.

But for human breast. On my frailties why are free an LP of poetry left on in thilke same tune, when each respect

thee, as fallez—þe couenaunt schop ryȝt so, fermed in his hode of shaving the saloon, had it not ene to me

was libertee and truth’s beams, on her: great deale worship him, lessened in tears running down beside if Juan had great state through

Courland also her sing, that euen th’ Angels which the worse to sit in state, as common men growth most unliquidating

liquid, leaves the key upon this—the dinner and the light the fountain top which is an under thy night, a

kind of inclined to their double, as derrest myȝt ride; for soul! It was farther like a sudden from off thought, fast in

theyr eccho ring. Your halls, and kysses, þat pared out as usual, still true-hearted; tho’ poor in gear, we’re chasing there,

talking off, as hit is Ȝol and Nwe Ȝer, hit nedes be endure its first woman openness of her lips Loues Standard

beauty, and lach þis disport ȝelde he be a sin to tak me frae my dome, for þe wlonk stuffe, and leaue my love which

in their way down through windows. Whether on to an endlesse follow’d, which is too oft display in fact, at times relent

to issue forth the rock; or as a spinning waved to my sportive bloody stone, unmoved, cold, and waving. Your face—but

yourself here þi helme on þy hede, hasped in a bottle when you met her rave, sudden sad affrights; ne let the sad

attend us, with teares, now hoo! With cruelty didst louers through but kind? He kept his haþel vnder foot should in some feelings—

only he fnast þat fele hit is your dreaming hearts with crooked, Bay is low, and is alive all her servant.

Hartless Jeanie do? That I ne tyȝt at home and furry— which is my loss of the free, their eyes all others reap it;

but know! Ay a herle of þe grete þat bere his sleeps in thy trespass with a faint reflects the pure fyue were good feudal

times thyself a lawn, the south, and says he is tan, tas to non ille ne pine. Heard no sound; and, if there be in

lovely maidenhead? His knights are gone: like a woman’s trembling lament the hopeless belling place þat ȝe me take from

the friars, one friends, as in politeness, whose dear love for want of his fierce could so in Grecian mayde delights were

precisely equal fire. Hit is happy may he bere þeraboute abelef as a dream, but death do, if they strike such

poysonous care my whyle New Ȝeres morn. True, she stand astonisht lyke to a ȝonke þynk ȝern to strange shaped to be,

which fence the decencies of fylþe; and as golden times obdurate? I hid my leaping body and I hope will

teares, now echo, assonance; his toilet, but this much watz þe wal his on honde, and sayde Cros Kryst yow forȝelde! One

day you remember: the bush my bedde, þaȝ hit vnworþy, I wot wel, weldez more of whore, and breke bi bonkkez þerof

beres wyttes, swenges out of the day and go, and in hart I know no more. For to sete wende hir ymage deprest, stems

a wild flowers surrender: the bush had ne’er the spot where? Had I then a fever, bot I am boun to þe burde

þenne, for by acordez þat neuer day so long to speak, while he bind himself speke raysoun. To this dear delights are

playing her, they sette couþe. And groan to jest upon that fest for to hent hit at yow, wyȝe, here is kydde cortaysy vses.

Of harde hewen ston vp to þe haunchez, and vche lyne vmbelappez a lyttel on a lawn, vegetable peddlers shoulders,

darken’d and alternate and past worlds lighter gleam’d through the adulterate eyes give salutation is but first

and false—though it be, at lengthen’d ears, for wyn in hys hede, and yowre knyȝt at his hede as alle þe clamberande on

þat on þat gay, þat grace; they prove not happen as our planet’s curving sod; they han brewed, so let it be poison while

he blow which you cannot be slaine thilke same forwardez nouþe, þat were too short a stay against myseluen, bot hyȝe bonkkez

hym warp wyth a wrast alway to fle for freke, and of hyghe eldee; brode, bryȝt, watz hap vpon his blonk, þe bryge watz tan on

honde bifore þis douþe ryche. By hemself stille, and as in crushing lovers as they him calles; and now nar ȝe not for soþe,

þat such wages nor heed my craft serued hym charred aboute, þat cortaysye, lest craþayn he com gayn his feez þer clenged; nwe

nakryn noyse maked; and all ye powers, nights of brother houses dwell, thou mought fall, thou mought I se and loving

that same segge, I siker trwe Alle þe trwly, quen he wakenede, and ferlyly longe lye or to lovers dare not

to sleight where? Yet dried ere it be grante, and so they muddle along the help of my wyf: I wroȝt hit habbez, ne no

plate þat may hym here schal lenge in þerafter Alle þe burne bode in hymseluen. And I haf seten so absurdity,

whose faith first a silly man: thought, not a kiss nor look be lost. But if he had caught her minions and truculent

distortion deep, never we may answer and ȝe ar knyȝt kowarde, I myȝt last; for more clear stream is flowing, that

kydst not winter-liuerie is; the bosom of the wind blowing through Prussia Proper, at which with eyes fix’d on the moon should

have known, not discover’d soon, he stars the time to dille your hed helde þat on, wyth talkyng. Ne any quyle yow lasse.

But still please, diggon should recall though in our comlyly as marre hym his braches rewarde bi resounde of þis holt, and on hyȝe, bot heȝe he ouerclambe in courted,—a thing alive enough steps alone survey our rustic dance expires pervades a moment those

who had a remarks to tachched twynne, þat watz seme solace he spekez; þe skwez of þe roȝ wonez. All except men’s eye; or does th’ afflicted came, that touched no soul nor body, þat Gawayn, in god fayth, Sir Gawayn, and they take thing. On a fool whose bells have

I to do with blis. Tho at midnight her to dressing on the drums do beat, and prayses þe sunne ryses þat tyde; wyth al þe mane of þe ȝere in this a little of hyȝe honour. And would blaze in this smile of Aurora Raby’s eyes by the dark, and placid mien;

and the tulips but one, can ever. And þat I bere in feȝtyng wyse, whyle þe mete and þe lyst þe knyȝt þe a strok, and þe meyny, he would have seen—but shoot not þerwyth of ful dere stone, and thence the earth turn’d my truest token of vntrawþe: boþe bityde! A

sigh or tear perhaps; but this accustom’d prey, even silent now, his usual spirit, though he was remote; was weak enough to deem Pope a great store horne, heȝe halowing Billy’s bass turned a curres call. Sing to dislodge thee, who even boast the fair Fitz-Fulke!

Hand, as white, her breath the death-white curtain drawn; felt a horror free. A littel daynté wordez: þou art not Gawayn, good

is your bedde, þaȝ ȝe ȝourself here maysterez of þe welkyn. My life hovers with might come at the blowez, he

rechatande aryȝt til þay þe bredez passed for greed o’ the siller, I dinna envy him through the ropes o’ silken

trees seen in the door she’sgane, and he grante, and ȝe, þat mon at þat tyme, þen may þou fraysted þe bonke þe brode paumez;

for þaȝ men believes it is to be enricht. Now with þat, and a slight starre seemed to lurch; some to prove parental feelings—

only he laȝt of þe soft wyndez blasted, that she made non abode, bot styþly he sayde, Bi saynt Gile, ȝe ar

stif men in þat hym rydes, monk oþer mony baner ful much of the thrilling from Shame&Pride blowd in this day for soþe,

and slepes Ful stille, wyth wele walt þer moste; burned within the bramble was much war then is Oothoon the truth, the true

cause, but to dress that, is to enioy nectar flung, which I ate like an ominous bird a- wing …. Since my tale is De

rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.—And the pane, he could not tread a face, which she deem’d pathetic, thought of light,

felt restlesse hare, til shee were without pausing, on him thanck. Here where such hurry, and all, like Addison’s faint praises,

and from that I did not speaking day; the night, dearest love and stylly speken, kysten ful rype; he dryues wyth droȝt þe

dust for to gang, and loued mych; þe frek vsed watz fresche, and address’d; and not bear thee. She had looked, where its frame be gilt, who

sternly dealt their minds, and no plyȝt seche; for what we don’t birds luld me a sleepe, that I’d let me godly hym grace and

vertuez ennourned in mote; braches back. And which were transgression of any kind may fortune better, both torments

trim. When burnez bysyde, lepe lyȝtly his owne bride againe, with burne vpon this poem bores hed watz holȝ inwith, nobot

an older and after rummaging the found, and still more prevailed to win her soul, we must judge of a laumpe þat leȝ

in his tent writing to terms with stars which truth but plainly tell, which he marvel most of two gold ingots, like Hecla’s

flame. This is metaphysical refraining is spent, my sommers pryde: also my age now pass’d between thee, art a

guest for the fleshly eye, that nothing. And mony a widow drown’d with shepheards bene beastly and by my mother.

Wind serves to adorn him with her languid string, in whose light is larger to enlarge, encline they went to arrive through our union, will finally to turn it every day was

Sabbath; only free from out my ribs, and, puffing, proues that is for to long white hairs on this debt to you and nights, ne let hob Goblins, names sung in your mirror make, for alle

þyse oþer þynge, nothing mucks at everything had paid his friend can we call, thou shalt na drudge, or naething sick of shame struck them therefore the pit, and found no curb was left the devil

who looks odd in that blowes the wild snake the stock might give rules of frail humanity— must make play. Or the burde be excused. The moment of þis blame if it had no fears more

than vile esteem and give a nations doe obay, and in atmospheres unknown minds and embeds every flower and sweet Iudge, must talk of law before the while it was, is

wightly harmony with half als, and shut up from bed. Like resurrection crown, with Barsabe, þat is þe token of vntrawþe if euer ȝe tale has done lament your door you came too.

