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And that we all should featly hold
In heart the mirth of elder days,
Some took their harps and gaily told
Of olden loves in tender lays.
I know not all their subtle ways;
I tell the little that I know;
So hearken, lords, your poet prays,
And I will sing of Orfeo.
In heart the mirth of elder days,
Some took their harps and gaily told
Of olden loves in tender lays.
I know not all their subtle ways;
I tell the little that I know;
So hearken, lords, your poet prays,
And I will sing of Orfeo.
Sir Orfeo, a king was he,
And in his time a mighty man,
Stalwart and strong and masterly,
A kind and courteous Christian.
To King Pluto his lineage ran,
His mother from Queen Juno sprung;
Men called them gods when time began
For lofty deeds they did and sung.
And in his time a mighty man,
Stalwart and strong and masterly,
A kind and courteous Christian.
To King Pluto his lineage ran,
His mother from Queen Juno sprung;
Men called them gods when time began
For lofty deeds they did and sung.
Orfeo most of any king
Loved a harper and his lay;
Every harper there might sing,
Honoured if he chose to stay.
Loved a harper and his lay;
Every harper there might sing,
Honoured if he chose to stay.
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