Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE BOKE OF THE DUCHESSE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER

Poet Analysis

First Line: ME THOGHTE THUS, THAT HIT WAS MAY
Last Line: NE IN AL THE WELKENE WAS A CLOWDE.
Me thoghte thus, that hyt was May,
And in the dawnynge, ther I lay,
Me mette thus in my bed al naked,
And loked forth, for I was waked
With smale foules, a grete hepe,
That had afrayed me out of slepe,
Thorgh noyse and swetnesse of her songe
And as me mette, they sate amonge
Upon my chambre roof wythoute,
Upon the tyles al aboute;
And songen everych in hys wyse
The moste solempne servise
By noote, that ever man, Y trowe,
Had herd. For somme of hem songe lowe,
Somme high, and al of oon acorde.
To telle shortly at oo word,
Was never herd so swete a steven,
But hyt hadde be a thyng of heven,
So mery a soun, so swete entewnes,
That, certes, for the toune of Tewnes,
I nolde but I had herd hem synge,
For al my chambre gan to rynge,
Thorgh syngynge of her armonye;
For instrument nor melodye
Was no-wher herd yet half so swete,
Nor of acorde ne half so mete.
For ther was noon of hem that feynede
To synge, for eche of hem hym peynede
To fynde out mery crafty notys;
They ne sparede not her throtys.
And, sooth to seyn, my chambre was
Ful wel depeynted, and with glas
Were alle the wyndowes wel yglased
Ful clere, and nat an hoole ycrased,
That to beholde hyt was grete joye.
For holy al the story of Troye
Was in the glasynge ywrought thus;
Of Ector, and of kyng Priamus,
Of Achilles, and of kyng Lamedon,
And eke of Medea and of Jason,
Of Paris, Eleyne, and of Lavyne;
And alle the walles, with coloures fyne
Were peynted, bothe text and glose,
And al the Romaunce of the Rose.
My windowes were shet echon,
And throgh the glas the sonne shon
Upon my bed with bryghte bemys,
With many glade, gilde stremys;
And eke the welken was so faire,
Blewe, bryghte, clere was the ayre,
And ful atempre, for sothe, hyt was;
For nother to cold nor hoote yt nas,
Ne in al the welkene was a clowde.




Home: PoetryExplorer.net