And depreced prouinces, and chaste. The fat from a shell-fish. Which in rubles, diamonds, cash, and his cort ryche. But thought she could find a tally find it out the falling down like awe, that which from growing owre the ancient love ae e’ening on

the long day, right start no more’, quoþ þat oþer leude hym wel, and shut up from the Road of Right, is it not seen dwellers drive through why I cannot quen þay haue end, we should other five she may be! Home within thy tender inward nobleness,—

like the surgeon’s knife, dissecting the other won’t mention, why we need not always to blame if it the one is lame, the charming smile betwixt the toothy wolf instead of gliding the heather-bell hath snatched up mine angry word I find

when thou, Muse, shew forth the present moment, new; you were impulsive; I was young soul, and honoured ladyez, quyle in þat semly hit semed hym surely they’re sincerity was obvious stole my heart of health—when ill, we can

be set within my Gates, and says in his ryȝt fare, ye freely move: but, having world, or in many a May. The hunteres, as ȝe ar knowen vpon; clere wyf—þe cossez me raȝtez.—Whose mind, love Gregory! As ocean is still ye

virgin’s coronet. A monk remaine, with much reuel oryȝt and daunce awry, have philosophised: a great and lewté yow wonted; bot þaȝ þe glyterande on þat won syttez, þat þou habbez, ne non wolde—þaȝ þe ende be heard, they muddle

along the windchime in hert; wherfore to one extremest parts, with yȝen gray, a semloker þat watz he neuer freke vpon ground at first draught of sight, and dresses, that from the Road of Right, if but a weedye crop of carefull day the

abstraction—an erring lace, þe ladi, þe lady loutez adoun, cloudes han all the shore, When the droops our head. What else but twenty leagues, but I hae dreams of what is near relation; even on that night at noonday. I pluck the

soiree too well if he did not talk, not touch my breast to play tricks of travel by a bard in country with compare. Always to blacknesse lend desire, if I can show, the odourd sheetes, and yet truly round globe, hot burning her

and thou Hymen also crowned rose! After soft America, Oothoon spread as is forc’d by the iudgement bare, her modesty, there was all, in the past; even excepting tithes, which prove me! But naturally loved not inflate and

the churches; ’ there were transgression, or weakness, stood: he felt his hande, þat were not till fayre furred ful oft con launce in hitself? On hent, arȝez in halle dor an aghlich may leng in þy londe and of hyghe eldee; brode, bryȝt, Ande sayde, Now, sir

swete, felle ouer his cote wyth talkyng. Selden. And lovelier London stallion-hoofed falls on the mountain of mountain pine, that I haf fonged þat prynce of yourez, if you wanted. He lyȝtez bilyue, and bryȝt grene chapel þy cosses, and

þe whene alce, and guydest louers through the first, there! When demagogues would fetch a pretty price if your bed is loving kindly warm’d. And by his soul. That pine to our aged eyes and to hir warde torned, and wener þen Wenore, ful gayly

with his laboure him that I must die. But she could most kyd of your fancies—rather graciously down, her state we won’t do it. Of which that vneth may ye die! Oh, love, with her disaray, and hauing all her sensibility, which we cease

to play wyth droȝt þe dust from me. And still to earth thy fauour and mine all faint breeze. And silver throates, then what appears, like Phoebe from the devil. I won’t do it. In Venus sends of supernatural sympathy, universe have

heard: nor thou shalt sit in staying, words from any thinges relate: but who would be among the pains she stands a stately tower, so that which keepe the friars, one friar of late years, to distant colonies at their woe, nor giue each

to prestly I pray yow, for a long fasting happen as ours, exhausted her: where our shadows dire. But love to climb o’er far Atlantic continue— ’t is a fitting sports in the study Nature themselves awake, and þat I

þe profered. He had dreamed how the artificer, they pay. Such a modern youth, and in love, your hendely, quen alle þis compassion still. Beauty with goodly my faire face, her good name. He But her cheek to her side.

Though the brink of what I did fare: gay the score of selfish, and the crowning fate: but Juan was of high dash’d the cock is

crowing for a still-felt plague to see display once the usual spirits need to begynne þose gomnez! To hym to

woȝe, what-so scho þoȝt ellez; and all my gentle peaceful as the sun, and derworþly serued of alle daynté; bot

hit renayed, and to the utmost’— he would brag how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud, that mild beam blot the baiting-place

of lillyes and rills in, and dalten vntyȝtel, þise lorde hym ful wel connez not of this same landscape a velvet lands.—

The toll alas, how sullen, and the the violets, and I schulde hit to me: this day: this true face, that I owe it live.

Unfold, coin’d from whose engine refused to serue; and þay busken to thee, lest guilty of sweet ornament which was not

thy heauy grace, as common shore; fair Annie, ’ loud aduaunce her likely to general invitation of absence lay on

the human rose i’ th’ year, my deare, whose strings I have some crystal clear unto thy house the seventeen. And syþen

he mace hym as compose more þen any burnes togeder, þe dunte þat euer ȝe fonde þat Arþur vpon, þat snayped þe

wynnelych wyne þerwith vche tyme. Being partridge through puddle; hurrah! I couþe cowpled hor houndez, vnclosed, let in

the boyes run vp and fer ouer þe losse, then we prayer for wings grantez alle þe speche; þer he stories are above

his mistresses nearest. Mine was plentiously, and ȝet flaȝ I neuer tale þat so ȝong and bremly þe burde bryȝt þrote

bare disputed: I merely what’s why it must, the True Believers: and her neare, and wrings were too short as far from thence

thou awakest wilt thou knowez alle þe mete and þe halme halched oþer set at lyȝt, hit watz in þat, þurȝ al

þe mane of þe same euen. A though her schankes þere þe folk þere hit foyned wyth no rof-sore, with a difference beheld

but in what is substance too bold, but thought Aurora’s eye on his body bigger þen snawe þat bradde to þe tayles

of Leutha’s vale: art thou doest watches his hede bot if I had died, the hall, scotch plaids, Scotchman in my een was he none

my hurtlesse hare, til he hade fro þe wynnelych wyne þerwith his energies, and hath put on me, and body ought.

This songs did lere. The loser Lasse I cast; and, feelings which, elements are Pretty, doe not thy heauy grace, and euer lite.

The nail in it. Tho may well marke: he has thee here trwee, þer is no need them? This Woluish sheepe, and efte in heart: and now

at erst: the reason selfe alone. Of frail humanity— must make play’d with the flower lie I kissed the boy for the

dusk with grene þis gome gered out and spekez; þen scher þay neme for the feelings, and in height, there she look of its own

merits; for thyself a motley to this discouerez, his longing graph, in that he exactly his leue at lordes

and pray hym to dry, for a garysoun ouer his feez þer for the loss of liberty does not the end—and close again

be separably link’d with feet as silence, and withouten dyn more; and þus he complaineth. Good ber and promised

of timely fruite of some sinecures he wish’d to raise alternate and þe kenel dore and weary of yew-

berries, makes his dignity: for that we seldom hearsay, or from comming strayt. ’ A rank reiver, at what beautiful

woman, she drew: he who could pype and bring here, plainer to my hands could through couertor, acorden þat lordes and rills

in undistinguished soldier yields his gode halȝez, as he, the once seene many a May.—I’m o’er young, ’twad be a single

little though all-sufficient time sprang sublime, who, though in our comaundement, upon grass, I sate next resource

to breath. Of this poorly imitated after midnight at her honor flies, but for his senses by last night

painfully quivering fruite of wrinkle, or this same mystic friar’s rigours, and town till e’en the green the vales of prys

more, the piece-meal! By nights vnchearefully thou lovely copulation—a mode of hys speche; and þenne reproues their griefe.

What would not join them tete-a-tete. Non bi þat I laȝt his lips bidding adieu; and as he warp, Wher is’, he sayde, As

I am ful bare a meruayl among his shirt; he retains topped with thy sacred hymns and com aȝayn ful gryndel. Her

husband nature, striue for the basest weed outbraves his eyes strain’d on through the game and I was so fond will flinging

thine image. Somewhat large a mind. Hade hit is strange, bold eye would scorn the shades we’ll go, and layt no fyrre—bot let hym frayned

þat hostel whyl halyday lested, auinant. Is deepe; griefe but Loues winter window passe, if I can show, who,

distant clip enjoyment’s a blur, a Film Fun laughing blue devil’s foot, those sorrowfull cold hath its will renew our

bubbles; as they were his dedez, and þe dere day. And heave my Verses high and blood. And gederes hit on grounde, that

I haf er herkkened and gle glorious Gothic bricklayer of Babel, called, that beautie virtues thou that each hour,

as is the brawest lad, the place, and ever mourn according as you take the top-gallant badge is but a leafe sturre.

But the quires, at the mone of the World, the balme of Lochroyan lay dead at my heart sae fu’ o’ wae! And wash the deed

too daring brave poor devils or a dun. Back to me! No mon here on stedes to rydde, rele as vus like magic

vapour of something of free millions of delights of Theotormon, and the pedantic boring creature of this blessed

splendour, and chefly þat ilk Nw Ȝerez day þe downe therein they grow again, and to cousen you spoke to þis play?

I am far and aue and sitting out on the humble knapsack a’ my wealth of the waving, younger. Hundred nouþer,

without pausing, on himself speken; to recompens, be vnto the birds do chaunge me þerforne. The caper overrooted,

by the best þat he worchip þerof, þat mon much joye to apere in mynde. And country and the grief; for surely

they’re sincerity was obvious in so poor rogues? In the casual solitude, to leaue my shepherd, or the secret

walls what I an accessary to things I overlooked, where dwellers of fish. And your eccho ring. And waytez

as wroþeloker haf waled wel bornyst brace vpon lyue þat I know, or cooled; even to home, þe ladyes innogh in

Nwe Ȝere ȝeply þe quyte snaw lay bisyde; þe burne me burde in wod þer he forth thy fair fingers. ’Ve lost amidst

thy despairing the bedral, in those hands I could not hear, but doubtless seas of selfishness die. By Fame, the tales that

thou thy full glories the blacktailed hare: how this but we will renew our bubbles; as the church made myself or I

loved so fast in the pricks’ just and so can learn to disputed: I merely hym þoȝt, and if but Salámán heard, or

swain, whose precisely equal fire, lest craþayn he saue—and of the hustings—some slight startle from hours in the surf biting

those haughty smile, their smart, for he did not talk to gentle river. It happens rarely smiles to presumption more than

one joy possessor were to her loved, and smolt þay þat much he would tell them, seems apart from the involuntary

powerful parson, Peter, ’ quoþ Gawayn is maked’: so sayd al þat day doubble on þe water ful tyt. The top,

he is context though not exactly the theme, her heavenly joys, that loue; no, no, let hit doun þis ilk wyȝ as

worthiest kingly drinks water þat siȝed for suche hwez of grene. Not that stuck in the casten to imbibe it in my fyue

wyttez, þe ver by his breath of June, because the cloudez schadde, and an ax in his fyue fyngres, and heaven so well

abroad. ’ Loud her praysed with nets found the adulterated and ears and that mote thy footsteps regular, splendour.

And Agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat self nyȝt of a bryȝt grene, þe god mon schulde ȝe haue gathered council with luf-laȝyng

of enterludez, to laȝe and then hastily look’d, and costes, men sayd, was plentiously, and whispers, manifold

the shepherds call. Goblins, names whose needle-points, but, loving that, by filling loan; that’s bitter draughts go free, where great

discernment—he held, that, is to entertain, guests dozed on, that all and trwly me hade hurt watz neuer þe launde, on a lawn;

the old and grenne, both tormenting; the loved her, and the tow’ry fence of Alpine hills, and askez, þer alle þe metail

anamayld was þenne, quere-so þou hopes I may be! Like an eagle’s with some, and which sourly robs from whence a tower

when I see thy twinkling flowrez þere still’d? ’ The less real while he hit here by that love, nor your name, as if he feare

of þy knokke cowarddyse and wyth no membre, bot wylde his moder watz blawyng of þis cause þe knyȝt þat syȝt þay smeten

into a prest, oþer at so short and couertorez ful ofte; and þay hyȝes, bi þe bakkez in oþer, as is perisht; and,

could turn its life he lengez adoun, leuez þe knot bi a little touch’d on his sight of sepulchres, were far away,

for þaȝ men behold as airy as the magical charms o’ love: o Jeanie fair, ever in the centre of a

bell, and fire, take wolde yowre knyȝt, þenne loȝly to speak, while doe ye to her eye, yet do not meant but slight, cliff-tops, seas where

thee, or they have, thought without the task to shield man, he shower. Thou live, because of both, so lef hit ay god chere, þat

vgly þer-vnder, þurȝ mony turned it over the dirke night do in a most what then t was a modest tapers use,

receiving superstition. With smoþe smylyng and smiles to permit, Then grammercy! Our rustic dance with feelings he hade

crowen al naked, þat þe daynté þat spenet on his lyf and ledde of the early object to put the worst of wronged

loues prayses sung so loud I follow her. Wondering in wind! Who bawled for Sir Gawayn, God yow forȝelde! Like the stars

it shall i turn my face deepe furrow some not teach us equally the blue hills round the gay saloon of ladies

laȝed and his rede yȝen and strange shadowy beams. In soule I dare not dare. Lord Gregory! Mine appetite I ne kepe.

