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Francois Villon - Ballade of the Gibbet
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Ballade of the Gibbet (From the French of Francois Villon)

[An epitaph in the form of a ballade that Francois Villon wrote of himself and his company, then expecting shortly to be hanged]

Brothers and men that follow after us,
Let not your hearts be hard as we lie here,
For if you pity our state most dolorous
God will grant you his mercy on your bier.
Look on the six of us that hang in fear;
Look on our bodies, once in youth`s full flower,
Now only food that birds and worms devour,
And dust and ashes mark our resting place.
Not at our corpses mock and be venomous,
But pray God grant us sinners his true grace.

Listen, we ask your prayers; look not in scorn
Upon our bodies, doomed to early death.
However wise he is, not a man born
Is always wise: so, with a kindly breath,
Pray Mary`s son, in whom we place our faith,
To show us mercy, take our sins away,
Although they brought us where we are today,
Save us, we beg you, from that fiery place
Called hell. We but hang here in sorrowful death:
God grant us sinners his true grace.

The rain from heaven above has washed us clean;
The sun has bleached us black and bare.
Rooks and ravens from our bodies glean
The trophies for their nests: our hair,
Beards, eyes. Buffetted by the frisky air
We dance the tune of the wild wind,
Our bodies never rest, we never find
Peace upon earth. Birds peck about my face;
Live not like us: do not die in despair,.
God grant us sinners his true grace!

Envoi:

Prince Jesus, Lord of all, be not unkind,
And save us from the fiery gates of hell;
Though we deserve to dwell in that dark place
Let us not live in fields of asphodel.
God, grant us sinners your true grace.
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