Quia amore langueo. quia amore langueo 2019-02-13

Quia amore langueo Rating: 7,2/10 901 reviews

Francis Pott

quia amore langueo

Do not marvel that I tend to her so! I will prove thy love with adversite Quia amore langueo. Fair love, let us go play: Apples ben ripe in my gardayne. My love is in her chamber: hold your peace! See, love hath shod me wonder strait: Buckled my feet, as was her will, With sharpe nails well thou may'st wait! Loke in: how weet a wounde is heere! In weal and in woe I am always to support: Mine own wife, go not from me! These hands for her so friendly fought Quia amore langueo. Upon this hill I found a tree, Under a tree a man sitting; From head to foot wounded was he; His hearte blood I saw bleeding: A seemly man to be a king, A gracious face to look unto. Her chamber is chosen, there is no more. In tribulation I reign more rife Oftener times than in disport.

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Poem: Quia Amore Langueo by Mary G. Segar

quia amore langueo

Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, Quia amore langueo. See, love hath shod me wonder strait: Buckled my feet, as was her will, With sharpe nails well thou may'st wait! I woo her with them wherever she may go. If she do weep, then bid I nay; Mine arms be spread to clip her me to; Cry ones: I come. Fair love, lete us go digne; Thi sustynaunce is in my crippe, lo! Her bed is made, her bolster is bliss, Her chamber is chosen, is there none mo? This is her chamber, here shall she rest, That she and I may sleep in fere. I will test your love with adversity Quia amore langueo. Returne, my spouse, ayen to me! In tribulation I reign more rife Ofter times than in disport.

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A Clerk of Oxford: In a valley of restless mind: Quia amore langueo

quia amore langueo

I sitt on an hille for to se farre, I loke to the vayle, my spouse I see; now rynneth she awayward, now cummyth she narre, yet fro myn eye syght she may nat be; sum waite ther pray, to make hyr flee, I rynne tofore to chastise hyr foo; recouer, my soule, agayne to me, Quia amore langueo. Look unto mine handes, man! Axe me no questioun whi — Quia amore langueo. If thou be foul, I shall thee make clean; If thou be sick, I shall thee heal; If thou mourn ought, I shall thee mene; Why wilt thou not, fair love, with me deal? Marvel not, man, though I sit still. I have loved her ever as I her het Quia amore langueo. To love that loveth is no maistry; Her hate made never my love her foe: Ask me then no question why— Quia amore langueo. What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do? My sistyr, mannis soule, Y loved hir thus: Bicause we wolde in no wise discevere, I lefte my kyngdom glorious. I will abide till she be ready, I will her sue if she say nay; If she be retchless I will be greedy, If she be dangerous I will her pray; If she weep, then bide I ne may: Mine arms ben spread to clip her me to.

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Quia Amore Langueo (lyrics)

quia amore langueo

I may of vnkyndnes the appele, Quia amore langueo. For longing love I will not let; Sweete strokes be these, lo! Here's a pretty astonishing medieval lyric. I may of unkindness thee appeal, Quia amore langueo. Than, dere Soule, go not me fro! To love that loveth is no maistrie; Hir hate made nevere my love hir foo. The imagery of the soul as woman, and the lover of the soul as husband, and then interchaning as the nursing mother who knows weaning is part of the story, is a refreshing image to come from the Christian medieval tradition. I will prove thy love with adversitè Quia amore langueo.


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Quia amore langueo : & Richard de Castre's Prayer to Jesus, from the Lambeth MS. (Book, 1915) [openchatbot.community]

quia amore langueo

He was a man fit to be a king, with a gracious face to look at. I clothed her in grace and heavenly light; she set this bloody shirt upon me. From head to foot wounded was he; His heart blood I saw bleeding: Amore langueo. Upon an hill then took I heed; A voice I heard and near I yede In great dolour complaining tho: See, dear soul, how my sides bleed Quia amore langueo. Should I always feede thee With children meat?. If thou mourn for anything, I shall comfort thee. What wish thou, soul, that I shall do? Spouse, should I always feede thee With childes meat? Look out on me at the window of kindeness Quia amore langueo.

