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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421329" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Floure of Curtesye</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Feverier, whan the frosty moone<br>Was horned, ful of Phebus firy lyght,<br>And that she gan to reyse her streames sone,<br>Saynt Valentyne, upon thy blisful nyght<br>Of dutie whan glad is every wight,<br>And foules chese, to voyde her olde sorowe,<br>Everyche his make, upon the next morowe,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same tyme, I herde a larke synge<br>Ful lustely, agayne the morowe gray:<br>'Awake, ye lovers, out of your slombringe,<br>This glad morowe, in al the haste ye may!<br>Some observaunce dothe unto this day,<br>Your choyse agen of herte to renewe,<br>In confyrmyng forever to be trewe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And ye that be, of chosyng, at your large<br>This lusty day, by custome of nature,<br>Take upon you the blisful holy charge<br>To serve love, whyle your lyfe may dure,<br>With herte, body, and al your besy cure,<br>Forevermore, as Venus and Cipride<br>For you disposeth, and the god Cupyde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For joye owe we playnly to obey<br>Unto this lordes mighty ordynaunce,<br>And, mercylesse, rather forto dye,<br>Than ever in you be founden varyaunce;<br>And though your lyfe be medled with grevaunce,<br>And, at your herte, closed be your wounde,<br>Beth alway one, there as ye are bounde.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That whan I had herde and lysted longe,<br>With devoute herte, the lusty melodye<br>Of this hevenly comfortable songe,<br>So agreable as by ermonye,<br>I rose anon, and faste gan me hye<br>Towarde a grove, and the way take,<br>Foules to sene everyche chose his make.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet I was ful thursty in languisshyng;<br>Myn ague was so fervent in his hete,<br>Whan Aurora, for drery complaynyng,<br>Can distyl her chrystal teeres wete<br>Upon the soyle with sylver dewe so swete;<br>For she durste, for shame, not apere<br>Under the lyght of Phebus beames clere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so, for anguysshe of my paynes kene,<br>And for constraynte of my sighes sore,<br>I set me downe under a laurer grene<br>Ful pitously; and alway more and more,<br>As I behelde into the holtes hore,<br>I gan complayne myn inwarde deedly smerte,<br>That aye so sore crampisshed myn herte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And whyle that I, in my drery payne<br>Sate and behelde, aboute on every tre<br>The foules sytte, alway twayne and twayne,<br>Than thought I thus: 'Alas, what may this be,<br>That every foule hath his lyberté<br>Frely to chose, after his desyre,<br>Everyche his make thus, fro yere to yere?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The sely wrenne, the tytemose also,<br>The lytel redbrest, have free election<br>To flyen yfere and togyther go<br>Where as hem lyst, aboute envyron,<br>As they of kynde have inclynacion,<br>And as Nature, empresse and gyde<br>Of every thyng, lyst to provyde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But man alone, alas, the harde stounde!<br>Ful cruelly, by kyndes ordynaunce,<br>Constrayned is, and by statute bounde<br>And debarred, from al suche plesaunce.<br>What meneth this? What is this purveyaunce<br>Of God above, agayne al right of kynde,<br>Without cause, so narowe man to bynde?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Thus may I sene, and playne, alas!<br>My woful houre and my disaventure,<br>That doulfully stonde in the same caas<br>So ferre behynde from al helth and cure.<br>My wounde abydeth lyke a sursanure;<br>For me fortune so felly lyste dispose,<br>My harme is hyd, that I dare not disclose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For I my herte have set in suche a place<br>Where I am never lykely forto spede,<br>So ferre I am hyndred from her grace<br>That, save Daunger, I have none other mede;<br>And thus, alas, I not who shal me rede,<br>Ne for myne helpe shape remedye,<br>For Male Bouche, and for false Envye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The whiche twayne aye stondeth in my wey<br>Malyciously, and false Suspection<br>Is very cause also that I dey,<br>Gynnyng and rote of my distruction,<br>So that I fele, in conclusyon,<br>With her traynes that they wol me shende<br>Of my labour, that dethe mote make an ende.