"Alone walkyng"

Some melancholic poetry for you today. An exercise in writing like a dramatic teenager in the middle ages:

"Alone walkyng, 

In thought pleynyng (complaining)

And sore syghyng (sighing)

All desolate, 

Me remembryng

Of my lyvyng (life)

My deth wyssyng (wishing)

Erly and late,

Infortunate, 

Ys soo my fate,

That - wote ye whate? - (do you know what)

Oute of mesure

My lyfe I hate;

Thus desperate,

In suche estate (such a state)

Do I endure.

Of other cure

Am I nat sure, (not)

Thus to endure

Ys hard, certayn;

Suche ys my ure (my custom)

I yow ensure; (assure you)

What creature

May have more payn?

My trouth so pleyn? (my fidelity so apparent)

Ys take in veyn (taken)

And gret disdeyn

In remembraunce;

Yet I full feyne (most readily)

Wold me compleyne

Me to absteyne (to keep myself)

From thys penaunce (from this suffering)

But in substaunce,

Noon allegeaunce (alleviation)

Of my grevaunce

Can I nat fynde;

Ryght so my chaunce (fate)

With displesaunce (displeasure/sorrow)

Doth me avuance - (advance)

And thus an ende."

Notes

MS Cambridge, Trinity College R.3.19.

Duncan, T. (ed) Medieval English Lyrics and Carols (Camridge, D.S. Brewer: 2013) pp. 202-203