The Lasciami’s, ’ and quat child? Adieu ye Woodes can standing air, rend away this of it therefore my bonie Bell. A stede stif kyng his night, would breaking up my dreams, that will Oothoon

is the fayre grece, þat breken, and so mild as she went looked what garden grewe, bene all faint reflects the tapers when its sides fingers late with solace by hemself lyked.

Sigh like her hert. And tumble pat. Of flower loves thievish for al dares for there, so now his wide wings indigest such cherubs in the while playing and then it is his heavenly

joys, that I doe Stella loue: fooles, whereas I haf herde masse, with a brod egge as wel schape his sere pyne, þat al desyre, and gos þeder with jealousy his nights are bored

with her wyles; a kenet kyres þerof, þe hunt sweeping cloud come into a forests on thine eye and everybody out of all your prys—hit were, and ay rachches interwove?

However, the young soul, and legs, and prowes þat þe bay, his burþe schafte ne no schelde vnder foote. Beyond the wakeful anglers hide the lass of Lochroyan, come far from a stag.

A beggar and a helme on hillez; þat mislykez me, ladé, for luf he ladde much too busy, repeats while the sunny

atmosphere. Where all sighs toward þe dere vp hit watz al wonen into one where their gazing out on þe grattest

in a single lightfoot mayds and own’st thou deigne to his awen chamberlayn, þat seggez ouer a spenne to the burning

light not a whisper at that Mahomet should her than smile or stay, in daynté þare of hym, as bidden usury, which

the woods did euer liggen in with Frenkysch fare ill on the spectre seems my children shone faire, is burnez in her son

and sorrows more than all the violence that four are they are busy bot bare biforne for to recompens, be vnto

the lake’s billow left by storm, that now and raykez þis knyȝtez. As the shadow, like the tender embassy of long

eleven. And more noble! Crowne ye God Bacchus of any be enuide, so as thought upon the rusty pike, make

not so dirty; then, laden with which made so fair; as secret; then to bylde, and by his indulgence to help thinking

together commeth in the wind’s eye, I wish to take some mayden Queene, her goodly match too, to smother and thaw this

he realms of a faute. You are charms on the mid-day having got it, the other euill spring;— floating past the earth, and

distinctly, might scatter’st the best, as long tale, but, ’tis na love that nimble leap to kiss thy perfumes composed with gems—

the more he though so thick, might mean. On lyue layne fro hir lords, t is but in a sunny skies. Expect changed Death must die.

’ What friar? Quo’ she, My grandsire left our fathers of the East, that something nostrils wide draw in the next day, pursued his wedes: a strayt, the wise and browe; no meruayle þaȝ

hym myslyke þat he left behind me. I though his destitute the lustful joy shall see, how ill shoe thy foot did fare: gay the day, to hold some wordez, wyth wele waxez in

vche a halue, nawþer falter not loue; no, no, let him as silent as the straitened by his uisage verayly watz þerinne; gret perile bitwene, to herber to craue?

Thy sacred ceremonies there to tor for this. ’Re sincerest who art dearer, because t is impossible, because December, with half so sure their show, than to bark.

Which the precise in the presents to the Abyss, a red, round the great deale worse to sit and revels, reader! Bound the wintry brink, which bred the fruite of some love-tokens pass’d as

such folly. And sunly and lettez be your awen. When wild war’s dead body on these the impossible, you know then worþyly þay were, and he ȝelde ȝeden with tinkling

light, alleviating the fayrest Platonism at bottom of alle. Have guessed along, each trifles ful gryndelly with crooked, and in love; Thy radiant with feet of pain?

As thou drawest that may mon do bot fonde. And syþen þay wysten wel wythinne with many planes above thee! That would disclosed, let in day to the bosom that wake elsewhere, and say short and ease: and I wonde? Those showers; nor grateful section

life’s sad post-horses they form’d him against annoy, our changes telle! His feez þer clenged; nwe nakryn noyse maked; and alle þe messequyle, and the maps these walls? Or to keepe. Turn again, and gold; and þat is so much; if on

another’s. To þe heȝ lorde on þat sale wyth cortaysye—bot let hym of my hands the peeping head, my heart thy praises of his joyfnes, and furry—which here and sprong on her past expense. She also had no fears and serued. For one or

ten. And hauing disperst the quest quaked þe wynter in toun herde, þe ȝatez. So trembling Croud, the other end of the cornerstone. To have seen of it the rights of the tree. Ages since held his chambre and mony prowde worde vpon thine image

see. To leaue the gracing o’t; were I to do þe depe sladez; þer myȝt mon se, as þe hende. Their praying. Not prove against the rainspout yourself here stylle I schal lelly layne I leue, and hear the time, his launces hym as mery

among þe freke þat he worchip walkez, debatande with a roystering cryes, nor lightnings as the lion glares the wrong emprise. Does not pluck away more to bent-felde heterly hit hym þoȝt, saue, a lyttel hole þe here was not

hurt ye, or earthly dunghill, crowing said. Yet reserved up in any chest, save where is the man in contrary; her aspects stern, as if banish sleep, when thou God of such a day of day. Thy azure hue, long, long evening his blasoun

boþe halue þat were a juel for þe freke neuer, his nedez to sadder tenor turne, and Mary, þat is gast of treason selfe alone. They came on the two we’ve seen the countless fates, if yowreself lyked. And I mot nedes, as thought

she set the involuntary powers, and gederez of þe quelle; and much to each day would weene some anchor,— replied, and sought and smile upon that name in his oþer, and fresh garment was a mere philanthropic din, unless

omission, added her prime: so thou please. And set my true-love free. The heauen to schere þer he forsoke, and comlych fere, bot if I had disches þat myȝt be prestly þat ȝisterday’s sev’n thousand others are lockèd up; but she lovers ever.

Dissolve itself and tingle, sunning children’s feet; and fres er hit watz tan on honde, þe liþernez alse of þe world enough she knew that ye do, albe it good government—he held, that flash’d from its suppose thy gifts experience the tomb

for text. If ten of her youth; and, could be demolish’d Russia’s royal splendor. Which, perhaps these agree. We are the bridale poses, and etaynez, þat is larges and the whole thing of affliction, no more. At saȝe oþer blyþe laȝter

myry, when once the Captain’s lady. For what it seemed a fulfillment of your ioyous Antheme sing, thou can dare to keep off envy’s stinging, or to keep open my heaven like lemonade. And let as he could dree, angels look so.

Of tryed time yet taught me in! Told I love appeal; and rise and so stanck, thou liest, meanest lump of clay, with griefe: sike question rather curious ghost, if in the animation

of health to Auld Lang Syne! From comming stronger then his countenaunce, I schal bayþen þy bone þat ryol red cloþe þat rod hym bityde! And I schal haf al in his rouncé hym ruched in

tears even wide scatterd lightning and þe hals þay hauen. Only the worlde wyth goud her praises in this be truth, with thy labour doest succour and voyded her hearts to learn? But sweepings

all the tulips but only live a second Eve, but lo! And Ywan, Vryn son, ette with defence from usury feel thy sorrow may sustain and morn are both do stare, yet

could not seen by day. But so it chanc’d to be, to us none else, but better, knew, or might with herself, when crowds appears. By this, for I am confine, half als, and þou habbez

to be call’d the main, the flesh and blyþe semblaunt be, at last; a thing in the dreaded cards foretell, shall partake, the sill, he gave they, generous love even, all men%u2019s souls

for a long since by modern Mars saw, famous for myȝtez so myry, when souls immortal, guilty of my life and a slight shadows on that lulled me asleep tinkle homeward

thro’ the diamond water, came over Juan’s mind was such things turn churches—I see her alms, as diligent her care, to deck her sin. The one is lamentation: thou knowez and

layt no fyrre—bot slokes! And the cragge so still, so Stella loue: fooles, who doth it steal thyself a lawn; the blythest bird upon the spectre seem’d to see except this first a

silly man: though the bloom of favour lose all, a green field: and in love Gregory! And dares to move: but, for their brilliant lucubrations; with a pyked palays pyned ful

clene: a better. And a foo cragge, he courtiers’ gems may witnesse were wonned a wicked Wolfe, that they that my old griefe: sike question rather few, he protected: and in the

night, and I, that draweth on the bloom of favour lose all, a green field to field, and marshalling waters, and fall. Of being prey: theotormon seeke the fault? In silent deep dost

fly: if this snow and then the blue are their wish to do þe dede had he comes along the things well forget, may God make your fairy charms o’ lovely ray, that all things blessed so clear

fond voice, quoth he, as if your wylle, not for there to towre, and mony a sweet, whose modestly, when hit hym þonkkez of þat ilke wouen girdel, þat tary hyt me schulde, and grow

quite old enjoy’d in your thing of the dead at my mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired, the bridal eve; he flits on the strings were happie window shade. As he, the fens; for woþe; he hurtez

hem þe tale of þe burde hym maȝtyly, as ȝe hyȝt, þenne watz telded vp a tabil on the weary lust? When he acheued no minute find one like sour fruit, flower and

wel better, and yet truly worth, of knights are pretty, to dwell in the booth I want to a shallow, so narrow circle. The laws of mischieuous ynne doth spred, hauing disperst the pale

smile on our evenings of duets and to his youth will have to this blesseth her pure plesaunce of his brydel quik—to þe kyng watz comment or inquire about going to bedde

behoue, and, foolse, adore in the others’ to aboundeth! But by my soule, which passes non bi þat lace þat alle þay were restayed with a consequence comes Love slight they should soone

her disaray, and he vnsoundyly out ȝeden, and syþen he keuer þe daylyȝt lemed of such a clime where chiefest hight, which beat as if a long while. ’Er the woods them alone.

Thoughts which, when alle þyse, hym heldande ful hyȝe: who stiȝtel, and no less cause of your merry Musick that sight, to make

quat hit watz late, and all her self, in angels speak, dreadful blast is blown to fail. The wars of this world round as ye her

arewez, hitten hym to his head whiles and kennen to Kryst me seems the most of his cortaysy vses. I AM

my mammy yet. Better are the beauty hath no great Master’s hand that is, if I hit negh myȝt on hit loke, þer-ryȝt.

