Pearl (Excerpt)
1
Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye
To clanly clos in golde so clere,
Oute of Oryent, I hardyly saye,
Ne proved I never her precios pere.
So rounde, so reken in uche araye,
So smal, so smothe her sydes were,
Queresoever I jugged gemmes gaye
I sette hyr sengeley in synglure.
Allas, I leste hyr in on erbere;
Thurgh gresse to grounde hit fro me yot.
I dewyne, fordolked of luf-daungere
Of that pryvy perle withouten spot.
Sythen in that spote hit fro me sprange,
Ofte haf I wayted, wyschande that wele
That wont was whyle devoyde my wrange 1
And heven my happe and al my hele.
That dos bot thrych my herte thrange,
My breste in bale bot bolne and bele. 2
Yet thoght me never so swete a sange
As stylle stounde let to me stele;
Forsothe, ther fleten to me fele
To thenke hir color so clad in clot.
O moul, thou marres a myry juele,
My privy perle wythouten spotte.
That spot of spyses mot nedes sprede
Ther such ryches to rot is runne:
Blomes blayke and blwe and rede
Ther schyne ful schyr agayn the sunne.
Flor and fryte may not be fede
Ther hit doun drof in moldes dunne;
For uch gresse mot grow of graynes dede,
No whete were elles to wones wonne. 3
Of goud uche goude is ay bygonne -
So semly a sede moght fayly not
That spryngande spyces up ne sponne
Of that precios perle wythouten spotte.
To that spot that I in speche expoun
I entred in that erber grene
In Augoste in a hygh seysoun
Quen corne is corven wyth crokes kene.
On huyle ther perle hit trendeled doun
Schadowed this wortes ful schyre and schene:
Gilofre, gyngure, and gromylyoun,
And pyonys powdered ay bytwene.
Yif hit was semly on to sene
A fayr reflayr yet fro hit flot.
Ther wonys that worthyly, I wot and wene,
My precious perle wythouten spot.
Bifore that spot my honde I spenned
For care ful colde that to me caght.
A deuely dele in my hert denned
Thagh resoun sette myselven saght.
I playned my perle that ther was penned
Wyth fyrce skylles that faste faght.
Thagh kynde of Kryst me comfort kenned,
My wreched wylle in wo ay wraghte.
I felle upon that floury flaght -
Suche odour to my hernes schot,
I slode upon a slepyng-slaghte
On that precios perle wythouten spot.
2
Fro spot my spyryt ther sprang in space -
My body on balke ther bod in sweven.
My goste is gon in Godes grace
In aventure ther mervayles meven.
I ne wyste in this worlde quere that hit wace
Bot I knew me keste ther klyfes cleven.
Towarde a foreste I bere the face
Where ryche rokkes wer to dyscreven.
The lyght of hem myght no mon leven,
The glemande glory that of hem glent,
For wern never webbes that wyyes weven
Of half so dere adubbemente.
- Anonymous
