Balade

HYD, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;
Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun;
Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere;
Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun,
Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun;
Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne;
My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.

Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere,
Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,
And Polixene, that boghten love so dere,
And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,
Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;
And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne;
My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.

Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere,
And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,
And Canace, espyed by thy chere,
Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun,
Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun;
Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne;
My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.

by Geoffrey Chaucer

Comments (5)

A beautiful poem ever written, thanks for getting us to read.
My lady cometh! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere, And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun, And Canace, espyed by thy chere, Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun, Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun; Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne; My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.Love these lines. Beautiful poem. Thanks and congratularion ti his soul for being selected as this poem as the poem of the day.
love and love, good write
Such an interesting poem........