A Mendicant Friar's Advice
Yesterday in dire peril I heard
a fine englyn from an angel of heaven,
and the declaiming of solemn songs
4 and a rounded composition and Christ's ode.
I was instructed by a disciple of the Son of Mary -
these were his words, facile praise:
'Dafydd, seemingly of sober mind,
8 whose verse is unequalled, of good repute,
impose upon the inspiration of your tongue
God's patronage, and lie no more.
In trees (three wretched trysts)
12 and leaves there is nothing but transitoriness.
Refrain from sleeping with girls,
for Mary's sake do your best to despise mead.
Neither green treetops nor tavern were worth a bean,
16 it is only the Lord's word that is truly worthy.'
By the Man who rules this day,
in my head there's a pain for a fine girl,
and in my brow a wound of distress
20 for a splendid maid, and I am dying.