001 Bytuene Mersh ant Aueril
002 when spray biginneþ to springe
003 þe lutel foul haþ hire wyl
004 on hyre lud to synge.
005 Ich libbe in louelonginge
006 for semlokest of alle þynge;
007 he may me blisse bringe
008 icham in hire baundoun.

009 An hendy hap ichabbe yhent
010 ichot from heuene it is me sent;
011 from alle wymmen mi loue is lent,
012 ant lyht on Alysoun.

013 On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
014 hire browe broune hire e3e blake; 015 wiþ lossum chere he on me loh,
016 wiþ middel smal & wel ymake.
017 Bote he me wolle to hire take
018 forte buen hire owen make
019 longe to lyuen ichulle forsake
020 ant feye fallen adoun.

021 An hendy hap &c.

022 Nihtes when y wende & wake,
023 forþi myn wonges waxeþ won;
024 leuedi, al for þine sake
025 longinge is ylent me on.
026 In world nis non so wytermon.
027 þat al hire bounte telle con;
028 hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon, 029 ant feyrest may in toune.

030 An hendi, &c.

031 Icham for wolwyng al forwake
032 wery so water in wore
033 lest eny reue me my make
034 ychabbe y3rned 3ore.
035 Betere is þolien whyle sore
036 þen mournen euermore.
037 Geynest vnder gore
038 herkne to me roun,

039 An hendi, &c

 
In the seasons of March and April
when blossoms begin to bloom,
the little bird takes her pleasure
in her language to sing.
I live in love-longing
for account the loveliest of all creatures.
She is able to bring me to bliss
-I am in her power-

A gracious chance I have received;
I know it is sent from heaven to me,
from all other women my love is turned
& alights on Alisoun.

The color of her hair is fair-just right-
her brows are brown, her eyes, black.
With lovely face she smiled on me.
-she has a small waist, and well-made.
If she does not allow me to have her
to be her own lover,
I shall give up my desire to live
& fall down dead.

chorus

Nights when I turn & wake,
make my cheeks become pale.
-Lady, all for your sake,
longing has come upon me.
In this world there is none so clever
-I cannot describe all her excellence.
Her neck is whiter than the swan's;
[she is the] fairest maid in town.

chorus

I am worn out for wooing,
as weary as water in a troubled pool,
worried that someone might steal my lover
I have been worrying for a long while-
better it is to endure anguish for a time
than mourn evermore.
[You who are] fairest beneath clothing,
Listen to my song:

chorus

A good WIF was ther OF biside BATHE,
But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.
Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt
She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.
In al the parisshe wif ne was there noon
That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;
And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she
That she was out of alle charitee.
Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground;
I dorst swere they weyeden ten pound
That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.
Hir hosen were of fyn scarlet reed,
Ful streite yteyed, and shoes ful moyste and newe.
Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.
She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:
Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,
Withouten oother compaignye in youthe-
But thereof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.
And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a straunge strem;
At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,
In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne.
She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye.
Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.
Upon an amblere esily she sat,
Ywmpyled wel, and on hir heed an hat
As brood as is a bokeler or a targe;
A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large,
And on her feet a paire of spores sharpe.
In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.
Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,
For she koude of that art the olde daunce.
. . . . (445-76)

A good woman from near Bath there was-somewhat deaf, and that was a pity. Of cloth-making she had such a skill that she surpassed those of Ypres and of Ghent. In the entire parish, there was not a woman who would go to the altar before her; if indeed they did, she would become so angry that she was put out of all charity. Her kerchiefs were of a finely woven texture; I dare say they weighed ten pounds, the ones she wore on Sunday on her head. Her stockings were of fine red scarlet and gartered tight, her shoes very supple and new. Bold was her face, and handsome, and ruddy. She was a worthy woman her entire life: she had five husbands at the church door-apart from other company in her youth-but no need to speak of that now. And she had been to Jerusalem three times; she had passed over many a foreign river; she had been to Rome, and to Boulogne, to St. James of Compostella, and to Cologne [famous pilgrim sites]. She knew much about wandering by the way. Gap-toothed was she, truth to tell. She sat easily upon an ambling horse, wimpled well, and on her head a hat as broad as a buckler or a shield-an overskirt covered her wide hips, and she wore a pair of sharp spurs on her feet. She was very good at laughing and chattering in company. As it happened, she knew remedies for lovesickness, for much she knew of that art, the "olde daunce."

Fair was this yonge wyf, and therwithal
As any wezele hir body gent and smal.
A ceynt she werede, barred al of silk,
A barmclooth as whit as morne milk
Upon hir lendes, ful of many a goore.
Whit was hir smok, and broyden al bifoore
And eek bihynde, on hir coler aboute,
Of col-blak silk, withinne and eek withoute.
The tapes of hir white voluper
Were of the same suyte of hir coler;
Hir filet brood of silk, and set ful hye.
And sikerly she hadde a likerous ye;
Ful smale ypulled were hire browes two,
And tho were bent and blake as any sloo.
She was ful moore blisful on to see
Than is the newe pere-jonette tree,
And softer than the wolle is of a wether.
And by hir girdel beeng a purs of lether,
Tasseled with silk and perled with latoun.
In al this world, to seken up and doun,
There nys no man so wys that koude thenche
So gay a popelote or swich a wenche.
Ful brighter was the shynyng of hir hewe
Than in the Tour the noble yforged newe.
But of hir song, it was as loude and yerne
As any swalwe sittynge on a berne.
Therto she koude skippe and make game,
As any kyde or calf folwynge his dame.
Hir mouth was sweete as bragot or the meeth,
Or hoord of apples leyd in hey or heeth.
Wynsynge she was, as is a joly colt,
Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.
A brooch she baar upon hir lowe coler,
As brood as is the boos of a bokeler.
Hir shoes were laced on hir legges hye.
She was a prymerole, a piggesnye,
For any lord to leggen in his bedde,
Or yet for any good yeman to wedde.
. . . . . (3233-70)

Fair was this young woman, and her body was as delicate and slender as any weasel's. A girdle she wore, all of striped silk; her apron was as white as morning milk over her loins, tucked and pleated. White was her smock, and embroidered all over was her collar of coal-black silk, within and also without. The ribbons of her white cap were of the same color as her collar. She wore a broad headband of silk, set very high-and certainly she had a lecherous eye. Her brows were plucked into small bows, and were arched and black as sloes- she was a more blissful sight to see than is a blossom on a cherry tree. She was softer than a wether's [ram's] wool. And from her girdle hung a purse of leather, tasseled with silk and adorned with brass droplets. In all this world, if you were to seek up and down, there would definitely be no man so wise who could imagine so gay a little doll or such a wench. The tint of her complexion was so much brighter than that of a gold coin forged anew in the Tower [of London; the mint]. As to her song, it was as loud and lively as any swallow's sitting on a barn. She could skip and play as any kid or calf following his dame. Her mouth was as sweete as a bragot [country drink], or as meed-or as a hoard of apples laid in the hay or heath. Skittish she was, as is a spirited colt, tall as a mast, and upright as a bolt out of a bow. A brooch she bore upon her lower collar, as broad as is the boss of a buckler. Her shoes were laced high up on her legs. She was a primrose, a "pig's eye" [flower] for any lord to lay in his bed-or yet for any good yeoman to wed.