Frères humains qui après nous vivez […] Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absouldre !
Sur le Noël, morte saison, Que les loups se vivent de vent […].
Tant crie l'on Noël qu'il vient.
Corps femenin, qui tant es tendre, Poly, souef*, si precieulx […].
Alphonse, le roi d'Aragon, Le gracieux duc de Bourbon, Et Artus le duc de Bretagne, Et Charles septième le bon ? Mais où est le preux Charlemagne ?
Nécessité fait gens mesprendre* Et faim saillir le loup du bois.
Hé Dieu ! si j'eusse étudié Au temps de ma jeunesse folle […] À peu que le cœur ne me fend.
© 2026 My French LLC
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