Poet of the Month 101: GEOFFREY CHAUCER

 

GEOFFREY CHAUCER

c 1343 — 25 October 1400 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LACK OF STEADFASTNESS

 

 

Ballad

 

Some time ago this world was so steadfast and stable,

That a man's word was his obligation,

And now it is so false and deceivable,

That word and deed, in the end,

Are nothing alike, for all this is turned upside down

For the sake of liquor and wilfulness,

Everything is lost for lack of steadfastness.

 

 

What makes this world so variable,

But the fondness we have for dissent?

Among us now a man is considered useless,

Unless he can, by some collusion,

Do his neighbour wrong or oppress him.

What causes this, but wilful wretchedness,

When everything is lost, for lack of steadfastness?

 

 

Truth is suppressed, reason held to be a fable;

Virtue now has no dominion,

Pity is exiled, no man is merciful.

Through covetousness discretion is deceived;

The world has made a shift

From right to wrong, from truth to fickleness,

Everything is lost, for lack of steadfastness.

 

 

L'envoy to King Richard

 

O prince, desire to be honourable,

Cherish your subjects and hate extortion!

Suffer nothing, that may be reprehensible

To your reign, to be conducted in your kingdom.

Wield your sword of castigation,

Dread Lord, obey the law, love truth and worthiness,

And bond your subjects again to steadfastness. 

c 1380–1396

 

 

 

 

Adapted into modern(ish) English by

BR

 

 

[See below for original Middle English version] 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read about the life of English poet, author and civil servant GEOFFREY CHAUCER:

 

 

 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/geoffrey-chaucer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LAK OF STEDFASTNESSE  

 

 

Balade.

 

Som tyme this world was so steadfast and stable,

That mannes word was obligacioun,

And now hit is so fals and deceivable,

That word and deed, as in conclusioun,

Ben no-thing lyk, for turned up so doun

Is al this world for mede and wilfulness,

That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse.

 

 

What maketh this world to be so variable,

But lust that folk have in dissensioun?

Among us now a man is holde unable,

But-if he can, by som collusioun,

Don his neighbour wrong or oppressioun.

What causeth this, but wilful wreechednesse,

That al is lost, for lak of stedfastnesse?

 

 

Trouthe is put doun, resoun is holden fable;

Vertu hath now no dominacioun,

Pitee exyled, no man is merciable.

Through covetyse is blent discrecioun;

The world hath mad a permutacioun

Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikelnesse,

That al is lost, for lak of stedfastnesse.

 

 

Lenvoy to King Richard.

 

O prince, desyre to be honourable,

Cherish thy folk and hate extorcioun!

Suffre no thing, that may be reprevable

To thyn estate, done in thy regioun.

Shew forth thy swerd of castigacioun,

Dred God, do law, love trouthe and worthinesse,

And wed they folk agein to stedfastnesse.

 

 

 

c 1380–1396 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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