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    The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II: The Romaunt of Sir Floris
    The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II: The Romaunt of Sir Floris
    The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II: The Romaunt of Sir Floris
    Ebook80 pages53 minutes

    The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II: The Romaunt of Sir Floris

    By John Payne

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    About this ebook

    John Payne was born on 23rd August 1842 in Bloomsbury, London.

    He began his career in the legal profession but thus was soon put to one side as he began his renowned translations of Boccaccio's Decameron, The Arabian Nights, and then the poets Omar Khayyam, François Villon and Diwan Hafez. Of the latter, who he ranked in the same bracket as Dante and Shakepeare, he said; he takes the "whole sweep of human experience and irradiates all things with his sun-gold and his wisdom".

    Later Payne became involved with limited edition publishing, and the Villon Society, which was dedicated to the poems of François Villon who was Frances’ best known poet of the middle Ages and unfortunately also a thief and a murderer.

    John Payne died on 11th February, 1916 at the age of 73 in South Kensington, London.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPortable Poetry
    Release dateNov 27, 2018
    ISBN9781787802476
    The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II: The Romaunt of Sir Floris
    Author

    John Payne

    John is a 28-year veteran, serving the Victorian community within Corrections, Government Investigations and as a Volunteer firefighter and lives in the northern suburbs of Melbourne, Austraslia. During his career, he was involved in many incidents including the Black Saturday bushfire in which he was honoured with the Emergency Service Medal. As a direct result of his service, he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) a condition in which he has lived with for the past 9 years. John is passionate about addressing the stigma associated with mental illness and advocating awareness to the greater community, particularly to first responders. One of his key messages is, ‘Reach out early – you will be supported and don’t suffer in silence.’ Encouraging early help-seeking is a crucial priority in any effective mental health strategy.

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      Book preview

      The Poetry of John Payne - Volume II - John Payne

      The Poetry of John Payne

      Volume II - The Romaunt of Sir Floris

      John Payne was born on 23rd August 1842 in Bloomsbury, London.

      He began his career in the legal profession but thus was soon put to one side as he began his renowned translations of Boccaccio's Decameron, The Arabian Nights, and then the poets Omar Khayyam, François Villon and Diwan Hafez.  Of the latter, who he ranked in the same bracket as Dante and Shakepeare, he said; he takes the whole sweep of human experience and irradiates all things with his sun-gold and his wisdom

      Later Payne became involved with limited edition publishing, and the Villon Society, which was dedicated to the poems of François Villon who was Frances’ best known poet of the middle Ages and unfortunately also a thief and a murderer.

       John Payne died on 11th February, 1916 at the age of 73 in South Kensington, London.

      Index of Contents

      THE ROMAUNT OF SIR FLORIS

      I. THE FIRST COMING OF THE DOVE

      POSTLUDE

      PRELUDE TO CANTO II OF SIR FLORIS

      JOHN PAYNE – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

      THE ROMAUNT OF SIR FLORIS

      In this sweet world and fair to see,

      There is full many a mystery,

      That toil and misery have wrought

      To banish from the sight and thought

      Of striving men in this our air

      Of pain and doubt, and many a fair

      Sweet wonder that doth live and move

      Within the channel of Christ s Iove,

      And of these, truly, aforetime

      Was made full many a tender rhyme

      And lay of wonder and delight;

      And by full many a noble knight

      And minstrel was the story told,

      With the sweet simple faith of old,

      Of how the questing was fulfill’d

      Of that Sangreal that was will’d

      By the dear God to Galahad,

      And how by many a one. was had

      Rare venture in the holy Quests

      Albeit very few were blest

      With comfort in the sight of it;

      And by that menestrel, to wit,

      (Oh sweetest of all bards to me

      And worthiest to Master be

      Of all that sing of Christ His knight

      And Questing of the Grail!) that knight

      Of Eschenbach, the tale was writ

      Of Percival, that now doth sit

      Within the bosom of the Lord,

      And how he strove with spear and sword

      Full many a year for Christ His grace.

      And with delight of those old lays,

      There long has murmured in my brain

      A song that often and again

      Has cried to me for utterance;

      And now—before the sad years chance

      To bear all thought of holiness

      From men with mirk of pain and stress

      Of toil—it wearies me to tell

      Of all that unto Floris fell,

      And all his toil and all his bliss

      And grace in winning to Christ’s kiss.

      Wherefore, I pray you, hearkeneth,

      The while with scant and feeble breath

      I tell to you a quaint old tale,

      Wherein is neither sin nor bale,

      But some sweet peace and sanctity:

      And there not only wonders be,

      But therewithal a breath of love

      Is woven round it and above,

      That lovers in the Summer-prime

      May clasp warm hands o'er this my rhyme,

      As finding there some golden sense

      Of Love’s delicious recompense:

      For what withouten love is life!

      And if therein is any strife,

      Or therewithal offences be,

      I pray you pardon it to me:

      Wherefore, Christ hearten you, I say,

      Et Dieu vous doint felicité.

      I.

      THE FIRST COMING OF THE DOVE

      Hard by the confluence of Rhone

      A castle of old times alone

      Upon a high grey hill did stand

      And look'd across the pleasant land;

      And of the castle castellain

      And lord of all the wide domain

      Of golden field and purple wood

      And vineyards, where the vine-rows stood

      In many a trellis, Floris was;

      A good knight and a valorous

      And in all courtesies approved,

      That unto valiantise behoved.

      Full young he was and fair of face

      And among ladies had much grace,

      And favour of all men likewise:

      For on such stout and valiant guise

      His years of manhood had he spent

      In knightly quest and tournament.

      There was no knight in all the land

      Whose name in more renown did stand.

      And the foe quaked to look upon

      The white plume of his morion.

      When through the grinding shock of spears

      Sir Floris' war-cry pierced their ears

      And over all the din was blown

      The silver of

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