POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
Causelessly,
I know not where to go seeking,
For certainly I will never again gather
joy so rich, and if I find not ever
A lady with look so speaking
To my desire, worth yours whom I have lost,
I'll have no other love at any cost.
And since I could not find a peer to you,
Neither one to fair, nor of such heart,
So eager and alert,
Nor with such art
In attire, nor so gay,
Nor with gift so bountiful and so true,
I will go out a-searching,
Culling from each a fair trait
To make me a borrowed lady
Till I again find you ready.
Bels Cembelins, I take of you your color,
For it's your own, and your glance,
Where love is;
A proud thing I do here,
For as to color and eyes
I shall have missed nothing at all,
Having yours.
I ask of Midons Aelis (of Montfort)
Her straight speech free-running,
That my phantom lack not in cunning.
At Chalais of the Viacountess, I would
That she give me outright
Her two hands and her throat.
So take I my road
To Rochechouart,
Swift-foot to my Lady Anhes,
Seeing that Tristan's lady Iseutz had never
Such grace of locks, I do ye to wit,
Though she'd the far fame for it.
Of Audiart at Malemort,
Though she with a full heart
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