Charles Duke of Orleans

(24 November 1394 – 5 January 1465 / Paris)

Charles Duke of Orleans
Do you like this poet?
13 person liked.
3 person did not like.

Charles Duke of Orleans poems, quotations and biography on Charles Duke of Orleans poet page. Read all poems of Charles Duke of Orleans and infos about Charles Duke of Orleans.

Charles of Orléans was Duke of Orléans from 1407, following the murder of his father, Louis I, Duke of Orléans, on the orders of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. He was also Duke of Valois, Count of Beaumont-sur-Oise and of Blois, lord of Coucy, and the inheritor of Asti in Italy via his mother Valentina Visconti, daughter of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, Duke of Milan. He is now remembered as an accomplished poet owing to the more than five hundred extant poems he produced, most written during his twenty-four years spent as a prisoner of war.


Ascending to the duchy at the age of thirteen after his father had been assassinated, Charles was expected to carry on ... more »

Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.

Comments about Charles Duke of Orleans

  • M. Arn (7/22/2007 12:34:00 PM)

    A couple of corrections:

    'Charles D Orleans' ought to be 'Charles d'Orleans'
    (there's an acute accent over the e in Orleans, but maybe that can't be done)

    He was not born in 1391 (heading) , but 1394 (second paragraph) .

    The duke of Orleans did not spend time in 'an English Jail' (second paragraph) , but he was 'shuttled from one English castle to another (sixth paragraph) . As a member of the French royal family, he was treated like a visiting prince. Various noblemen were given custody of the duke at various times, but he was never confined. In fact he did a good deal of travelling (always with a 'security escort') , often going to London.

    6 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Best Poem of Charles Duke of Orleans


The year has changed his mantle cold
Of wind, of rain, of bitter air;
And he goes clad in cloth of gold,
Of laughing suns and season fair;
No bird or beast of wood or wold
But doth with cry or song declare
The year lays down his mantle cold.
All founts, all rivers, seaward rolled,
The pleasant summer livery wear,
With silver studs on broidered vair;
The world puts off its raiment old,
The year lays down his mantle cold.

Read the full of Spring