Qu'en dites je vous prie?

Que vous en semble vraiement?

N'est elle de tous biens garnie,
Celle que j'ayme loyaument?

Soit qu'elle danse, cante ou rie,
Ou face quelque esbatement,
Faictes en loyal jugement,
Sans faveur et sans flatterie,

N'est elle de tous biens garnie,
Celle que j'ayme loyaument?

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

It is my very faith in troth

That one so fair can never be ;

And say'st thou not the same with me?

Tell me, in simple verity,

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

Whether she dance, or sing, or smile,
Or whate'er else may do or be,
Give me a voice impartial, free
From favour or from flattery;

Is she not lavishly endow'd,
She whom I love so loyally?

Bien monstrez, printemps gracieux,
De quel mestier savez servir;
Car yver fait cuers ennuyeux,'
Et vous les faictes rejouir;
Si tost come il vous voit venir,
Luy et sa meschant retenue,
Sont contrains et prets de fuir,
A votre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait champs et arbres vieux
Leur barbes de niege blanchir;
Et est si fort et pluvieux

Qu'empres le feu convient mouvir;
On ne puet hors des huys yssir,
Come ung oyseau qui est en mue;
Mais vous faictes tout revenir,

A votre joyeuse venue.

Yver fait le soleil es cieulx
D'un mantel de nues couvrir,

Et maintenant, (loue soit Dieulx !)
Vous estes venu esclarsir

Toutes choses et embellir;

Yver a son paine perdue,

Car l'an nouvel la fait bannir,

A votre joyeuse venue.

WELL thou showest, gracious spring,

What fair works thy hand can bring ; Winter makes all spirits weary,

Thine it is to make them merry :

At thy coming, instant he

And his spiteful followers flee,

Forced to quit their rule uncheering At thy bright appearing.

Fields and trees will aged grow,
Winter-clad, with beards of snow,
And so rough, so rainy he,
We must to the fireside flee ;

There, in dread of out-door weather,
Sculk, like moulting birds, together:
But thou com'st-all nature cheering
By thy bright appearing.

Winter yon bright sun enshrouds
With his mantle of dark clouds;
But, kind Heav'n be praised, once more
Bursts forth thine enlightening power,
Gladdening, brightening all the scene,
Proving how vain his work hath been,-
Flying at the influence cheering
Of thy bright appearing.

Mon seul amy! mon bien! ma joye!
Celui qui sur tous amer veulx,

Je vous pry que soyez joyeux

En esperant que brief vous voye ;

Car je ne fais guere voye

Da vous venir se m'ayd Dieux,
Mon seul, &c.

Et se par souhaidier pouoye

Estre empres vous ung jour ou deux,

U

4

Pour quang il a dessous les cieulx
Autre niens ne souhaideroye;
Mon seul, &c.

My only love! my joy! my pride!
More dear than all the world beside!
I pray thee now be blithe and gay,
Soon will I come without delay;
Brief space shall pass ere I to thee
Will fly, so Heav'n be kind to me,—
My only love! my joy! my pride!
More dear than all the world beside!

And oh! if strong desire could place
Me by thy side but little space,
For all that is beneath the skies,

No boon so high my heart should prize,-
My only love! my joy! my pride!
More dear than all the world beside!

Allez vous en, allez, allez,
Soucy, soin, et melancolie; &c.

HENCE away, anxious folly!
Care, depart, and melancholy!

Think ye all

my life to measure

Like the past, at your good pleasure?

That, at least, ye shall not do ;

Reason shall be lord o'er you :

Hence away, then, anxious folly!

Care, depart, and melancholy.

Should ye e'er return again
Hither with your gloomy train,
Cursed of the gods be ye,

And the hour ye come to me!
Hence away, anxious folly,
Care, and boding melancholy!

It is well known that Charles amused himself during his captivity by some attempts (rather awkward ones it is true) at his favourite rondeau in the English tongue. These curious pieces have been more than once published. The author of the "Memoirs of Jeanne d'Arc" (Lond. 1824) gives, as a specimen of the duke's poetic talent, what is in fact only a very indifferent Latin version (probably, however, by Charles himself) of one of the prettiest of his French rondeaus. Whether the author of these rambling, ill-arranged "Memoirs was aware of this does not appear. It would seem scarcely probable that he should quote a lame Latin version, if he was acquainted