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Francis Pott

quia amore langueo

Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, Quia amore langueo. Upon this hill I found a tree, Under a tree a man sitting; From head to foot wounded was he; His hearte blood I saw bleeding: A seemly man to be a king, A gracious face to look unto. I wish to test thy love through adversity, because I languish for love. I don't think that's proper spanish. Should I always feed thee With child's meat? Foundest thou ever love so leal? Te is a direct object pronoun. This poem is by an anonymous person from the 14th Century.

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Quia Amore Langueo (lyrics)

quia amore langueo

Rotem thus reveals the continued dramatic and moral relevance of Biblical narrative and stile rappresentativo alike, through compositions permeated by a sense of vitality, dramatic bite and sensuous beauty. I will abide till she be ready, I will her sue if she say nay; If she be retchless I will be greedy, If she be dangerous I will her pray; If she weep, then bide I ne may: Mine arms ben spread to clip her me to. I brought her to worship and she me to scorn. I purveyed her a palace full precious; She fled, I followed, I loved her so That I suffered this pain piteous Quia amore langueo. I prove thy love with adversity, Quia amore langueo.


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Poem: Quia Amore Langueo by Helen Gardner

quia amore langueo

For longing of love I will not cease - these are sweet strokes, lo! Mi amor would mean my love, pretty self expl … anatory. I have loved her always, as I promised her, because I languish for love. To love that loveth is no maistry; Her hate made never my love her foe: Ask me then no question why-- Quia amore langueo. Ne merveille ye not though Y tende hir to: This hole in my side had nevere be so depe, But Quia amore langueo. I led her to chamber and she me to die. Here may she wash, if any filth were; Here is seat for all her woe; Come when she will, she shall have cheer Quia amore langueo. These gloves were given me when I her sought; They be not white, but red and wan; Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought.

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Quia Amore Langueo (lyrics)

quia amore langueo

Its sustained fifteen minute drama, in a post-Howells harmonic language, is tinged with a very personal and often ecstatic lyricism. Fair love, let us go play: Apples ben ripe in my gardayne. I saved her from beating, and she hath me bet; I clothed her in grace and heavenly light; This bloody shirt she hath on me set; For longing of love yet would I not let; Sweete strokes are these: lo! If thou be foul, I shall thee make clean; If thou be sick, I shall thee heal; If thou mourn ought, I shall thee mene; Why wilt thou not, fair love, with me deal? No, love, it cannot be so! These hands for her so friendly fought Quia amore langueo. I will prove thy love with adversite Quia amore langueo. Long and love thou never so high, yet is my love more than thine may be; thou gladdest, thou weepest, I sit the bye, yet might thou, spouse, look once at me! Nota Bene: The original text is taken from The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse , compiled by D. Upon this hill I found a tree, Under a tree a man sitting; From head to foot wounded was he; His hearte blood I saw bleeding: A seemly man to be a king, A gracious face to look unto. Quia Amore Langueo By Anonymous? What wouldest thou, spouse, that I should do? Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, Quia amore langueo.

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Quia amore langueo : & Richard de Castre's Prayer to Jesus, from the Lambeth MS. (Book, 1915) [openchatbot.community]

quia amore langueo

What mede is aye to live in comfort? With my pap I shall her keep; Ne marvel ye not though I tend her to: This wound in my side had ne'er be so deep But Quia amore langueo. No wonder though I tend her to: This hole in my side had never been so deep, But quia amore langueo. Y soughte hir so, I suffride this peyne piteuous, Quia amore langueo. These gloves were given me when I her sought; They be not white, but red and wan; Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought. What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do? In my side I have made her nest; Look in, how weet a wound is here! This is neither music for the faint of heart nor any but the most accomplished choirs. I am true love that false was never; My sister, man's soul, I loved her thus.

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