WHEN THE NYHTEGALE SINGES lyrics

Harley MS. c. 1310.

When the nyhtegale singes,

The wodes waxen grene,

Lef ant gras ant blosme springes

In Averyl, Y wene ;

Ant love is to myn herte gon

With one spere so kene,

Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes

Myn herte deth me tene.

Ich have loved al this yer

That Y may love na more;

Ich have siked moni syk,

Lemmon, for thin ore,

Me nis love neuer the ner,

Ant that me reweth sore;

Suete lemmon, thench on me,

Ich have loved the yore.

Suete lemmon, Y preye thee,

Of love one speche;

Whil Y lyve in world so wyde

Other nulle Y seche.

With thy love, my suete leof,

My blis thou mihtes eche;

A suete cos of thy mouth

Mihte be my leche.

Suete lemmon, Y preye thee

Of a love-bene:

Yef thou me lovest, ase men says,

Lemmon, as I wene,

Ant yef hit thi wille be,

Thou loke that hit be sene;

So muchel Y thenke vpon the

That al y waxe grene.

Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye,

Norhamptoun ant Lounde,

Ne wot I non so fayr a may,

As y go fore ybounde.

Suete lemmon, Y preye the

Thou lovie me a stounde;

Y wole mone my song

On wham that hit ys on ylong.

• Artist:Unknown Artist (English)