April

FROM THE FRENCH OF THE VIDAME DE CHARTRES 12—?

	When the field catch flower
	And the underwood is green,
	And from bower unto bower
	The songs of the birds begin,
	I sing with sighing between.
	When I laugh and sing,
	I am heavy at heart for my sin;
	I am sad in the spring
	For my love that I shall not win,
10	For a foolish thing.
	This profit I have of my woe,
	That I know, as I sing,
	I know he will needs have it so
	Who is master and king,
	Who is lord of the spirit of spring.
	I will serve her and will not spare
	Till her pity awake
	Who is good, who is pure, who is fair,
	Even her for whose sake
20	Love hath ta’en me and slain unaware.
	O my lord, O Love,
	I have laid my life at thy feet;
	Have thy will thereof,
	Do as it please thee with it,
	For what shall please thee is sweet.
	I am come unto thee
	To do thee service, O Love;
	Yet cannot I see
	Thou wilt take any pity thereof,
30	Any mercy on me.
	But the grace I have long time sought
	Comes never in sight,
	If in her it abideth not,
	Through thy mercy and might,
	Whose heart is the world’s delight.
	Thou hast sworn without fail I shall die,
	For my heart is set
	On what hurts me, I wot not why,
	But cannot forget
40	What I love, what I sing for and sigh.
	She is worthy of praise,
	For this grief of her giving is worth
	All the joy of my days
	That lie between death’s day and birth,
	All the lordship of things upon earth.
	Nay, what have I said?
	I would not be glad if I could;
	My dream and my dread
	Are of her, and for her sake I would
50	That my life were fled.
	Lo, sweet, if I durst not pray to you,
	Then were I dead;
	If I sang not a little to say to you,
	(Could it be said)
	O my love, how my heart would be fed;
	Ah sweet who hast hold of my heart,
	For thy love’s sake I live,
	Do but tell me, ere either depart,
	What a lover may give
60	For a woman so fair as thou art.
	The lovers that disbelieve,
	False rumours shall grieve
	And evil-speaking shall part.