Classic Poem

The Game, and twins Grace Brothers
Follow my lady, and she wanders somewhere,
Beneath his feet made esmailler earth,
Hyvers and made new spring.
In favor of their jargon birds
Its winds Aeolus in his cave encloses
Sweet Zephyre a soft sigh loose,
And mutes all accoisent streams.
The Elemens resumed in it.
Nature laughed to see beautiful thing.
I tremble all, anyone of these Gods
Do passion after her beautiful face,
And that the looting of treasure: nostre age,
Do not snatch and prevails in heaven.

KISS

When out of your lips decloses,
As between two flowery paths,
I feel your breath of roses,
Mine, the front-porters
The kiss, blush with pleasure,
And my wishes all integers
Jouyr make me when I fuck you.
Because the mood of the kiss soothes,
Escoulant is the heart gradually
Ceste love hot embers,
Which thine eyes allumoient fire.

ELEGY A CASSANDRE

My eye, my heart, my Cassandra, my life,
Hey! as rightly you have to wear envy
At this great King, who no longer wants to suffer
And my songs your name will come to offer.
It is he who wants to trumpet that I exchange
My lute, to sing his praise,
Not only him but all his forefathers,
Who are there hault sitting among the Gods.
I feray then he commands me,
For such a Roy power is so great,
That so far is that we can avoid the,
An armed camp there pourroit resist.
But I have used both leu Tibullus,
Propertius, Ovid, Catullus and the learned,
Be seen as Petrarch and as noted,
If by Roy me the power is removed
To ensuyvre, and whether my lyre
Hanging on the hook dare not say anything?
Doncques in vain I hope paissois
To one day see the Tuscane
Nostre that France, as she is happy
A souspirer a love pleinte;
And that the monstrer can surpass
I had started desja Trasser
Mainte Elegie to the ancient way
Many a beautiful Ode, and mainte Bucolic.
Because to tell the truth, yet my mind
Is pleased with those who writeth
In nostre language, and love deserves
Or nothing at all, or for very little.
Not that I am vanteur glorious
To dare to pass the laborious
So many lovers that pleignent in France;
But at least I had good hope,
What if I do marched to the first,
They seroient without the last honor.
For Eraton that descaeuvre loves,
Fairly good eye attiroit me to his work.
The swollen sings too coarsely,
One esnerve the lowly troll,
One depicts us a bawdy lady
One more to look to as sentences,
And can not oncq, far Sceut desguiser,
Learn the art of Petrarquiser.
What are you crying, Cassandra, my sweet soul?
Love encor not want to cut the frame
I hung it in your favor to mestier,
Without completing the entire book.
My Roy is not a wild beast
The success Milk, and his young courage,
Or I'm wrong, sometimes felt
The trait of Love overcomes the Kings.
If he felt my guilt is erased,
And his greatness will be angry,
Upon my return horrible combas,
My hook out of his Luth I aveigne to low
The pincetant, and that instead of alarms
I sing Love, thy beauties and tears.
Because the arc stretched too violentement,
Or alentit, or breaks vistement.
And Achilles, after the ground
As of Soudars killed in the war,
Its golden Luth prenoit his hands
Shades of encor meurdres inhuman,
And with respect to the son of Menetie,
Chantois love Briseis to friend
Then all of a sudden reprenoit weapons,
And was returning to the valiant fight.
Thus, after the ayeul of my master
OOC withdraw his right hand,
Is disarming in his tent apart,
Above the lute time your Ronsard
You sing, because it can not be done
Than any other beauty can never please him,
Or is he alive, or be in addition to the port,
Leger burden Charon the past death.

