Location: nigh Loudoun, Engelonde, United Kingdom

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Herba Sempiterna (id est, cotidie fumanda)

Whanne Ich was a yonger man, and sojourneth in Espagnye, Ich mette ther a certeyn blak man, a Moor of Berberye, a physik, who was somdel connynge in the lore of herbes. And he did enjoyne the use of an herbe in especial, a puissant streyne of that hempe from which ure shipmen do maken sayles, (and which is hight in the Fransche tonge 'cannavys'), and this sam moorische physik, who was y-clept 'Drey', was wont to rime and endite in the speche of his owne folke, and chaunt as to the beten drumme the vertues of thys same herbe whych the Old Man of the Montagne gaven to his 'Assassynes' in the dayes whan the grettest ensaumples of Chivalrye did maken werre to free Hierosolyma from the Paynim Saracen. And so that Ich might make men in sondrye londes to knowe the rimes of this phyik Dre and to sauf-garde the soften eyres of unlerned ladyes from certeyn baudy matter therin, ich shale rendre his chauntyng rimes into the Latyn tonge:

Fiamus Alti

Ex cunctis nigris
atque moechis
Quisquam fututurus
Quispiam fututurus,
En futuabitur
Ecce futuabitur!

Dicans ambulansque illud
et spuans ego super moechis,
Futue hoc! Cutio amboque;
Altera mentulam equitat,
Altera digitos pedum lingat!
Cum ista scorta amo,
amor abest omnino!
Absunt amplexi et basia...

Y-noughe! Ich may rendre namore this immorale balade! It wolde go poorly with me were myne yonge charges, the Kinges own sones, to taken delite in such ribaudrye. Sufficeth yt to saye, thys herbe serveth both to dispelen melancholye and to maken ladyes and wightes to-geddre yerne to...slepen al night with open ye, as yt were. Yet Ich thee avise-- surfeite of ilke plante causeth one to suffren over-much sloth.


Blogger Geoffrey Chaucer said...

Ich oones did translaten sum of the werkes of Doctour Andre ynto balades yn Frensshe, includynge myn favourites "Rien dune chose de G" and "Permittez-moi chevaucher."

10:24 AM  

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