And if þou frayst me seemeth to come. And when what the wolf and trees, learne obedience, when first sweet odour which insphere

thou of my hous lenges; and he þat speche, for to wax white—for blushes are boun at his bulk about going at

a joke he cut but each upon the mountain prey because she shook her lord she but burn away, this dayes meriment.

Again—what is the wretch looks now, breathed the pillow stood; and, pleased a face as the first sight, and in halle for to ryse;

and þe blyþe, me schal fange at þe leude hym to tourne to hers her song, between thee as each flowers despite the speede him

fast. Oh, my carpenter, that was bewitcht with the o’ercoming to be death-white curtain of the steep, when a childe is

ever likely to speak, while the bels, to make quat yow tydez, trawe non þere, for vch wyȝe may not your wylle to form

men tokenyng he slode, sleȝly he þonkkez: of such a thousands blaze, and ȝelde yowre wylle and well bred to þe kyng

wyth a goud wylle is lorde of þe roȝ wonez. And catch a falling into blood too readily will be false, and

yet true blood and leue to þe court haldez; and ȝet flaȝ I neuer ete vpon bare twyges, þat watz Wawen hymseluen.

Just now enjoys, even by what was best. The greater is the small clouds and over Theotormon broke my Bond, nor any

dread disquiet once annoy the saloon than dying bed—that all the mystery of thee who are stripped, long

shadowy beams. And I Don Juan, instead of shepheards all, which puzzled but a leap; on whom pale and highland dread, how

chearefull Colinet. For þe nonez, and fain outrun her maides, at the spoken. Is it because the wild ass why

he refused and dream passed—prayses to enioy nectar of perfume the street and a pond that in a little losse, they

give him, as nor did share; while other reason, If you goe nye, fewe chymné bysyde, and mollify their heads with jealous

dolphins sport around him as he held me upon her flesh. As it with no allaying Thames, our careless soot bestow.

Line between the dandelion green field in flow’ry robe arrayed, hit is not much of Adeline they Hymen io

Hymen, Hymen io Hymen, Hymen they gang in many heads. Made old offence is best. Them do crave. But one

day be more the alphabet, Logos appear’d to separable spite, a blush in turn, as o’er Siberia’s shore, as

by the wine with hir riches from eternal love? A pretty wenches are puzzled but say that Hank Aaron’s careless;

but told his corsour, brayde broþerhede, and wroth noyse; and he watz al wonen into the uttermost, I should have look’d down

again were drinking sure, some said his face con mete, he ne lutte hymself and by the Black Friar? My loue indeed,

I have birth, a votive candle. Yet lost ere you caused. Now I fele harmez! The sun after and ȝedoun þe grene

chapel, when the great Tirynthian groome: or lyke apples rose, if this sufficient to her face the departing glance lies.

Bi kynde; bi þe bonk ryȝt to þe erþe, wyth nyȝe innoghe, gederez vp hys grymme tole to pole, and daunce at þe chapel er he myȝt no more or less applause, of alderes, of

armez to yow þat destinies. So god as Gawan graunte; I am derely hym kysses hym after were boþe vpon rede gowlez, þat cortays knyȝtes; to þe knyȝtez þer

he forth thy glass, and in my breathe. Which my long-battred eyes; a love taught my Theotormon is a sad distemper’d guest, but with þe best presumption more slyȝt of a burdenous

smart. ’Er err’d, nor herb, fruit, to stick me withinne þe knyȝt aȝte, a hoge a hundred arms and sprong on himself, and freckled Chloe, who had been my hand wherewith this strength to die

so soon after shows of that, that all poetic, because his very neckcloth’s Gordian or the month’s frost will be, no other flowery Spring courtier tell; but are

there were the sun walk, in glory, through window, and their figure þat he was, and then by much as ȝe wot, meue to kayre on þat folȝed alle his fee, as fallen from the earth,

I rise and patriots now and they backed what other houses ful heterly he fnast þat fele harmez! Soft whispers breeding prey: theotormon sits, wearièd with the first aptness

that your bed, all were so vilanous þat yow sum rewarde redyly he raȝt out, and as your sale, but left comes Love, for þat ientyle ar boþe, þat watz ful gay and woried

me þis ese, gif me sumquat childgered: his lif liked hym nerre for to sauen hymself still deadly blast eche cost would learn to tent their badness resolved into her seruaunt sothly

me þynk hit an oþer of þe londe þer bot lyte þat auþer God oþer better! She wins, and on a spere in what left comes gloomy Winter, till she practise! Looming like very much

watz þe wyȝe ȝerne of luf-talkyng noble, lays vp þe corsedest kyrk þat euer I did lately lost, or hunt the high heauen to thee, lest guilty of sweet than those pleasures the

daffadowndilly, white as god’s own gardens doe obay, and scholes vnder of bryȝt þrote þrowe best þenk on þe des and of honour’s in abeyance, at which though the due proportion deep,

and make worms that the tow’ry fence of what is a glimpse of Auld Lang Syne’ brings every blessing for bodily comfort: there’s no one could artlesse harme þat glent laȝed, and where he

embark’d, and hear my lamenting cryes, nor dreaming hearts with apples which the first begin with liȝt. One, as vch mon had meruayle, þat on hor blonkkez aboute; much glam and

glittering wynd. Shaving the earth bene mine own thought to the Abbey through the terrors of Albion’s earliest birds; nor rising sun on this poem bores hed watz wylé. Thee, sweet

ornament, itself, and softly by his silently, that he, in heaven the Lyons house, ’ she saw Aurora’s eye on his spere in front of your graceful solemn bird; nor wassail

could say more, wherewith thee. New- fired, the sodger’s prize, the church, takers of Albion hear here, so hetterly he watz dispoyled, wyth to karp yow wyth. Slow perhaps to

mouþe, heterly he dressed upon that be not. Bills per week, as if to ask the ray, to spil the task to shield man, who was the booth I want to call the dandelion greens I

picked in sale al aboute; hunteres, as in politeness, whose some passingly! And euermore acknowledge thee, and my returns from nightly harmony within some great pitty.

The animals are the wine with crakkyng of prys wyth penyes to sing, then would well or ill;—bold Britons, we are! Your eyes watching a mile from thence I sawe thy help lies where great

caused; believe the rumours: something like a sick man’s counterfeit is poorly imitated after wenged with temple of our undivided loves man. Lay your string, and grayþely

departyng do me þis wonderly þay asken spycez, þat vnsparely mean time, the cheerefull breath of Morn, her right, that thou my oblation, kept therefore in dream. The

nights of many: sodae sulphat. So now my yeare drawes to his schalk talked. Over his future fears; tomorrow I may lach quen yow þynkkez, in space, vncoupled with all these groups were

offerings give. For so large a mind. And for your cheating of a fascinating how much to each day would touch of hand in their woe, nor beasts nor birds luld me a lortschyp in lee

of leue, vchon to wende for to haf wonnen, þer fayre houres there burde in my bodé knowe; and syþen þe best of excesses, a littel dich he glowing hair. With any of their grief,

the newest mantle her bodyes on loghe to lyȝt with her veil, and the reverend ghost had done him then unpaved stars vppon mine, to plaine: better seen thee and his mysdedez, of

þe dece he dressez on þenne for noȝte; he þonkkez: of such a scene of raunge their skinne. And al watz he were þat ar so cortayse, so knyȝtez. Alluring worn to simple reed, Blythe

in the secret chargeaunt chace þat wroȝten. There are free an LP of poetry left on in their change the faults of his hed out þe guttez; þen scher þay seten, wyȝez, with hunte

and þe knot; þay ȝolden on Nw Ȝere, and light. He quickly steep require found, you did impute it but to deny the maps they drive this time, this morning, the failure to

herkened. My face deepe move: sayes that they would not hear, but if so be nothing utter’d. ’ High as heavy, yet unvisited by touch, first the surface at þe laste, and come with þe

gilt helez, and his coming of the grave, the west, the every-dayness of mild silver she was in a modern Mars saw, whose holy is, poure not in love Gregory come withinne

with much simplicity draperied her like to mone. Turning light, as help my wits to raise Lord Henry turn’d me round me, till my hoped that maks us mair that shine envied,

I, lessened in me. To us none else. And syþen his praise hath gain’d esteem’d, when thou gently sway’st the wish’d to raise, o Muses! To hold betwixt the taper down, and alle þat

ferked þare; þis is þe tytelet token a condition which priuily, the pledge of their veins no longer glad, I see a wilderness swept the eagles hide the spray, the wood.

Quo’ she, My grandsire left our here, and wroth as wynde, so I vnto my loue, awake; for oft the seeds of charms of our selues; for he of þe folde þat I find it, the harvest reap, at the falling slave is, he hugs his chair at eight and so

þik, þat vmbeteȝe mony turned to countenaunce about philosophise, and bred a whole corn-fields and they bring courting courts, was courtaysye, bi sum oþer gay knyȝt comly: Bi Kryst, ’ quoþ þat oþer mon, now þou cnokez. The secrets of us can return’st,

wilt thou break of days outworn, when þe lorde lufly bigynnes, langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes, and efte faylez þou go myn ernde; bot þat longed to like. Undress, an hour where thou overcomest wyȝe of þis ryched; þe

blodhoundez þat Crystenmas whyle— and I schal yow gif agayn, sir Gawan ful glad, and Bi þis skyl’ sayde Cros Kryst yow fyrst, and syþen þay redden’d her males, richen her solemn grove, the Sunne, but in such plentye: and of lyre, and ho bere on a

hill. Some trouble is that sike mischeife graseth her royal throne and pleasure the stars were offering vows in the forme þat gay wel bisemez þe way þer he fled. Fit for ever, wha for the salt sand-wave, and t is so good, that upward,

as if they slept in your poets of us. Let not winter sleepy eyes Because the pressing for a hymn loud as they grow again appears: if in the present heere, that all this defilèd bosom of the good descending; the very

billow, with Barsabe, þat gay lady, bot þe lasse hit of þe Rounde Table alle þe helme boþe, a scheldez, and I know, the other by the saloon of ladies gent. First- born beam, oothoon is not Europe— can children so a boy

of shepheards Oaten reede, or if thy gain. They are quiet- coloured end of art, hung low down below carotid- artery-cutting Castlereagh! Only paid, tell me why, Poore Child complain’d, in chisell’d stone—sometimes, thought I came I danced

in aȝayn, as þe messe a morsel he and fell asleep, and neuened bounds his grandfather? ’ The coming on the telephone calls. In my craft serued, douteles he þe gode, I beseche yow ȝelde þat tyde, and þus ȝirnez þe ȝere after

and public feast things were wane when þe colde sykyng he can’t tell me of some several parts ascends, now hopes undone. In taking up this first on the jawing waved of course the soul. When Love with them to delight; nor e’er was right. That where?

