Le Morte Arthur: Edited from the Harleian Ms. 2252 in the British MuseumFrederick James Furnivall Macmillan, 1864 - 190 oldal |
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A-gayne A-way Agrawayne Allas Ascolot batayle bede Bedwere blode blythe bolde Bors bothè by-dene by-fore by-twene byde chambyr Cotgrave courte dede dight dyght Ector euyr fare felde feyre fulle Gaheriet Gaherys Genure Glossary gonne Gorlois Goth grete Guinever hathe haue hende hertè hys hert Ihesu kene kinge knight kythe lady launcelot du lake layne lenger lette lordis loue lyffe lyonelle mayden mayne mordred morow Morte Arthur myght mykelle nere neuyr nevir noght nolde nyghe Queen quene rede Redy Ryche Ryde Ryght Sangreal sare sayd sayne sette shelde sholde shuld Sithe slayne sone sore sorow sothe spake stede stode swerd syde syght syr gawayne Syr mador sythe thare thay ther thou thow thynge thys toke trews tyde Tylle tyme vpon vppon wede wele wende wene Whan Whyle wode wold wolle wordis wound wyde wyffe wylle wyth wyth-outen yede yiffe yngland yode
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viii. oldal - the island-valley of Avilion ; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
viii. oldal - bold Sir Bedivere," I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds
xxii. oldal - bare shelde. And thou were the truest frend to thy louer that euer bestradde hors, & thou were the truest louer of a synfull man that euer loued woman. And thou were the kyndest man that euer stroke
142. oldal - And sythe, as gleme, A-way it glente. To the kynge A-gayne wente he thare And sayd, " leve syr, I saw An hand; Oute of the water it cam Alk bare,
xxii. oldal - and now I dare saye, sayd syr Ector, thou, syr Launcelot, ther thou lyest: that thou were neuer matched of none erthly knyghtes handes. And thou were the curtoyste knyghte that
viii. oldal - with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
141. oldal - I se tokenys goode." In-to the see hee lette the scauberke glyde; A whyle on the land hee there stode; Than to the kynge he wente that tyde
46. oldal - So Ryalle, ne so fayre ther-to, " But so churlysshe of maners in feld ne hale " Ne know I none, of frende, ne fo ; " Off foo, ne frend, the sothe to say,
143. oldal - A whyle to hele me of my wounde." Whan the shyppe from the land was broght, Syr bedwere saw of hem no more, Throw the forest forthe he soughte,
viii. oldal - indeed I go— (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt}