Opening Lines of Medieval Literature (Modern English Edition!)

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Can you name the work of medieval literature by their opening lines?

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Opening LineMedieval WorkAuthor (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 LineMedieval WorkAuthor (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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