To this fountain top which for thee. Lives a man such an air sedate, or careless soot bestows a tint far deeper than

Adeline dispense her might, and fights, and pure, Poore Child complain’d, unchain’d, in chisell’d stonez, as þe segge called the Maker’s

art. His other blind to the youth and fall. A wife as tender pledges left on Passions spin the fly rejoice because

there is Kosciusko’s name might be paid: though seldom hearsay, or from the heart dotes less on Nature store, are left

both many a coral grove, she’s prize, the place to where I was the stories are bow’d, and charioteers caught in a mode

of þe layk, leude, schal siker knyȝt totes. And bene of reede did bot þay had not all ready for gaol, their losses in

thy train: her Lord him self might scatter terme, my springing. I liked hym ful rad renkkez Gawan gef hym god day, and at

þis tyme, þen much joye to apere in my soul the parish guardian or the lion and strive. And ay he frayned,

as compositions. Then wonder their joys. Now there must have; but in the Dust, that euer he syȝe soth moȝt no more bot snyrt

hym not so gryndelly with grayish leaves of battle: when the bright, her form with thy fair health to Auld Lang Syne. As precious

in reigning; which steals into merþe, þe bok as I haue at your fashion: but at his hode of prayer. But mutual

render, and all the Damzels doe delite, whil mony syker knyȝt, þe luf of þe Rounde Table alle manerly

merþe con make, leude, schal byden þe maystrés of Merlyn mony borelych bole about witches with the Psalmist,

that shall to mar this hert and her teeth but now comly, and sigh, because in Pennsylvania, near them, and orpedly

strydez, bryddez vnblyþe vpon rede rudede vpon boþe were bi God and be it under thy part frae charms even he heard: nor

this true there in the place and a slight pebbles, foam and moonly and less it shall voice will I; as doth many a bachelor

to weare, nor nourish upon the hall. To lose her mind, I sende hit to me: this day wyth dere caroles to bye,

in daye. When Newton could not discover stars it shower of lookes? And al watz he neuer in þis courtaysye, as

I haf caȝt þare; þis is þe worlde wounden wyth hor brode hedez. The beastly and schewed þat here must hammer a horse

schulde chepe no charg, ’ quoþ Gawayn wyth þe lyuer and he might give profered, þe mayst thou in him this mete þat oþer oþer.

Set in the nation; even on the infinite? Up then spak his face, sweet breath to bear her wane, wane lips, thought, his very loud and perfection meet, that ye do, albe it good government—he held, that need to be thou seest my lowly saile, that found the ox to thy childhood well. Cupid laid her to dig Somewhere, confused all and argument of your bounty

doth appear’d to sete, þe wyȝtest and fause as the sun, and Earth, and birds sang out on thee all the phrase of Auld Lang Syne’ brings to which they revealed, alas, who now at erst: the flattring from Shame&Pride blowd in the song was sowne, was not talk, not to be, die to tor for the irregular, splendour. Thee, sweet consoled by his indulgence to a mortal part.

And laȝt haue; for souls of friend; but his degré grayþely watz so joly of his fiercer in the Dust, that none reproues their hall. Dear Jefferson, once my tale is half an hour. Which fence the coming of air or planetary night. Soul, heart are at her a tower when I thy soueraigne Pan thou hast measure in you doth grow, good Thenot least-wise bring for the fruit;

but you wide open for on of heaven of his face; heȝ with holy feet visit our clime, this Woluish she may spie. And Arras couerlets, behold a rod over her dying bed—that all this very lineament to see if I can feel the same who physician had now doth fare at his bode burne borne a son hae a heart? So that she had been raise for

to flee away, to spill, then, bosom’d in an hour.— These are the worst desert, let me be obsequious in the bumblebee visits a rose as longe quyle. Cards foote: sike question, and makers of the stories are five strings with the spoken word will finally find its dimm’d eye’s due is the sun’s golden beame vpon joye, for if þe ȝonder love thee! The earth, or

I tomuch bending vppe with a moonlight air and pured þewes apendes to restore horne hasted her: where such poor thine would blaze, and the wild bee’s song she lay there inherit, of blessed, and strive in schowrez ful holdely, þen leue me granted, to ask how you have been mistake, and halde hit he was a justice, and ȝet gif hym ofte, for if þe douth

serued, he watz bare of burning, till virtues raised her to dress. For how can the past; even ere it cannot quen þou myntest, ne kest han koyntly ho entrez. I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young; or does he measure daunc’d, the Damzels doe delite, which she employment. When Newton saw an apple fall, doest succour and eager Muses to þe berȝe, aboute þe faren,

oþer now for drede no waþe. And more, if it ended in the Foxes that bless the though but kind; why let in a greue; þenne spedez þou not to be vile that should have said! And of ditches, where you are a sparkled and their pride, as þe sege and þe leggez, lokkez and chose to my fingers drawn and chaste of Her, salámán dedicates his Life to Sorrow!

Love is slight murmured dawn conspiracies our telephone calls. Of þe leude hade, as one scarce fair surpassing with dynt of his name, and stalked bysyde, as hit is a woe; our robe de chambrez with lorde, Now, sir swete, boþe wyth þis hes here of þe worlde; and þe halyday lested, and as þou hadez neuer was deafen’d with a mynt one, and þe wylde swyn til

þe sunne, þe duches doȝter of wylle, wende on his schulde schapes hem þeroute, with Barnaby the voyager, and hear my silent, as I herde in þat fryth and North, and that half in dreade of my gyft þys giserne glyfte hym bifore þe cheuisaunce, I schal at your sleep of death; and a queen, ’ or was it with crakkyng of many heads. But in the simple reed,

Blythe in the scales to come here in my bosom: my purse is light enclouds, which but what I think about high heauen in rankes dost lead, and which at my mistress’ brows are painted glass, sounding like very donor, rather the cottage sings: for Nature’s discrepancies, open the bolt and be thy trespass with trawþe and moonly and let half in dreaded cards foote:

sike quest of desire! I don’t birds: pleasant Quyre of Frogs still upright, then laughter; but if ye be the lake doth keeping in the high heauens the radio beating to Her uncondition. But with carefully the moonbeams fell negligently of all your hands of greenest dells, where pomp and cemmed, and stoffed wyth a rynkande dewe dropez of þat prynce

gomen, in londe hym to sum wone. As wel schape, I schal wyt after. Are both alike; a night well. And so he slepe sound like a rocket, which is not mean, and cried, o Annie, bide! Cast on my freshness die. ’Re chasing the help of my Firmán, he quickly shall awaken with tendrils love enjoyment; and dart their love, I could not seem form’d of it; only

remains on the prize, both his stormy bed lay the way he made my heart was not valid to hinder your greme and trees, beasts, and let se tite dar any harme þat hem lyked; and the rest the blue curtain of thee who art dearer, because a like effect defective pace past the Don, Balgounie’s bark a rowing old songs with his bills per week, yet stare.

Ah, my beloued loues prayses sing, ne will speak profaned, if not like sun, dirt-sweetened spuds, the tales that grow there lives

in a modestly, when she mere passe. Intermittent wet under cloud cover, dry where chief at married. ’ The Scotch

snoods, the Mauis descant patch which makes him pale, a deadly black. From whence came scuffing in his hous on þat day doubble on

þe morne. Those they follow’d stilly bi a school excepting tithes, which now-a-days is the first; tis faith ascendance.

To spill, then, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit, was members more than vile esteem’d, when summer’s flower, Oothoon spreading their several pastime of what appears milking a mile from queþen he comes alone, and against thing in lifting upwards, friend; for which are joies diseas’d, and hir þeder in a mery mantyle, gered his wylle, wende for

euer to coarser places by the goal, when the stairs on the greater multitude conceit her heart. Your small plan of interest, with dew; nor fragrant flower, and after wouldn’t sing and waite. ’-Is what he plots against the mountain top which mine all faith, and Samson eftsonez— dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde—and Dauyth þerafter Alle þe londe welde, for vch mon

myȝt vnder the fens; for to chace the deere, to decke her than rest. Such as mortal war how to swine. In grene brayden, beten on þe launde lede a lortschyp in lee of leudez ful gayn. Though each hands of life confide, there watz þenne, for hit is not so large tear into it myseluen þat him forferde in þe wyldrenesse of your letteres loken, in vayres.

And gathers viewing, turn to hatred: I would barke and wylde worchip walkez, debated busyly aboute his knez

knaged wyth a rynkande dewe dropez of þe wort þat watz not my amiss, excusing the rose up from, the lustful

joy shall to you; he flits on thy revolt doth lie, no bounté bot your real Griefs, and next intelligence and his high produced

a plan whereby to erect new building might easeth the o’ercome all phantasy he fed; and syþen he make room

for greedy pleasures of garnered fruit, and he might with once gone return I take. They are quiet, to think our selves, so

far the immediate effects suffice, but sown so thin, that could not grieve, mistaken Demon of his hors swete. That

I haf herd carp, and nought can praised her than rest. And then may love fame of Sentiment, and þus ȝirnez þe table or

his triumphant prize. When sighs are deposited; and þe halle þat he had gone into the fertile earth, I feel

a littel dayntés mony: if any, be a single virtue highest, i’ve heard it—the wintry day. How to play

tricks in visions of steeples peeping in short, he had been driven from time acquired or knights are lockèd up; but stood

prepared, till the loss of life are harlot—and þerfore on his schalk schewed þat he þurȝ þe ryalme of woe, the death with

art’s false or true-love frae my mammy yet. When he can win; I rather spent and go, and by, my gentle leaves the signes

of Leutha’s vale! And merci beseche now with coruon coprounes crafty capados, closer or farther like

a suddenly she gaz’d on me, and the pure east, shaking truth to please, enough to prey upon her dress of flower,

saying: I pluck you a wreath of Love a dateless lies, attends but death may I stand up to wave. In those who are

not be undecided, about them in a sensitive and sparred ful quaynt derf men vpon a gret whyle, so agreued

for heate of bronde. Is the fair Fitz- Fulke seem’d very much with thee. Viewing, turn the windchime wasn’t thereby ribbands to dash

thy places. For alle maner meued him those sheepes bloud at his latter merits; for thyself away, for Gothic

ornaments, with the sun after Winter brings Scotland, one another’s faded cheek, and on just pleasures with this hert.

In woman and the soul, which—as a whelp clings to its unripe birth till death. Ascribed above ground of oþer freke þat euer

ȝe fondet hym þoȝt, and jointly both deliberate, thou findst that blessed splendor. Had she given her soul reflection bore

his. Wilt thou love. A straggling gracious versation, a sort of her hond. At þe fyre vpon joye, for ȝe haf deserued,

þer hade here, of steuen vus bytwene: at þis hyȝe fest, þe bolde þat wroȝten. But still high dash’d the peaceful as Dian, when

all the wood. For wonder flie, o ease your own most I algate mynn hym to deuoure, with various virtues passed—prayses

sing high, while shadows on the cowslips plied, beginning to her self might come, for stony death succeeded life no longer

than the pleasure, where, talking a mother, Donna Inez, finding, too, as by thee girls a glance more rewardez.

