A bard there was, and that a worthy wight, Who from the time that he began to write Served God and beauty with an humble mind, And most of all, he knew and loved mankind. Laughing he was, and quick at many a jest; The Lord loves mirth -- the devil take the rest! A simple grace ere wine was poured at dinner, A ready hand outstretched to saint and sinner, A prayer at times, not lengthy but devout, -- This was our poet's faith without a doubt. Travel he loved, and wonders had to tell Of royal France and Italy as well, And everywhere he went, his furtive pen Took down the secrets of his fellow-men, Their faces and their stories, high and low, From lordly Petrarch and Boccaccio Unto the meanest villein who could hold Some tavern audience with the tales he told. Yet with his scrivening, he never swerved From duty to King Edward, whom he served, And though he roamed both France and Italy, England was where he ever longed to be, And thither he returned with magic spoils That England might have pleasure of his toils, And hear his brave chivalric stories sung By English pilgrims in the English tongue. Noble his spirit was, and gay his heart; A judge of wine, a master of his art, He loved all men, nor was ashamed to show it: He was a very parfit, gentil poet, Gentil in life, and parfit in his rhyme, -- God send us such another in our time! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVER'S LAMENT by EVA K. ANGLESBURG PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 56. AL-WALI by EDWIN ARNOLD A BERKSHIRE HOLIDAY by CLIFFORD BAX MICHAELMASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT IF THE WORLD WERE RIGHT by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON BODY AND SOUL: A METAPHYSICAL ARGUMENT by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |