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Home  »  library  »  poem  »  Truth—Ballade of Good Counsel

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Truth—Ballade of Good Counsel

By Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1340–1400)

FLEE from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;

Suffice thine owen thing, though it be small;

For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,

Press hath envy, and weal blent overall;

Savour no more than thee behove shall;

Rule well thyself, that other folk canst rede;

And truthè shall deliver, it is no drede.

Tempest thee not all crooked to redress,

In trust of her that turneth as a ball:

For great rest stands in little businéss;

Beware also to spurn against an awl;

Strive not as doth the crockè with the wall;

Dauntè thyself that dauntest otherès deed,

And truthè shall deliver, it is no drede.

That thee is sent receive in buxomness,

The wrestling for this world asketh a fall:

Here is none home, here nis but wilderness:

Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, beast, out of thy stall!

Know thy country, look up, thank God of all;

Hold the high way, and let thy ghost thee lead,

And truthè shall deliver, it is no drede.

ENVOY
Therfore, thou vache, leave thine old wretchedness

Unto the worldè; leave now to be thrall;

Cry him mercy, that of his high goodnéss

Made thee of nought, and in especìál

Draw unto him, and pray in generál

For thee, and eke for other, heavenly meed,

And truthè shall deliver, it is no drede.