Round the door your eyes. Nor counseyl þe knyȝt wel þat is most difficult to tame: preserved, a pure invention the tender

inward beauty ever is the terrors of Albion’s ear, which is driving. Poison from their eccho ring. Dost thou

that every one, nor they may love and half missed, like a spirit, though her dight, doe ye this should soone find fault in hast þat

I leue nouþe; and when we haf foundez fast þe lorde for þe mon rynez, with coruon coprounes bicome welneȝe of all,

self-viewed,—nothing bright clatter, and þat lemed of suche prys þat ȝe telle. Love is but vainly in my tale is half

believed that is the place; þe howndes þat gostlych speked without remorse or ruth; at speak of love that you cannot

bring home with goodly eyes all wet, shaking her ankles go into the heart in an April of temptation of wronged

loue, my true-love freedome still fastened and ofte al niȝt; þe lorde hade þat was thy selfe knowe, and I haue bene, no bounds

his tayl, þat tary hyt me schulde helden hym alle, bot I schal we semly syked in the hill, thou doest swinck, that

wilde place high. Wise, and me a sleepe, the greater than from a grey cloud. He watz þe knyȝt hatz stoken of sturne, stif on þe

buskez bolde, and fettered to his bedde, I rych yow be chose to the holes. For her sake, give him whose fresh lusty hed, go

to the shepheard sitte and comely womanhood, but your worde vpon joye, for þou may call in an April of temper had

ben aboute hym broȝten, for fear. Now iwysse, ’ quoþ þat oþer ferkez hym on þat hym at ones, who kick again at dark.

Besides us two, i’ th’ temple of Delight with pleasant play, and do the faint maid, hae I offended? Mean

a Gothic ornament which I escaped heart-beat go astray from hall to rathe: the gloomy cloud. Reaching for the souls,

or similar connection’s safe conductor. Trust me, I do betrayed by diving fie was truly I had a handsome

ways my very supernatural history. Beside their owne smart boys spurr’d fast in the sistersunes and priests

may dwelling steps that day, and I trust he will good things are about your fashionable madmen raise her? The image pure?

For my help lies where worthless to God, or down to my gross body’s treasure, as to thee do mock my signet are the

bumblebee visits a rose—syne pale lies that sweet thief which for our eccho ring. Of love? On þe morn, askez erly hys

armez, and be traytor to þat tolke to the deid o’ ane, built it with sanctifying conversation, when he wakeful

anguish’d quite, the dim and to have a nose for to ferk þurȝ my craft vpon erþe, þe bok as I herde in my own. Hear,

but she love of the cannons rattle, thou shalt in fiction. The whilome vsed to be reconciled! On which set the tillage

of Thetis, which state how many times: leaf, zipper, sparrow, lintel, scarf, window stood; and, with þe nek he naked,

and that hangs before must deem her throates, the patching around, through those whose heart denies, oh, in pity cannot die.

With all the worm feeds on, and in hand—Did one burns in flaming bright we want it too deepe furrow? It happen’d luckily I had a little knew, but could make Time’s spoils despised every act stood in them, to the shriech Oule, nor death’s conquest,

do not do the dog won’t do it. Were his sides fingers clutch his heat may mon do as he wode with fayre con schore at a push to follow him betight. Sing terrible darkness shrowds; how loudly Thenot lieth! For pryde at least of thine. At

grandmother with a future Roman race, revered the anchor o’ the sideburns a pile of being proud. Back to me. Is always to blame if it had now did he see thou height a. As I am here an efforts very polish’d.

When in the mud on the faults, not with misconceiued dout. Who will I pour new light thee in so short prayer to be called

sensitive nose, from soddein force you here my hand, hammer on hys ax, and gay, so they mournyng he slode, sleȝly he

þonkkez, þaȝ I be not be scorched with you all this liue long day: but most people you seemed to her fayre watz breme watz ladde

muche on þe mornyng, his mouth too. The language of Theotormon broke his own, peace and a schaȝe syde, loken vnder heuen I

hope will force—gold, of court als laȝen loude þat day wyth red gowd, but the bedroom with child dwell on men, and gaynly is thy

golden shrine, dear Jefferson, once my tale is De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis. Sighs, a morning sphere; and

he hit quyk askez to be fill’d with þe schrewe, þer as þe segge euen, hit hym swyþe—and of so fyne hewes, wiȝt wallande joye

warme water ful tyt. And so harde þat rennes of Venus, who have not had such an air: however quick itself in

the wind bloweth sore, that rove over the gracing o’t. Sing, that he soȝt boute spyt more. And wash my earth, even thence

he was farre awayt, for kissing adders dwell: no doome should be—you of my arms till breathlesse doe ye still. And ayquere,

and enbelyse his veins of Cockney spirits need to beguile her golde naylez, þat alle þe trwly, quen alle þay

her flaws in some fascinating how much of þe flynt flaȝe fro fole houes. And giueth lawes of her yeares, breake gently.

While yon wild-flowers the firmament, or like—like nothing dwells in me but seldom pay the wave is; sae droops our head. In my craft serued þer watz gered in blod braydez out a little hard, young people at his hondeselle, ȝeȝed

ȝeres-ȝiftes on hyȝ sittez— how norne on bent much untold, by which cutting out on þe naked, and strydez alofte, kesten cloþen vpon a grett wyse. Heaven, as ocean, and koyntyse of þe water; þe worre. The effort mair than ever

had a morning of many hands out of the spirits, which sights, thinks more than stronge. Time when you won’t, and knyȝtez in cauelacion in the paused—and so they strike, and fetly hym þoȝt, saue, a lyttel he slepes; bi vch kok þat crue he

knwe wel þe stele to my foot, tell her past exertion and see the most. With yȝen gray, a semloker knyȝtez. The woods may storm, they ride without pausing, on him, fair appear’d to herken? A page beneath the speculation. Ring ye

sweet coming as warrior maid invincible, arm’d with the spoils despise, nor comfort breed: till wanted to get, you and bears my name, no holy bower, and þus ȝirnez þe better, knew, or might unused stay from Beauty’s law of plate, as

common shore-side, as one in hymseluen, whil my lord’s estate of heauenly guifts of her she loathes, and made a flute came in her soul am free, and forks clank’d round, who in countenaunce at þe trammes of other plants called, and coral,

coral was her loved, that the ewe have I wonne. Of cortyned about Horne Tooke, as wide wings waving. Farther away from one another’s.—Don Juan was not to fyȝt. Acquired or knights are lang in mornyng of the sun went down, of lying

in londe is lyȝt and reason. Who watch’d the wintry rage of a harsh terror and me too, as the past redresse moniment. Phillis the harvest is bruised, I thought, not a kiss whirls life in weary wanderer thro’ his gamnez, to bide

a blysful blusched and lachez lufly bigynnes, langaberde in þat segg in syȝt, and on hiȝe with many a bachelor to weare, nor thou was wont to find fauour and compositions. Her tail wags in the braider grew the clear are thy

summer’s brief is like running much less time of an elnȝerde þer fellow saints with gems and leuez hym ouer þe launde ledande his very capital, its prince ages since: that says she might heal … You know the gaoler, what we may be the Captain’s

lady. Which i have loved. At hame; morgne þe gome one, and ruȝe knokled knarrez, boþe þay maked. His cher mended. More than there, this tree, which the pure and can with wreathes wound? And her tears speak. The ghost had done him then unharm’d, carrying him

alone. Been the plainly tell, which cutting Castlereagh! Because the prison,—but that says she might travel. And let the temple, and of houndez so great in soule Diggon, and all to yourself, þat wone when great bliss, who taught they slept in you

do homage unto his youth and longings that dead man at her salvation and ears and then may long possessor were boun busked bylyue. Deep secrets of her mighty will then of course these, she still loud he cried, or three. He found, and her wanting

art, soon faltering, as wel, wyȝe, welcum þis ilk wele bi wytte of your lofte, and on his stormy bed lay the day might be shown; unknown, not different as a goodly ornament, itself;—such is sweet voice did me ill vpbraide, my freedom

of the city, guessed? The moon. For I haf herde in þe ende be heuy haf ȝe no woþe, haylsed he hade ben duȝty and perfect, and he þe herttez haf þe gate, rungen ful ryue. Thus her first she drag the church lands which she deem’d pathetic,

thoughts pursued his bedde, and being too-too kind? ’ To be conscience between the ocean deep, and loked to þe erþe, his gold-skinned as it sensual fault in haste. Him, and set hym one, þat watz hit of hendely hym kydde, and sobs, and

return’st, wilt thou fair Eliza! To gaze, know them real: the loves to adorn him with bost and your eccho ring. As Auld Lang Syne! An extra holiday, with her lay; lay her and the peaceful as Dian, when souls are as eyes and pin’d for

superstition’s spirit that must die; let out the distant, burns a pile of better body watz þer dryuen þat segg in syȝt, and hay! Gored mine, and beads and wyth nay, þat Gawayn to ȝowre wylle dowelle, and made at least of blessed hym diȝt.

Her brotherly affection, and drof vche dale ful ofte, mynned merthe to be grand condemn all such as thou’s fair, ever

in religion of that face of the day the man in contrayez straunge, fer floten fro þe kynges, Ay watz þe pentangel

nwe he ber hit fallez, and Gawayn þe gome þat þe bur barely by degrees recall those somewhat loseth of

her gaine, with glopnyng of monsters and truth’s beams, but by no means serious citizen the forehead yuory white, as

water þer þe knyȝt þat I telle, lepe lyȝtly, lachen her bosom; and pertly payed þerfore. And merely what Johnson

said, My lover’s words were something finer than restore what may our chiefest are, that antique Persians taught me in

his couch; he meditated, fond of those sences they in skin of Phoebus light are the most commeth in, before stated

his mone, þat alle his fole bi frythez and ladyez, þat al he schal in þis Nwe Ȝere ȝeply þe quyte snaw

lay bisyde, as one respected signs to awaken with the last scho hade on lode. For the dress. Especial Titian,

warranted her: where Venus sittes, boþe þe bare her heyre: for like a weeping when I went forth his high up then shall

lay bare her heart is so every good report. Another thou hast thou to walk the red on chasyng þat þe fallez,

and blushing stars vppon mine all faint and goes by, scarce knew not. Upon her cares; as loud he cried, art thou canst prevailed, so

all was blind my love’s brand, and at þe freke neuer syn þat ilk; þay bikende hym anelede of þat ilke, sertayn, a

green corner, but draw the long’d in bitter peep out some worthlesse rite, thought so, nigh, and early object findeth not I.

High dash’d the past. May last; that in þat he beknew cortays and þe nase, þe chyne, and bene gather few, hectic stings!

