Chaucer's Works, Volume 1 — Romaunt of the Rose (part 2)

'Haec autem [vestis] nimis subtilizata, subterfugiens oculorum indaginem, ad tantam materiae tenuitatem advenerat, ut ejus aerisque eandem crederes esse naturam, in qua, prout oculis pictura imaginabatur, animalium celebratur concilium. Illic aquila, primo juvenem, secundo senem, induens, tertio iterum reciprocata priorem, in Adonidem revertebatur a Nestore. Illic ancipiter (sic), civitatis praefectus aeriae, violenta tyrannide a subditis redditus exposcebat. Illic milvus, venatoris induens personam, venatione furtiva larvam gerebat ancipitris. Illic falco in ardeam bellum excitabat civile, non tamen aequali lance divisum. Non enim illud pugnae debet appellatione censeri, ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum. Illic struthio, vita seculari postposita, vitam solitariam agens, quasi heremita factus, desertarum solitudines incolebat. Illic olor, sui funeris praeco, mellitae citherizationis organo vitae prophetabat apocopam. Illic in pavone tantum pulcritudinis compluit Natura thesaurum, ut eam postea crederes mendicasse. Illic phoenix, in se mortuus, redivivus in alio, quodam Naturae miraculo, se sua morte a mortuis suscitabat. Illic avis concordiae (ciconia) prolem decimando Naturae persolvebat tributum. Illic passeres in atomum pygmeae humilitatis relegati degebant, grus ex opposito in giganteae quantitatis evadebat excessum.

'Illic phasianus, natalis insulae perpessus angustias, principum futurus deliciae, nostros evolabat in orbes. Illic gallus, tanquam vulgaris astrologus, suae vocis horologio horarum loquebatur discrimina. Illic gallus silvestris, privatioris galli deridens desidiam, peregre proficiscens, nemorales peragrabat provincias. Illic bubo, propheta miseriae, psalmodias funereae lamentationis praecinebat. Illic noctua tantae deformitatis sterquilinio sordescebat, ut in ejus formatione Naturam crederes fuisse somnolentam. Illic cornix, ventura prognosticans, nugatorio concitabatur garritu. Illic pica, dubio picturata colore, curam logices perennebat insomnem. Illic monedula, latrocinio laudabili reculas thesaurizans, innatae avaritiae argumenta monstrabat. Illic columba, dulci malo inebriata Diones, laborabat Cypridis in palaestra. Illic corvus, zelotypiae abhorrens dedecus, suos foetus non sua esse pignora fatebatur, usque dum comperto nigri argumento coloris, hoc quasi secum disputans comprobat. Illic perdix nunc aeriae potestatis insultus, nunc venatorum sophismata, nunc canum latratus propheticos abhorrebat. Illic anas cum ansere, sub eodem jure vivendi, hiemabat in patria fluviali. Illic turtur, suo viduata consorte, amorem epilogare dedignans, in altero bigamiae refutabat solatia. Illic psittacus cum sui gutturis incude vocis monetam fabricabat humanae. Illic coturnicem, figurae draconis ignorantem fallaciam, imaginariae vocis decipiebant sophismata. Illic picus, propriae architectus domunculae, sui rostri dolabro clausulam fabricabat in ilice. Illic curruca, novercam exuens, materno pietatis ubere alienam cuculi prolem adoptabat in filium; quae tamen capitali praemiata stipendio, privignum agnoscens, filium ignorabat. Illic hirundo, a sua peregrinatione reversa, sub trabe nidi lutabat hospitium. Illic philomena, deflorationis querelam reintegrans, harmoniaca tympanizans dulcedine, puritatis dedecus excusabat. Illic alauda, quasi nobilis citharista, non studii artificio, sed Naturae magisterio, musicae praedocta scientiam, citharam praesentabat in ore.... Haec animalia, quamvis illic quasi allegorice viverent, ibi tamen esse videbantur ad litteram.'

As to the date of this poem, Ten Brink (Studien, p. 127) shews that it must have been written later than 1373; and further, that it was probably written earlier than Troilus, which seems to have been finished in 1383. It may therefore have been written in 1382, in which case it may very well refer to the betrothal (in 1381) of King Richard II to Queen Anne of Bohemia. See, on this subject, Dr. Koch's discussion of the question in Essays on Chaucer, p. 407, published by the Chaucer Society. Prof. Ward (who follows Koch) in his Life of Chaucer, p. 86, says:—'Anne of Bohemia, daughter of the great Emperor Charles IV., and sister of King Wenceslas, had been successively betrothed to a Bavarian prince and to a Margrave of Meissen, before—after negotiations which, according to Froissart, lasted a year—her hand was given to young King Richard II. of England. This sufficiently explains the general scope of the Assembly of Fowls, an allegorical poem written on or about St. Valentine's Day, 1381—eleven months or nearly a year after which date the marriage took place.'

I here note that Lydgate's Flour of Curtesie is a palpable imitation of the Parliament of Foules; so also is the earlier part of his Complaint of the Black Knight.

On the other hand, it is interesting to find, in the Poésies de Marie de France, ed. Roquefort, Paris, 1820, that Fable 22 (vol. i. p. 130) is entitled:—'Li parlemens des Oiseax por faire Roi.' In this fable, the Birds reject the Cuckoo, and choose the Eagle as king.

§ 23. VI. A Compleint to his Lady.

We may fairly say that this poem is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley, since in MS. Harl. 78 it is copied out by him as if it were a continuation of the Complaint to Pity, and the pages are, throughout, headed with the words—'The Balade of Pytee. By Chauciers.' Stowe implies that he had seen more than one MS. copy of this poem, and says that 'these verses were compiled by Geffray Chauser,' for which he may have found authority in the MSS. Moreover, the internal evidence settles the matter. It is evident that we have here a succession of metrical experiments, the last of which exhibits a ten-line stanza resembling the nine-line stanza of his Anelida; in fact, we here have that Complaint in a crude form, which was afterwards elaborated; see the references, in the Notes, to the corresponding passages in that poem. But a very great and unique interest is attached to lines 16 to 43. For here we have the sole example, in English literature of that period, of the use of terza rima, obviously copied from Dante; and Chaucer was the only writer who then had a real acquaintance with that author. I know of no other example of the use of this metre before the time of Lord Surrey and Sir Thomas Wiat, when Englishmen once more sought acquaintance with Italian poetry. Consequently, we have here the pleasure of seeing how Chaucer handled Dante's metre; and the two fragments here preserved shew that he might have handled it quite successfully if he had persevered in doing so.

It is to be regretted that Shirley's spelling is so indifferent; he was rather an amateur than a professional scribe. Some of his peculiarities may be noticed, as they occur not only here, but also in the two last pieces, nos. XXII. and XXIII. He constantly adds a final e in the wrong place, producing such forms fallethe, howe, frome, and the like, and drops it where it is necessary, as in hert (for herte). He is fond of eo for ee or long e, as in beo, neodethe. He writes ellas for allas; also e in place of the prefix y-, as in eknytte for y-knit. This last peculiarity is extremely uncommon. I have removed the odd effect which these vagaries produce, and I adopt the ordinary spelling of MSS. that resemble in type the Ellesmere MS. of the Canterbury Tales.

This piece exhibits three distinct metres, viz. the 7-line stanza, terza rima, and the 10-line stanza. Of the last, which is extremely rare, we have here the earliest example. Lines 56 and 59 are lost, and some others are imperfect.

§ 24. VII. Anelida and Arcite.

The genuineness of this poem is obvious enough, and is vouched for both by Lydgate and Shirley, as shewn above. It is further discussed in the Notes. I may add that Lydgate incidentally refers to it in his Complaint of the Black Knight, l. 379:—'Of Thebes eke the false Arcite.' Much later allusions are the following:—

'There was also Annelida the queene,

Upon Arcite how sore she did complaine';

Assembly of Ladies, l. 465.

...... 'and the weimenting

Of her Annelida, true as turtle-dove

To Arcite fals.'

Court of Love, l. 233.

The first three stanzas are from Boccaccio's Teseide, as shewn in the Notes; so also are stanzas 8, 9, and 10. Stanzas 4-7 are partly from Statius. The origin of ll. 71-210 is at present unknown. It is difficult to date this poem, but it must be placed after 1373, because of its quotations from the Teseide, or rather from Chaucer's own Palamon and Arcite. The mention of 'the quene of Ermony' in l. 72 suggests that Chaucer's thoughts may have been turned towards Armenia by the curious fact that, in 1384, the King of Armenia came to England about Christmas time, stayed two months, and was hospitably entertained by King Richard at Eltham; see Fabyan's Chronicles, ed. Ellis, p. 532. At an earlier time, viz. in 1362, Walsingham says that some knights of Armenia appeared at a tournament in Smithfield. In the Transactions of the Cambridge Philological Society, May 13, 1886, there is a short paper by Prof. Cowell, from which we learn that Mr. Bradshaw believed the name of Anelida to be identical 'with Anáhita (Ἀναΐτις), the ancient goddess of Persia and Armenia.... He supposed that Chaucer got the name Anelida from a misreading of the name Anaetidem or Anaetida in some Latin MS., the t being mistaken for l.' We must remember that Creseide represents a Greek accusative form Χρυσηΐδα, of which the gen. Χρυσηΐδος occurs in Homer, Il. i. 111; and perhaps the form Dalida (for Dalilah) in the Septuagint is also due to association with Greek accusatives in -ιδα. The genitive Anaetidos occurs in Pliny, xxxiii. 4; in Holland's translation of Pliny, ii. 470, she appears as 'the goddesse Diana syrnamed Anaitis.' It may be as well to explain to those who are unaccustomed to MSS. of the fourteenth century, that it was then usual to write e in place of ae or æ, so that the name would usually be written, in the accusative case, Anetida. This suggests that Anelida should be spelt with but one n; and such is the practice of all the better MSS.

It remains to be added that one source of the part of the poem called the Complaint (ll. 211-350) is the piece printed in this volume as no. VI. That piece is, in fact, a kind of exercise in metrical experiments, and exhibits specimens of a 10-line stanza, resembling the nine-line stanza of this Complaint. Chaucer seems to have elaborated this into a longer Complaint, with additional varieties in the metre; and then to have written the preceding story by way of introduction. One line (vi. 50) is repeated without alteration (vii. 237); another (vi. 35) is only altered in the first and last words (vii. 222). Other resemblances are pointed out in the Notes.

It is also worth while to notice how the character of the speaking falcon in the second part of the Squire's Tale is precisely that of Anelida. The parallel lines are pointed out in the Notes. The principal MSS. may be thus grouped: Aa.—F. B. Ab.—Tn. D. Lt. B.—Harl. Cx. Here A and B are two groups, of which the former is subdivided into Aa and Ab. See Koch, in Anglia, iv. b. 102.

§ 25. VIII. Chaucer's Wordes unto Adam.

This is evidently a genuine poem, written by the author of the translation of Boethius and of the story of Troilus.

§ 26. IX. The Former Age.

First printed in 1866, in Morris's Chaucer, from a transcript made by Mr. Bradshaw, who pointed out its genuineness. It is ascribed to Chaucer in both MSS., and belongs, in fact, to his translation of Boethius, though probably written at a later date. In MS. I. the poem is headed:—'Chawcer vp-on this fyfte metur of the second book.' In MS. Hh., the colophon is: 'Finit Etas prima: Chaucers.' Dr. Koch thinks that the five poems here numbered IX. X. XIII-XV. 'form a cyclus, as it were, being free transcriptions of different passages in Boethius' Consolatio Philosophiae.' There is, in fact, a probability that these were all written at about the same period, and that rather a late one, some years after the prose translation of Boethius had been completed; and a probable date for this completion is somewhere about 1380.

Both MS. copies are from the same source, as both of them omit the same line, viz. l. 56; which I have had to supply by conjecture. Neither of the MSS. are well spelt, nor are they very satisfactory. The mistake in riming l. 47 with l. 43 instead of l. 45 may very well have been due to an oversight on the part of the poet himself. But the poem is a beautiful one, and admirably expressed; and its inclusion among the Minor Poems is a considerable gain.

Dr. Furnivall has printed the Latin text of Boethius, lib. ii. met. 5, from MS. I., as well as Chaucer's prose version of the same, for the sake of comparison with the text of the poem. The likeness hardly extends beyond the first four stanzas. I here transcribe that part of the prose version which is parallel to the poem, omitting a few sentences which do not appear there at all; for the complete text, see vol. ii.

