| 1 |
Als y yod on ay Mounday
Bytwene Wyltinden and Walle,
Me ane aftere brade waye,
Ay litel man y mette withalle;
The leste that ever I sathe, [sothe] to say,
Oithere in houre, oithere in halle;
His robe was noithere grene na gray,
Bot aile yt was of riche palle. |
| 2 |
On me he cald, and bad me bide;
Well stille y stode ay litel space;
Fra Lanchestre the parke syde
Yeen he come, wel fair his pase.
He hailsed me with mikel pride;
Ic hayed wel mykel ferly wat he was;
I saide, WeI mote the bityde!
That litel man with large face. |
| 3 |
I biheld that litel man
Bi the stretes als we gon gae;
His berd was syde ay large span,
And glided als the fethere of pae;
His heved was wyte als any swan,
His hegehen ware gret and grai alsso;
Brues lange, wel I the can
Merke it to five inches and mae. |
| 4 |
Armes scort, for sothe I saye,
Ay span seemed thaem to bee;
Handes brade, vytouten nay,
And fingeres lange, he scheued me.
Ay stan he toke op thare it lay,
And castid forth that I mothe see;
Ay merke-soote of large way
Bifor me strides he castid three. |
| 5 |
Wel stille I stod als did the stane,
To loke him on thouth me nouthe lange;
His robe was alie golde bigane,
Wel craftlike maked, I underestande;
Botones asurd, everlke ane,
Fra his elbouthe on til his hande;
Eldelike man was he nane,
That in myn herte icke onderestande. |
| 6 |
Til him I sayde ful sone on ane,
For forthirmare I wald him fraine,
Glalli wild I wit thi name,
And I wist wat me mouthe gaine;
Thou ert so litel of flesse and bane,
And so mikel of mithe and mayne;
Ware vones thou, litel man, at hame?
Wit of the I walde ful faine. |
| 7 |
'Thoth I be litel and lith,
Am y nothe wytouten wane;
Fferli frained thou wat I hith,
Yat thou salt noth with my name.
My wonige stede ful wel es dyth,
Nou sone thou salt se at hame.'
Til him I sayde, For Godes mith,
Lat me forth myn erand gane. |
| 8 |
'The thar noth of thin errand lette,
Thouth thou come ay stonde wit me;
Forthere salt thou noth bisette
Bi miles twa noythere bi three.'
Na linger durste I for him lette,
But forth ij fundid wyt that free;
Stintid vs broke no becke;
Ferlicke me thouth hu so mouth bee. |
| 9 |
He vent forth, als ij you say,
In at ay yate, ij underestande;
Intil ay yate, wundouten nay;
It to se thouth me nouth lange.
The bankers on the binkes lay,
And fair lordes sette ij fonde;
In ilka ay hirn ij herd ay lay,
And levedys south meloude sange. |
| The meeting with the little man was on Monday.
We are now invited to listen to a tale told on Wednesday by
"a moody barn," who is presently addressed, in language which,
to be sure, fits the elf well enough, as "merry man,
that is so wight:" but things do not fay at all here. |
| 10 |
Lithe, bothe yonge and alde:
Of ay worde ij will you saye,
A litel tale that me was tald
Erli on ay Wedenesdaye.
A mody barn, that was ful bald,
My frend that ij frained aye,
Al my yerning he me tald,
And yatid me alB we went bi waye. |
| 11 |
'Miri man, that es so wythe,
Of ay thinge gif me answere:
For him that mensked man wyt mith,
Wat sal worth of this were?' &c. |
