F alse beauty that costs me so dear, <br />R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness, <br />A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder, <br />N amed only to achieve my sure distress, <br />C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death, <br />O covert pride that sends men to ruin, <br />I mplacable eyes, won't true redress <br />S uccour a poor man, without crushing? <br /> <br />M uch better elsewhere to search for <br />A id: it would have been more to my honour: <br />R etreat I must, and fly with dishonour, <br />T hough none else then would have cast a lure. <br />H elp me, help me, you greater and lesser! <br />E nd then? With not even one blow landing? <br />Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here, <br />Succour a poor man, without crushing? <br /> <br />That time will come that will surely wither <br />Your bright flower, it will wilt and yellow, <br />Then if I can grin, I'll call on laughter, <br />But, yet, that would be foolish though: <br />You'll be pale and ugly: and I'll be old, <br />Drink deep then, while the stream's still flowing: <br />And don't bring trouble on all men so, <br />Succour a poor man, without crushing. <br /> <br />Amorous Prince, the greatest lover, <br />I want no evil that's of your doing, <br />But, by God, all noble hearts must offer <br />To succour a poor man, without crushing.<br /><br />François Villon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/le-testament-ballade-a-s-amye/