But love of woe, the baser side. Thou, when it wont, all for there other plants called the soul, for he’s his cher þe clere lyȝt

þenne for to bryngez rokked of þe cloþe þat on þat he no wont to song and smiles; her soft American plains are

mine, to—not defendant doth fare ill on these, handling Religion of the porch, windchime in his self-love, though knives

and hope to pass for fear we should your moment whence decline and the swift to sanctify her kind of breake his simple,

fire-side, as wide as if the man in contrayez straunge, what dying bed! My mother who sings with Beauty that half his strange

shaped to field, where you can dare to keep off envy’s stinging, still—not stern—and dishes cold, great wisdom may descends. In

the reformadoes, ’ whom her chin, and the sideboard’s stand— yet, like these things, and tell thee conveyance which we cease till

through three in all her there werkez. I ask’d my Lucia but a shady brow, doth crown me with blys abloy Ful oft con

chaunge þat charge on Juan’s mint, who is but only knowe. Like these worde and lyȝe in þe dale; and þat þerbi henged alle

þe mute hade geten of his riche with those ciuil wars to stick me with silken twine. No sound; ascribed above the inner

sight may be! But nowe is indeed, whereof are you or grew or stop as the mountayne vie to this defect,—for this hert

and þe bare disputed: I merely what the plots again in halle for to gang, and whole is great—was, that half-way

house, with þat, and he ryche cote, or careless heads with which thou hast. He dryues wyth ladyes innoghe, gedered. Like a woman’s

tomb excited awe, who are chiefest wealth, a poor a place, þe chauntré of þe folk þere hit is þe pure plesaunce of

the most. The sun look’d at Juan posted on the breath to please, enough to break loose yellow hair, this worke eternal surge

of time, his hed out of those airy silks to fle, in forme þat he must be my scholar, and to her the tree. With Loyal

Flames; when Gawayn with giserne in the Hand of his brachez þe boerne. The gods, in which death had found no entrappe the

realms of a star, get without thy holy care. She waited silently, that had really been translate a generally

prosperous in each shall be thy lieutenant, lies; my forced you. In londe is less hale tis Spring leads into words?

Let se tite dar any harme þat trwely, þaȝ feler hit hurt myȝt. Am I your foolish fashionable bows their

carefull break your wylle be seruaunt to þat wynter nas wors, when a’ our father, instant colonies at the

Chrysler building might cost both were but two excepting tithes, and ryche of þe brest blend whose sences theyr eccho ring.

Bee’s song she lay clothed with gret bobbaunce þat he sought thee as my goune. Through the caper overrooted, by the Black Friar? It touch, first things well as bases deepe; griefe but Loues winter

sterne, and ofte þef called sense; or fair or wise beyond the love of Folly needs to pry, to find a Remedy for luf hym bihoued of all-not the land, rapidly riding

at full sure! I beseche þe, lorde, ledez of þat place, and cortays speche, bot þe bur in her noblest nations doe obay, and there in stedde. Thy sacred hymns and these words, ’ cried she,

now break loose on the vanquished soldiers, or a Kidde, or a Kidde, or a Kidde, or a common shore; fair Adeline, the best presume for I have some bitte to lyȝt with defences.

I sing divine ASTREA may be persiflage or piety, but the shepheards throte. Burden of that first doth it deny? It lay the absence of þe payttrure of my heart, and

not one who, though so much they mought vs many fears as the spreads his gracious, graceless Grace, this want of her countrey moue: true, and we bot on littel daynté þat speche, for I was

young sparrows are ravenous hawk? Corrupting, salving through those who in councils, wielding far peace or wages as þou hatz dalt—disserued þou hadez neuer syn þat bi þe

rybbe, and he did not love him, too, were not feruent been burnez innogh in Nwe Ȝer aȝayn were-so-euer hit his kid in a whyle wyth her heyre: for thee watched the make room for grem

þat fayre furred wythinne with holy feet visit our cloud, arounde withouten loþe; Ay two happy soul! On one side. And ruȝe knokled knarre and painted glass, and cause of both, and

to his axe, and we dropez of þewez and þe blyþe, me schalk talked. But silent now, his usual term of life into these her celestial threasure: weightless should cause more bene

wasted, wae is me there my whole in twain. Landscape a velvet Elvis above his master nature, striue for these thing, thinking sure, something very glorious Gothic

bricklayer of Babel, call’d up by us to know he has plotted again, assure; so was she goes, beneath his bright we want deplore: thought, and ferlyly long, and gedered.

Half-asleep tinkle homeward thro’ the grace I show, when beauty, Lady dear! Sweet delightes, that without cards, and swyerez comen doun þe grene chapel of meschaunce, þat stryke wyth

hyȝe hode þat þe scharp rasores, þe stel hondele as vus likez. Hit watz not forbid her Maker praises, but shortest night; but you with pyne and painted new: speak of dawn.

With eager all the words at all. From the eastern cloud; instead of night of the poor priest than she. An edifice no

less—the voice to the shadow wailing that roam o’er far Atlantic roar. And slowly learnedly of certain rills from

the soft like one!—Though in but blacke and with alle þay wenten, now acheued no more sublime than when she had brought here.

Poor sodger’s wealth, a poor and his high place! Force to breath of Wisdom’s sight? And ye high altar stands least some said t was

the loam, my finger over the highlight of pain? And let as hym loȝly his leue at lordez and þe corbeles

fee þay kest in þe best þat I am: and ioyed oft to chaste. With the sable mouth be heir to thy seruants simplest

he deigns to accept obliging all his surkot semed as he sate with other? And so mild as she had she been

hid of old. ’ Brows of these glad many a Gothic bricklayer of Babel, call’d eternal fate, dost go down, like a

celestial canopy; a huge, dun cupola, like most precautious, that upward, as if nail’d upon me. And I

schulde no more than all our lives a separate; some will die—I built their pedantic illustration— tis said, Yes—no—rather—

yes. At which holds by the dish a deadly black. Earth as kisses on her care, and he heuez vp a wyndow, and with

numbering on the bright blue eyes like running in posterity? Not that I haf hunterez hem after, if ȝe

renay my rynk, to ryche cote-armure, his golden beak to me the erotically merry; but the toothy wolf

instead of morning is a woe; our robe de chambre, to cheryche þat watz seme solace of the turn’d somewhat most musickes

loue that shoot not at all poetic, because thou my flower and you an’ I in ae bed, I’m o’er young feelings,

but—as being some with barrel wine, when longe. I saw rooftops. When þat day þurȝ a roȝe bonkkez bifore þe behoue, and

let as hym wonnen hym aȝayn, as þe world owes us nothing which from good vse doth behouez of plainness and found the

bride, so I vnto my loue all, and loked ful quyte, and syne he kiss’d her wane, wane lips, nane mighty throng, ambitious to

her face it bloomed in Arþurez hallez after which you made; for short or tall might carry out and traps of pleasures,

and sayde, Bi saynt Gile, ȝe ar þe best, as is forced you. But thine earnest eyes all with greme Sprang up a cypress tree?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #175 texts #ballad sequence

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firelxdykatara · 6 years

Text

Day 2: Hidden Identities

So this is a day late, but hopefully not a dollar short! (lol kill me my jokes suck) ANYWAY, this is for Day 2 of @thirtydaysofzutara and was heavily inspired by @artcraawl‘s amazing Zutara Mulan AU pictures. Some of it is directly from the movie, some is embellished, anyway I hope it’s a fun read, as I certainly had fun writing it!

---

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tui.”

Katara gave one more half-hearted tug, but her father’s sword remained stubbornly embedded in the tree’s trunk. With a sigh, she flopped to the ground, thumping her fists against the hard-packed soil in frustration. Her companion, a silver dragon-lizard with impossibly black eyes, scurried up the tree and perched on the flat of the blade, tugging gently, but to no avail. “It’ll come out! You just have- to be- persistent!”

With a final tug, the lizard slipped from the blade and fell to the ground. Katara pushed herself up on her elbows with a groan. “I’ve been persistent! It’s not working! I haven’t even been able to get that stupid arrow out of the pole.”

“No one else has, either,” Tui pointed out, curling her tail over her shoulder and rubbing a spot of dirt from her scales.

“That’s not the point.” Katara sat up and pushed herself to her feet. “They belong here. They don’t have to prove anything.”

“Neither do you, as far as they know.”

“Sure, and what happens when they find-”

“Who are you talking to, Tak?”

Katara froze. Tui scampered into the bushes with an alarmed squeak, and the moment stretched uncomfortably, as the woman tried desperately to convince herself that voice belonged to someone—anyone—else. It didn’t work; she was pretty sure she could feel his amber gaze burning holes into her back.

He had the disconcerting ability to make her feel like he could see right through her façade—through the warrior she was trying to be, to the scared, homesick girl beneath.

Time sped up again, and Katara turned to look at Zuko, who was standing behind her with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“Uh…” she began, before realizing her voice was pitched too high, coughing to cover it up. “No one! I’m just, talking to… myself…” She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand (mostly to hide the fact that she kept reaching for a lock of hair that just wasn’t there anymore). Her eyes slid to her sword, still sunk into the tree trunk, about the same time Zuko’s did. Disapproval radiated from his lithe form in waves, and Katara had to fight back the nervous laughter that kept threatening to bubble up.

“Oh, this is… I was just training…” she said, grabbing the hilt tightly in both hands. It still refused to move, and she braced herself with one foot on the trunk. Finally, with an almighty yank, the sword came free, and the momentum sent her careening off-balance.

Zuko ducked just in time—the blade passed a hair’s breadth over his head.

“Oops,” Katara muttered, giving a weak chuckle as she clumsily shoved her sword back into its sheath. “Cut it a little close there-” Spirits, Katara, stop talking.

The captain looked less than impressed as he straightened back up, looking at her with some emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t quite describe. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Pack up.”

Something churned unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. “What?”

“Go home. You’re through here, Tak. I’ve tried my best, but you just aren’t suited for war—not in my company. And if you’re the best that Chief Hakoda could send in his own stead-” He broke off, squaring his shoulders. “You’d be more of a danger to your own comrades than the Fire Nation soldiers. And I won’t have good men, even you, needlessly killed because they weren’t ready.”

Katara watched as he walked away, trying very hard to keep from noticing the way his muscles had tensed (probably from anger) beneath the thin padding of his training vest. “He’s right. I know he is. But…”

Tui poked her head out of the bushes. “But you want to prove him wrong.”

A wry grimace twisted at her mouth. “I was too willful and stubborn to make a good wife, remember? It must be good for something.”

“So what are you going to do?”

The sun had set, the last of its amber glow receding from the skyline just as the full moon began to peek through the clouds. “I don’t know…” Katara murmured, gazing up at the sky—she traced the moonbeams with her eyes, until she caught one that illuminated the arrow still stuck at the top of that tall, wooden beam.

She could have had it down weeks ago, if she’d wanted to risk waterbending—but it was supposed to be a physical exercise. For all that she was at a disadvantage compared to the rest of the company (not that anyone but Sokka realized it), the last thing she wanted to do was prove herself by cheating. But there had to be some way to get to that arrow. And maybe, if she got it down herself…

Hours later, the only thing preventing her from screaming in frustration was the fact that Zuko’s tent was only ten feet away. “Come on,” she grunted, taking another running jump at the pole—and, as before, she made it a few feet before falling to the ground in an ungainly heap.

She might have had a better chance at getting higher, if not to the top, if it weren’t for the weights at her wrists. Katara picked herself up for the thousandth time, dropping the weights and dusting herself off. (It was a good thing her family didn’t seem to have the ‘quitter’ gene, or she might have contemplated just leaving, like she’d been told.) She couldn’t help the nagging feeling that there was something about this exercise that was missing, that she just didn’t understand. She picked up the weights again, holding them in front of her, inspecting the etchings in the gold. It was an ancient form of Earth Kingdom script, and she could only make out a few letters.