ELEGY A WALL

No, Muret, no, it is not jourd'huy
That Archerot causing nostre BORED,
Cause the error retrompe men;
No Muret, no, we're not the first,
Who the bow of a small line veinqueur,
So great playe hid under the heart:
All animals, or are those campaigns,
Are those of wood, or are those mountains,
Feel his strength, and his bittersweet fire
Brusle underwater monsters of the sea
Hey! What there anything that boy does not burn?
This carrier heaven, tu'-giant Hercules,
The felt good; I dy this strong Theban
Who estrangla strap of his hand,
Who killed Nesse, and his club
Abbatit dead the children of the Naked;
That his whole arc estonna Lerna,
That the dog of Hades imprisoned,
Who on the waterfront Thermodontee
Took the harness of dontee virgin;
Who killed the hooker, and several times
Is remocqua shams Achelois;
Who slew the maid of Phorce,
That Lion desmachoira by force,
Who in his arms Anthee acravanta,
That two pillars for its brands planta.
In short, this is Heros correction of the earth,
This heart without fear that lightning war
Felt that God and the loving ardor
The matta more than his commander Roy.
Not smitten as we are seen esprendre,
Toy or your Janne Avg my Cassandra
But like the tan Love aiguillonnoit,
His whole heart without reason bouillonnoit
To him who suffers ardent cuisoit veins.
The fire of love they fumoient so full,
If solid bones, muscles and dinners,
In Hercul 'which purged the universe,
Nothing remained except a fole love,
Versoient him that the two beautiful eyes Iole.
Tousjours of Iole he loved the beautiful eyes,
Fust the tank which eventually led to heaven
Sortist water, or that let down fust
Tournast his wheel in the salty plain,
All human accoisant work,
But not Hercul 'les miserables ailments.
As only he had his Lady
The eyes do not care in the depths of the soul,
But his talk, his grace, and sweetness
Tousjours Colez attachoient to his heart.
Other than she thinks her soul,
Tousjours absent he sees presence.
And fortune, Alcid ', if you see,
In your throat begue rest your voice,
Frozen with fear seeing aimee face.
Ore lit love fever
Eats your soul, and now an ice cube
Makes you tremble with love thrill.
Down at your feet meurdriere your club
Gist without honor, and down the hairy skin,
Who on your back is stiff herissoit,
When your grand'main Monsters punissoit.
Over your eyebrow against them does renfrongne.
O virtue vain, O bastarde vergongne,
O villain blasme Hercules Donte Easting,
After having overcome the world,
No Eurystheus, or cruel Juno,
But the hand of a single virgin.
See, God, what force of Love,
When once she Gaigne tower
Reason, leaving us part
That is all converted into fury.
It's not all just for love
He did not forget how to arm
Incompetent or grabbing his mass
Or complete any emprinse doubtful;
But slow and vain anonchalant his heart,
Tyrants who had rendered him veinqueur,
Terror of the world, O most cowardly defames,
He dressed in clothes of a woman,
Heros and became a squire,
Guidoit the esguille and tournoit the time,
And towards evening, as a chambermaid,
Rendered its tasche joliere its soft,
Who held him in her tighter irons
A prisoner in fetters enchained.
Great Juno, you're pretty avenged
To see his life in idleness changee,
To see and become filandier
This large Alcid 'Monsters the meurdrier,
Without adjouster thy wrath indomtee
The mandemens his brother Eurystheus.
What do you want more? Iole constrains
On Estre a woman he doubt he feared.
He fears his hands more than a servant slave
Fears some shots maistre brave.
And, while he does not think that
A atiffer is, to anoint, to arrange,
A pampering her well rongnee beard,
A coddle its test well pignee,
Impuniment Monsters have leisure
To subdue the earth at their pleasure,
Without cuider Hercules in the world.
So it is not as deep poison
Who in his heart was going too drift-
The had killed in a living body.
We doncq, Muret, who after the same rage
Cautement little panic courage,
If possible, Let the link
We ourdist child Cytherien,
And demean the flesh that dominates us,
Below the yoke of divine reason,
DEUST reason to guide us well vray
And our senses mistress preside.
But if the love of his indomtable traict
A desja fact nostre playe incurable,
As evil, little subject to the Board,
The desdaigne because the device
Defeated by him, make up envy,
And Alcid 'desguisons our life;
In-while wrinkles do
Cresper encor area nostre front,
And the snow came in old age
Encor does tests nostre hoary,
One day sank us to nothingness
Love without following: it is not bad-in bed,
Simple but great honor popular
Great lords imitate copy.

SONG

On masche-bay throat
I shout oy
Lycofron in my Cassandra
Prophetize that the Trojans
Means
Which reduce them to ashes.

But these poor persist,
Destine
To believe in their Sibylle
Saw, although later after,
Greek fires
Forcener Parmy their city.

Who died in the womb,
Hand
Plomboient their bare chest,
And twisting their gray hair,
Long cries
They wept not had Creui.

But their cries were able
On esmouvoir
Greeks if load prey,
If they left
The name
Of what was once Troy.

And not to believe,
When you me
Predicts my future punishment
And that I should have a gift,
To guerdon
To love you, that death hard,

A large fire without rest,
And my bones
And my nerves, and my heart is burning,
I love you and ay receu
More fire
Than did Troy incredulous.