The Complaint of Chaucer to His Purse

The Canterbury Tales and Other Works of Chaucer (Middle English), by Geoffery Chaucer, [14th cent.], at sacred-texts.com

The Shorter Poems

The Complaint of Chaucer to His Purse

 To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight
 Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere.
 I am so sory, now that ye been lyght;
 For certes but yf ye make me hevy chere,
 Me were as leef be layd upon my bere;
 For which unto your mercy thus I crye,
 Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye.
 Now voucheth sauf this day or hyt be nyght
 That I of yow the blisful soun may here
10 Or see your colour lyk the sonne bryght
 That of yelownesse hadde never pere.
 Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes stere.
 Quene of comfort and of good companye,
 Beth hevy ageyn, or elles moot I dye.
 Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght
 And saveour as doun in this world here,
 Out of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght,
 Syn that ye wole nat ben my tresorere;
 For I am shave as nye as any frere.
20 But yet I pray unto your curtesye,
 Beth hevy agen, or elles moot I dye.
 O conquerour of Brutes Albyon,
 Which that by lyne and free eleccion
 Been verray kyng, this song to yow I sende,
 And ye, that mowen alle oure harmes amende,
 Have mynde upon my supplicacion.