Small sparkes and spinthers of divine light
As one same ground indifferently doth breed
Their scintillation or their trepidation
The sky is of a dead milk-white
Me rewis that the worlde began.
Newes war sparpelit athort the countrey
Round cinereous bodies
We must be sparesome now
Your groat meal, and gray meal; sand, dust, and seeds
Counterfayted of brimstone and quicke siluer.
Men and wyfmen and children deserited
We dydon swa swa ∂u us hete
I quitted all the rest
The yeax and vomite followed
Very dark green, almost black
In a reuen dych myn mete is don.
We bei∂ all siker of godes behate
Sa hawtane and dispitous
He makth him siek, whan he is heil
Destroyeth the myght and the rygour of the sowle.
An exemplary post.
Posted by: beamish | August 29, 2010 at 02:24 PM