Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BEHOLD THE MEADS, by GUILLAUME DE POITIERS



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
BEHOLD THE MEADS, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Behold the meads are green again
Last Line: And silken robes and miniver!
Alternate Author Name(s): William Ix, Count Of Poitiers; Guilhem Ix Of Poitiers
Subject(s): Troubadours; Minnesingers


I
BEHOLD the meads are green again,
The orchard-bloom is seen again,
Of sky and stream the mien again
Is mild, is bright!
Now should each heart that loves obtain
Its own delight.

But I will say no ill of love,
However slight my guerdon prove;
Repining doth not me behove:
And yet -- to know
How lightly she I fain would move
Might bliss bestow!

There are who hold my folly great,
Because with little hope I wait;
But one old saw doth animate
And me assure;
Their hearts are high, their might is great,
Who well endure
II
DESIRE of song hath taken me,
But sorrowful must my song be;
No more pay my fealty
In Limousine or Poitiers,

Since I go forth to exile far,
And leave my son to stormy war,
To fear and peril; for they are
No friends who dwell about him there.

What wonder then my heart is sore
That Poitiers I see no more.
And Fulk of Anjou must implore
To guard his kinsman and my heir?

If he of Anjou shield him not,
And he who made me knight, I wot
Many against the boy will plot,
Deeming him well-nigh in despair.

Nay, if he be not wondrous wise,
And gay, and ready for emprise,
Gascons and Angevins will rise,
And him into the dust will bear.

Ah, I was brave and I not fame,
But we are sundered, all the same!
I go to him in whose great name
Confide all sinners everywhere.

Surrendering all that did elate
My heart, -- all pride of steed or state, --
To Him on whom the pilgrims wait,
Without more tarrying, I repair.

Forgive me, comrade most my own,
If aught of wrong I thee have done!
I lift to Jesus on his throne
In Latin and Romans my prayer.

Oh, I was gallant, I was glad.
Till my Lord spake and me forbade;
But now the end is coming sad,
Nor can I more my burden bear.

Good friends, when that indeed I die,
Pay me due honor where I lie:
Tell how in love and luxury
I triumphed still, -- or here or there.

But farewell now, love, luxury,
And silken robes and miniver!






Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net