Do Not Disavow

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Do Not Disavow By: Rick Davis   When Charlemagne established law Salic in barb’rous land, The gospel flourished, and he saw Christ’s praise on every hand.   (“Do you approve his methods now?”) I do not disavow.   King Godfrey took Jerusalem From bloody paynim hands And brought a halt to Musselmen Invading Christian lands.   (“He did some mean things anyhow!”) I do not disavow.   King Richard with his scarlet shield And passant lions ‘bossed Rode forth again unto the field To regain what was lost.   (“His deeds at Acre you allow?”) I do not disavow.   Unto the Germans Luther brought The gospel full restored, And Calvin at Geneva taught The glory of the Lord.   (“The Jews? Servetus? Holy cow!”) I do not disavow.   Stonewall and Lee like knights of old Fought for their native soil, The true and lovely to uphold Against the tyrant’s spoil.   (“Those vile racists ...
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To a Ladye

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To a Ladye
William Dunbar

SWEET rois of vertew and of gentilness,
Delytsum lily of everie lustynes,
    Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear,
    And everie vertew that is wenit dear,
Except onlie that ye are mercyless.

Into your garth this day I did persew;
There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew;
    Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne,
    And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene;
Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew.

I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne,
Has slain this gentil herb, that I of mene;
    Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine
    That I would make to plant his root againe,—
So confortand his levis unto me bene.

Comments

Erica said…
I think I got the general idea of the poem but I'd still like to see a modern English translation...
And it took me this long to realize your background picture is Gandalf at Bag End...
20 May, 2008 20:03
Rick Davis said…
It is modern English! Late 1400s. Well after Chaucer.
But I suppose... ;)

Sweet rose of virtue and gentleness,
Delightsome lily of every lustiness,
Richest in bounty and in beauty clear,
And every virtue that is held dear,
Except only that you are merciless.

Into your garden this day I did pursue;
There saw I flowers that fresh were of hue;
Both white and red most lustly were to be seen;
And wholesome herbs upon stalks green;
Yet leaf nor flower find could I non of rue.

I doubt that March, with his cold blasts keen,
Has slain this gentle herb, that complain of;
Whose piteous death does to my heart such pain,
That I would make to plant his root again,
So comforting his leaves unto me have been.
21 May, 2008 12:00
Erica said…
You know what I mean ;-)
23 May, 2008 11:54
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