O my swete mother, before all other,
For you I have most drede !
235 But nowe, adue! I must ensue
Where fortune doth me lede.
All this mark ye; now let us fle;
The day cometh fast upon;
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

240

HE.

Nay, nay, nat so; ye shall not go;
And I shall tell ye why;

You appetyght is to be lyght

Of love, I wele espy:

245 For lyke as ye have sayed to me, In lyke wyse, hardely,

250

Ye wolde answere, whosoever it were,
In way of company.

It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde,

And so is a woman;

Wherefore I to the wode wyll go

Alone, a banyshed man."

SHE.

"Yf ye take hede, it is no nede

Such wordes to say by me;

255 For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, Or I you loved, parde.

260

And though that I, of auncestry

A barons daughter be,

Yet have you proved howe I you loved,

A squyer of lowe degre;

And ever shall, whatso befall,

To dy therfore anone ;

For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

HE.

265 "A barons chylde to be begylde, It were a cursed dede!

270

To be felawe with an outlawe
Almighty God forbede!

Yet beter were the pore squyere
Alone to forest yede,

Than ye sholde say another day,

That by my cursed dede

Ye were betrayed; wherfore, good mayd,

The best rede that I can

280

SHE.

"Whatever befall, I never shall

Of this thyng you upbrayd;
But yf ye go, and leve me so,
Than have ye me betrayd.
Remember you wele, howe that ye dele,
For yf ye, as ye sayd,

Be so unkynde to leve behynde

Your love, the Not-browne Mayd,

285 Trust me truly, that I shall dy, Sone after ye be gone;

290

For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

HE.

"Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent,
For in the forest nowe

295 And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe With other, as I trowe.

All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I wyll be your ;

305 And she shall fynde me soft and kynde, And courteys every hour,

310

Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll

Commaunde me, to my power;
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
'Of them I wolde be one.'
For in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone."

HE.

Myne own dere love, I se the prove
That ye be kynde and true;

315 Of mayde and wyfe, in all my lyfe
The best that ever I knewe.

320

Be mery and glad, be no more sad,
The case is chaunged newe;
For it were ruthe, that for your truthe

Ye sholde have cause to rewe.

Be nat dismayed: whatsoever I sayd
To you, whan I began,
I wyll nat to the grene wode go;
I am no banyshed man."

SHE.

325 "These tydings be more gladd to me Than to be made a quene,

330

Yf I were sure they sholde endure;
But is often sene,

Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke

The wordes on the splene.

Ye shape some wyle me to begyle,

And stele from me, I wene;

Than were the case worse than it was,

And I more wo-begone;

335 For in my mynde, of all mankynde I love but you alone."

340

HE.

"Ye shall nat nede further to drede:

I wyll nat dysparage

You, (God defend !) syth ye descend
Of so grete a lynage.

Now undyrstande, to Westmarlande,
Which is myne herytage,

I wyll you brynge, and with a rynge,
By way of maryage,

345 I wyll you take, and lady make,
As shortely as I can :

Thus have you won an erlys son,
And not a banyshed man."

AUTHOR.

Here may ye se, that women be

350 In love meke, kynde, and stable: Late never man reprove them than,

Or call them variable;

But rather pray God that we may

To them be comfortable,

355 Which sometyme proveth such as he loveth,
Yf they be charytable.

For syth men wolde that women sholde
Be meke to them each one,

Moche more ought they to God obey,

360 And serve but hym alone.

This sweetest of all the ballads is presented in dramatic form of a dialogue between two lovers who are standing near the edge of a forest. Observe the stanzas which seem to indicate that feminine hands have touched the ballad. Observe the moral at the end. Didactism is not usually found in the folk-ballad. Note the refrain of each lover, and the internal rime so frequently used throughout the poem.

THE TWA CORBIES

As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the tither did say,

"Whar sall we gang and dine the day?"

I wot there lies a new-slain knight;

And naebody kens that he lies there,

But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.