FIXED FORM: Ballade family- chant royal (or grand ballade), double chant royal, double refrain chant royal
Unlike the previous members of the ballade family, the chant royal stanza is not normally listed as a form in it’s own right.
Chant royal, double chant royal, double refrain chant royal
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from Austin Dobson1:
The Dance of Death
After Holbein
“Contra vim Mortis
Non est medicamen in hortis.”He is the despots’ Despot. All must bide,
Later or soon, the message of his might;
Princes and potentates their heads must hide,
Touched by the awful sigil of his right;
Beside the Kaiser he at eve doth wait
And pours a potion in his cup of state;
The stately Queen his bidding must obey;
No keen-eyed Cardinal shall him affray;
And to the Dame that wantoneth he saith–
“Let be, Sweet-heart, to junket and to play.”
There is no King more terrible than Death.The lusty Lord, rejoicing in his pride,
He draweth down; before the armed Knight
With jingling bridle-rein he still doth ride;
He crosseth the strong Captain in the fight;
The Burgher grave he beckons from debate;
He hales the Abbot by his shaven pate,
Nor for the Abbess’ wailing will delay;
No bawling Mendicant shall say him nay;
E’en to the pyx the Priest he followeth,
Nor can the Leech* his chilling finger stay . . . [doctor]
There is no King more terrible than Death.All things must bow to him. And woe betide
The Wine-bibber,–the Roisterer by night;
Him the feast-master, many bouts defied,
Him ‘twixt the pledging and the cup shall smite;
Woe to the Lender at usurious rate,
The hard Rich Man, the hireling Advocate;
Woe to the Judge that selleth Law for pay;
Woe to the Thief that like a beast of prey
With creeping tread the traveller harryeth:–
These, in their sin, the sudden sword shall slay . . .
There is no King more terrible than Death.He hath no pity, — nor will be denied.
When the low hearth is garnished and bright,
Grimly he flingeth the dim portal wide,
And steals the Infant in the Mother’s sight;
He hath no pity for the scorned of fate:–
He spares not Lazarus lying at the gate,
Nay, nor the Blind that stumbleth as he may;
Nay, the tired Ploughman,–at the sinking ray,–
In the last furrow,–feels an icy breath,
And knows a hand hath turned the team astray . . .
There is no King more terrible than Death.He hath no pity. For the new-made Bride,
Blithe with the promise of her life’s delight,
That wanders gladly by her Husband’s side,
He with the clatter of his drum doth fright.
He scares the Virgin at the convent grate;
The Maid half-won, the Lover passionate;
He hath no grace for weakness and decay:
The tender Wife, the Widow bent and gray,
The feeble Sire whose footstep faltereth,–
All these he leadeth by the lonely way . . .
There is no King more terrible than Death.
Youth, for whose ear and monishing of late,
I sang of Prodigals and lost estate,
Have thou thy joy of living and be gay;
But know not less that there must come a day,–
Aye, and perchance e’en now it hasteneth,–
When thine own heart shall speak to thee and say,–
There is no King more terrible than Death.
from Jean Marot2:
Chant royal
Le grand veneur, qui tout mat nous pourchasse,
Portant espieux aguz et affilez,
Tant pourchassa par sa mortelle chasse chassé
Qu’il print ung cerf en ses laqz et fillez,
Lesquelz avoit par grand despit fillez
Pour le surprendre au biau parc d’innocence.
Lors Ia licorne en forme et belle essence
Saillant en l’air comme royne des bestes,
Sans craindre abboy envyeux et canyn,
Montrer se vint au veneur a sept testes testes
Pure lycorne expellant tout venin.
Ce faulx veneur cornant par fiere audace
Ses chiens mordantz sur les champs a rengez,
L’esperant prendre en quelque infecte place
Par la fureur de telz chiens arragez,
Mais desconfictz, laz et descouragez,
De luy ont faict morsure ou violence:
Car le leon de divine excellence
La nourrissoit d’herbes et fleurs celestes,
En la gardant gardant par son plaisir begnin,
Sans endurer leurs abboys et molestes,
Pure lycorne expellant tout venyn.
Sur elle estoit prevencion de grace
Portant les traictz d’innocence empanez,
Pour repeller la veneneuse trace
De ce chasseur chas·seur et ses chiens obstinez,
Qui furent tous par elle exterminez
Sans iuy avoir infere quelque offense.