'Blisful was the first age of men. They helden hem apayed with the metes that the trewe feldes broughten furthe. They ne distroyede nor deceivede not hem-self with outrage. They weren wont lightly to slaken hir hunger at even with acornes of okes. [Stanza 2.] They ne coude nat medly the yifte of Bachus to the clere hony; that is to seyn, they coude make no piment nor clarree. [Stanza 3.] ... they coude nat deyen whyte fleeses of Serien contree with the blode of a maner shelfisshe that men finden in Tyrie, with whiche blode men deyen purpur. [Stanza 6.] They slepen hoolsum slepes upon the gras, and dronken of the renninge wateres [cf. l. 8]; and layen under the shadwes of the heye pyn-trees. [Stanza 3, continued.] Ne no gest ne no straungere ne carf yit the heye see with ores or with shippes; ne they ne hadde seyn yit none newe strondes, to leden marchaundyse in-to dyverse contrees. Tho weren the cruel clariouns ful hust and ful stille.... [Stanza 4.] For wherto or whiche woodnesse of enemys wolde first moeven armes, whan they seyen cruel woundes, ne none medes be of blood y-shad?... Allas! what was he that first dalf up the gobetes or the weightes of gold covered under erthe, and the precious stones that wolden han ben hid? He dalf up precious perils; ... for the preciousnesse of swiche thinge, hath many man ben in peril.'

The metre is the same as that of the ABC.

§ 27. X. Fortune.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. A. and T.; also marked as Chaucer's in MSS. F. and I. In MS. I., this poem and the preceding are actually introduced into Chaucer's translation of Boethius, between the fifth metre and the sixth prose of the second book, as has been already said. The metre is the same as that of the ABC and The Former Age, but the same rimes run through three stanzas. The Envoy forms a 7-line stanza, but has only two rimes; the formula is ababbab. For further remarks, see the Notes.

§ 28. XI. Merciles Beaute.

The unique copy of this poem is in MS. P. It is the last poem in the MS., and is in excellent company, as it immediately follows several other of Chaucer's genuine poems. This is probably why Bp. Percy attributed it to Chaucer, who himself tells us that he wrote 'balades, roundels, virelayes.' It is significant that Mätzner, in his Altenglische Sprachproben, i. 347, chose this poem alone as a specimen of the Minor Poems. It is, in fact, most happily expressed, and the internal evidence places its authenticity beyond question. The three roundels express three 'movements,' in the poet's usual manner; and his mastery of metre is shewn in the use of the same rime in -en-e in the first and third roundels, requiring no less than ten different words for the purpose; whilst in the second roundel the corresponding lines end in -eyn-e, producing much the same effect, if (as is probable) the old sounds of e and ey were not very different. We at once recognise the Chaucerian phrases I do no fors (see Cant. Ta. D 1234, 1512), and I counte him not a bene (see Troil. v. 363).

Very characteristic is the use of the dissyllabic word sen-e (l. 10), which is an adjective, and means 'manifest,' from the A. S. geséne, (gesýne), and not the past participle, which is y-seen. Chaucer rimes it with clen-e (Prol. to C. T. 134), and with gren-e (Kn. Tale, A 2298). The phrase though he sterve for the peyne (l. 23) reminds us of for to dyen in the peyne (Kn. Ta. A 1133).

But the most curious thing about this poem is the incidental testimony of Lydgate, in his Ballade in Commendacion of our Ladie; see poem no. 26 above, discussed at p. . I here quote st. 22 in full, from ed. 1561, fol. 330:

'Where might I loue euer better beset

Then in this Lilie, likyng to beholde?

That lace of loue, the bonde so well thou knit,

That I maie see thee, or myne harte colde,

And or I passe out of my daies olde,

Tofore [thee] syngyng euermore vtterly—

Your iyen twoo woll slea me sodainly.'

I ought to add that this poem is the only one which I have admitted into the set of Minor Poems (nos. I-XX) with incomplete external evidence. If it is not Chaucer's, it is by some one who contrived to surpass him in his own style. And this is sufficient excuse for its appearance here.

Moreover, Lydgate's testimony is external evidence, in a high degree. Even the allusion in l. 27 to the Roman de la Rose points in the same direction; and so does Chaucer's statement that he wrote roundels. Excepting that in the Parl. of Foules, ll. 680-692, and the three here given, no roundels of his have ever been found.

§ 29. XII. To Rosemounde.

This poem was discovered by me in the Bodleian Library on the 2nd of April, 1891. It is written on a fly-leaf at the end of MS. Rawlinson Poet. 163, which also contains a copy of Chaucer's Troilus. At the end of the 'Troilus' is the colophon: 'Here endith the book of Troylus and of Cresseyde.' This colophon is preceded by 'Tregentyll,' and followed by 'Chaucer.' On the next leaf (no. 114) is the Balade, without any title, at the foot of which is 'Tregentil'——'Chaucer,' the two names being written at a considerable distance apart. I believe 'Tregentil' to represent the name of the scribe. In any case, 'Chaucer' represents the name of the author. It is a happy specimen of his humour.

§ 30. XIII. Truth.

This famous poem is attributed to Chaucer in MS. F., also (thrice) by Shirley, who in one of the copies in MS. T. (in which it occurs twice) calls it a 'Balade that Chaucier made on his deeth-bedde'; which is probably a mere bad guess. The MSS. may be divided into two groups; the four best are in the first group, viz. At., E., Gg., Ct., and the rest (mostly) in the second group. Those of the first group have the readings Tempest (8), Know thy contree (19), and Hold the hye wey (20); whilst the rest have, in the same places, Peyne (8), Look up on hy (19), and Weyve thy lust (20). It is remarkable that the Envoy occurs in MS. At. only. It may have been suppressed owing to a misunderstanding of the word vache (cow), the true sense of which is a little obscure. The reference is to Boethius, bk. v. met. 5, where it is explained that quadrupeds look down upon the earth, whilst man alone looks up towards heaven; cf. lok up in l. 19 of the poem. The sense is therefore, that we should cease to look down, and learn to look up like true men; 'only the linage of man,' says Chaucer, in his translation of Boethius, 'heveth heyeste his heye heved ... this figure amonesteth thee, that axest the hevene with thy righte visage, and hast areysed thy fore-heved to beren up a-heigh thy corage, so that thy thoght ne be nat y-hevied ne put lowe under fote.'

§ 31. XIV. Gentilesse.

It is curious that this Balade not only occurs as an independent poem, as in MSS. T., Harl., Ct., and others, but is also quoted bodily in a poem by Henry Scogan in MS. A. It is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. T. and Harl.; and still more satisfactory is the account given of it by Scogan. The title of Scogan's poem is:—'A moral balade made by Henry Scogan squyer. Here folowethe nexst a moral balade to my lorde the Prince, to my lord of Clarence, to my lord of Bedford, and to my lorde of Gloucestre; by Henry Scogan, at a souper of feorthe merchande (sic) in the vyntre in London, at the hous of Lowys Iohan.' It is printed in all the old editions of Chaucer; see poem no. 33, p. . Scogan tells us that he was 'fader,' i. e. tutor, to the four sons of Henry IV. above-mentioned. His ballad is in twenty-one 8-line stanzas, and he inserts Chaucer's Gentilesse, distinguished by being in 7-line stanzas, between the 13th and 14th stanzas of his own work. He refers to Chaucer in the 9th stanza thus (in MS. A.):—

'My maistre Chaucier, God his soule have,

That in his langage was so curyous,

He saide that the fader, nowe dede and grave,

Beqwathe no-thing his vertue with his hous

Un-to his sone.'

This is a reference to ll. 16, 17 of Chaucer's poem. Again, in his 13th stanza, he says:—

'By auncetrye thus may yee no-thing clayme,

As that my maistre Chaucier dothe expresse,

But temporell thing, that man may hurte and mayme;

Thane is gode stocke of vertuous noblesse;

And, sithe that he is lord of blessednesse

That made us alle, and for mankynde that dyed,

Folowe his vertue with full besynesse;

And of this thinge herke howe my maistre seyde.'

He here refers to lines 15-17, and lines 1-4 of Chaucer's poem; and then proceeds to quote it in full. Having done so, he adds:—

'Loo, here this noble poete of Brettayne

Howe hyely he, in vertuouse sentence,

The losse [MS. lesse] in youthe of vertue can compleyne.'

Scogan's advice is all good; and, though he accuses himself of having misspent his youth, this may very well mean no more than such an expression means in the mouth of a good man. He is doubtless the very person to whom Chaucer's 'Lenvoy a Scogan' was addressed, and Chaucer (l. 21) there gives him an excellent character for wisdom of speech. Accordingly, he is not to be confused with the Thomas Scogan or Scogin to whom is attributed an idle book called 'Scoggins Iests,' which were said to have been 'gathered' by Andrew Boord or Borde, author of the Introduction of Knowledge. When Shakespeare, in 2 Hen. IV. iii. 2. 33, says that Sir John Falstaff broke Scogan's head, he was no doubt thinking of the supposed author of the jest-book, and may have been led, by observation of the name in a black-letter edition of Chaucer, to suppose that he lived in the time of Henry IV. This was quite enough for his purpose, though it is probable that the jester lived in the time of Edward IV.; see Tyrwhitt's note on the Envoy to Scogan. On the other hand, we find Ben Jonson taking his ideas about Scogan solely from Henry Scogan's poem and Chaucer's Envoy, without any reference to the jester. See his Masque of the Fortunate Isles, in which Scogan is first described and afterwards introduced. The description tells us nothing more than we know already.

As for Lewis John (p. ), Tyrwhitt says he was a Welshman, 'who was naturalised by Act of Parliament, 2 Hen. V., and who was concerned with Thomas Chaucer in the execution of the office of chief butler; Rot. Parl. 2 Hen. V. n. 18.'

Caxton's printed edition of this poem seems to follow a better source than any of the MSS.

§ 32. XV. Lak of Stedfastnesse.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley in MSS. Harl. and T., and sent to King Richard at Windsor, according to the same authority. The general idea of it is from Boethius; see the Notes. Shirley refers it to the last years of Richard II., say 1397-9. We find something very like it in Piers Plowman, C. iv. 203-210, where Richard is told that bribery and wicked connivance at extortion have almost brought it about—

'That no lond loveth the, and yut leest thyn owene.'

In any case, the date can hardly vary between wider limits than between 1393 and 1399. Richard held a tournament at Windsor in 1399, which was but thinly attended; 'the greater part of the knights and squires of England were disgusted with the king.'

Of this poem, MS. Ct. seems to give the best text.

§ 33. XVI. Lenvoy a Scogan.

This piece is attributed to Chaucer in all three MSS., viz. F., P., and Gg.; and is obviously genuine. The probable date of it is towards the end of 1393; see the Notes.

For some account of Scogan, see above (p. ).

§ 34. XVII. Lenvoy a Bukton.

This piece is certainly genuine. In MS. F., the title is—'Lenvoy de Chaucer a Bukton.' In Julian Notary's edition it is—'Here foloweth the counceyll of Chaucer touching Maryag, &c. whiche was sente te (sic) Bucketon, &c.' In all the other early printed editions it is inserted without any title immediately after the Book of the Duchess.

The poem is one of Chaucer's latest productions, and may safely be dated about the end of the year 1396. This appears from the reference, in l. 23, to the great misfortune it would be to any Englishmen 'to be take in Fryse,' i. e. to be taken prisoner in Friesland. There is but one occasion on which this reference could have had any point, viz. during or just after the expedition of William of Hainault to Friesland, as narrated by Froissart in his Chronicles, bk. iv. capp. 78, 79. He tells that William of Hainault applied to Richard II. for assistance, who sent him 'some men-at-arms and two hundred archers, under the command of three English lords.' The expedition set out in August, 1396, and stayed in Friesland about five weeks, till the beginning of October, when 'the weather began to be very cold and to rain almost daily.' The great danger of being taken prisoner in Friesland was because the Frieslanders fought so desperately that they were seldom taken prisoners themselves. Then 'the Frieslanders offered their prisoners in exchange, man for man; but, when their enemies had none to give in return, they put them to death.' Besides this, the prisoners had to endure all the miseries of a bad and cold season, in an inclement climate. Hence the propriety of Chaucer's allusion fully appears. From l. 8, we learn that Chaucer was now a widower; for the word eft means 'again.' His wife is presumed to have died in the latter part of 1387. We should also observe the allusion to the Wife of Bath's Tale in l. 29.

