Classic Poem

LAMENT

From the Breton

The apple boughs bend down with fruit;
— The wall is far too old to mend;
The rout rides up in full pursuit;
— Never ask the end.

The princes send ambassadors
— And high catastrophes portend;
Their galleys drive on desolate shores;
— Never ask the end.

The Pope has tendered me a ring;
— The King of France will stand my friend;
The Devil has shown me a marvellous thing;
— Never ask the end.'
William, lend me your hunting knife!
— This house is hollow to defend.
My fathers led a dolorous life;
— Never ask the end.