An Excelente Balade Of Charitie: As Wroten Bie The Gode Pri Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCBB CDBDEFF CCCCCDA ACACCGG DADAAHH CHCHHHH AIAIICC AAAAACC CBCBBJJ AKALLBE CACAAAA CMCMMBB ACACCBB

In Virgyn the sweltrie sun gan sheeneA
And hotte upon the mees did caste his raieB
The apple rodded from its palie greeneA
And the mole peare did bende the leafy spraieB
The peede chelandri sunge the livelong daieC
'Twas nowe the pride the manhode of the yeareB
And eke the grounde was dighte in its moste defte aumereB
-
The sun was glemeing in the midde of daieC
Deadde still the aire and eke the welken blueD
When from the sea arist in drear arraieB
A hepe of cloudes of sable sullen hueD
The which full fast unto the woodlande dreweE
Hiltring attenes the sunnis fetive faceF
And the blacke tempeste swolne and gatherd up apaceF
-
Beneathe an holme faste by a pathwaie sideC
Which dide unto Seyncte Godwine's covent ledeC
A hapless pilgrim moneynge did abideC
Pore in his newe ungentle in his weedeC
Longe bretful of the miseries of needeC
Where from the hail stone coulde the almer flieD
He had no housen theere ne anie covent nieA
-
Look in his glommed face his sprighte there scanneA
Howe woe be gone how withered forwynd deadeC
Haste to thie church glebe house asshrewed manneA
Haste to thie kiste thie onlie dortoure beddeC
Cale as the claie whiche will gre on thie heddeC
Is Charitie and Love aminge highe elvesG
Knightis and Barons live for pleasure and themselvesG
-
The gatherd storme is rype the bigge drops falleD
The forswat meadowes smethe and drenche the raineA
The comyng ghastness do the cattle pallD
And the full flockes are drivynge ore the plaineA
Dashde from the cloudes the waters flott againeA
The welkin opes the yellow levynne fliesH
And the hot fierie smothe in the wide lowings diesH
-
Liste now the thunder's rattling clymmynge soundC
Cheves slowlie on and then embollen clangsH
Shakes the hie spyre and losst dispended drown'dC
Still on the gallard eare of terroure hangesH
The windes are up the lofty elmen swangesH
Again the levynne and the thunder pouresH
And the full cloudes are braste attenes in stonen showersH
-
Spurreynge his palfrie oere the watrie plaineA
The Abbote of Seyncte Godwynes convente cameI
His chapournette was drented with the reineA
And his pencte gyrdle met with mickle shameI
He aynewarde tolde his bederoll at the sameI
The storme encreasen and he drew asideC
With the mist almes craver neere to the holme to bideC
-
His cope was all of Lyncolne clothe so fyneA
With a gold button fasten'd neere his chynneA
His autremete was edged with golden twynneA
And his shoone pyke a loverds mighte have binneA
Full well it shewn he thoughten coste no sinneA
The trammels of the palfrye pleasde his sighteC
For the horse millanare his head with roses dighteC
-
An almes sir prieste the droppynge pilgrim saideC
O let me waite within your covente doreB
Till the sunne sheneth hie above our headeC
And the loude tempeste of the aire is oerB
Helpless and ould am I alas and poorB
No house ne friend ne moneie in my poucheJ
All yatte I call my owne is this my silver croucheJ
-
Varlet replyd the Abbatte cease your dinneA
This is no season almes and prayers to giveK
Mie porter never lets a faitour inA
None touch mie rynge who not in honour liveL
And now the sonne with the blacke cloudes did stryveL
And shettynge on the grounde his glairie raieB
The Abbatte spurrde his steede and eftsoones roadde awaieE
-
Once moe the skie was blacke the thunder roldeC
Faste reyneynge oer the plaine a prieste was seenA
Ne dighte full proude ne buttoned up in goldeC
His cope and jape were graie and eke were cleneA
A Limitoure he was of order seeneA
And from the pathwaie side then turned heeA
Where the pore almer laie binethe the holmen treeA
-
An almes sir priest the droppynge pilgrim saydeC
For sweete Seyncte Marie and your order sakeM
The Limitoure then loosen'd his pouche threadeC
And did thereoute a groate of silver takeM
The mister pilgrim dyd for halline shakeM
Here take this silver it maie eathe thie careB
We are Goddes stewards all nete of oure owne we bareB
-
But ah unhailie pilgrim lerne of meA
Scathe anie give a rentrolle to their LordeC
Here take my semecope thou arte bare I seeA
Tis thyne the Seynctes will give me mie rewardeC
He left the pilgrim and his waie abordeC
Virgynne and hallie Seyncte who sitte yn gloureB
Or give the mittee will or give the gode man powerB

Thomas Chatterton



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