§ 35. XVIII. The Compleynt of Venus.

This poem is usually printed as if it formed part of the Complaint of Mars; but it is really distinct. It is attributed to Chaucer by Shirley both in MS. T. and in MS. A. It is not original, but translated from the French, as appears from l. 82. Shirley tells us that the author of the French poem was Sir Otes de Graunson, a worthy knight of Savoy. He is mentioned as receiving from King Richard the grant of an annuity of 126l. 13s. 4d. on 17 Nov. 1393; see Furnivall's Trial Forewords, p. 123. The association of this poem with the Complaint of Mars renders it probable that the Venus of this poem is the same as the Venus of the other, i. e. the Princess Isabel of Spain, and Duchess of York. This fits well with the word Princess at the beginning of the Envoy; and as she died in 1394, whilst Chaucer, on the other hand, complains of his advancing years, we must date the poem about 1393, i. e. just about the time when Graunson received his annuity. Chaucer, if born about 1340, was not really more than 53, but we must remember that, in those days, men often aged quickly. John of Gaunt, who is represented by Shakespeare as a very old man, only lived to the age of 59; and the Black Prince died quite worn out, at the age of 46. Compare the notes to ll. 73, 76, 79, and 82.

Much new light has lately been thrown upon this poem by Dr. A. Piaget, who contributed an article to Romania, tome xix., on 'Oton de Granson et ses Poésies,' in 1890. The author succeeded in discovering a large number of Granson's poems, including, to our great gain, the three Balades of which Chaucer's 'Compleynt of Venus' is a translation. I am thus enabled to give the original French beneath the English version, for the sake of comparison.

He has also given us an interesting account of Granson himself, for which I must refer my readers to his article. It appears that Froissart mentions Granson at least four times (twice in bk. i. c. 303, A.D. 1372, once in c. 305, and once in c. 331, A.D. 1379), as fighting on the side of the English; see Johnes' translation. He was in Savoy from 1389 to 1391; but, in the latter year, was accused of being concerned in the death of Amadeus VII., count of Savoy, in consequence of which he returned to England, and in 1393 his estates in Savoy were confiscated. It was on this occasion that Richard II. assigned to him the pension above mentioned. With the hope of clearing himself from the serious charge laid against him, Granson fought a judicial duel, at Bourg-en-Bresse, on Aug. 7, 1397, in which, however, he was slain.

Now that we have the original before us, we can see clearly, as Dr. Piaget says, that Chaucer has certainly not translated the original Balades 'word for word' throughout. He does so sometimes, as in ll. 27, 28, 30, 31, in which the closeness of the translation is marvellous; but, usually, he paraphrases the original to a considerable extent. In the first Balade, he has even altered the general motive; in the original, Granson sings the praises of his lady; in Chaucer, it is a lady who praises the worthiness of her lover.

It also becomes probable that the title 'The Compleynt of Venus,' which seems to have been suggested by Shirley, is by no means a fitting one. It is not suitable for Venus, unless the 'Venus' be a mortal; neither is it a continuous 'Compleynt,' being simply a linking together of three separate and distinct Balades.

It is clear to me that, when Chaucer added his Envoy, he made the difficulties of following the original 'word by word' and of preserving the original metre his excuse; and that what really troubled him was the difficulty of adapting the French, especially Balade I., so as to be acceptable to the 'Princess' who enjoined him to translate these Balades. In particular, he evidently aimed at giving them a sort of connection, so that one should follow the other naturally; which accounts for the changes in the first of them. It is significant, perhaps, that the allusion to 'youth' (F. jeunesce) in l. 70 is entirely dropped.

On the whole, I think we may still accept the theory that this poem was written at the request (practically, the command) of Isabel, duchess of York, the probable 'Venus' of the 'Compleynt of Mars.' Chaucer seems to have thrown the three Balades together, linking them so as to express a lady's constancy in love, and choosing such language as he deemed would be most acceptable to the princess. He then ingeniously, and not without some humour, protests that any apparent alterations are due to his own dulness and the difficulties of translating 'word for word,' and of preserving the rimes.

In l. 31, the F. text shews us that we must read Pleyne, not Pleye (as in the MSS.). This was pointed out by Mr. Paget Toynbee.

§ 36. XIX. The Compleint to his Purse.

Attributed to Chaucer by Shirley, in MS. Harl. 7333; by Caxton; by the scribes of MSS. F., P., and Ff.; and by early editors. I do not know on what grounds Speght removed Chaucer's name, and substituted that of T. Occleve; there seems to be no authority for this change. I think it highly probable that the poem itself is older than the Envoy; see note to l. 17. In any case, the Envoy is almost certainly Chaucer's latest extant composition.

§ 37. XX. Proverbs.

Attributed to Chaucer in MSS. F. and Ha.; see further in the Notes. From the nature of the case, we cannot assign any probable date to this composition. Yet it was, perhaps, written after, rather than before, the Tale of Melibeus.

§ 38. XXI. Against Women Unconstaunt.

For the genuineness of this Balade, we have chiefly the internal evidence to trust to; but this seems to me to be sufficiently strong. The Balade is perfect in construction, having but three rimes (-esse, -ace, -ene), and a refrain. The 'mood' of it strongly resembles that of Lak of Stedfastnesse; the lines run with perfect smoothness, and the rimes are all Chaucerian. It is difficult to suppose that Lydgate, or even Hoccleve, who was a better metrician, could have produced so good an imitation of Chaucer's style. But we are not without strong external evidence; for the general idea of the poem, and what is more important, the whole of the refrain, are taken from Chaucer's favourite author Machault (ed. Tarbé, p. 56); whose refrain is—'En lieu de bleu, Damë, vous vestez vert.' Again, the poem is only found in company with other poems by Chaucer. Such collocation frequently means nothing, but those who actually consult MSS. Ct. and Ha. will see how close is its association with the Chaucerian poems in those MSS. I have said that it occurs in MSS. F., Ct., and Ha. Now in MS. Ct. we find, on the back of fol. 188 and on fol. 189, just four poems in the same hand. These are (1) Gentilesse; (2) Lak of Stedfastnesse; (3) Truth; and (4) Against Women Unconstaunt. As three of these are admittedly genuine, there is evidence that the fourth is the same. We may also notice that, in this MS., the poems on Lak of Stedfastnesse and Against Women Unconstaunt are not far apart. On searching MS. Ha. (Harl. 7578), I again found three of these poems in company, viz. (1) Gentilesse; (2) Lak of Stedfastnesse; and (3) Against Women Unconstaunt; the last being, in my view, precisely in its right place. (This copy of the poem was unknown to me in 1887.)

§ 39. XXII. An Amorous Complaint.

Whilst searching through the various MSS. containing Minor Poems by Chaucer in the British Museum, my attention was arrested by this piece, which, as far as I know, has never before been printed. It is in Shirley's handwriting, but he does not claim it for Chaucer. However, the internal evidence seems to me irresistible; the melody is Chaucer's, and his peculiar touches appear in it over and over again. There is, moreover, in the last stanza, a direct reference to the Parliament of Foules.

I cannot explain the oracular notice of time in the heading; even if we alter May to day, it contradicts l. 85, which mentions 'seint Valentines day.' The heading is—'And next folowyng begynnith an amerowse compleynte made at wyndesore in the laste May tofore Nouembre' (sic). The date is inexplicable; but the mention of locality is interesting. Chaucer became a 'valet of the king's chamber' in 1367, and must frequently have been at Windsor, where the institution of the Order of the Garter was annually celebrated on St. George's Day (April 23). Some of the parallelisms in expression between the present poem and other passages in Chaucer's Works are pointed out in the Notes.

This Complaint should be compared with the complaint uttered by Dorigen in the Cant. Tales, F. 1311-1325, which is little else than the same thing in a compressed form. There is also much resemblance to the 'complaints' in Troilus; see the references in the Notes.

Since first printing the text in 1888, I found that it is precisely the same poem as one extant in MSS. F. and B., with the title 'Complaynt Damours.' I had noticed the latter some time previously, and had made a note that it ought to be closely examined; but unfortunately I forgot to do so, or I should have seen at once that it had strong claims to being considered genuine. These claims are considerably strengthened by the fact of the appearance of the poem in these two Chaucerian MSS., the former of which contains no less than sixteen, and the latter seven of the Minor Poems, besides the Legend and the Hous of Fame.

In reprinting the text in the present volume, I take occasion to give all the more important results of a collation of the text with these MSS. In most places, their readings are inferior to those in the text; but in other places they suggest corrections.

In MS. F. the fourth stanza is mutilated; the latter half of lines 24-28 is missing.

In B., below the word Explicit, another and later hand has scrawled 'be me Humfrey Flemyng.' 'Be me' merely means—'this signature is mine.' It is a mere scribble, and does not necessarily relate to the poem at all.

The readings of F. and B. do not help us much; for the text in Harl., on the whole, is better.

It is not at all improbable that a better copy of this poem may yet be found.

§ 40. XXIII. Balade of Compleynt.

This poem, which has not been printed before, as far as I am aware, occurs in Shirley's MS. Addit. 16165, at fol. 256, back. It is merely headed 'Balade of compleynte,' without any note of its being Chaucer's. But I had not read more than four lines of it before I at once recognised the well-known melodious flow which Chaucer's imitators (except sometimes Hoccleve) so seldom succeed in reproducing. And when I had only finished reading the first stanza, I decided at once to copy it out, not doubting that it would fulfil all the usual tests of metre, rime, and language; which it certainly does. It is far more correct in wording than the preceding poem, and does not require that we should either omit or supply a single word. But in l. 20 the last word should surely be dere rather than here; and the last word in l. 11 is indistinct. I read it as reewe afterwards altered to newe; and newe makes very good sense. I may notice that Shirley's n's are very peculiar: the first upstroke is very long, commencing below the line; and this peculiarity renders the reading tolerably certain. Some lines resemble lines in no. VI., as is pointed out in the Notes. Altogether, it is a beautiful poem, and its recovery is a clear gain.

§ 41. Concluding Remarks.

I regret that this Introduction has run to so great a length; but it was incumbent on me to shew reasons for the rejection or acceptance of the very large number of pieces which have hitherto been included in editions of Chaucer's Works. I have now only to add that I have, of course, been greatly indebted to the works of others; so much so indeed that I can hardly particularise them. I must, however, mention very gratefully the names of Dr. Furnivall, Professor Ten Brink, Dr. Koch, Dr. Willert, Max Lange, Rambeau, and various contributors to the publications of the Chaucer Society; and though I have consulted for myself such books as Le Roman de la Rose, the Teseide, the Thebaid of Statius, the poems of Machault, and a great many more, and have inserted in the Notes a large number of references which I discovered, or re-discovered, for myself, I beg leave distinctly to disclaim any merit, not doubting that most of what I have said may very likely have been said by others, and said better. Want of leisure renders it impossible for me to give to others their due meed of recognition in many instances; for I have often found it less troublesome to consult original authorities for myself than to hunt up what others have said relative to the passage under consideration.

I have relegated Poems no. XXI., XXII., and XXIII. to an Appendix, because they are not expressly attributed to Chaucer in the MSS. Such evidence has its value, but it is possible to make too much of it; and I agree with Dr. Koch, that, despite the MSS., the genuineness of no XX. is doubtful; for the rime of compas with embrace is suspicious. It is constantly the case that poems, well known to be Chaucer's, are not marked as his in the MS. copies; and we must really depend upon a prolonged and intelligent study of the internal evidence. This is why I admit poems nos. XXI-XXIII into the collection; and I hope it will be conceded that I am free from recklessness in this matter. Certainly my methods differ from those of John Stowe, and I believe them to be more worthy of respect.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.

FRAGMENT A.

Many men seyn that in sweveninges

Ther nis but fables and lesinges;

But men may somme swevenes seen,

Which hardely ne false been,

5

But afterward ben apparaunte.

This may I drawe to waraunte

An authour, that hight Macrobes,

That halt not dremes false ne lees,

But undoth us the avisioun

10

That whylom mette king Cipioun.

