Bertrand De Born Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACCAC DEDEEDE FGFGGFG HIJIIJI KLKLLKL MNMNNN OPOQPOP NRNRRNR SSSSSSS CSCSSCS TSTSSTS USVSSVS| The burden of the sometime years | A |
| That once my soul did overweigh | B |
| Falls from me with its griefs and fears | A |
| When gazing in thine eyes of gray | C |
| Wherein behold like some bright ray | C |
| Of dawn thy heart's fond love appears | A |
| To cheer my life upon its way | C |
| - | |
| Thine eyes the daybreak of my heart | D |
| That give me strength to do and dare | E |
| Whose beauty is a radiant part | D |
| Of all my songs the music there | E |
| The morning that makes dim each care | E |
| And glorifies my mind's dull mart | D |
| And helps my soul to do and dare | E |
| - | |
| God when He made thy fresh fair face | F |
| And thy young body took the morn | G |
| And made thee like a rose whose race | F |
| Is not of Earth without a thorn | G |
| And dewed thee with the joy that's born | G |
| Of love wherein hope hath its place | F |
| Like to the star that heralds morn | G |
| - | |
| I go my way through town and thorp | H |
| In court and hall and castle bower | I |
| I tune my lute and strike my harp | J |
| And often from some twilight tower | I |
| A lady drops to me a flower | I |
| That bids me scale the moat's steep scarp | J |
| And climb to love within her bower | I |
| - | |
| I heed them not but go my ways | K |
| What is their passion unto me | L |
| My songs are only in thy praise | K |
| Thy face alone it is I see | L |
| That fills my heart with melody | L |
| My sweet aubade that makes my days | K |
| All music singing here in me | L |
| - | |
| One time a foul knight in his towers | M |
| Sneered thus 'God's blood why weary us | N |
| With this one woman all our hours | M |
| Sing of our wenches amorous | N |
| Yolande and Ysoarde here Not thus | N |
| Shalt sing but of our paramours | N |
| - | |
| What is thy Lady unto us ' | - |
| And then I flung my lute aside | O |
| And from its baldric flew my sword | P |
| And down the hall 't was but a stride | O |
| And in his brute face and its word | Q |
| My gauntlet and around the board | P |
| The battle till all wild beast eyed | O |
| He lay and at his throat my sword | P |
| - | |
| Thou dost remember in Provence | N |
| The vile thing that I slew and how | R |
| With my good jongleurs and my lance | N |
| Kept back his horde The memory now | R |
| Makes fierce my blood and hot my brow | R |
| With rage Ah what a madman dance | N |
| We led them and escaped somehow | R |
| - | |
| Oft times when in the tournament | S |
| I see thee sitting yet uncrowned | S |
| And bugles blow and spears are bent | S |
| And shields and falchions clash around | S |
| And steeds go crashing to the ground | S |
| And thou dost smile on me 'though spent | S |
| With war again my soul is crowned | S |
| - | |
| And I am fire to strike and slay | C |
| Before my face there comes a mist | S |
| Of blood and like a flame I play | C |
| Through the loud lists all who resist | S |
| Go down like corn until thy wrist | S |
| Kneeling I kiss the wreath they lay | C |
| Of beauty on thy head's gold mist | S |
| - | |
| And then I seize my lute and sing | T |
| Some chanson or some wild aubade | S |
| Full of thy beauty and the swing | T |
| Of swords and love which I have had | S |
| Of thee until with music mad | S |
| The lists reel with thy name and ring | T |
| The echoed words of my aubade | S |
| - | |
| I am thy knight and troubadour | U |
| Bertrand de Born whom naught shall part | S |
| From thee who art my life's high lure | V |
| And wild bird of my wilder heart | S |
| And all its music yea who art | S |
| My soul's sweet sickness and its cure | V |
| From which God grant it ne 'er shall part | S |
Madison Julius Cawein
(1)
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