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Yet or I dye, with herte, wyl, and thought,<br>To God of Love this avowe I make:<br>As I best can, howe dere that it be bought,<br>Where so it be that I slepe or wake,<br>Whyle Boreas dothe the leaves shake,<br>As I have heyght plainly, tyl I sterve,<br>For wel or wo, that I shal her serve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And for her sake, nowe this holy tyme,<br>Saynt Valentyne, somwhat shal I write;<br>Although so be that I cannot ryme,<br>Nor curyously by no crafte endyte,<br>Yet lever I have that she put the wyte<br>In unconnyng than in neglygence,<br>Whatever I saye of her excellence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Whatever I say, it is of duté,<br>In sothfastnesse, and no presumpcion;<br>This I ensure to you that shal it se,<br>That it is al under correction,<br>What I reherce in commendacion<br>Of her, that I shal to you, as blyve,<br>So as I can, her vertues here discryve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ryght by example as the somer sonne<br>Passeth the sterre with his beames shene,<br>And Lucyfer, amonge the skyes donne,<br>A-morowe sheweth to voyde nyghtes tene,<br>So verily, withouten any wene,<br>My lady passeth, whoso taketh hede,<br>Al tho alyve, to speke of womanhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And as the ruby hath the soveraynté<br>Of ryche stones and the regalye,<br>And the rose of swetenesse and beauté<br>Of fresshe floures, without any lye,<br>Ryght so, in sothe, with her goodly eye,<br>She passeth al in bountie and fayrenesse,<br>Of maner eke, and of gentylnesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For she is bothe the fayrest and the beste,<br>To reken al, in very sothfastnesse,<br>For every vertue is in her at reste;<br>And furthermore, to speke of stedfastnesse,<br>She is the rote, and of semelynesse<br>The very myrrour, and of governaunce,<br>To al example, withouten varyaunce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Of porte benygne, and wonder glad of chere,<br>Havyng evermore her trewe advertence<br>Alway to reason, so that her desyre<br>Is brideled aye by wytte and provydence;<br>Thereto of wytte and of hye prudence<br>She is the welle, aye devoyde of pride,<br>That unto vertue her selven is the gyde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And over this, in her dalyaunce<br>Lowly she is, discrete and secree,<br>And goodly gladde by attemperaunce,<br>That every wight, of hygh and lowe degré,<br>Are glad in herte with her forto be;<br>So that, shortly, if I shal not lye,<br>She named is The Floure of Curtesye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And there to speke of femynyté,<br>The leste mannysshe in comparyson,<br>Goodly abasshed, havyng aye pyté<br>Of hem that ben in trybulacion;<br>For she alone is consolacion<br>To al that arne in mischefe and in nede,<br>To comforte hem of her womanhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And aye in vertue is her besy charge,<br>Sadde and demure, and but of wordes fewe;<br>Dredful also of tonges that ben large,<br>Eschewyng aye hem that lysten to hewe<br>Above her heed, her wordes for to shewe;<br>Dishonestly to speke of any wight - <br>She deedly hateth of hem to have a syght.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The herte of whom so honest is and clene,<br>And her entent so faythful and entere<br>That she ne may, for al the worlde, sustene<br>To suffre her eeres any worde to here<br>Of frende nor foe, neyther ferre ne nere,<br>Amysse resowning that hynder shulde his name;1<br>And if she do, she wexeth reed for shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'So trewely in menyng she is in-sette,<br>Without chaungyng or any doublenesse,<br>For bountie and beautie are together knette<br>In her persone, under faythfulnesse;<br>For voyde she is of newfanglenesse,<br>In herte aye one, forever to persever<br>There she is sette, and never to dissever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I am to rude her vertues everychone<br>Connyngly to discryve and write;<br>For wel ye wote, colour have I none,<br>Lyke her discrecion craftely to endyte,<br>For what I say, al it is to lyte;<br>Wherfore to you thus I me excuse,<br>That I aqueynted am not with no muse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'By rethorike my style to governe<br>In her preise and commendacion,<br>I am to blynde so hylye to discerne<br>Of her goodnesse to make discrypcion,<br>Save thus I say, in conclusyon,<br>If that I shal shortly her commende,<br>In her is naught that Nature can amende.