Lent is come with love to town

Lenten ys come with love to toune,
with blosmen & with briddes roune,
that al this blisse bryngeth:
dayes-eyes in this dales,
notes suete of nyhtegales;
uch foul song singeth.
The threstelcoc him threteth oo;
away is huere wynter woo,
when woderove springeth.
This foules singeth ferly fele,
ant wrytleth on huere wynne wele,
that al the wode ryngeth.

The rose rayleth hire rode,
the leves on the lyhte wode
waxen al with wille.
The mone mandeth hire bleo,
the lilie is lossom to seo,
the fenyle & the fille;
wowes this wilde drakes,
miles murgeth huere makes
ase strem that striketh stille;
mody meneth so doth mo,
Ichot Ycham on of tho,
for love that likes ille.

The mone mandeth hire lyht,
so doth the semly sonne bryht,
when briddes singeth breme;
deawes donketh the dounes,
deores with huere derne rounes,
domes forte deme;
wormes woweth vnder cloude,
wymmen waxeth wounder proude,
so wel hit wol hem seme.
Yef me shal wonte wille of on,
this wunne weole Y wole forgon,
ant wyht in wode be fleme.

Lent has come with love to town,
with blossom and the song of birds,
which brings all these delights:
daisies in these dales,
sweet notes of nightingales,
each bird sings a song.
The throstlecock is always chiding,
away goes their winter woe
when the woodruff springs.
These birds sing in amazing numbers,
and warble about their wealth of joys,
so that all the wood is ringing.

The rose makes up her ruddy cheek,
the leaves in the light wood
grow all of them with a will.
The moon puts out her face,
the lily is lovely to see,
the fennel and the thyme.
The wild drakes are wooing,
the beasts make their mates content,
like a stream that flows unstopping;
the spirited man complains, so do others,
I know that I am one of those,
for the sake of love that pleases ill.

The moon sends out her light,
so does the beautiful bright sun,
when the birds sing loudly;
dews drench the downs,
wild beasts with their baffling cries,
dooms to pronounce;
worms woo beneath the clod,
women grow wondrous proud,
so well will it become them;
If I cannot get what I want from one of them
this wealth of joy I will forgo,
and straightaway become a fugitive in the wood.

from a manuscript of c. 1340 [MS Harley 2253]