Ballad Xiv Poem by Christine de Pizan

Ballad Xiv



Ah, Death, Death, Death, to thee I make my prayer !
Come, rend me from this dolorous world apart !
Life lures no longer : since my lady fair
Would have me shun her, let my hapless heart
Be very prey to pain and sorrow's sword.
Gladness I leave and all delight for aye,
And thee alone, O Death, have I implored
Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Alas, alas, what doleful news is there !
Never to knight assailed with glaive or dart
Came heavier trouble than the woes I share,
I, who have gathered up in shame and smart
An evil greater than I may record :
Since now my love from all adventure high
Must needs withdraw, and death be my reward
Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Ah, lady of mine, can'st thou such hardness dare
And suffer me in anguish to depart
For love of thee ? Yet Love must witness bear
Who knoweth no age can show, nor any art,
Servant more faithful both in deed and word
Among all lovers that he might espy :
But my mishaps a worser end afford
Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Ah, God of love, why sufferest thou, fair lord,
That thus in sorrow undeserved I die ?
All things I leave, of all to be abhorred,
Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

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