And who-so sayth, or weneth it be

A Iape, or elles [a] nycetee

To wene that dremes after falle,

Let who-so liste a fool me calle.

LE ROMAN DE LA ROSE.

Maintes gens dient que en songes

N'a se fables non et mençonges;

Mais l'en puet tiex songes songier

Qui ne sunt mie mençongier;

Ains sunt après bien apparant.

Si en puis bien trere à garant

Ung acteur qui ot non Macrobes,

Qui ne tint pas songes à lobes;

Ainçois escrist la vision

10

Qui avint au roi Cipion.

Quiconques cuide ne qui die

Que soit folor ou musardie

De croire que songes aviengne,

Qui ce voldra, pour fol m'en tiengne;

15

For this trowe I, and say for me,

That dremes signifiaunce be

Of good and harme to many wightes,

That dremen in her slepe a-nightes

Ful many thinges covertly,

20

That fallen after al openly.

The Dream.

Within my twenty yere of age,

Whan that Love taketh his corage

Of yonge folk, I wente sone

To bedde, as I was wont to done,

25

And fast I sleep; and in sleping,

Me mette swiche a swevening,

That lykede me wonders wel;

But in that sweven is never a del

That it nis afterward befalle,

30

Right as this dreem wol telle us alle.

Now this dreem wol I ryme aright,

To make your hertes gaye and light;

For Love it prayeth, and also

Commaundeth me that it be so

35

And if ther any aske me,

Whether that it be he or she,

How [that] this book [the] which is here

Shal hote, that I rede you here;

Car endroit moi ai-je fiance

Que songe soit senefiance

Des biens as gens et des anuiz,

Car li plusors songent de nuitz

Maintes choses couvertement

20

Que l'en voit puis apertement.

Où vintiesme an de mon aage,

Où point qu'Amors prend le paage

Des jones gens, couchiez estoie

Une nuit, si cum je souloie,

Et me dormoie moult forment,

Si vi ung songe en mon dormant,

Qui moult fut biax, et moult me plot,

Mès onques riens où songe n'ot

Qui avenu trestout ne soit,

30

Si cum li songes recontoit.

Or veil cel songe rimaier,

Por vos cuers plus fere esgaier,

Qu'Amors le me prie et commande;

Et se nus ne nule demande

Comment ge voil que cilz Rommanz

Soit apelez, que ge commanz:

It is the Romance of the Rose,

40

In which al the art of love I close.

The mater fair is of to make;

God graunte in gree that she it take

For whom that it begonnen is!

And that is she that hath, y-wis,

45

So mochel prys; and ther-to she

So worthy is biloved be,

That she wel oughte of prys and right,

Be cleped Rose of every wight.

That it was May me thoughte tho,

50

It is fyve yere or more ago;

That it was May, thus dremed me,

In tyme of love and Iolitee,

That al thing ginneth waxen gay,

For ther is neither busk nor hay

55

In May, that it nil shrouded been,

And it with newe leves wreen.

These wodes eek recoveren grene,

That drye in winter been to sene;

And the erthe wexeth proud withalle,

60

For swote dewes that on it falle,

And [al] the pore estat forget

In which that winter hadde it set,

Ce est li Rommanz de la Rose,

Où l'art d'Amors est tote enclose.

La matire en est bone et noeve:

40

Or doint Diez qu'en gré le reçoeve

Cele por qui ge l'ai empris.

C'est cele qui tant a de pris,

Et tant est digne d'estre amée,

Qu'el doit estre Rose clamée.

Avis m'iere qu'il estoit mains,

Il a jà bien cincq ans, au mains,

En Mai estoie, ce songoie,

El tems amoreus plain de joie,

El tens où tote riens s'esgaie,

50

Que l'en ne voit boisson ne haie

Qui en Mai parer ne se voille,

Et covrir de novele foille;

Li bois recovrent lor verdure,

Qui sunt sec tant cum yver dure,

La terre méisme s'orgoille

Por la rousée qui la moille,

Et oblie la poverté

Où ele a tot l'yver esté.

And than bicometh the ground so proud

That it wol have a newe shroud,

65

And maketh so queynt his robe and fayr

That it hath hewes an hundred payr

Of gras and floures, inde and pers,

And many hewes ful dyvers:

That is the robe I mene, y-wis,

70

Through which the ground to preisen is.

The briddes, that han left hir song,

Whyl they han suffred cold so strong

In wedres grille, and derk to sighte,

Ben in May, for the sonne brighte,

75

So glade, that they shewe in singing,

That in hir herte is swich lyking,

That they mote singen and be light.

Than doth the nightingale hir might

To make noyse, and singen blythe.

80

Than is blisful, many a sythe,

The chelaundre and the papingay.

Than yonge folk entenden ay

For to ben gay and amorous,

The tyme is than so savorous.

85

Hard is his herte that loveth nought

In May, whan al this mirth is wrought;

Lors devient la terre si gobe,

60

Qu'ele volt avoir novele robe;

Si scet si cointe robe faire,

Que de colors i a cent paire,

D'erbes, de flors indes et perses,

Et de maintes colors diverses.

C'est la robe que ge devise,

Por quoi la terre miex se prise.

Li oisel, qui se sunt téu

Tant cum il ont le froit éu,

Et le tens divers et frarin,

70

Sunt en Mai, por le tens serin,

Si lié qu'il monstrent en chantant

Qu'en lor cuer a de joie tant,

Qu'il lor estuet chanter par force.

Li rossignos lores s'efforce

De chanter et de faire noise;

Lors s'esvertue, et lors s'envoise

Li papegaus et la kalandre:

Lors estuet jones gens entendre

A estre gais et amoreus

80

Por le tens bel et doucereus.

Moult a dur cuer qui en Mai n'aime,

Whan he may on these braunches here

The smale briddes singen clere

Hir blisful swete song pitous;

90

And in this sesoun delytous,

Whan love affrayeth alle thing,

Me thoughte a-night, in my sleping,

Right in my bed, ful redily,

That it was by the morowe erly,

95

And up I roos, and gan me clothe;

Anoon I wissh myn hondes bothe;

A sylvre nedle forth I drogh

Out of an aguiler queynt y-nogh,

And gan this nedle threde anon;

100

For out of toun me list to gon

The sowne of briddes for to here,

That on thise busshes singen clere.

And in the swete sesoun that leef is,

With a threde basting my slevis,

105

Aloon I wente in my playing,

The smale foules song harkning;

That peyned hem ful many a payre

To singe on bowes blosmed fayre.

Iolif and gay, ful of gladnesse,

Quant il ot chanter sus la raime

As oisiaus les dous chans piteus.

En iceli tens déliteus,

Que tote riens d'amer s'effroie,

Sonjai une nuit que j'estoie,

Ce m'iert avis en mon dormant,

Qu'il estoit matin durement;

De mon lit tantost me levai,

90

Chauçai moi et mes mains lavai.

Lors trais une aguille d'argent

D'un aguiller mignot et gent,

Si pris l'aguille à enfiler.

Hors de vile oi talent d'aler,

Por oïr des oisiaus les sons

Qui chantoient par ces boissons.

En icele saison novele,

Cousant mes manches à videle,

M'en alai tot seus esbatant,

100

Et les oiselés escoutant,

Qui de chanter moult s'engoissoient

Par ces vergiers qui florissoient.

Jolis, gais et plains de léesce,

110

Toward a river I gan me dresse,

That I herde renne faste by;

For fairer playing non saugh I

Than playen me by that riveer,

For from an hille that stood ther neer,

115

Cam doun the streem ful stif and bold.

Cleer was the water, and as cold

As any welle is, sooth to seyne;

And somdel lasse it was than Seine,

But it was straighter wel away.

120

And never saugh I, er that day,

The water that so wel lyked me;

And wonder glad was I to see

That lusty place, and that riveer;

And with that water that ran so cleer

125

My face I wissh. Tho saugh I wel

The botme paved everydel

With gravel, ful of stones shene.

The medewe softe, swote, and grene,

Beet right on the water-syde.

130

Ful cleer was than the morow-tyde,

And ful attempre, out of drede.

Tho gan I walke through the mede,

Dounward ay in my pleying,

Vers une riviere m'adresce.

Que j'oi près d'ilecques bruire;

Car ne me soi aillors déduire

Plus bel que sus cele riviere.

D'ung tertre qui près d'iluec iere

Descendoit l'iaue grant et roide,

110

Clere, bruiant, et aussi froide

Comme puiz, ou comme fontaine,

Et estoit poi mendre de Saine,

Mès qu'ele iere plus espanduë.

Onques mès n'avoie véuë

Cele iaue qui si bien coroit:

Moult m'abelissoit et séoit

A regarder le leu plaisant.

De l'iaue clere et reluisant

Mon vis rafreschi et lavé.

120

Si vi tot covert et pavé

Le fons de l'iaue de gravele;

La praérie grant et bele

Très au pié de l'iaue batoit.

Clere et serie et bele estoit

La matinée et atrempeé;

Lors m'en alai parmi la prée

Contre val l'iaue esbanoiant,

The river-syde costeying.

135

And whan I had a whyle goon,

The Garden.

I saugh a Gardin right anoon,

Ful long and brood, and everydel

Enclos it was, and walled wel,

With hye walles enbatailled,

140

Portrayed without, and wel entailled

With many riche portraitures;

And bothe images and peyntures

Gan I biholde bisily.

And I wol telle you, redily,

145

Of thilke images the semblaunce,

As fer as I have remembraunce.

Hate.

A-midde saugh I Hate stonde,

That for hir wrathe, ire, and onde,

Semed to been a moveresse,

150

An angry wight, a chideresse;

And ful of gyle, and fel corage,

By semblaunt was that ilke image.

And she was no-thing wel arrayed,

But lyk a wood womman afrayed;

155

Y-frounced foule was hir visage,

And grenning for dispitous rage;

Hir nose snorted up for tene.

Tot le rivage costoiant.

Quant j'oi ung poi avant alé,

130

Si vi ung vergier grant et lé,

Tot clos d'ung haut mur bataillié,

Portrait defors et entaillié

A maintes riches escritures.

Les ymages et les paintures

Ai moult volentiers remiré:

Si vous conteré et diré

De ces ymages la semblance,

Si cum moi vient à remembrance.

Haïne.

Ens où milieu je vi Haïne

140

Qui de corrous et d'ataïne

Sembloit bien estre moverresse,

Et correceuse et tencerresse,

Et plaine de grant cuvertage

Estoit par semblant cele ymage.

Si n'estoit pas bien atornée,

Ains sembloit estre forcenée,

Rechignie avoit et froncié

Le vis, et le nés secorcié.

Ful hidous was she for to sene,

Ful foul and rusty was she, this.

160

Hir heed y-writhen was, y-wis,

Ful grimly with a greet towayle.

Felonye.

An image of another entayle,

A lift half, was hir faste by;

Hir name above hir heed saugh I,

165

And she was called Felonye.

Vilanye.

Another image, that Vilanye

Y-cleped was, saugh I and fond

Upon the walle on hir right hond.

Vilanye was lyk somdel

170

That other image; and, trusteth wel,

She semed a wikked creature.

By countenaunce, in portrayture,

She semed be ful despitous,

And eek ful proud and outrageous.

175

Wel coude he peynte, I undertake,

That swiche image coude make.

Ful foul and cherlish semed she,

And eek vilaynous for to be,

And litel coude of norture,

180

To worshipe any creature.

Par grant hideur fu soutilliée,

150

Et si estoit entortillée

Hideusement d'une toaille.

Felonnie.

Une autre ymage d'autel taille

A senestre vi delez lui;

Son non desus sa teste lui;

Apellée estoit Felonnie.

Vilennie.

Une ymage qui Vilonie

Avoit non, revi devers destre,

Qui estoit auques d'autel estre

Cum ces deus et d'autel féture;

160

Bien sembloit male créature,

Et despiteuse et orguilleuse,

Et mesdisant et ramponeuse.

Moult sot bien paindre et bien portraire

Cil qui tiex ymages sot faire:

Car bien sembloit chose vilaine,

De dolor et de despit plaine;

Et fame qui petit séust

D'honorer ceus qu'ele déust.

Coveityse.

And next was peynted Coveityse,

That eggeth folk, in many gyse,

To take and yeve right nought ageyn,

And grete tresours up to leyn.

