Ballad Xii Poem by Christine de Pizan

Ever blessed be the day,
Be the place and be the dwelling,
That hath ended my delay,
Shown the truth I shrank from telling.

Dear friend, behold
My love is yours, a costlier gift than gold :
To Love be praise, that first the bond hath knit,
For I am filled with perfect joy from it.

Since I yielded to thy sway
When thy heart with grief was swelling,
Swiftly speeding as he may
Joy is come, my care dispelling :
Now am I bold

To give thee love, that guerdons manifold
May heal thee from thy sorrow every whit,
For I am filled with perfect joy from it.

So my soul, with God for stay,
The new blissful years foretelling,
Finds in thee, for whom I pray,
Grace and gladness all excelling.

I that of old

Gave thee but sorry cheer and comfort cold,
Am straightway turned to serve thee, as is fit,
For I am filled with perfect joy from it.

When I had told

My love, my heart was yours to have and hold :
To grief I yield not, nor to blame submit,
For I am filled with perfect joy from it.