Mie boolie entes, adiewe: ne more the syghte <br />Of guilden merke shalle mete mie joieous eyne; <br />Ne moe the sylver noble sheenynge bryghte, <br />Shalle fylle mie hande wythe weighte to speke ytte fyne; <br />Ne moe, ne moe, alas, I calle you myne; <br />Whyder must you, ah! whydder moste I goe? <br />I kenne not either! Oh mie emmers dygne, <br />To parte wythe you wyll wurche me myckle woe. <br />I must begon, butte where I dare nott telle, <br />O storthe unto mie mynde! I goe to helle. <br />Soone as the morne dyd dyghte the roddie sunne, <br />A shade of theves eache streacke of lyghte dyd seeme; <br />Whan yn the Heaven full half hys course was ronne, <br />Eche styrrynge nayghbour dyd mie harte afleme; <br />Thie Losse, or quyck or slepe, was aie mie dreme; <br />For thee, O goulde, I did the lawe ycrase, <br />For thee I gotten or bie wiles or breme; <br />Ynn thee I all mie joie and goode dyd place; <br />Botte nowe to mee thie pleasaunce ys ne moe, <br />I kenne notte botte for thee I to the quede muste goe.<br /><br />Thomas Chatterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gouler-s-requiem/
