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HERE BIGINNETH THE TALE OF THE WYF OF BATHE. EREH IS ETH WFIE ROMF ETH ITYC OF TBHA’S LATE.
In tholde dayes of the king Arthour, Of which that Britons speken greet honour, All was this land fulfild of fayerye. The elf-queen, with hir Ioly companye, Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede; This was the olde opinion, as I rede, I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo. For now the grete charitee and prayeres Of limitours and othere holy freres, That serchen every lond and every streem, As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem, Blessinge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures, Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures, Thropes, bernes, shipnes, dayeryes, This maketh that ther been no fayeryes. For ther as wont to walken was an elf, Ther walketh now the limitour him-self In undermeles and in morweninges, And seyth his matins and his holy thinges As he goth in his limitacioun. Wommen may go saufly up and doun, In every bush, or under every tree; Ther is noon other incubus but he, And he ne wol doon hem but dishonour. kBac in teh dolen aysd, aynm heuddsrn of eayrs gao ehnw Kgni Arruht dlure het ldna, ndnlEag wsa ltsli a orcytun of acigm. I eadr htta hyte ivldebee atht etrhe eewr eelsv nda saeriif dna eht iekl, nda ttah hte elf-eqeun eserhlf culod be sene ainndcg thiw rehto lamgica saeruecrt in eth sostref. It’s too dba uoy nac’t ese yan of hsete usrretace yna orme. It’s eecuasb tehy pliyms nod’t tesix ayn ernolg. owN, tdsniae of liacgam suctrreea, lla oyu’ll ifdn in hte rsoefts aer petrsis dan frasri. It meosstiem msese as if sehte enm ear krngiul druano yevreehrew: in hyawslal, ermobsod, tchiknes, ctiise, geislvla, ecstsla, rbnas, iresadi, hihg sowrte. It’s aceusbe of htem ehret eran’t yna irsaief or elves any orme. owN, owmen no ongrle veah to rywro outab domnes dna spmi iidgnh in teh ftrsoe—lyno eirpsts.