Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye,

Pearl, pleasing to the fancy of a prince!

To clanly clos in golde so cler!

To set without flaw in gold so clear,

Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye,

Out of the Orient, confidently I say,

Ne proued I neuer her precios pere.

I never tested its precious peer.

So rounde, so reken in vche araye,

So round, so perfect in every array,

So smal, so smoþe her syde3 were,

So small, so smooth her surfaces were,

Quere-so-euer I jugged gemme3 gaye,

Wheresoever I bright gems appraised,

I sette hyr sengeley in synglere.

I set her apart in particular.

Allas! I leste hyr in on erbere;

Alas, I lost her in a garden;

Þur3 gresse to grounde hit fro me yot.

Through grass to earth it went from me!

I dewyne, fordolked of luf-daungere

I pine away, sore-wounded by the love-dominion

Of þat pryuy perle wyþouten spot.

Of that pearl of mine without a spot.

Syþen in þat spote hit fro me sprange,

Since at that spot it sprang from me,

Ofte haf I wayted, wyschande þat wele,

Oft have I watched, wishing for that wealth

Þat wont wat3 whyle deuoyde my wrange

That was wont for a while to make nought of my sin,

And heuen my happe and al my hele.

And exalt my fortune and my entire well-being.

Þat dot3 bot þrych my hert þrange,

That does but crushingly afflict my heart,

My breste in bale bolne and bele;

But swells and burns my breast with grief.

3et þoht me neuer so swete a sange

Yet never imagined I so sweet a song

As stylle stounde let to me stele.

As a quiet hour let steal to me.

For soþe þer fleten to me fele,

Indeed, many drifted to me there,

To þenke hir color so clad in clot.

Musing on her colour so clad in clay.

O moul, þou marre3 a myry iuele,

O earth, you are destroying a lovely jewel

My priuy perle wyþouten spotte.

My own pearl without a spot.

Þat spot of spyse3 mot nede3 sprede,

That spot with spices must needs be overspread

Þer such ryche3 to rot is runnen;

Where such wealth to rot is run;

Blome3 blayke and blwe and rede

Blossoms pale and blue and red

Þer schyne3 ful schyr agayn þe sunne.

There will shine full bright against the sun.

Flor and fryte may not be fede

Flower and fruit cannot be withered

Þer hit doun drof in molde3 dunne.

Where into dark moulds it hurried down.

For vch gresse mot grow of grayne3 dede,

For from dead grains each blade of grass must grow;

No whete were elle3 to wone3 wonne.

No wheat would else be won for homes.

Of goud vche goude is ay bygonne;

From good every good thing is ever begun!

So semly a sede moht fayly not,

So lovely a seed could not come to nought

Þat spryngande spyce3 vp ne sponne

So that sprig and spice-blooms would not grow up

Of þat precios perle wyþouten spotte.

From the precious pearl without spot.

To þat spot þat I in speche expoun

At that spot which I in speech that forth

I entred in þat erber grene,

I entered into that garden green,

In Augoste in a hyy seysoun,

In August in the season high

Quen corne is coruen wyþ croke3 kene.

When corn is cut with sickles keen..

On huyle þer perle hit trendeled doun

One hillock, where the pearl went rolling down,

Schadowed þis worte3 ful schyre and schene:

These plants shadowed, full bright and fair -

Gilofre, gyngure and gromylyoun,

Gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell,

And pyonys powdered ay bytwene.

And peonies powdered everywhere.

3if hit wat3 semly on to sene,

If it was lovely to look upon,

A fayr reflayr yet fro hit flot.

A fair fragrance also floated from it.

Þer wonys þat worþyly, I wot and wene,

There dwells that noble one, I know indeed,

My precious perle wyþouten spot.

My precious pearl without a spot.

Bifore þat spot my honde I spennd,

Before that spot my hands I wrung,

For care ful colde þat to me caht.

For the care full cold that seized on me.

A deuely dele in my hert denned;

A wicked grief lodged in my heart

Þah resoun sette myseluen saht,

Though understanding would have brought me peace.

I playned my perle þat þer wat3 spenned

I mourned my pearl which was there locked

Wyþ fyrce skylle3 þat faste faht.

With strong arguments that violently fought;

Þah kynde of Kryst me comfort kenned,

Though Christ's mercy would have taught me comfort

My wretched wylle in wo ay wrahte.

My wretched will in woe always tossed.

I felle vpon þat floury flaht;

I fell upon that flowery sward.

Suche odour to my herne3 schot

Such fragrance to my senses shot,

I slode vpon a slepyng-slahte

I fell upon a deadly sleep

On þat precos perle wyþouten spot.

Over that precious pearl without a spot.

Fro spot my spryryt þer sprang in space;

At once my spirit from the spot sprang thither;

My body on balke þer bod in sweuen.

My body on the bank there stayed in sleep,

My goste is gon in Gode3 grace

My soul gone forth, through the grace of God,

In auenture þer meruayle3 meuen.

Upon adventure, where wondrous things occur.

I ne wyste in þis worlde quere þat hit wace,

I knew not where in this world it was,

Bot I knew me keste þer klyfe3 cleuen.

But I knew myself cast where cliffs cleaved the air.

Towarde a foreste I bere þe face,

Toward a forest I turned my face,

Where rych rokke3 wer to dyscreuen.

Where rich rocks were to be descried.

Þe lyht of hem myht no mon leuen,

The light from them no man could believe -

Þe glemande glory þat of hem glent;

The gleaming glory that from them shone -

For wern neuer webbe3 þat wyhe3 weuen

For never were webs which mortals weave

Of half so dere adubmente.

Of half so precious an adornment.

(Pearl Vv. 1-72)