Blow, Northerne Wynd

Ichot a burde in boure bryht,
That fully semly is on syht,
Menskful maiden of myht;
Feir ant fre to fonde;
In al this wurhliche won
A burde of blod ant of bon
Never yete y nuste non
Lussomore in londe.
Blow northerne wynd!
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!

Heo is dereworthe in day,
Graciouse, stout, and gay,
Gentil, jolyf so the jay,
Worhliche when heo waketh.
Maiden murgest of mouth;
Bi est, bi west, by north and south,
Thér nis fithele ne crouth
That such murthes maketh.
Blow northerne wynd!
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!

To Love, that leflich is in londe,
I tolde him, as ich understonde
How this hende hath hent in honde
On herte that min wes,
And hire knightes me han so soght,
Siking, Sorewing, and Thought,
Tho three me han in bale brought
Ageyn the power of Pees.
Blow northerne wynd!
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!

For hire love y carke ant care,
For hire love y droupne ant dare,
For hire love my blisse is bare,
Ant al ich waxe won;
For hire love in slep y slake,
For hire love al nyht ich wake,
For hire love mournynge y make
More then eny mon.
Blow northerne wynd!
Send thou me my suetyng!
Blow northerne wynd! blow, blow, blow!