Classic Poem

And so to a chambre full solacious
Dame Musike wente with La Bell Pucell.
All of jasper with stones precious
The rofe was wrought curiously and well;
The windowes glased mervailously to tell;
With clothe of tissue in the richest maner
The walles were hanged hye and circuler.

There sate dame Musike with all her minstralsy,
As taboures, trumpettes, with pipes melodious,
Sakbuttes, organs, and the recorder swetely,
Harpes, lutes, and crowddes right delicious,
Symphans, doussemers, with claricymbales glorious,
Rebeckes, claricordes, eche in their degre,
Dide sitte aboute their ladyes mageste.

Before dame Musike I dide knele adowne,
Sayenge to her, "O faire lady pleasaunt,
Your prudence reineth most hye in renowne,
For you be ever right concordant
With perfite reason, whiche is not variaunt:
I beseche your grace with all my diligence
To instructe me in your noble science."

"It is," she saide, "right gretely prouffitable,
For musike doth sette in all unite
The discorde thinges which are variable,
And devoideth mischefe and grete iniquite;
Where lacketh musicke there is no pleinte,
For musike is concorde and also peace:
Nothinge without musike maye well encreace.

The seven sciences in one monacorde
Eche upon other do full well depende;
Musicke hath them so set in concorde
That all in one maye right well extende;
All perfite reason they do so comprehende
That they are waye and perfite doctrine
To the joye above, whiche is celestine.

And yet also the perfite physike,
Which appertaineth well to the body,
Doth well resemble unto the musike;
Whan the inwarde intrailes tourneth contrary,
That nature cannot werke directly,
Than doth phesike the partes interiall
In ordre set to their originall."

And musike selfe it is melodious
To rejoyce the eeres and confort the braine,
Sharpinge the wittes with sounde solacious,
Devoidinge bad thoughtes which dide remaine;
It gladdeth the herte also well certaine,
Lengthe the life with dulcet armony;
It is good recreacion after study."

She commaunded her minstrelles right anone to play
Mamours, the swete and the gentill daunce;
With La Bell Pucell that was faire and gaye
She me recommaunded with all pleasaunce
To daunce true mesures without variaunce.
O Lorde God, how glad than was I,
So for to daunce with my swete lady.

By her propre hande soft as only silke
With due obeisaunce I dide her than take.
Her skinne was white as whalles bone or milke;
My thought was ravisshed; I might not aslake
My brenninge hert: she the fire dide make.
These daunces truely Musike hath me tought:
To lute or daunce but it availed nought.

For the fire kindled and waxed more and more;
The dauncinge blewe it with her beaute clere;
My hert sekened and began waxe sore:
A minute six houres, and six houres a yere,
I thought it was, so hevy was my chere;
But yet for to cover my great love aright,
The outwarde countenance I made gladde and light.