Robbins Library Digital Projects Announcement: We are currently working on a large-scale migration of the Robbins Library Digital Projects to a new platform. This migration affects The Camelot Project, The Robin Hood Project, The Crusades Project, The Cinderella Bibliography, and Visualizing Chaucer.
While these resources will remain accessible during the course of migration, they will be static, with reduced functionality. They will not be updated during this time. We anticipate the migration project to be complete by Summer 2025.
If you have any questions or concerns, please contact us directly at robbins@ur.rochester.edu. We appreciate your understanding and patience.
While these resources will remain accessible during the course of migration, they will be static, with reduced functionality. They will not be updated during this time. We anticipate the migration project to be complete by Summer 2025.
If you have any questions or concerns, please contact us directly at robbins@ur.rochester.edu. We appreciate your understanding and patience.
Sir Palomides' Lament
ISOUD, Isoud, of the brows alight,
The small, proud head and darkling eyes agleam,
Though Tristram wear your favour in men's sight,
I flaunt your guerdon down the lists of dream.
Where other knights win love, I win but fame.
Knaves on spent chargers gain their hearts' desire,
While I—though all the hearlds cry my name!—
Break my lost heart to ease my spirit's fire.
What do I know of kisses, who embrace
A poet's vision for my valour's prize—
A madman's dream of pity on your face;
A fool's hope of surrender in your eyes.
Isoud, Isoud, of the brows alight,
The darkling glance and pearly throat agleam,
Though Tristram flaunt your guerdon in men's sight,
I wear your favours in the lists of dream.
The small, proud head and darkling eyes agleam,
Though Tristram wear your favour in men's sight,
I flaunt your guerdon down the lists of dream.
Where other knights win love, I win but fame.
Knaves on spent chargers gain their hearts' desire,
While I—though all the hearlds cry my name!—
Break my lost heart to ease my spirit's fire.
What do I know of kisses, who embrace
A poet's vision for my valour's prize—
A madman's dream of pity on your face;
A fool's hope of surrender in your eyes.
Isoud, Isoud, of the brows alight,
The darkling glance and pearly throat agleam,
Though Tristram flaunt your guerdon in men's sight,
I wear your favours in the lists of dream.
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