Such hap as I am happed in Had never man of truth I ween; At me fortune list to begin To show that never hath been seen, A new kind of unhappiness; Nor I cannot the thing I mean Myself express. Myself express my deadly pain That can I well, if that might serve; But when I have not help again That know I not unless I starve, For hunger still amids my food Is so granted that I deserve To do me good. To do me good what may prevail, For I deserve and not desire, And still of cold I me bewail, And raked am in burning fire; For though I have, such is my lot, In hand to help that I require, It helpeth not. It helpeth not, but to increase That that by proof can be no more; That is, the heat that cannot cease, And that I have to crave so sore, What wonder is this greedy lust To ask and have, and yet therefore Refrain I must. Refrain I must. What is the cause? Sure as they say, "So hawks be taught." But in my case layeth no such clause, For with such craft I am not caught; Wherefore I say and good cause why, With hapless hand no man hath wrought Such hap as I. |