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For good she is, lyke to Polycene,<br>And in fayrenesse to the quene Helayne,<br>Stedfast of herte, as was Dorigene,<br>And wyfely trouthe, if I shal not fayne,<br>In constaunce eke and faythe, she may attayne<br>To Cleopatre, and therto as secree<br>As was of Troye the whyte Antygoné.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'As Hester meke, lyke Judith of prudence,<br>Kynde as Alcest or Marcia Catoun,<br>And to Grisylde lyke in pacience,<br>And Ariadné of discrecioun,<br>And to Lucrece, that was of Rome toun,<br>She may be lykened as for honesté,<br>And for her faythe, unto Penelopé.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'To fayre Phyllis and to Hipsyphilee,<br>For innocence and for womanhede,<br>For semelynesse unto Canacé;<br>And over this, to speke of goodlyhede,<br>She passeth al that I can of rede,<br>For worde and dede, that she naught ne fal,<br>Acorde in vertue, and her werkes al.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For though that Dydo with wytte sage<br>Was in her tyme stedfast to Enee,<br>Of hastynesse yet she dyd outrage,<br>And so for Jason dyd also Medee;<br>But my lady is so avysee<br>That, bountie and beautie bothe in her demeyne,<br>She maketh bountie alway soverayne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'This is to meane, bountie gothe afore,<br>Lad by prudence, and hath the soveraynté,<br>And beautie foloweth, ruled by her lore,<br>That she ne fende her in no degré;<br>So that, in one, this goodly fresshe fre,<br>Surmountyng al, withouten any were,<br>Is good and fayre in one persone yfere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And though that I, for very ignoraunce,<br>Ne may discryve her vertues by and by,<br>Yet on this day, for a remembraunce,<br>Onely supported under her mercy,<br>With quakyng honde, I shal ful humbly<br>To her hynesse, my rudenesse forto quyte,<br>A lytel balade here byneth endyte,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ever as I can supprise in myn herte,<br>Alway with feare, betwyxt drede and shame,<br>Leste out of lose any worde asterte<br>In this metre, to make it seme lame;<br>Chaucer is deed, that had suche a name<br>Of fayre makyng, that was, without wene,<br>Fayrest in our tonge, as the laurer grene.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'We may assay forto countrefete<br>His gay style, but it wyl not be!<br>The welle is drie with the lycoure swete,<br>Bothe of Clye and of Caliopé; <br>And, first of al, I wol excuse me<br>To her that is grounde of goodlyhede,<br>And thus I say untyl her womanhede:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Balade Symple</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''With al my might and my best entent,<br>With al the faythe that mighty God of kynde<br>Me gave syth he me soule and knowyng sent,<br>I chese, and to this bonde ever I me bynde,<br>To love you best whyle I have lyfe and mynde.<br>Thus herde I foules in the daunynge<br>Upon the day of Saynte Valentyne synge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''Yet chese I, at the begynnyng, in this entent,<br>To love you, though I no mercy fynde,<br>And if you lyste I dyed, I wolde assent,<br>As ever twynne I quicke out of this lynde;<br>Suffyseth me to sene your fethers ynde.<br>Thus herde I foules in the mornynge <br>Upon the daye of Saynte Valentyne synge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''And over this, myne hertes luste to bente,<br>In honour onely of the wodde-bynde,<br>Holy I geve, never to repente<br>In joye or wo, where so that I wynde<br>Tofore Cupyde, with his eyen blynde.<br>The foules al, whan Tytan dyd springe,<br>With devoute hert, me thought I herde synge.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lenvoye</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Princesse of beautie, to you I represent<br>This symple dyté, rude as in makynge,<br>Of herte and wyl faythful in myn entent,<br>Lyke as this day foules herde I synge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here endeth the Floure of Curtesy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Lydgate">John Lydgate</a><div class=q>
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Was horned, ful of Phebus firy lyght,
And that she gan to reyse her streames sone,
Saynt Valentyne, upon thy blisful nyght
Of dutie whan glad is every wight,
And foules chese, to voyde her olde sorowe,
Everyche h..."></div>
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