| Opening Line | Medieval Work | Author (if applicable) |
|---|
| Britain, an island in the Atlantic, formerly called Albion, lies to the north-west, facing, though at a considerable distance, the coasts of Germany, France, and Spain, which form | |
| When April with his showers sweet with fruit/The drought of March has pierced unto the root/And bathed each vein with liquor that has power/To generate therein and sire the flower. | |
| Of those who wrote before our lives/Their precious legacy survives;/From what was written then, we learn... | |
| Often the lone-dweller waits for favor,/mercy of the Measurer, though he unhappy/across the seaways long time must/stir with his hands the rime-cold sea,/tread exile-tracks. | |
| Wild was Vingthor when he awoke/And when his mighty hammer he missed;/He shook his beard, his hair was bristling,/As the son of Jorth about him sought. | |
| In a summer season when soft was the sun,/I clothed myself in a cloak as I shepherd were,/Habit like a hermit's unholy in works,/And went wide in the world wonders to hear. | |
| The siege and assault having ceased at Troy/as its blazing battlements blackened to ash,/the man who had planned and plotted that treason/had trial enough for the truest traitor! | |
| It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against him long time. | |
| Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped, we have heard, and what honor the athelings won! | |
| To tell the double sorrow in his love that -------, Son of King Priam of Troy, had, how his lot passed from woe to joy and afterwards to woe again, this is my purpose before I part | |
| | Opening Line | Medieval Work | Author (if applicable) |
|---|
| Charles the King, our Lord and Sovereign,/Full seven years hath sojourned in Spain,/Conquered the land, and won the western main,/Now no fortress against him doth remain,/No city w | |
| Hearing I ask from the holy races,/From Heimdall's sons, both high and low;/Thou wilt, Valfather, that well I relate/Old tales I remember of men long ago. | |
| Lo! I will tell of the best of dreams,/what I dreamed in the middle of the night,/after the speech-bearers were in bed. | |
| Whoever gets knowledge from God, science,/and a talent for speech, eloquence,/Shouldn't shut up or hide away;/No, that person should gladly display. | |
| Ægir, who was also called Gymir, had prepared ale for the gods, after he had got the mighty kettle, as now has been told. | |
| Pwyll Pendeuic Dyfed was lord of the seven cantrefs of Dyfed. | |
| Since my lady of Champagne wishes me to undertake to write a romance, I shall very gladly do so, being so devoted to her service as to do anything in the world for her, without any | |
| Midway in the journey of our life/I came to myself in a dark wood,/for the straight way was lost. | |
| A certain man was named Ægir, or Hlér. | |
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