Selden's voice was surprisingly strong, Geoffrey thought. The master hardly ever sang out at Chapter, or even Mass for that matter. And why so mournful a song? It was one the boy remembered his mother singing, the tune so bittersweet and lovely.
Man mei longe him lives wene, 
ac ofte him liyet the wreinch; 
fair weder ofte him went to rene, 
an ferliche maket is blench 
thar-vore, man, thu the bithench, 
al sel valui the grene, 
wela-wey Nis King ne Quene 
that ne sel drinke of dethis drench. 
Man, er thu falle of thi bench, 
thu sinne aquench.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
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