Sa dure come eslevoit pour deffense,
Donnant espoir aux bestes trop subjectes
A ce veneur cauteleux et mating,
Qui ne print oncq, par ses dardz et sagettes,
Pure lycorne expellant tout venin.
Ainsy saillit par dessus sa fillace
Et dardz poinctuz d’ach[i]er mortel ferrez,
Se retirant sur hautaine tarrace
Sans estre prinse en ses lacz et ses rethz,
Lesquels avoit fort tyssus et serrez
Pour luy tenir par sa fiere insolence insolence
Mais par doulceur et par benivolence
Rendre se vint entre les bras honnestes
De purite plaine d’amour divin,
Qui la gardoit sans taches deshonnestes
Pure lycorne expellant tout venin.
Pour estre es champs des bestes l’outrepasse
Et conforter tous humains desolez,
Triumphamment seule eschappe et surpasse
Ses laqz infectz par icelle adnullez.
Dont icy has nous sommes consolez
Par la lycorne ou gist toute affluence
D’immortel bien par celeste influence:
Car, par ses faictz et meritoires gestes,
A contere tout l’orgueil serpentin,
En se monstrant, par vertus manifestes,
Pure lycorne expellant tout venyn.Veneur maudict, retourne a tes tempestes,
Va te plonger au gouffre sulphurin,
Puis que n’as prins, par tes cors et trompettes,
Pure lycorne expellant tout venyn.
from Henry Cuyler Bunner3 (1855–1896):
Behold the Deeds!
I WOULD that all men my hard case would know,
How grievously I suffer for no sin:
I, Adolphe Culpepper Ferguson, for lo!
I of my landlady am lockèd in
For being short on this sad Saturday,
Nor having shekels of silver wherewith to pay:
She turned and is departed with my key;
Wherefore, not even as other boarders free,
I sing, (as prisoners to their dungeon-stones
When for ten days they expiate a spree):
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!One night and one day have I wept my woe;
Nor wot I, when the morrow doth begin,
If I shall have to write to Briggs & Co.,
To pray them to advance the requisite tin
For ransom of their salesman, that he may
Go forth as other boarders go alway—
As those I hear now flocking from their tea,
Led by the daughter of my landlady
Piano-ward. This day, for all my moans,
Dry-bread and water have been servèd me.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!Miss Amabel Jones is musical, and so
The heart of the young he-boarder doth win,
Playing “The Maiden’s Prayer” adagio—
That fetcheth him, as fetcheth the “bunko skin”
The innocent rustic. For my part, I pray
That Badarjewska maid may wait for aye
Ere sits she with a lover, as did we
Once sit together, Amabel! Can it be
That all that arduous wooing not atones
For Saturday’s shortness of trade dollars three?
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!Yea! She forgets the arm that was wont to go
Around her waist. She wears a buckle whose pin
Galleth the crook of her young man’s elbow.
I forget not, for I that youth have been!
Smith was aforetime the Lothario gay.
Yet once, I mind me, Smith was forced to stay
Close in his room. Not calm as I was he;
But his noise brought no pleasaunce, verily.
Small ease he got of playing on the bones
Or hammering on the stove-pipe, that I see.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!Thou, for whose fear the figurative crow
I eat, accursed be thou and all thy kin!
Thee I will show up—yea, up I will show
Thy too-thick buckwheats and thy tea too thin.
Ay! here I dare thee, ready for the fray:
Thou dost not “keep a first-class house” I say!
It does not with the advertisements agree.
Thou lodgest a Briton with a puggaree,
And thou hast harbored Jacobses and Cohns,
Also a Mulligan. Thus denounce I thee!
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!Boarders! the worst I have not told to ye:
She hath stolen my trousers, that I may not flee
Privily by the window. Hence these groans.
There is no fleeing in a robe de nuit.
Behold the deeds that are done of Mrs. Jones!
1. Wikipedia: chant royal,
2. (Re)visiting Delie: Maurice Sceve and Marian Poetry
3. Bartleby.com Great Books Online
Tags: 110 line, 115 line, 117 line, 60 line, 62 line, Ballade family, Chant royal, Chant royal clan, Double chant royal, Double refrain chant royal, French form, Grande ballade, Language French, Poet Henry Austin Dobson, Poet Henry Cuyler Bunner, Poet Jean Marot, Refrain, Repetition, Syllabic