185

And that is she that for usure

Leneth to many a creature

The lasse for the more winning,

So coveitous is her brenning.

And that is she, for penyes fele,

190

That techeth for to robbe and stele

These theves, and these smale harlotes;

And that is routhe, for by hir throtes

Ful many oon hangeth at the laste.

She maketh folk compasse and caste

195

To taken other folkes thing,

Through robberie, or miscounting.

And that is she that maketh trechoures;

And she [that] maketh false pledoures,

That with hir termes and hir domes

200

Doon maydens, children, and eek gromes

Hir heritage to forgo.

Ful croked were hir hondes two;

For Coveityse is ever wood

Couvoitise.

Après fu painte Coveitise:

170

C'est cele qui les gens atise

De prendre et de noient donner,

Et les grans avoirs aüner.

C'est cele qui fait à usure

Prester mains por la grant ardure

D'avoir conquerre et assembler.

C'est cele qui semont d'embler

Les larrons et les ribaudiaus;

Si est grans pechiés et grans diaus

Qu'en la fin en estuet mains pendre.

180

C'est cele qui fait l'autrui prendre,

Rober, tolir et bareter,

Et bescochier et mesconter;

C'est cele qui les trichéors

Fait tous et les faus pledéors,

Qui maintes fois par lor faveles

Ont as valés et as puceles

Lor droites herites toluës.

Recorbillies et croçües

Avoit les mains icele ymage;

190

Ce fu drois: car toz jors esrage

Coveitise de l'autrui prendre.

To grypen other folkes good.

205

Coveityse, for hir winning,

Ful leef hath other mennes thing.

Avarice.

Another image set saugh I

Next Coveityse faste by,

And she was cleped Avarice.

210

Ful foul in peynting was that vice;

Ful sad and caytif was she eek,

And al-so grene as any leek.

So yvel hewed was hir colour,

Hir semed have lived in langour.

215

She was lyk thing for hungre deed,

That ladde hir lyf only by breed

Kneden with eisel strong and egre;

And therto she was lene and megre.

And she was clad ful povrely,

220

Al in an old torn courtepy,

As she were al with dogges torn;

And bothe bihinde and eek biforn

Clouted was she beggarly.

A mantel heng hir faste by,

225

Upon a perche, weyke and smalle;

A burnet cote heng therwithalle,

Furred with no menivere,

Coveitise ne set entendre

A riens qu'à l'autrui acrochier;

Coveitise à l'autrui trop chier.

Avarice.

Une autre ymage y ot assise

Coste à coste de Coveitise,

Avarice estoit apelée:

Lede estoit et sale et foulée

Cele ymage, et megre et chetive,

200

Et aussi vert cum une cive.

Tant par estoit descolorée

Qu'el sembloit estre enlangorée;

Chose sembloit morte de fain,

Qui ne vesquit fors que de pain

Petri à lessu fort et aigre;

Et avec ce qu'ele iere maigre,

Iert-ele povrement vestuë,

Cote avoit viés et desrumpuë,

Comme s'el fust as chiens remese;

210

Povre iert moult la cote et esrese,

Et plaine de viés palestiaus.

Delez li pendoit ung mantiaus

A une perche moult greslete,

Et une cote de brunete;

Où mantiau n'ot pas penne vaire,

But with a furre rough of here,

Of lambe-skinnes hevy and blake;

230

It was ful old, I undertake.

For Avarice to clothe hir wel

Ne hasteth hir, never a del;

For certeynly it were hir loth

To weren ofte that ilke cloth;

235

And if it were forwered, she

Wolde have ful greet necessitee

Of clothing, er she boughte hir newe,

Al were it bad of wolle and hewe.

This Avarice held in hir hande

240

A purs, that heng [doun] by a bande;

And that she hidde and bond so stronge,

Men must abyde wonder longe

Out of that purs er ther come ought,

For that ne cometh not in hir thought;

245

It was not, certein, hir entente

That fro that purs a peny wente.

Envye.

And by that image, nygh y-nough,

Was peynt Envye, that never lough,

Nor never wel in herte ferde

250

But-if she outher saugh or herde

Mes moult viés et de povre afaire,

D'agniaus noirs velus et pesans.

Bien avoit la robe vingt ans;

Mès Avarice du vestir

220

Se sot moult à tart aatir:

Car sachiés que moult li pesast

Se cele robe point usast;

Car s'el fust usée et mauvese,

Avarice éust grant mesese

De noeve robe et grant disete,

Avant qu'ele éust autre fete.

Avarice en sa main tenoit

Une borse qu'el reponnoit,

Et la nooit si durement,

230

Que demorast moult longuement

Ainçois qu'el en péust riens traire,

Mès el n'avoit de ce que faire.

El n'aloit pas à ce béant

Que de la borse ostat néant.

Envie.

Après refu portrete Envie,

Qui ne rist oncques en sa vie,

N'oncques de riens ne s'esjoï,

S'ele ne vit, ou s'el n'oï

Som greet mischaunce, or greet disese.

No-thing may so moch hir plese

As mischef and misaventure;

Or whan she seeth discomfiture

255

Upon any worthy man falle,

Than lyketh hir [ful] wel withalle.

She is ful glad in hir corage,

If she see any greet linage

Be brought to nought in shamful wyse.

260

And if a man in honour ryse,

Or by his witte, or by prowesse,

Of that hath she gret hevinesse;

For, trusteth wel, she goth nigh wood

Whan any chaunce happeth good.

265

Envye is of swich crueltee,

That feith ne trouthe holdeth she

To freend ne felawe, bad or good.

Ne she hath kin noon of hir blood,

That she nis ful hir enemy;

270

She nolde, I dar seyn hardely,

Hir owne fader ferde wel.

And sore abyeth she everydel

Hir malice, and hir maltalent:

Aucun grant domage retrere.

240

Nule riens ne li puet tant plere

Cum mefet et mesaventure;

Quant el voit grant desconfiture

Sor aucun prodomme chéoir,

Ice li plest moult à véoir.

Ele est trop lie en son corage

Quant el voit aucun grant lignage

Dechéoir et aler à honte;

Et quant aucuns à honor monte

Par son sens ou par sa proéce,

250

C'est la chose qui plus la bléce.

Car sachiés que moult la convient

Estre irée quant biens avient.

Envie est de tel cruauté,

Qu'ele ne porte léauté

A compaignon, ne à compaigne;

N'ele n'a parent, tant li tiengne,

A cui el ne soit anemie:

Car certes el ne vorroit mie

Que biens venist, neis à son pere.

260

Mès bien sachiés qu'ele compere

Sa malice trop ledement:

For she is in so greet turment

275

And hath such [wo], whan folk doth good,

That nigh she melteth for pure wood;

Hir herte kerveth and to-breketh

That god the peple wel awreketh.

Envye, y-wis, shal never lette

280

Som blame upon the folk to sette.

I trowe that if Envye, y-wis,

Knewe the beste man that is

On this syde or biyond the see,

Yit somwhat lakken him wolde she.

285

And if he were so hende and wys,

That she ne mighte al abate his prys,

Yit wolde she blame his worthinesse,

Or by hir wordes make it lesse.

I saugh Envye, in that peynting,

290

Hadde a wonderful loking;

For she ne loked but awry,

Or overthwart, al baggingly.

And she hadde [eek] a foul usage;

She mighte loke in no visage

295

Of man or womman forth-right pleyn,

But shette oon yë for disdeyn;

Car ele est en si grant torment,

Et a tel duel quant gens bien font,

Par ung petit qu'ele ne font.

Ses felons cuers l'art et detrenche,

Qui de li Diex et la gent venche.

Envie ne fine nule hore

D'aucun blasme as gens metre sore;

Je cuit que s'ele cognoissoit

270

Tot le plus prodome qui soit

Ne deçà mer, ne delà mer,

Si le vorroit-ele blasmer;

Et s'il iere si bien apris

Qu'el ne péust de tot son pris

Rien abatre ne deprisier,

Si vorroit-ele apetisier

Sa proéce au mains, et s'onor

Par parole faire menor.

Lors vi qu'Envie en la painture

280

Avoit trop lede esgardéure;

Ele ne regardast noient

Fors de travers en borgnoiant;

Ele avoit ung mauvès usage,

Qu'ele ne pooit où visage

Regarder reins de plain en plaing,

Ains clooit ung oel par desdaing,

So for envye brenned she

Whan she mighte any man [y]-see,

That fair, or worthy were, or wys,

300

Or elles stood in folkes prys.

Sorowe.

Sorowe was peynted next Envye

Upon that walle of masonrye.

But wel was seen in hir colour

That she hadde lived in langour;

305

Hir semed have the Iaunyce.

Nought half so pale was Avaryce,

Nor no-thing lyk, [as] of lenesse;

For sorowe, thought, and greet distresse,

That she hadde suffred day and night

310

Made hir ful yelwe, and no-thing bright,

Ful fade, pale, and megre also.

Was never wight yit half so wo

As that hir semed for to be,

Nor so fulfilled of ire as she.

315

I trowe that no wight mighte hir plese,

Nor do that thing that mighte hir ese;

Nor she ne wolde hir sorowe slake,

Nor comfort noon unto hir take;

Qu'ele fondoit d'ire et ardoit,

Quant aucuns qu'ele regardoit,

Estoit ou preus, ou biaus, ou gens,

290

Ou amés, ou loés de gens.

Tristesse.

Delez Envie auques près iere

Tristece painte en la maisiere;

Mès bien paroit à sa color

Qu'ele avoit au cuer grant dolor,

Et sembloit avoir la jaunice.

Si n'i feïst riens Avarice

Ne de paleur, ne de mégrece,

Car li soucis et la destrece,

Et la pesance et les ennuis

300

Qu'el soffroit de jors et de nuis,

L'avoient moult fete jaunir,

Et megre et pale devenir.

Oncques mès nus en tel martire

Ne fu, ne n'ot ausinc grant ire

Cum il sembloit que ele éust:

Je cuit que nus ne li séust

Faire riens qui li péust plaire:

N'el ne se vosist pas retraire,

Ne réconforter à nul fuer

310

Du duel qu'ele avoit à son cuer.

So depe was hir wo bigonnen,

320

And eek hir herte in angre ronnen,

A sorowful thing wel semed she.

Nor she hadde no-thing slowe be

For to forcracchen al hir face,

And for to rende in many place

325

Hir clothes, and for to tere hir swire,

As she that was fulfilled of ire;

And al to-torn lay eek hir here

Aboute hir shuldres, here and there,

As she that hadde it al to-rent

330

For angre and for maltalent.

And eek I telle you certeynly

How that she weep ful tenderly.

In world nis wight so hard of herte

That hadde seen hir sorowes smerte,

335

That nolde have had of hir pitee,

So wo-bigoon a thing was she.

She al to-dasshte hir-self for wo,

And smoot togider her handes two.

To sorwe was she ful ententyf,

340

That woful recchelees caityf;

Hir roughte litel of pleying,

Or of clipping or [of] kissing;

For who-so sorweful is in herte

Trop avoit son cuer correcié,

Et son duel parfont commencié.

Moult sembloit bien qu'el fust dolente,

Qu'ele n'avoit mie esté lente

D'esgratiner tote sa chiere;

N'ele n'avoit pas sa robe chiere,

Ains l'ot en mains leus descirée

Cum cele qui moult iert irée.

Si cheveul tuit destrecié furent,

320

Et espandu par son col jurent,

Que les avoit trestous desrous

De maltalent et de corrous.

Et sachiés bien veritelment

Qu'ele ploroit profondément:

Nus, tant fust durs, ne la véist,

A cui grant pitié n'en préist,

Qu'el se desrompoit et batoit,

Et ses poins ensemble hurtoit.

Moult iert à duel fere ententive

330

La dolereuse, la chetive;

Il ne li tenoit d'envoisier,

Ne d'acoler, ne de baisier:

Car cil qui a le cuer dolent,

Him liste not to pleye ne sterte,

345

Nor for to daunsen, ne to singe,

Ne may his herte in temper bringe

To make Ioye on even or morowe;

For Ioye is contraire unto sorowe.

Elde.

Elde was peynted after this,

350

That shorter was a foot, ywis,

Than she was wont in her yonghede.

Unnethe hir-self she mighte fede;

So feble and eek so old was she

That faded was al hir beautee.

