(no subject)

[rymenhild]

In reply to angevin2's poem of the day, the entirely innocent, innuendo-free poem I have a gentil cok, I share this equally non-phallic fifteenth-century lyric. For your reference, "Prenegard" means "beware" or "take care" in Old (Middle?) French, and a "baselard" is a kind of dagger.

Prenegard, Prenegard

Lesteneth, lordinges, I you beseke!
There is none man worth a leke,
But he sturdy, but he meke,
But he bere a baselard.

Mine baselard hath a schede of red,
And a clene loket of led;
Me thinketh I may bere up mine hed,
For I bere mine baselard.

My baselard hath a wrethen hafte.
Whan I am full of ale caught,
It is grete dred of manslaughte,
For then I bere mine baselard.

My baselard hath a silver chape;
Therefore I may both gaspe and gape.
Me thinketh I go like none knape,
For I bere a baselard.

My baselard hath a trencher kene,
Fair as rasour scharp and schene.
Ever me thinketh I may be kene,
For I bere a baselard.

As I yede up in the strete,
With a cartere I gan mete.
‘Felawe,’ he seide, ‘so mote I the
Thou shalt forego thy baselard.’

The cartere his whippe began to take,
And all mine fleich began to quake,
And I was lefe for to ascape;
And there I left mine baselard.

Whan I cam forth unto mine damme,
Mine hed was broken to the panne;
Sche seide I was a praty manne,
And well coude bere mine baselard.

In other news, I am not studying tonight.

It's going to be a long weekend.

Comments

[rymenhild.livejournal.com]

I used to know the tune to "Sir Roger", but I can't remember it. Fortunately I'm going to the Victorian ball tonight, so I ought to be reminded!