_Verses written by a Lady in the reign of Henry VI. or Edward IV. to an
absent Lord with whom she was in love._
My ryght good lord, most knyghtly gentyll knyght,
On to your grace in my most humbyll wyse,
I me comand, as it is dew and ryght,
Besechyng yow at leyser to advise
Upon thys byll, and pardon myn empryse,
Growndyd on foly, for lak of provydence,
On to your lordshep to wryght with owght lycence.
But wher a man is with a fevyr shake,
Now hot, now cold, as fallyth by aventure,
He in hys mynd conjecte wyll, and take
The nyghest meane to worche hys cuyre,
More pacyently hys peynys to endure;
And ryght so I, so it yow not dysplease,
Wryght in thys wyse my peynys to apease.
For when I cownt and mak a reknyng
Betwyx my lyfe, my dethe, and my desyer,
My lyfe, alas! it servyth of no thyng
Sythe with your partyng, depertyd my plesyer.
Wyshyng your presence setyth me on fyer;
But then your absence dothe my hert so cold,
That for the peyne I not[68-1] me wher to hold.
O owght on absence, ther foolys have no grace,
I mene mysylf, nor yet no wytt to gwye
Theym owt of peyne to com on to that place,
Wher as presence may shape a remedye;
For al dysease, now fye on my folye,
For I dyspeyryd am of your soone metyng,
That God I prey me to your presence bryng.
Farwell, my lord, for I may wryght no more,
So trowblyd is my hert with hevynesse;
Envye also, it grewyth me most sore,
That thys rude byll shall put hym sylf in presse[68-2]
To se your lordshepe of hys presumptuousnesse
Er I my sylf; but yett ye shall not mysse
To have my hert to for my byll, I wys.
Whyche I comytt and all my hole servyse
Into your hands, demeane it as you lyst;
Of it I kepe[68-3] to have no more franchyse
Then I hertlesse swyrly me wyst,
Savyng only that it be as tryst,[68-4]
And to yow trew as evyr was hert, and pleyn
Tyll cruell dethe depart yt up on tweyn.
Adew dysport, farwell good companye,
In all thys world ther is no joye I weene;
For ther as whyleom I sye with myn iee,
A lusty lord leepyng upon a grene,
The soyle is soole, no knyghts ther be seen,
No ladyse walk ther they wer wont to doone;
Alas, some folk depertyd hense to soone.
Some tyme also men myght a wageor make,
And with ther bowys a ffeld have it tryed,
Or at the Paame ther, ther plesure for to take,
Then wer they loose, that now stand as tyed,
I not[69-1] wher to thys world may be aplyed;
For all good cher on evyn and on morow,
Whyche then was made, now tornyth me to sorow.
[Footnote 67-1: [From Fenn, ii. 304.] It is not apparent by whom
these verses were written, or to what lord they were addressed.
They may have been from the Countess of Oxford to her husband
after he escaped abroad in 1471 (_see_ vol. v., No. 775). Or they
may have been the production of Lydgate writing in the name of a
lady parted from her lord. We place them, as Fenn did, for
convenience, at the end of the letters of Edward’s time.]
[Footnote 68-1: ‘I not’ stands for ‘I ne wot,’ or ‘I wot not,’
that is, _I know not_.]
[Footnote 68-2: Readiness.--F.]
[Footnote 68-3: I care.--F.]
[Footnote 68-4: _Quære_, whether this means _sorrowful_ or
_trusty_.--F.]
[Footnote 69-1: _See_ Note 1 on last page.]
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