355

Ful salowe was waxen hir colour,

Hir heed for-hoor was, whyt as flour.

Y-wis, gret qualm ne were it noon,

Ne sinne, although hir lyf were gon.

Al woxen was hir body unwelde,

360

And drye, and dwyned al for elde.

A foul forwelked thing was she

That whylom round and softe had be.

Hir eres shoken fast withalle,

As from her heed they wolde falle.

365

Hir face frounced and forpyned,

And bothe hir hondes lorn, fordwyned.

Sachiés de voir, il n'a talent

De dancier, ne de karoler,

Ne nus ne se porroit moller

Qui duel éust, à joie faire,

Car duel et joie sont contraire.

Vieillesse.

Après fu Viellece portraite,

340

Qui estoit bien ung pié retraite

De tele cum el soloit estre;

A paine se pooit-el pestre,

Tant estoit vielle et radotée.

Bien estoit si biauté gastée,

Et moult ert lede devenuë.

Toute sa teste estoit chenuë,

Et blanche cum s'el fust florie.

Ce ne fut mie grant morie

S'ele morust, ne grans pechiés,

350

Car tous ses cors estoit sechiés

De viellece et anoiantis:

Moult estoit jà ses vis fletris,

Qui jadis fut soef et plains;

Mès or est tous de fronces plains,

Les oreilles avoit mossues,

Et trestotes les dents perdues,

Si qu'ele n'en avoit neis une.

Tant par estoit de grant viellune,

So old she was that she ne wente

A foot, but it were by potente.

Time.

The Tyme, that passeth night and day,

370

And restelees travayleth ay,

And steleth from us so prively,

That to us seemeth sikerly

That it in oon point dwelleth ever,

And certes, it ne resteth never,

375

But goth so faste, and passeth ay,

That ther nis man that thinke may

What tyme that now present is:

Asketh at these clerkes this;

For [er] men thinke it redily,

380

Three tymes been y-passed by.

The tyme, that may not soiourne,

But goth, and never may retourne,

As water that doun renneth ay,

But never drope retourne may;

385

Ther may no-thing as tyme endure,

Metal, nor erthely creature;

For alle thing it fret and shal:

The tyme eek, that chaungeth al,

And al doth waxe and fostred be,

390

And alle thing distroyeth he:

Qu'el n'alast mie la montance

360

De quatre toises sans potance.

Li tens qui s'en va nuit et jor,

Sans repos prendre et sans sejor,

Et qui de nous se part et emble

Si celéement, qu'il nous semble

Qu'il s'arreste adés en ung point,

Et il ne s'i arreste point,

Ains ne fine de trepasser,

Que nus ne puet néis penser

Quex tens ce est qui est présens;

370

Sel' demandés as clers lisans,

Ainçois que l'en l'éust pensé,

Seroit-il jà trois tens passé.

Li tens qui ne puet sejourner,

Ains vait tous jors sans retorner,

Cum l'iaue qui s'avale toute,

N'il n'en retorne arriere goute:

Li tens vers qui noient ne dure,

Ne fer ne chose tant soit dure,

Car il gaste tout et menjue;

380

Li tens qui tote chose mue,

Qui tout fait croistre et tout norist,

Et qui tout use et tout porrist;

The tyme, that eldeth our auncessours

And eldeth kinges and emperours,

And that us alle shal overcomen

Er that deeth us shal have nomen:

395

The tyme, that hath al in welde

To elden folk, had maad hir elde

So inly, that, to my witing,

She mighte helpe hir-self no-thing,

But turned ageyn unto childhede;

400

She had no-thing hir-self to lede,

Ne wit ne pith in[with] hir holde

More than a child of two yeer olde.

But natheles, I trowe that she

Was fair sumtyme, and fresh to see,

405

Whan she was in hir rightful age:

But she was past al that passage

And was a doted thing bicomen.

A furred cope on had she nomen;

Wel had she clad hir-self and warm,

410

For cold mighte elles doon hir harm.

These olde folk have alwey colde,

Hir kinde is swiche, whan they ben olde.

Pope-holy.

Another thing was doon ther write,

That semede lyk an ipocrite,

Li tens qui enviellist nos peres,

Et viellist roys et emperieres,

Et qui tous nous enviellira,

Ou mort nous desavancera;

Li tens qui toute a la baillie

Des gens viellir, l'avoit viellie

Si durement, qu'au mien cuidier

390

El ne se pooit mès aidier,

Ains retornoit jà en enfance,

Car certes el n'avoit poissance,

Ce cuit-je, ne force, ne sens

Ne plus c'un enfés de deus ans.

Ne porquant, au mien escient,

Ele avoit esté sage et gent,

Quant ele iert en son droit aage;

Mais ge cuit qu'el n'iere mès sage,

Ains iert trestote rassotée.

400

Si ot d'une chape forrée

Moult bien, si cum je me recors,

Abrié et vestu son corps:

Bien fu vestue et chaudement,

Car el éust froit autrement.

Les vielles gens ont tost froidure;

Bien savés que c'est lor nature.

Papelardie.

Une ymage ot emprès escrite,

Qui sembloit bien estre ypocrite;

415

And it was cleped Pope-holy.

That ilke is she that prively

Ne spareth never a wikked dede,

Whan men of hir taken non hede;

And maketh hir outward precious,

420

With pale visage and pitous,

And semeth a simple creature;

But ther nis no misaventure

That she ne thenketh in hir corage.

Ful lyk to hir was that image,

425

That maked was lyk hir semblaunce.

She was ful simple of countenaunce,

And she was clothed and eek shod,

As she were, for the love of god,

Yolden to religioun,

430

Swich semed hir devocioun.

A sauter held she faste in honde,

And bisily she gan to fonde

To make many a feynt prayere

To god, and to his seyntes dere.

435

Ne she was gay, fresh, ne Iolyf,

But semed be ful ententyf

To gode werkes, and to faire,

And therto she had on an haire.

Ne certes, she was fat no-thing,

Papelardie ert apelée.

410

C'est cele qui en recelée,

Quant nus ne s'en puet prendre garde,

De nul mal faire ne se tarde.

El fait dehors le marmiteus,

Si a le vis simple et piteus,

Et semble sainte créature;

Mais sous ciel n'a male aventure

Qu'ele ne pense en son corage.

Moult la ressembloit bien l'ymage

Qui faite fu à sa semblance,

420

Qu'el fu de simple contenance;

Et si fu chaucie et vestue

Tout ainsinc cum fame rendue.

En sa main ung sautier tenoit,

Et sachiés que moult se penoit

De faire à Dieu prieres faintes,

Et d'appeler et sains et saintes.

El ne fu gaie, ne jolive,

Ains fu par semblant ententive

Du tout à bonnes ovres faire;

430

Et si avoit vestu la haire.

Et sachiés que n'iere pas grasse,

440

But semed wery for fasting;

Of colour pale and deed was she.

From hir the gate [shal] werned be

Of paradys, that blisful place;

For swich folk maketh lene hir face,

445

As Crist seith in his evangyle,

To gete hem prys in toun a whyle;

And for a litel glorie veine

They lesen god and eek his reine.

Povert.

And alderlast of everichoon,

450

Was peynted Povert al aloon,

That not a peny hadde in wolde,

Al-though [that] she hir clothes solde,

And though she shulde anhonged be;

For naked as a worm was she.

455

And if the weder stormy were,

For colde she shulde have deyed there.

She nadde on but a streit old sak,

And many a clout on it ther stak;

This was hir cote and hir mantel,

460

No more was there, never a del,

To clothe her with; I undertake,

Gret leyser hadde she to quake.

De jeuner sembloit estre lasse,

S'avoit la color pale et morte.

A li et as siens ert la porte

Dévéée de Paradis;

Car icel gent si font lor vis

Amegrir, ce dit l'Evangile,

Por avoir loz parmi la ville,

Et por un poi de gloire vaine

440

Qui lor toldra Dieu et son raine.

Povreté.

Portraite fu au darrenier

Povreté, qui ung seul denier

N'éust pas, s'el se déust pendre,

Tant séust bien sa robe vendre;

Qu'ele iere nuë comme vers:

Se li tens fust ung poi divers,

Je cuit qu'ele acorast de froit,

Qu'el n'avoit c'ung vié sac estroit

Tout plain de mavès palestiaus;

450

Ce iert sa robe et ses mantiaus.

El n'avoit plus que afubler,

Grant loisir avoit de trembler.

And she was put, that I of talke,

Fer fro these other, up in an halke;

465

There lurked and there coured she,

For povre thing, wher-so it be,

Is shamfast, and despysed ay.

Acursed may wel be that day,

That povre man conceyved is;

470

For god wot, al to selde, y-wis,

Is any povre man wel fed,

Or wel arayed or y-cled,

Or wel biloved, in swich wyse

In honour that he may aryse.

475

Alle these thinges, wel avysed,

As I have you er this devysed,

With gold and asure over alle

Depeynted were upon the walle.

Squar was the wal, and high somdel;

480

Enclosed, and y-barred wel,

In stede of hegge, was that gardin;

Com never shepherde therin.

Into that gardyn, wel [y-]wrought,

Who-so that me coude have brought,

485

By laddre, or elles by degree,

It wolde wel have lyked me.

Des autres fu un poi loignet;

Cum chien honteus en ung coignet

Se cropoit et s'atapissoit,

Car povre chose, où qu'ele soit,

Est adès boutée et despite.

L'eure soit ore la maudite,

Que povres homs fu concéus!

460

Qu'il ne sera jà bien péus,

Ne bien vestus, ne bien chauciés,

Néis amés, ne essauciés.

Ces ymages bien avisé,

Qui, si comme j'ai devisé,

Furent à or et à asur

De toutes pars paintes où mur.

Haut fu li mur et tous quarrés,

Si en fu bien clos et barrés,

En leu de haies, uns vergiers,

470

Où onc n'avoit entré bergiers.

Cis vergiers en trop bel leu sist:

Qui dedens mener me vousist

Ou par échiele ou par degré,

Je l'en séusse moult bon gré;

For swich solace, swich Ioye, and play,

I trowe that never man ne say,

As in that place delitous.

490

The gardin was not daungerous

To herberwe briddes many oon.

So riche a yerd was never noon

Of briddes songe, and braunches grene.

Therin were briddes mo, I wene,

495

Than been in alle the rewme of Fraunce.

Ful blisful was the accordaunce

Of swete and pitous songe they made,

For al this world it oughte glade.

And I my-self so mery ferde,

500

Whan I hir blisful songes herde,

That for an hundred pound nolde I,—

If that the passage openly

Hadde been unto me free—

That I nolde entren for to see

505

Thassemblee, god [it kepe and were!]—

Of briddes, whiche therinne were,

That songen, through hir mery throtes,

Daunces of love, and mery notes.

Whan I thus herde foules singe,

510

I fel faste in a weymentinge,

Car tel joie ne tel déduit

Ne vit nus hons, si cum ge cuit,

Cum il avoit en ce vergier:

Car li leus d'oisiaus herbergier

N'estoit ne dangereux ne chiches.

480

Onc mès ne fu nus leus si riches

D'arbres, ne d'oisillons chantans:

Qu'il i avoit d'oisiaus trois tans

Qu'en tout le remanant de France.

Moult estoit bele l'acordance

De lor piteus chant à oïr:

Tous li mons s'en dust esjoïr.

Je endroit moi m'en esjoï

Si durement, quant les oï,

Que n'en préisse pas cent livres,

490

Se li passages fust delivres,

Que ge n'entrasse ens et véisse

L'assemblée (que Diex garisse!)

Des oisiaus qui léens estoient,

Qui envoisiement chantoient

Les dances d'amors et les notes

Plesans, cortoises et mignotes.

Quant j'oï les oisiaus chanter,

Forment me pris à dementer

By which art, or by what engyn

I mighte come in that gardyn;

But way I couthe finde noon

Into that gardin for to goon.

515

Ne nought wiste I if that ther were

Eyther hole or place [o]-where,

By which I mighte have entree;

Ne ther was noon to teche me;

For I was al aloon, y-wis,

520

Ful wo and anguissous of this.

Til atte laste bithoughte I me,

That by no weye ne mighte it be;

That ther nas laddre or wey to passe,

Or hole, into so fair a place.

