Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE REGEMENT OF PRINCES [DE REGIMINE PRINCIPUM]: PROEM, by                 Poet Analysis    
First Line: But wele awaye, so is myn herte wo
Last Line: O maystir, maystir, god thy soule reste!
Alternate Author Name(s): Occleve, Thomas
Variant Title(s): Proem To The Regement Of Princes


But wele awaye, so is myn herte wo,
That the honour of English tounge is deed,
Of which I was wonte have counseil and rede.

O maister dere and fader reverent,
My maister Chaucer! floure of eloquence,
Mirrour of fructuous entendement,
O universal fadir in science,
Allas! that thou thyne excellent prudence
In thy bedde mortel myghtest not bequethe;
What eyled Dethe? allas, why wold he sle the?

O Dethe, that didest not harme singulere
In slaughtre of hym, but alle this lond it smerteth;
But natheles yit hast thow no powere
His name to slee; his hye vertu asterteth
Unslayne fro the, whiche ay us Iyfly herteth
With bookes of his ornat endityng,
That is to alle this londe enlumynyng.

Hastow nat eek my maistre Gower slayne?
Whos vertu I am insufficient
For to descreyve, I wote wel in certeyne:
For to sleen alle this world thow hast y-ment,
But syn oure Lord Christ was obedient
To thee, in feyth I can no better seye,
His creatures musten thee obeye.

* * *

Symple is my goste, and scars my letterure,
Unto youre excellence for to write
Myne inward love, and yit in aventure
Wol I me put, thogh I can but Iyte;
My dere maister, -- God his soule quyte, --
And fader, Chaucer, fayne wold have me taught,
But I was dulle, and lerned Iyte or naught.

Allas! my worthy maister honorable,
This londes verray tresour and richesse,
Dethe by thy dethe hath harme irreperable
Unto us done: hir vengeable duresse
Dispoiled hath this londe of the swetnesse
Of rethoryk, for unto Tullius
Was never man so like amonges us.

Also, who was hyer in phylosofye
To Aristotle in our tunge but thow?
The steppes of Virgile in poysye
Thou folwedest eke: men wote well ynow.
That combre-worlde, that the my maister slowe
(Wolde I slayne were!) dethe was to hastyf
To renne on the, and reve the thy Iyf.

* * *

She myght han taryed hir vengeaunce a whyle,
Tyl sum man hadde egal to the be;
Nay, let be that; she wel knew that this yle
May never man forth bringe lik to the,
And hir office nedys do must she;
God bad hire soo, I truste as for the beste,
O maystir, maystir, God thy soule reste!






Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net