A LOVE RUNE by ANONYMOUS

A MAID of Christ did me entreat
To weave for her a rhyme of love,
That she might learn, in fashion meet,
On whom 't were best to set her love.
Where truth were sure with truth to meet,
And best a woman's choice approve --
I'll not deny that maiden sweet,
But teach her, as my heart doth move.

"Maiden, here may'st thou well behold
How this world's love full fast doth flee,
Beset by frailties manifold,
Fickle, and false, it faileth thee.
Thy wooers, but awhile so bold,
Have passed, as wind that bloweth free,
Beneath the clay they now lie cold
As meadow-grass, they withered be.

"There is no man, I trow, alive,
Who steadfast here on earth may be,
With sorrow must he ever strive,
In peace or rest small share hath he.
Swift at the goal doth he arrive,
His life-days fleet so speedily,
And Death from this world shall him drive
When he doth live most joyfully.

"No man so rich, no man so free,
But taketh soon from hence his way,
Nor shall he find safe warranty
In gold nor silver, green, nor gray.
None so swift-foot his death to flee,
And guard his life, e'en for a day;
Thus is this world, as ye may see,
A shadow, that fast fleets away.

"Its fashion shall ye changing find,
The one doth come, the other go,
He now doth lead who lagged behind,
Who once was friend is now your foe.
Forsooth, he doth as doth the blind
Who sets his heart on this world's show,
Ye'll see it do as doth the wind
That e'er from shifting point doth blow.

"Think not that love shall here abide.
Dost trust? 'T is to thy grief, I trow,
Be sure it swift from thee shall glide
Unsound, as reeds that wavering bow.
Froward it is at every tide,
While it endures, 't is grief enow;
At end, no man so true and tried
But he shall fall, as leaf from bough.

"Man's love endureth but a stound,
Now doth he love, -- now is he sad, --
He cometh, -- none his place have found, --
Now is he wroth, -- now is he glad!
Here one-while, then afar he's bound,
He loves, ere love return hath had,
But never true hath he been found,
Who trusteth him methinks is mad.

"If one be rich in this world's weal,
His heart, it none the less doth ache,
Dreading that thieves shall stealthy steal
He thro' the night doth watch and wake.
He ponders how he best may deal
To guard, and full assurance make;
What profits all to help or heal
When Death the whole will from him take?

"Where now is Paris? Helen, where?
Beauteous they were, and bright and gay;
Where Amadace and Idoine fair?
Tristrem and Isoude, where be they?
Hector, who shield did dauntless bear,
And Caesar, who o'er worlds held sway?
As shaft from bow-string fast doth fare
So from this world they've passed away.

"I trow 't is as they ne'er had been,
Yet men of them have wonders told,
And still are fain to hear, I ween,
Their pains and sorrows manifold.
What they in life had said and seen --
But now their heat is turned to cold,
Thus hath this world aye faithless been,
Vainly ye think its joys to hold.

"Yea, tho' as rich a man he were
As Henry, now our king, shall be,
And fair as Absalom was fair,
Whose equal earth shall never see;
Yet soon his pride from him doth fare --
(A herring were too dear a fee --)
Maiden, wouldst have of love thy share
True lover will I show to thee.

"Ah! Maiden sweet, an thou but knew
The virtues all that in Him be,
So fair He is, so bright of hue,
Of gladsome cheer, and mild is He.
Delight of Love, in Truth most true,
In Wisdom wise, of Heart most free,
Forsooth, thy deed thou ne'er shalt rue
If to His power thou yieldest thee.

"Richest of men is He on land
So far as men may speak with mouth,
The folk, they bow them to His Hand,
To East, to West, to North, to South.
Henry, the King of Engelland,
His vassal is, to Him he boweth;
Maiden, He bids thee understand
That Friendship fair to thee He voweth.

"He will with thee nor folk, nor steed,
Nor green, nor gray, nor raiment fair,
Of all such gear He hath no need
For riches hath He and to spare.
If thou wouldst proffer Him indeed
Thy love, wert fain His Love to share,
He 'ld wrap thee in such royal weed
As never King nor Kaiser ware!

"What speakest thou of house or hold,
Such as was raised by Solomon?
Of jasper, sapphire, purest gold,
And many another precious stone?
Fairer His dwelling, hundredfold,
Than aught that man hath seen, or known,
He will its gates to thee unfold
If thou wilt Him for True-love own.

"On a foundation sure withal
'T is set, that may not yield nor fail,
No sapper undermines that wall,
No foeman may its towers assail.
All ills are healed within that hall,
And endless bliss doth there prevail;
For thee this hold is destined all,
Thou know'st not of its joys the tale!

"There friend from friend ne'er goes his way,
None may be robbed of this, his right,
Nor hate nor wrath therein may stay
But pride and envy take their flight.
And all shall with the angels play
In concord sweet, in Heavenly light;
Do they not well, sweet Maiden, say,
Who such a Lord shall love aright?

"And never man His face shall see
E'en as He is, enthroned in Might,
But all with bliss fulfilled shall be
Beholding Him, Our Lord, with sight.
To look on Him is joy and glee,
For He is Day, that knows not Night,
Methinks, sweet Maid, right blest is she
Who hath her home with such a Knight!

"He set a treasure in thy power
Better than gold, or raiment fair,
And bade thee lock it in thy bower,
He 'ld have thee guard it with all care.
'Gainst thieves, 'gainst robbers, every hour,
Needs must thou wakeful be, and ware,
Sweeter thou art than any flower
The while thou dost it scatheless bear.

"A gem it is, from far 't was brought,
Better is none 'neath Heaven's ground,
Chosen o'er all that be in thought
The wounds of love it maketh sound.
Ah! Happy she who so hath wrought
To guard it well at every stound,
For an that gem be lost, for naught
May it again by her be found!

"Of this same stone wouldst know the name?
I trow, 't is called 'Maidenhood,'
A precious gem it is, its fame
O'er other jewels high hath stood.
'T will bring thee, Maiden, free of shame
To Paradise, of gladsome mood,
Whilst for thine own that gem dost claim
Sweeter art thou than spices good.

"Nay, speakest thou of any stone
That be in virtue rich, or grace,
Of amethyst, of chalcedone,
Of lectorie, or e'en topace,
Of jasper, sapphire, of sardone,
Emerald, beryl, chrysoprace,
Above all other precious stone
This one is prized, in every place.

"Sweet Maiden, as I thee have told,
This precious gem that thou dost bear
Is better, yea, an hundredfold,
Than all these, tho' their hues be fair.
For set it is in Heavenly gold,
Of love hath fulness, and to spare,
All may right well that jewel behold,
In Heaven's bower it shineth fair.

"Maiden, didst pray me in thy rede
To choose for thee a lover, so
To do thy will I'll take good heed
And choose for thee the best I know.
Methinks, he doth an evil deed
Who, when his choice doth lie 'twixt two,
Shall choose the worse, and without need
Shall let the better from him go.

"This rhyme, sweet Maid, to thee I send,
'T is open, and unsealed alway,
Prithee, unroll it to the end,
And learn by heart what it doth say.
Thine ear unto its lesson lend,
And teach it other maids, I pray,
Whoso doth pains to learn it spend
Shall profit much, by night and day.

"So when thou sittest, languishing,
This written rhyme then take to thee,
And with sweet voice its verses sing,
And do what writ therein shall be.
Thy Love, He sendeth thee greeting,
May God Almighty be with thee,
And thee unto His Bridal bring
In Heaven, where His Throne shall be!

"And give to him a good ending
Who this same rhyme hath writ for thee.

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