Ballate
Unto her presence no man could be brought
Who did not well to tremble for the daring.”
And I? Would swoon if I should meet her faring.
(Envoi)
Go! Ballad mine, and when thy journey has won
Unto my Lady’s presence wonderful,
Speak of mine anguish in some fitting fashion,
Sorrowfully thus, “My sender is sorrowful,
Lo, how he saith, he hath no hope at all
Of drawing pity from such courtesy
As keeps his Lady’s gracious company.”
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