Madame, you be of all beauty shrine <br />As far as circled is the mappamund, <br />For as the crystal glorious you shine, <br />And like ruby be your cheeks round. <br />Therewith you be so merry and so jocund, <br />That at a revel when that I see you dance, <br />It is an ointment unto my wound, <br />Though you to me not do no dalliance. <br /> <br />For though I weep of tears full a tyne, <br />Yet may that woe my heart not confound; <br />Your seemly voice, that you so small out-twine <br />Makes my thought in joy and bliss abound. <br />So courteously I go, with love bound, <br />That to myself I say, in my penance, <br />Suffiseth me to love you, Rosamund, <br />Though you to me not do no dalliance. <br /> <br />No never pike wallowed in galantine <br />As I in love am wallowed and am wound, <br />For which full oft I of myself divine <br />That I am truly Tristan the second. <br />My love may not refreyd be nor a found <br />I burn aye in amorous pleasure. <br />Do what you list, I will your thrall be found, <br />Though you to me not do no dalliance. <br /> <br />© 2013 Forrest Hainline<br /><br />Forrest Hainline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/geoffrey-chaucer-to-rosamund-forrest-hainline-s-minimalist-translation/