525

Tho gan I go a ful gret pas

Envyroning even in compas

The closing of the square wal,

Til that I fond a wiket smal

So shet, that I ne mighte in goon,

530

And other entree was ther noon.

The Door.

Upon this dore I gan to smyte,

That was [so] fetys and so lyte;

For other wey coude I not seke.

Ful long I shoof, and knokked eke,

Par quel art ne par quel engin

500

Je porroie entrer où jardin;

Mès ge ne poi onques trouver

Leu par où g'i péusse entrer.

Et sachiés que ge ne savoie

S'il i avoït partuis ne voie,

Ne leu par où l'en i entrast,

Ne hons nés qui le me monstrast

N'iert illec, que g'iere tot seus,

Moult destroit et moult angoisseus;

Tant qu'au darrenier me sovint

510

C'oncques à nul jor ce n'avint

Qu'en si biau vergier n'éust huis,

Ou eschiele ou aucun partuis.

Lors m'en alai grant aléure

Açaignant la compasséure

Et la cloison du mur quarré,

Tant que ung guichet bien barré

Trovai petitet et estroit;

Par autre leu l'en n'i entroit.

A l'uis commençai à ferir,

520

Autre entrée n'i soi querir.

Assez i feri et boutai,

Et par maintes fois escoutai

535

And stood ful long and of[t] herkning

If that I herde a wight coming;

Til that the dore of thilke entree

Ydelnesse.

A mayden curteys opened me.

Hir heer was as yelowe of hewe

540

As any basin scoured newe.

Hir flesh [as] tendre as is a chike,

With bente browes, smothe and slike;

And by mesure large were

The opening of hir yën clere.

545

Hir nose of good proporcioun,

Hir yën greye as a faucoun,

With swete breeth and wel savoured.

Hir face whyt and wel coloured,

With litel mouth, and round to see;

550

A clove chin eek hadde she.

Hir nekke was of good fasoun

In lengthe and gretnesse, by resoun,

Withoute bleyne, scabbe, or royne.

Fro Ierusalem unto Burgoyne

555

Ther nis a fairer nekke, y-wis,

To fele how smothe and softe it is.

Hir throte, al-so whyt of hewe

As snow on braunche snowed newe.

Se j'orroie venir nulle arme.

Le guichet, qui estoit de charme,

M'ovrit une noble pucele

Qui moult estoit et gente et bele.

Cheveus ot blons cum uns bacins,

La char plus tendre qu'uns pocins,

Front reluisant, sorcis votis.

530

Son entr'oil ne fu pas petis,

Ains iert assez grans par mesure;

Le nés ot bien fait à droiture,

Les yex ot plus vairs c'uns faucons,

Por faire envie à ces bricons.

Douce alene ot et savorée,

La face blanche et colorée,

La bouche petite et grocete,

S'ot où menton une fossete.

Le col fu de bonne moison,

540

Gros assez et lons par raison,

Si n'i ot bube ne malen.

N'avoit jusqu'en Jherusalen

Fame qui plus biau col portast,

Polis iert et soef au tast.

La gorgete ot autresi blanche

Cum est la noif desus la branche

Of body ful wel wrought was she

560

Men neded not, in no cuntree,

A fairer body for to seke.

And of fyn orfrays had she eke

A chapelet: so semly oon

Ne wered never mayde upon;....

565

And faire above that chapelet

A rose gerland had she set.

She hadde [in honde] a gay mirour,

And with a riche gold tressour

Hir heed was tressed queyntely;

570

Hir sleves sewed fetisly.

And for to kepe hir hondes faire

Of gloves whyte she hadde a paire.

And she hadde on a cote of grene

Of cloth of Gaunt; withouten wene,

575

Wel semed by hir apparayle

She was not wont to greet travayle.

For whan she kempt was fetisly,

And wel arayed and richely,

Thanne had she doon al hir Iournee;

580

For mery and wel bigoon was she.

Quant il a freschement negié.

Le cors ot bien fait et dougié,

L'en ne séust en nule terre

550

Nul plus bel cors de fame querre.

D'orfrois ot un chapel mignot;

Onques nule pucele n'ot

Plus cointe ne plus desguisié,

Ne l'aroie adroit devisié

En trestous les jors de ma vie.

Robe avoit moult bien entaillie;

Ung chapel de roses tout frais

Ot dessus le chapel d'orfrais:

En sa main tint ung miroër,

560

Si ot d'ung riche treçoër

Son chief trecié moult richement,

Bien et bel et estroitement

Ot ambdeus cousues ses manches;

Et por garder que ses mains blanches

Ne halaissent, ot uns blans gans.

Cote ot d'ung riche vert de gans,

Cousue à lignel tout entour.

Il paroit bien à son atour

Qu'ele iere poi embesoignie.

570

Quant ele s'iere bien pignie,

Et bien parée et atornée,

Ele avoit faite sa jornée.

She ladde a lusty lyf in May,

She hadde no thought, by night ne day,

Of no-thing, but it were oonly

To graythe hit wel and uncouthly.

585

Whan that this dore hadde opened me

This mayden, semely for to see,

I thanked hir as I best mighte,

And axede hir how that she highte,

And what she was, I axede eke.

590

And she to me was nought unmeke,

Ne of hir answer daungerous,

But faire answerde, and seide thus:—

Lo, sir, my name is Ydelnesse;

So clepe men me, more and lesse.

595

Ful mighty and ful riche am I,

And that of oon thing, namely;

For I entende to no-thing

But to my Ioye, and my pleying,

And for to kembe and tresse me.

600

Aqueynted am I, and privee

With Mirthe, lord of this gardyn,

That fro the lande of Alexandryn

Made the trees be hider fet,

That in this gardin been y-set.

Moult avoit bon tems et bon May,

Qu'el n'avoït soussi ne esmay

De nule riens, fors solement

De soi atorner noblement.

Quant ainsinc m'ot l'uis deffermé

La pucele au cors acesmé,

Je l'en merciai doucement,

580

Et si li demandai comment

Ele avoit non, et qui ele iere.

Ele ne fu pas envers moi fiere,

Ne de respondre desdaigneuse:

Je me fais apeler Oiseuse,'

Dist-ele, 'à tous mes congnoissans;

Si sui riche fame et poissans.

S'ai d'une chose moult bon tens,

Car à nule riens je ne pens

Qu'à moi joer et solacier,

590

Et mon chief pignier et trecier:

Quant sui pignée et atornée,

Adonc est fete ma jornée.

Privée sui moult et acointe

De Déduit le mignot, le cointe;

C'est cil cui est cest biax jardins,

Qui de la terre as Sarradins

Fist çà ces arbres aporter,

Qu'il fist par ce vergier planter.

605

And whan the trees were woxen on highte,

This wal, that slant here in thy sighte,

Dide Mirthe enclosen al aboute;

And these images, al withoute,

He dide hem bothe entaile and peynte,

610

That neither ben Iolyf ne queynte,

But they ben ful of sorowe and wo,

As thou hast seen a whyle ago.

'And ofte tyme, him to solace,

Sir Mirthe cometh into this place,

615

And eek with him cometh his meynee,

That liven in lust and Iolitee.

And now is Mirthe therin, to here

The briddes, how they singen clere,

The mavis and the nightingale,

620

And other Ioly briddes smale.

And thus he walketh to solace

Him and his folk; for swetter place

To pleyen in he may not finde,

Although he soughte oon in-til Inde.

625

The alther-fairest folk to see

That in this world may founde be

Hath Mirthe with him in his route,

That folowen him alwayes aboute.'

Quant li arbres furent créu,

600

Le mur que vous avez véu,

Fist lors Deduit tout entor faire,

Et si fist au dehors portraire

Les ymages qui i sunt paintes,

Que ne sunt mignotes ne cointes;

Ains sunt dolereuses et tristes,

Si cum vous orendroit véistes.

Maintes fois por esbanoier

Se vient en cest leu umbroier

Déduit et les gens qui le sivent,

610

Qui en joie et en solas vivent.

Encores est léens, sans doute,

Déduit orendroit qui escoute

A chanter gais rossignolés,

Mauvis et autres oiselés.

Il s'esbat iluec et solace

O ses gens, car plus bele place

Ne plus biau leu por soi joer

Ne porroit-il mie trover;

Les plus beles gens, ce sachiés,

620

Que vous jamès nul leu truissiés,

Si sunt li compaignon Déduit

Qu'il maine avec li et conduit.'

When Ydelnesse had told al this,

630

And I hadde herkned wel, y-wis,

Than seide I to dame Ydelnesse,

Now al-so wisly god me blesse,

Sith Mirthe, that is so fair and free,

Is in this yerde with his meynee,

635

Fro thilke assemblee, if I may,

Shal no man werne me to-day,

That I this night ne mote it see.

For, wel wene I, ther with him be

A fair and Ioly companye

640

Fulfilled of alle curtesye.'

And forth, withoute wordes mo,

In at the wiket wente I tho,

That Ydelnesse hadde opened me,

Into that gardin fair to see.

645

And whan I was [ther]in, y-wis,

The Garden.

Myn herte was ful glad of this.

For wel wende I ful sikerly

Have been in paradys erth[e]ly;

So fair it was, that, trusteth wel,

650

It semed a place espirituel.

For certes, as at my devys,

Ther is no place in paradys

So good in for to dwelle or be

As in that Gardin, thoughte me;

Quant Oiseuse m'ot ce conté,

Et j'oi moult bien tout escouté,

Je li dis lores: 'Dame Oiseuse,

Jà de ce ne soyés douteuse,

Puis que Déduit li biaus, li gens

Est orendroit avec ses gens

En cest vergier, ceste assemblée

630

Ne m'iert pas, se je puis, emblée,

Que ne la voie encore ennuit;

Véoir la m'estuet, car ge cuit

Que bele est cele compaignie,

Et cortoise et bien enseignie.'

Lors m'en entrai, ne dis puis mot,

Par l'uis que Oiseuse overt m'ot,

Où vergier; et quant je fui ens

Je fui liés et baus et joiens.

Et sachiés que je cuidai estre

640

Por voir en Paradis terrestre,

Tant estoit li leu delitables,

Qu'il sembloit estre esperitables:

Car si cum il m'iert lors avis,

Ne féist en nul Paradis

Si bon estre, cum il faisoit

Où vergier qui tant me plaisoit.

655

For there was many a brid singing,

Throughout the yerde al thringing.

In many places were nightingales,

Alpes, finches, and wodewales,

That in her swete song delyten

660

In thilke place as they habyten.

Ther mighte men see many flokkes

Of turtles and [of] laverokkes.

Chalaundres fele saw I there,

That wery, nigh forsongen were.

665

And thrustles, terins, and mavys,

That songen for to winne hem prys,

And eek to sormounte in hir song

These other briddes hem among.

By note made fair servyse

670

These briddes, that I you devyse;

They songe hir song as faire and wel

As angels doon espirituel.

And, trusteth wel, whan I hem herde,

Full lustily and wel I ferde;

675

For never yit swich melodye

Was herd of man that mighte dye.

D'oisiaus chantans avoit assés

Par tout le vergier amassés;

En ung leu avoit rossigniaus,

650

En l'autre gais et estorniaus;

Si r'avoit aillors grans escoles

De roietiaus et torteroles,

De chardonnereaus, d'arondeles,

D'aloes et de lardereles;

Calendres i ot amassées

En ung autre leu, qui lassées

De chanter furent à envis:

Melles y avoit et mauvis

Qui baoient à sormonter

660

Ces autres oisiaus par chanter.

Il r'avoit aillors papegaus,

Et mains oisiaus qui par ces gaus

Et par ces bois où il habitent,

En lor biau chanter se délitent.

Trop parfesoient bel servise

Cil oisel que je vous devise;

Il chantoient ung chant itel

Cum s'il fussent esperitel.

De voir sachiés, quant les oï,

670

Moult durement m'en esjoï:

Que mès si douce mélodie

Ne fu d'omme mortel oïe.

Swich swete song was hem among,

That me thoughte it no briddes song,

But it was wonder lyk to be

680

Song of mermaydens of the see;

That, for her singing is so clere,

Though we mermaydens clepe hem here

In English, as in our usaunce,

Men clepen hem sereyns in Fraunce.

685

Ententif weren for to singe

These briddes, that nought unkunninge

Were of hir craft, and apprentys,

But of [hir] song sotyl and wys.

