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Title: A Ballad sent to King Richard
Author: Geoffrey Chaucer [
More Titles by Chaucer]
SOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable,
That man's word was held obligation;
And now it is so false and deceivable,* *deceitful
That word and work, as in conclusion,
Be nothing one; for turned up so down
Is all this world, through meed* and wilfulness, *bribery
That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
What makes this world to be so variable,
But lust* that folk have in dissension? *pleasure
For now-a-days a man is held unable* *fit for nothing
*But if* he can, by some collusion,** *unless* *fraud, trick
Do his neighbour wrong or oppression.
What causeth this but wilful wretchedness,
That all is lost for lack of steadfastness?
Truth is put down, reason is holden fable;
Virtue hath now no domination;
Pity exil'd, no wight is merciable;
Through covetise is blent* discretion; *blinded
The worlde hath made permutation
From right to wrong, from truth to fickleness,
That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
L'Envoy.
O Prince! desire to be honourable;
Cherish thy folk, and hate extortion;
Suffer nothing that may be reprovable* *a subject of reproach
To thine estate, done in thy region;* *kingdom
Show forth the sword of castigation;
Dread God, do law, love thorough worthiness,
And wed thy folk again to steadfastness!
-THE END-
Geoffrey Chaucer's poem: A Ballad sent to King Richard
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