Classic Poem

Noye, to me thou arte full able,
And thy sacrifice acceptable,
For I have founde thee true and stable;
On thee nowe muste I myne [think];
Warrye [curse] eairth I will noe more
For mannes synnes that greves me sore,
For of youth mon [man] full yore
Has bene inclynde to synne.
You shall nowe growe and multiplye,
And eairth againe to edifye,
…

Of cleane beastes nowe lesse and more
I give you leve to eate;
Save bloode and fleshe, bouth in feare
Of rouge dead carrion that is heare,
Eate not of that in noe manere,
For that aye you shall lete [abstain].
Man-slaughter also you shall flee,
For that is not pleasante unto me;
The that sheedeth blood, he or shee,
Oughte-wher amonge mankinde,
That bloode fowle shedde shalbe
And vengeance have, that men shall see;
Therfore beware now all ye,
You falle not into that synne.
A forward [covenant], Noye, with thee I make,
And all thy seede, for thy sake,
Of suche vengeance for to slake,
For nowe I have my will;
Heare I behette thee a heste [promise]
That man, woman, fowlde, ney beste,
With watter, while this worlde shall leste,
I will noe more spill.
My bowe betweyne you and me
In the firmamente shalbe,
By verey tocken that you shall see,
That suche vengeance shall cease,
That man ne woman shall never more
Be wasted with watter, as hath before;
But for synne that greveth me sore,
Therfore this vengeance was.
Wher cloudes in the welckine bene,
That ilke [each] bowe shalbe seene,
In tocken that my wrath and teene [sorrow]
Shall never thus wrocken [wreaked] be.
The stringe is torned towardes you,
And towarde me is bente the bowe,
That suche weither shall never shewe,
And this behighte [promise] I thee.
My blessinge, Noye, I geve thee heare,
To thee, Noye, my servante deare;
For vengeance shall noe more appeare,
And nowe fare well, my darlinge deare.