Romans and Lombards though folk renown, I, at my peril, I say no: There's no right speech out of Paris town. The Naples women (so we are told) Can school all comers in speech and show; For pleasant prattle of friend and foe; But hail they from Athens or Grand Cairo, Greeks or Egyptians, high or low, There's no right speech out of Paris town. Switzers nor Bretons know how to scold, Enough of places have I set down?) Valenciennes, Calais, wherever you go, ENVOI Prince, to the Paris ladies, I trow, For pleasant parlance I yield the crown. BALLAD THAT VILLON MADE AT THE REQUEST OF HIS MOTHER, WHEREWITHAL TO DO HER HOMAGE TO OUR LADY ADY of heaven, Regent of the earth, L Empress of all the infernal marshes fell, Receive me, thy poor Christian, 'spite my dearth, Withouten which no soul of all that sigh Say to thy Son I am his,- that by his birth As Mary of Egypt's dole he changed to mirth, Maid that without breach of virginity A poor old wife I am, and little worth; Nothing I know, nor letter aye could spell: Where in the church to worship I fare forth, I see heaven limned with harps and lutes, and hell Where damned folk seethe in fire unquenchable. One doth me fear, the other joy serene: Grant I may have the joy, O Virgin clean, To whom all sinners lift their hands on high, Made whole in faith through thee their go-between. In this belief I will to live and die. ENVOI Thou didst conceive, Princess most bright of sheen. Jesus the Lord, that hath nor end nor mean, Almighty, that, departing heaven's demesne To succor us, put on our frailty, Offering to death his sweet of youth and green: In this belief I will to live and die. Hˆ BALLAD OF VILLON IN PRISON AVE pity, friends, have pity now, I pray, Nimble as quarrel from a crossbow shot; Clerks, that go caroling the livelong day, Scant-pursed, but glad and frank and full of glee; Wandering at will along the broad highway, Harebrained, perchance, but whit-whole too, perdie: Lo! now I die, whilst that you absent be, Song-singers,-when poor Villon's days are told, You will sing psalms for him and candles hold; Here light nor air nor levin enters not, Where ramparts thick are round about him rolled. Will you all leave poor Villon here to rot? Consider but his piteous array, High and fair lords, of suit and service free, That nor to king nor kaiser homage pay, But straight from God in heaven hold your fee! Come fast or feast, all days alike fasts he, Whence are his teeth like rakes' teeth to behold; No table hath he but the sheer black mold; After dry bread (not manchets), pot on pot They empty down his throat of water cold: Will you all leave poor Villon here to rot? ENVOI Princes and lords aforesaid, young and old, THE EPITAPH IN BALLAD FORM THAT VILLON MADE FOR HIMSELF AND HIS COMPANIONS, EXPECTING NO BETTER THAN TO BE HANGED IN THEIR COMPANY B ROTHERS, that after us on life remain, Harden your hearts against us not as stone; Let none make merry of our piteous case, Yea, we conjure you, look not with disdain, Brothers, on us, though we to death were done Of sense springs not in every mother's son; And save us from the nether torture-place. We are whiles scoured and soddened of the rain, And plucked our beard and hair out one by one. No thimble dinted like our bird-pecked face. ENVOI Prince Jesus, over all empowered, Let us not fall into the Place of Dread, But all our reckoning with the Fiend efface. XXVI-964 BALLAD OF THINGS KNOWN AND UNKNOWN LIES in the milk I know full well; I know men by the clothes they wear; I know the walnut by the shell; I know the foul sky from the fair; I know the pear-tree by the pear; I know the worker from the drone, And eke the good wheat from the tare: I know the pourpoint by the fell, And by his gown I know the frère; Nuns by the veils that hide their hair; I know how horse from mule to tell; I know both Beatrice and Bell; I know the hazards, odd and pair; I know of visions in the air; I know the power of Peter's throne, ENVOI Prince, I know all things; fat and spare, BALLAD AGAINST THOSE WHO MISSAY OF FRANCE ET him meet beasts that breathe out fiery rain, L Even as did Jason hard by Colchis town; Or seven years changed into a beast remain, Or suffer else such teen and mickle bale As Helen's rape on Trojans did entail; Or in Hell's marshes fallen let him fare |