Now, O thou man of wit and eloquence!
Upon a goodly tale thy skill employ,
For if the words are equal to the sense
The poet's soul will be a source of joy;
But he whose thoughts lack loveliness will thwart
His purpose by his own unlovely thought;
Moreover he will make himself a cross,
And have the disapproval of the wise;
Yet, in that every one is at a loss
To see his faults (thy genius to thine eyes
Is bright) thy work if 'tis to last, confide,
When polished, to the learnéd to decide
Its value; if approved 'twill make its way
And be as water in thine own canal.
I take from legends of a former day
A rustic minstrel's story, and I shall,
Although the tale be old, when I have done,
Make it a tale in vogue with every one.
If length of days shall be vouchsafed to me,
And with long life immunity from ill,
I shall have left behind a fruitful tree,
To go on bearing in the orchard still.
Full many a marvel hath o'erpassed his head
Whose years reach fifty-eight, yet minishéd
Greed is not ever as they onward glide;
I still by rule and omen choose my day.
What said herein the archimage, our guide?
“He that is waxen old is old for aye.”
Tell on thy tale, be wise and of good cheer,
So long as life endureth persevere.
When thou departest what was here thine own
Shall in God's hand for good or evil be;
Remember! thou shalt reap as thou hast sown
And as thou speakest men will speak of thee.
The gentle speaker heareth in return
Soft words: make speaking gently thy concern.
Now for the rustic minstrel's tale. Heed well
The matter that the poet hath to tell.