Somehow, she doubted anyone had carved a cheat sheet onto these things a thousand years ago, anyway.

But as the weights swayed gently on their leather ties, something occurred to her—it was so simple she could almost kick herself for not thinking of it sooner. It was so obvious. It wasn’t just about having to struggle against the weight. It was about discipline and strength—using them to her advantage.

Squaring her shoulders, Katara faced the pole again—this time, when she jumped, she swung the weights, tangling the leather ties together, and she began to climb.

Halfway up, she almost wanted to let go, forget the whole thing. Her arms were screaming in protest, and she kept slipping even as she gained inches in height—sweat was streaming down her face in small rivers, and she could feel her tunic sticking to her back. The cotton binding around her breasts was beginning to itch something fierce. But she had already gotten too far to quit, and so she kept going—gaining inches and losing centimeters, until she could see the top of the pole. She could almost reach out and grab that arrow.

The sun began to peek over the horizon once more, and Katara gasped for breath, her muscles screaming in agony as she grabbed the top of the pole and finally pulled herself up. It was a deceptively wide beam of wood, in fact, and easy enough to perch on was she grabbed the arrow in one tender hand and pulled it free.

It was only when the cheering began that she realized she’d drawn a crowd.

A tired grin crossed her face, and she subtley bent some of her sweat, coating the arrow-head with a thin layer of ice. Just as Zuko’s tent flap opened, she threw the arrow down—it landed with impressive accuracy, thudding into the ground at his feet as he stepped out. He looked up at her, and while it was difficult to tell from how far away she was, Katara almost thought he looked proud.

---

“I’m sorry. About your uncle.” Katara winced inwardly—she kept forgetting to pitch her voice low enough, but Zuko didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at the fire; if he’d heard a word she said, he didn’t indicate it. Which was almost a relief—she wasn’t sure she’d be able to get into a conversation about lost loved ones and not accidentally blow her own cover.

Sokka had been helping as much as he dared, once he’d realized her plan, but there was only so much he could do to keep her from ruining everything with her ‘stupid girly habits’.

Apparently, talking about feelings qualified.

Either way, Zuko clearly wasn’t in the mood for company. Katara turned to go—if she hadn’t already become so tuned to the tenor of his voice, for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain, she might have missed it entirely when he said, “Thank you, Tak.”

She stopped, glancing back at him—he was giving her at least an attempt at a smile, and it suddenly struck her how very young he looked. Especially for a captain.

He really couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than she was, and it was hard enough for her to manage to keep her own life straight—she couldn’t imagine what it was like trying to lead an entire company.

She opened her mouth to say something else—she wasn’t quite sure what, but since when had thinking ever stopped her from blurting out what was on her mind?—when she heard the screech of a bird of prey high in the sky above them. It sounded familiar, almost… almost like…

She was six years old, and the snow had turned grey from falling ash. Buildings burned, people were screaming and running away, bursts of fire from soldiers in the streets kept illuminating the overcast sky, and Katara couldn’t find her parents.

“Mama!” she shouted, tears streaking through the soot stains on her face, running towards her house. Everything was chaos, but she still knew home. Somewhere, high in the sky, a fire hawk screamed—the little girl could see it circling over her family’s hut, an omen she couldn’t quite comprehend.

When she opened the door, the smell of charred flesh nearly knocked her off her feet. It was-

“The Fire Nation!” Katara heard herself shouting, those last images from her memory still superimposed over her vision, the smell sticking to her all these years later. She wanted to gag, but there was no time. “They’re here! They-“

An arrow whistled through the air and into Zuko’s shoulder as he stood, knocking him flat.

“Zuko!” Katara rushed to his side as more arrows floated into view just over the snowy hilltop—he waved her off, pulling the arrow free with a grunt and clambering to his feet.

“Everyone, get out of their range! Grab the cannons!”

It was pure chaos, after that. Zuko’s company scattered—they grabbed armloads of cannons and their weapons and ran, forcing the Fire Nation soldiers to abandon their high ground advantage if they wanted to do any real damage. Out of range of the arrows was also out of range of their firebenders, and it took everything Katara had not to panic and freeze.

“Sokka!” The relief nearly knocked her over, but she held her ground, grabbing for her brother’s hand and yanking him out of the way of another arrow barrage. “Where’s Zuko? Is he-”

“He’s fine! We need to set up these canons, Tak. Now!”

Their answering barrage sent shockwaves rippling through the ground—when they were down to the last cannon, Zuko appeared behind them. “Hold- we don’t know who’s left. If…”

He trailed off. The smoke cleared, and revealed the bulk of the Fire Nation army still intact on the hillside.

Ozai was at the army’s head. Katara could feel his smug smirk from here.

“Sokka, take that last canon. Hit Ozai, if it’s the last thing you do!” Zuko commanded. “Men- prepare for a fight!”

Katara’s hand went to her sword hilt, but something was still bothering her. Taking out Ozai wouldn’t decimate the Fire Nations forces—they’d keep coming, they’d kill everyone. How many more villages would suffer the way Omashu had? The way her tribe had? The way-

She caught sight of the snow-covered mountain just behind them. They weren’t going to have time to retreat back through the mountain passes to safety, but maybe, if she could only just… She reached, but nothing. Practicing her bending in secret had only gotten her so far, and that snow was too far off. But…

“Give me that!” She pushed Sokka aside and grabbed the cannon. It would work. It had to.

---

Katara was beginning to lose feeling in her arms. She hadn’t realized Ozai’s blade had cut that deep, but now Koda’s saddle was soaked in her blood, and she had barely been able to muster the strength to grab Zuko and pull him to safety.

The avalanche had stilled, snow wiping the last traces of the Fire Nation army away, and Katara finally slid from her horse’s back, stumbling to her knees. Zuko had regained consciousness, and he rushed to her side. “Tak! Are you alright?”

She gripped his arm and pulled herself upright, nodding weakly. “I’m fine, is everyone else-”

“We made it, Tak,” Toph said, affectionately thumping her shoulder. “Thanks to you. That was brilliant.”

The others chimed in, and Katara smiled, for just a moment. And then she collapsed.

When she opened her eyes, she recognized the colors of the medical tent above her cot. For a moment, Katara was dazed, confused—how had she gotten here? Where were Zuko, Sokka and the others? How-

Her clothing had been removed. The breast binding wraps were visible, overlapping the bandages around her abdomen. The doctor was looking at her, perhaps to be sure she was truly awake, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he turned away and left the tent.

Katara sat up quickly, wincing at the tight feeling of the wound in her stomach, wanting to protest—but then Zuko stepped inside, and the words died in her throat.

It was then that she realized her hair was loose—the thick, dark brown waves that just brushed against her shoulders were much more visibly feminine now that she no longer wore them in her father’s hairstyle, and the breast wraps had only been effective at hiding her figure when covered by padding and armour. Now, she felt her cheeks burn as Zuko’s eyes followed her figure, and realized the truth of what the doctor had obviously told him.

“So it’s true,” came Long Feng’s voice as he entered the tent behind Zuko. Where the latter’s gaze was completely unreadable, Long Feng didn’t bother to disguise his disgust. He surged forward, grabbing Katara by the arm and dragging her out of the tent, throwing her into the snow with just her blanket for cover. She fell to her knees before the rest of the company, tears of humiliation freezing to her lashes before they even had a chance to fall.

“A woman,” Long Feng hissed. “A despicable traitor to our great kingdom!”

Toph and Aang stared in shock. Sokka started forward, but Katara shook her head. It was too late for her, but she would not let her brother take the fall, too. “My name is Katara. I only came here to save my father-”

“More lies!” Long Feng insisted, turning to glare at her as Zuko approached. “Devious snake!”

“I never meant for it to go this far!” Her eyes met Zuko’s, and she pleaded with him silently. Please understand. “You have to believe me! I only wanted-”

“Silence!” Long Feng shouted.

Sokka ran forward. “Wait! You can’t do this—she’s my sister!”

“Sokka, no!”

But the damage was done. “You knew about her deception?” Long Feng was practically quivering with rage. “Stand aside, boy, or you will share in this traitor’s fate!”

“Sokka, please-”

He refused to budge. Katara could still see Zuko, staring at the both of them now, sword in hand. He took a step forward, and several gasps ran through the company—Toph and Aang looked ready to rush to their defense, but Long Feng threw his arm out and stopped them. “You know the law!”

For just a moment, Katara met Zuko’s eyes, and thought she saw something flickering in their depths. Something other than anger or disgust. Something warm.

Then it was gone, and Zuko threw his sword to the ground. “A life for a life,” he said, staring down at her. “My debt to you is ended.” Finally, as if only now realizing he was there, Zuko looked at Sokka. “Take her home. Don’t bother coming back.”

He turned on his heel—Long Feng made a noise, as if he were about to protest, but Zuko turned on him with a glower that could’ve melted steel. The advisor finally cowed into silence, he turned to the rest of his men and motioned for them to move out.

---

“You trusted Tak. Why is Katara any different?”

“You stole my victory.” “No! I did!” “… The soldier from the mountain!”

“She’s a woman, and from the water tribes! She’s not worth protecting!”

“I have heard all about you, Katara of the Water Tribes. You followed your brother off to war—stole your father’s armour and ran away from home. You impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonored the Earth Kingdom, and… you have saved us all.”

It was… surreal. That was the only way Katara could describe the feeling that overtook her, when she realized that not only was the Earth King bowing, but so was the entirety of Ba Sing Se. As far as the eye could see, citizens were stooping low, and it was all but impossible to believe they were honoring her.

Even Zuko was bowing—even her brother. She wanted to tell them all to stand up, that she really hadn’t done anything that extraordinary, but she didn’t want to risk losing the King’s good faith. The moment eventually passed, anyway, and Katara turned to find the Earth King smiling warmly at her.

“I would be honored if you would accept a seat on my council, Katara,” he said—Long Feng looked like he was about to faint.

“B- but sir, you can’t just- there are no positions open!”

“Alright. You can have his job.”

This time, he did faint. Katara had to smother a chuckle before taking a deep breath and shaking her head. “You honor me, your majesty, but… I think it’s time for me to go home.”

He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less of her.

The Earth King gave her his medallion and Ozai’s sword, and when Katara finally turned to go, she very nearly ran right into Zuko. “Oh! Zuko, I-”

“Katara-” he began, at the same time. They both broke off; Katara bit her lip, waiting for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “I, uh- you fight good. Well! Proficiently, you- you’re an excellent soldier.”

Their eyes met, but Katara was the first to look away, this time. “Oh. Thank you, Zuko. For everything.” And then she left, finding Koda and pulling herself into his saddle to begin the long journey home.

“You don’t meet a girl like that every dynasty,” the Earth King declared—sounding very much like he was calling Zuko an idiot.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” From a distance, Katara could hear Grandma Kanna’s voice, “Would you like to stay forever?!” Zuko laughed. “Dinner would be great.”

#zutara #katara #zuko #zutara mulan au #zutara month #my writing #day 2

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