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Michael R Burch May 2020
Song from Ælla: Under the Willow Tree, or, Minstrel's Song
by Thomas Chatterton, age 17 or younger
Modernization/Translation by Michael R. Burch

MYNSTRELLES SONGE ("MINSTREL'S SONG")

O! sing unto my roundelay,
O! drop the briny tear with me,
Dance no more at holy-day,
Like a running river be:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.

Black his crown as the winter night,
White his flesh as the summer snow
Red his face as the morning light,
Cold he lies in the grave below:
My love is dead,  
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.
      
Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note,
Quick in dance as thought can be,                      
Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;
O! he lies by the willow-tree!
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.

Hark! the raven ***** his wing
In the briar'd dell below;
Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing
To the nightmares, as they go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.

See! the white moon shines on high;
Whiter is my true-love's shroud:
Whiter than the morning sky,
Whiter than the evening cloud:
My love is dead,  
Gone to his death-bed          
All under the willow-tree.

Here upon my true-love's grave      
Shall the barren flowers be laid;
Not one holy saint to save
All the coldness of a maid:
My love is dead,  
Gone to his death-bed          
All under the willow-tree.

With my hands I'll frame the briars
Round his holy corpse to grow:
Elf and fairy, light your fires,
Here my body, stilled, shall go:
My love is dead,
Gone to his death-bed          
All under the willow-tree.

Come, with acorn-cup and thorn,
Drain my heart's red blood away;
Life and all its good I scorn,
Dance by night, or feast by day:
My love is dead,  
Gone to his death-bed          
All under the willow-tree.
          
Water witches, crowned with plaits,
Bear me to your lethal tide.
I die; I come; my true love waits.
Thus the damsel spoke, and died.

The song above is, in my opinion, competitive with Shakespeare's songs in his plays, and may be the best of Thomas Chatterton's Rowley poems. It seems rather obvious that this song was written in modern English, then "backdated." One wonders whether Chatterton wrote it in response to Shakespeare's "Under the Greenwood Tree." The greenwood tree or evergreen is a symbol of immortality. The "weeping willow" is a symbol of sorrow, and the greatest human sorrow is that of mortality and the separations caused by death. If Chatterton wrote his song as a refutation of Shakespeare's, I think he did a **** good job. But it's a splendid song in its own right.

William Blake is often considered to be the first English Romantic. Blake is the elder of the so-called “big six” of Blake, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Lord Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley and John Keats. I would add the great Scottish poet Robert Burns, making it a big seven. However, I believe Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley and Keats actually nominated an earlier poet as the first of their tribe: Thomas Chatterton. Unfortunately, Chatterton committed suicide in his teens, after being accused of literary fraud. What he did as a boy was astounding.

On this page, I prove that Thomas Chatterton could not possibly be guilty of the crime he was accused of:
(http://www.thehypertexts.com/Thomas%20Chatterton%20Modern%20English%20Translations%20Moderniza­tions%20Burch.htm)

Keywords/Tags: Chatterton, Romantic, Rowley, fraud, forger, forgery, roundelay, minstrel, song, Aella, willow
Imran Islam Oct 2017
I'm lucky that I'm an Arab girl.
It's the darkness that, I'm a girl in this Arab community
Yes, it's my family and the local community.

Please, don't get me wrong
It’s the not really right traditions that chained us,
here in my family and community.
They all say we're open-minded,
But they're not, really no.
They all say, girls are not oppressed,
But they are.
They all say that no one infanticides girls anymore.
But it still happens, even if it's not literally.

We’re still being bullied here in the Arab community.
So that's why I'm going to say these bad things-

It's sad enough that I'm single,
I am unmarried, 39 years old!
I have no husband, no kids,
I'm not an Arab girl now, and I’m an Arab woman.

I have never seen the hunter lion in my jungle of sin.
I cannot even play with myself
Because I should keep saving my virginity
If I want to get married ever.
Truly I'm still a ******.

I know it’s a sin, a great sin!
But just I don’t like this backdated community,
these traditional rules and overrules
just belong to family pride.
Does it support our religion?
Even does it like civil society?

Truly, it’s not fair, it’s inequitable to me!
I want reality; I want to get free!
I want to be happy; I want fair!
I want the truth; I respect my religion.
That’s why I want my rights!

Marriage between cousins has been part of the culture
here in my society for centuries,
largely as a means of securing relationships between tribes
and preserving family wealth.
My parents are both first cousins.
Maybe I have to get married to a close relative.
Society expected it and it is still common here.

Nowadays, my family is allowed to get married from other families.
But here in my society has some family status
like these, Level-one to Level-five
Level-five cannot be married from level-one
or others in some families
Level-one can marry from level-one to three.
Level-three can marry from level- three to one.
But the level- four and five can marry from each other only.
It is like that from past family tradition not for wealth ****.

I am from level- three.
Some guys came to my parent but they’re not my family type
and some are not my level
I have some close relatives but they’re not good guys.
My parent doesn't like them.
That’s why I’m still single.

I got back from the supermarket and maybe I will go to the mountain tomorrow
Yeah my country becomes green in this mountain
But other gulf countries they hot very.
No, I can't drive, I will go with my father or my brothers.

I have had a relationship with an Arab guy
we had met each other at my university when I was 23.
We had been talking over the phone and a social media.
And it’s hidden from our families.
But he cheated on me,
He did not come to my parent,
and he didn't discuss about marriage.

