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Balade - a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer


 

Balade

Hyd Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere; 
Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun; 
Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere; 
Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun, 
Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun; 
Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne; 
My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne. 

Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere, 
Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun, 
And Polixene, that boghten love so dere, 
And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun, 
Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun; 
And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne; 
My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne. 

Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere, 
And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun, 
And Canace, espyed by thy chere, 
Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun, 
Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun; 
Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne; 
My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.


Balade  - a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer

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