Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
| IN a valley of this restles mind | |
| I sought in mountain and in mead, | |
| Trusting a true love for to find. | |
| Upon an hill then took I heed; | |
| A voice I heard (and near I yede) | 5 |
| In great dolour complaining tho: | |
| See, dear soul, how my sides bleed | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| Upon this hill I found a tree, | |
| Under a tree a man sitting; | 10 |
| 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 askèd why he had paining; | 15 |
| [He said,] Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| I am true love that false was never; | |
| My sister, man’s soul, I loved her thus. | |
| Because we would in no wise dissever | |
| I left my kingdom glorious. | 20 |
| I purveyed her a palace full precious; | |
| She fled, I followed, I loved her so | |
| That I suffered this pain piteous | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| My fair love and my spouse bright! | 25 |
| 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! | 30 |
| I have loved her ever as I her het | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| I crowned her with bliss and she me with thorn; | |
| I led her to chamber and she me to die; | |
| I brought her to worship and she me to scorn; | 35 |
| I did her reverence and she me villany. | |
| To love that loveth is no maistry; | |
| Her hate made never my love her foe: | |
| Ask me then no question why— | |
| Quia amore langueo. | 40 |
| |
| Look unto mine handes, man! | |
| These gloves were given me when I her sought; | |
| They be not white, but red and wan; | |
| Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought. | |
| They will not off; I loose hem nought; | 45 |
| I woo her with hem wherever she go. | |
| These hands for her so friendly fought | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| Marvel not, man, though I sit still. | |
| See, love hath shod me wonder strait: | 50 |
| Buckled my feet, as was her will, | |
| With sharpe nails (well thou may’st wait!) | |
| In my love was never desait; | |
| All my membres I have opened her to; | |
| My body I made her herte’s bait | 55 |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| In my side I have made her nest; | |
| Look in, how weet a wound is here! | |
| This is her chamber, here shall she rest, | |
| That she and I may sleep in fere. | 60 |
| 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. | |
| |
| I will abide till she be ready, | 65 |
| 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. | 70 |
| Cry once, I come: now, soul, assay | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| Fair love, let us go play: | |
| Apples ben ripe in my gardayne. | |
| I shall thee clothe in a new array, | 75 |
| Thy meat shall be milk, honey and wine. | |
| Fair love, let us go dine: | |
| Thy sustenance is in my crippe, lo! | |
| Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, | |
| Quia amore langueo. | 80 |
| |
| 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? | |
| Foundest thou ever love so leal? | 85 |
| What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do? | |
| I may not unkindly thee appeal | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| What shall I do now with my spouse | |
| But abide her of my gentleness, | 90 |
| Till that she look out of her house | |
| Of fleshly affection? love mine she is; | |
| Her bed is made, her bolster is bliss, | |
| Her chamber is chosen; is there none mo. | |
| Look out on me at the window of kindeness | 95 |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| My love is in her chamber: hold your peace! | |
| Make ye no noise, but let her sleep. | |
| My babe I would not were in disease, | |
| I may not hear my dear child weep. | 100 |
| 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. | |
| |
| Long thou for love never so high, | 105 |
| My love is more than thine may be. | |
| Thou weepest, thou gladdest, I sit thee by: | |
| Yet wouldst thou once, love, look unto me! | |
| Should I always feede thee | |
| With children meat? Nay, love, not so! | 110 |
| I will prove thy love with adversitè | |
| Quia amore langueo. | |
| |
| Wax not weary, mine own wife! | |
| What mede is aye to live in comfort? | |
| In tribulation I reign more rife | 115 |
| Ofter times than in disport. | |
| In weal and in woe I am aye to support: | |
| Mine own wife, go not me fro! | |
| Thy mede is marked, when thou art mort: | |
| Quia amore langueo. | 120 |
