Merciles Beaute

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A TRIPLE ROUNDEL

Captivity
I. 1.
Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,  
I may the beaute of hem not sustene,  
So woundeth hit throwout my herte kene.  

2.
And but your word wol helen hastely  
My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene,  
 Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,  
 I may the beaute of hem not sustene.  

3.
Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully,  
That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene;  
For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.  
 Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,  
 I may the beaute of hem not sustene,  
 So woundeth hit thorowout my herte kene.  

Rejection
II. 1.
So hath your beauty fro your herte chaced  
Pitee, that me n'availeth not to pleyne;  
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.  

2.
Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;  
I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;  
 So hath your beauty fro your herte chaced  
 Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.  

3.
Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed  
So grete beaute, that no man may atteyne  
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.  
 So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced  
 Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;  
 For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.  

Escape
III. 1.
Syn I fro Love escaped am so fat,  
I nere thenk to ben in his prison lene;  
Syn I am free, I counte him not a bene.  

2.
He may answere, and seye this or that;  
I do no fors, I speke ryght as I mene.  
 Syn I fro Love escaped am so fat,  
 I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.  

3.
Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,  
And he is strike out of my bokes clene:  
For ever-mo; ther is non other mene.  
 Syn I fro Love escaped am so fat,  
 I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;  
 Syn I am free, I counte him not a bene.

© Geoffrey Chaucer