Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BEHOLD THE MEADS, by GUILLAUME DE POITIERS 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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 1 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 2 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 3 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 4 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 5 by ROBERT BROWNING SORDELLO: BOOK 6 by ROBERT BROWNING THE ROLL OF THE ROSES by NATHALIA CRANE THE DEATH OF GEOFFREY RUDEL, THE TROUBADOUR by ROWLAND EYLES EGERTON-WARBURTON AUGUST MOONRISE by SARA TEASDALE EPITAPH UPON A CHILD THAT DIED by ROBERT HERRICK A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY [DECEMBER 16, 1773] by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES |
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