Hell, he wanted to see my looks and something like ****.
That’s not good for my family and me. It’s unreligious.
If my parents knew, I would be wrong
maybe they will **** me with him.
Talking to someone is not allowed here
I can talk to only people who I know.

Some Arab girls are getting married British citizen
But depends on the girl’s family, will accept or not
and another thing is religion.
The girls were studying their only
No levels for them

I know a girl who has just completed high school.
She will go to England to study
and she is looking for someone to get marry…
Because she’s losing her virginity in 13.
Her parents know it all.
They don’t want to **** her.
Hell for her that close relative.

How I will be married and I am not a ******!
If I make love before married or do something like ****
Then my husband will tell me that I am not good
The community will talk about me
And my parents will not talk to me.
They will slap me
All bad things will happen to me
I will be neglected.
And I have to go back to my family

After all,
my family will **** me.
Other punishments also, like these
Not going out of the house
No phones
Not talking to people, friends
And relatives
Not even married in life.

I have to stay alone at home
And no one will talk to me if I am alive
Then I should go out of the house forever
Really, a girl lives alone after this bad thing,
Yeah, can do work, but It is impossible here.

I know Arab girls have to war in my first night
and their weapons are their virginity!
That’s why I’m still a ******.
Sigh, I’m about 39.
Just Culture Imagery of An Arab Community
Sorry, i put it.
Westley Barnes Jun 2019
A spectacular butterfly
splendid in its monochrome, leopard-print reflecting armour
flies unto the lavender branches
recently budded in my garden
Fancying myself a faithful reader of Nabokov
and drawn to anecdotes of self-glorification
I thought I should become a Lepidopterist
and catalogue its striking corpse
beginning what could become a masterful collection
Me, the quarter-tanned Irish bopping all in tennis whites
with mock-radioactive web of butterfly doom among the wooden yard dividers

But where should I keep it?
this hype-building collection of one
amongst my dust-collecting books
my backdated journals and flaccid-worn glossy magazines
my "value-appreciating" vinyl records
the more prettily curated and precision-hung images that curate my partner's collections?

No, it is not for me
to stop it succumbing to dust, to allow it turn into something beautiful again
if a tragic kind of beauty
amongst the dirt, for something becomes more wonderful when
it's beauty is not forced on show
but produces itself through more layered, yet uncomplicated means
returned back out of the dust, without any of our artificial light
recording again it's eventual demise
Antony Glaser Jul 2018
the simple things
are backdated to yourself
like vain glass  
you rareify your blaze
Nylee Mar 8
Slowly taking away every piece of me written from this place
My power is limited, but I love the feeling of purge
it will be fresh start, gradually and then all of a sudden
It will be blessing in disguise, a hidden current,
Stilled in backdated history, written words are not immortal.
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself!

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay funeral/
cremation services

unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - thank dog,
a real person!

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2019
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief

grace period until August 2019
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow!

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated date
pasted said information
into Word document

ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve

emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels

subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness
decried flagrantly mucking potential

squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by

voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work historyrecord scattershot

unable to sustain employment
intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive

Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel great?
A worst nightmare loomed large
notification courtesy Montgomery County
Assistance Office caseworker
implied medical coverage axed
I felt hammered, nailed, shingled out...
livid with rage
frenzied, harried, jarred...
railing away
fit tubby tied to train tracks
ready to **** myself,
but dang, I ain't got enough funds  
to cover funeral  
or preferably cremation costs.

Bajillion dollars for medications
yikes - anxiety/panic attacks
slated to return with vengeance,
no way to pay hearst driver/
nor burial services
grave diggers will mutiny
unable to calm down
a bottle of tranquilizers...
and/or sharp pointed objects
appeared very tempting
questions needed answering ASAP!

Telephone numbers yielded voice menu
dialed Consumer Service Center
for Health Coverage
at long last - a real person
thank dog.

Whew - informed of short checklist
checking account transactions
backdated to June 2023
until most recent activity
slight sigh of wry tears relief
grace period until August 2023
accessed Citizens account online
of course Login fraught
with problematic issues Yow.

Chose new password
finally accessed anemic
measly anorexic balance
scrolled mouse pointer
highlighted/copied designated dates
pasted said information
into Word document
ah...prints esse finally blessed me
folded half dozen plus pages
affixed three postage stamps
out apartment door
slipped material into onsight mailbox.

Breathed sigh of relief
agitation subsided within core
rage against human machine (me)
penuriousness smarted, vetted, yipped...
analogous to pet peeve
emotionally exhausted and spent
penniless poet plopped into bed
instant sleep refreshed
highly cooled figurative heels
subsequently resumed hashtagging
black and decker tooled mindset
concomitant with grievous bitterness

decried flagrantly mucking potential
squandered so many
prime vocational opportunities
severely compromised thank you;
loathsome debilitating panic attacks
years gone by;
voluntarily enrolled institutions,
albeit of higher learning
hopscotched from one college/
university after another
work history record scattershot
unable to sustain employment

intermittent jobs between
prolonged gaps, deemed
expendable, replaceable, unmarketable...
great boost to self esteem
qualified to receive
Social Security disability
predicated on serious
mental health issues
to recapitulate incapacitated
presumably congenital aberration
other than above internal melee...,
I feel Gr-r-reat!
Because of their poverty,
They easily feel reality.
When they attend any ceremony,
They remain idle and feel lonely.
Because of their poverty
They are away from modernity,
Their phone is Symphony,
They use app opera mini.
Because of their poverty
They are backdated in society.
Just because of poverty
We set aside their ability,
This is our real nobility.
#reality

— The End —