And certes, whan I herde hir song,

690

And saw the grene place among,

In herte I wex so wonder gay,

That I was never erst, er that day,

So Iolyf, nor so wel bigo,

Ne mery in herte, as I was tho.

695

And than wiste I, and saw ful wel,

That Ydelnesse me served wel,

That me putte in swich Iolitee.

Hir freend wel oughte I for to be,

Sith she the dore of that gardyn

700

Hadde opened, and me leten in.

Tant estoit cil chans dous et biaus,

Qu'il ne sombloit pas chans d'oisiaus,

Ains le péust l'en aesmer

A chant de seraines de mer,

Qui par lor vois, qu'eles ont saines

Et series, ont non seraines.

A chanter furent ententis

680

Li oisillon qui aprenti

Ne furent pas ne non sachant;

Et sachiés quant j'oï lor chant,

Et je vi le leu verdaier,

Je me pris moult à esgaier;

Que n'avoie encor esté onques

Si jolif cum je fui adonques;

Por la grant délitableté

Fui plains de grant jolieté.

Et lores soi-je bien et vi

690

Que Oiseuse m'ot bien servi,

Qui m'avoit en tel déduit mis:

Bien déusse estre ses amis,

Quant ele m'avoit deffermé

Le guichet du vergier ramé.

From hennesforth how that I wroughte,

I shal you tellen, as me thoughte.

First, whereof Mirthe served there,

And eek what folk ther with him were,

705

Withoute fable I wol descryve.

And of that gardin eek as blyve

I wol you tellen after this.

The faire fasoun al, y-wis,

That wel [y-]wrought was for the nones,

710

I may not telle you al at ones:

But as I may and can, I shal

By ordre tellen you it al.

Ful fair servyse and eek ful swete

These briddes maden as they sete.

715

Layes of love, ful wel sowning

They songen in hir Iargoning;

Summe highe and summe eek lowe songe

Upon the braunches grene y-spronge.

The sweetnesse of hir melodye

720

Made al myn herte in reverdye.

And whan that I hadde herd, I trowe,

These briddes singing on a rowe,

Than mighte I not withholde me

That I ne wente in for to see

Dès ore si cum je sauré,

Vous conterai comment j'ovré.

Primes de quoi Déduit servoit,

Et quel compaignie il avoit

Sans longue fable vous veil dire,

700

Et du vergier tretout à tire

La façon vous redirai puis.

Tout ensemble dire ne puis,

Mès tout vous conteré par ordre,

Que l'en n'i sache que remordre.

Grant servise et dous et plaisant

Aloient cil oisel faisant;

Lais d'amors et sonnés cortois

Chantoit chascun en son patois,

Li uns en haut, li autre en bas;

710

De lor chant n'estoit mie gas.

La douçor et la mélodie

Me mist où cuer grant reverdie;

Mès quant j'oi escouté ung poi

Les oisiaus, tenir ne me poi

Que dant Déduit véoir n'alasse;

Car à savoir moult desirasse

725

Sir Mirthe; for my desiring

Was him to seen, over alle thing,

His countenaunce and his manere:

That sighte was to me ful dere.

Tho wente I forth on my right hond

730

Doun by a litel path I fond

Of mentes ful, and fenel grene;

And faste by, withoute wene,

Sir Mirthe.

Sir Mirthe I fond; and right anoon

Unto sir Mirthe gan I goon,

735

Ther-as he was, him to solace.

And with him, in that lusty place,

So fair folk and so fresh hadde he,

That whan I saw, I wondred me

Fro whennes swich folk mighte come,

740

So faire they weren, alle and some;

For they were lyk, as to my sighte,

To angels, that ben fethered brighte.

This folk, of which I telle you so,

Upon a carole wenten tho.

745

A lady caroled hem, that highte

Gladnesse.

Gladnes, [the] blisful and the lighte;

Wel coude she singe and lustily,

Non half so wel and semely,

And make in song swich refreininge,

750

It sat hir wonder wel to singe.

Son contenement et son estre.

Lors m'en alai tout droit à destre,

Par une petitete sente

720

Plaine de fenoil et de mente;

Mès auques près trové Déduit,

Car maintenant en ung réduit

M'en entré où Déduit estoit.

Déduit ilueques s'esbatoit;

S'avoit si bele gent o soi,

Que quant je les vi, je ne soi

Dont si tres beles gens pooient

Estre venu; car il sembloient

Tout por voir anges empennés,

730

Si beles gens ne vit homs nés.

Ceste gent dont je vous parole,

S'estoient pris à la carole,

Et une dame lor chantoit,

Qui Léesce apelée estoit:

Bien sot chanter et plesamment,

Ne nule plus avenaument,

Ne plus bel ses refrains ne fist,

A chanter merveilles li sist;

Hir vois ful cleer was and ful swete.

She was nought rude ne unmete,

But couthe y-now of swich doing

As longeth unto caroling:

755

For she was wont in every place

To singen first, folk to solace;

For singing most she gaf hir to;

No craft had she so leef to do.

Tho mightest thou caroles seen,

760

And folk [ther] daunce and mery been,

And make many a fair tourning

Upon the grene gras springing.

Ther mightest thou see these floutours,

Minstrales, and eek Iogelours,

765

That wel to singe dide hir peyne.

Somme songe songes of Loreyne;

For in Loreyne hir notes be

Ful swetter than in this contree.

Ther was many a timbestere,

770

And saylours, that I dar wel swere

Couthe hir craft ful parfitly.

The timbres up ful sotilly

They caste, and henten [hem] ful ofte

Upon a finger faire and softe,

Qu'ele avoit la vois clere et saine;

740

Et si n'estoit mie vilaine;

Ains se savoit bien desbrisier,

Ferir du pié et renvoisier.

Ele estoit adès coustumiere

De chanter en tous leus premiere:

Car chanter estoit li mestiers

Qu'ele faisoit plus volentiers.

Lors véissiés carole aler,

Et gens mignotement baler,

Et faire mainte bele tresche,

750

Et maint biau tor sor l'erbe fresche.

Là véissiés fléutéors,

Menesterez et jougléors;

Si chantent li uns rotruenges,

Li autres notes Loherenges,

Por ce qu'en set en Loheregne

Plus cointes notes qu'en nul regne.

Assez i ot tableterresses

Ilec entor, et tymberresses

Qui moult savoient bien joer,

760

Et ne finoient de ruer

Le tymbre en haut, si recuilloient

Sor ung doi, c'onques n'i failloient.

775

That they [ne] fayled never-mo.

Ful fetis damiselles two,

Right yonge, and fulle of semlihede,

In kirtles, and non other wede,

And faire tressed every tresse,

780

Hadde Mirthe doon, for his noblesse,

Amidde the carole for to daunce;

But her-of lyth no remembraunce,

How that they daunced queyntely.

That oon wolde come al prively

785

Agayn that other: and whan they were

Togidre almost, they threwe y-fere

Hir mouthes so, that through hir play

It semed as they kiste alway;

To dauncen wel coude they the gyse;

790

What shulde I more to you devyse?

Ne bede I never thennes go,

Whyles that I saw hem daunce so.

Upon the carole wonder faste,

I gan biholde; til atte laste

795

A lady gan me for to espye,

Curtesye.

And she was cleped Curtesye,

The worshipful, the debonaire;

I pray god ever falle hir faire!

Deus damoiseles moult mignotes,

Qui estoient en pures cotes,

Et trecies à une tresce,

Faisoient Déduit par noblesce

Enmi la karole baler;

Mès de ce ne fait à parler

Comme el baloient cointement.

770

L'une venoit tout belement

Contre l'autre; et quant el estoient

Près à près, si s'entregetoient

Les bouches, qu'il vous fust avis

Que s'entrebaisassent où vis:

Bien se savoient desbrisier.

Ne vous en sai que devisier;

Mès à nul jor ne me quéisse

Remuer, tant que ge véisse

Ceste gent ainsine efforcier

780

De caroler et de dancier.

La karole tout en estant

Regardai iluec jusqu'à tant

C'une dame bien enseignie

Me tresvit: ce fu Cortoisie

La vaillant et la debonnaire,

Que Diex deffende de contraire.

Ful curteisly she called me,

800

'What do ye there, beau sire?' quod she,

Come [neer], and if it lyke yow

To dauncen, daunceth with us now.'

And I, withoute tarying,

Wente into the caroling.

805

I was abasshed never a del,

But it me lykede right wel,

That Curtesye me cleped so,

And bad me on the daunce go.

For if I hadde durst, certeyn

810

I wolde have caroled right fayn,

As man that was to daunce blythe.

Than gan I loken ofte sythe

The shap, the bodies, and the cheres,

The countenaunce and the maneres

815

Of alle the folk that daunced there,

And I shal telle what they were.

Mirthe.

Ful fair was Mirthe, ful long and high;

A fairer man I never sigh.

As round as appel was his face,

820

Ful rody and whyt in every place.

Fetys he was and wel beseye,

With metely mouth and yën greye;

Cortoisie lors m'apela:

Biaus amis, que faites-vous là?'

Fait Cortoisie, 'ça venez,

790

Et avecque nous vous prenez

A la karole, s'il vous plest.'

Sans demorance et sans arrest

A la karole me sui pris,

Si n'en fui pas trop entrepris,

Et sachiés que moult m'agréa

Quant Cortoisie m'en pria,

Et me dist que je karolasse;

Car de karoler, se j'osasse,

Estoie envieus et sorpris.

800

A regarder lores me pris

Les cors, les façons et les chieres,

Les semblances et les manieres

Des gens qui ilec karoloient:

Si vous dirai quex il estoient.

Déduit fu biaus et lons et drois,

Jamés en terre ne venrois

Où vous truissiés nul plus bel homme:

La face avoit cum une pomme,

Vermoille et blanche tout entour,

810

Cointes fu et de bel atour.

His nose by mesure wrought ful right;

Crisp was his heer, and eek ful bright.

825

His shuldres of a large brede,

And smalish in the girdilstede.

He semed lyk a portreiture,

So noble he was of his stature,

So fair, so Ioly, and so fetys,

830

With limes wrought at poynt devys,

Deliver, smert, and of gret might;

Ne sawe thou never man so light.

Of berde unnethe hadde he no-thing,

For it was in the firste spring.

835

Ful yong he was, and mery of thought,

And in samyt, with briddes wrought,

And with gold beten fetisly,

His body was clad ful richely.

Wrought was his robe in straunge gyse,

840

And al to-slitered for queyntyse

In many a place, lowe and hye.

And shod he was with greet maistrye,

With shoon decoped, and with laas.

By druerye, and by solas,

845

His leef a rosen chapelet

Had maad, and on his heed it set.

Les yex ot vairs, la bouche gente,

Et le nez fait par grant entente;

Cheveus ot blons, recercelés,

Par espaules fu auques lés,

Et gresles parmi la ceinture:

Il resembloit une painture,

Tant ere biaus et acesmés,

Et de tous membres bien formés.

Remuans fu, et preus, et vistes,

820

Plus legier homme ne véistes;

Si n'avoit barbe, ne grenon,

Se petiz peus folages non,

Car il ert jones damoisiaus.

D'un samit portret à oysiaus,

Qui ere tout à or batus,

Fu ses cors richement vestus.

Moult iert sa robe desguisée,

Et fu moult riche et encisée,

Et décopée par cointise;

830

Chauciés refu par grant mestrise

D'uns solers décopés à las;

Par druerie et par solas

Li ot s'amie fet chapel

De roses qui moult li sist bel.

And wite ye who was his leef?

Gladnesse.

Dame Gladnes ther was him so leef,

That singeth so wel with glad corage,

850

That from she was twelve yeer of age,

She of hir love graunt him made.

Sir Mirthe hir by the finger hadde

[In] daunsing, and she him also;

Gret love was atwixe hem two.

855

Bothe were they faire and brighte of hewe;

She semede lyk a rose newe

Of colour, and hir flesh so tendre,

That with a brere smale and slendre

Men mighte it cleve, I dar wel sayn.

860

Hir forheed, frounceles al playn.

Bente were hir browes two,

Hir yën greye, and gladde also,

That laughede ay in hir semblaunt,

First or the mouth, by covenaunt.

865

I not what of hir nose descryve;

So fair hath no womman alyve....

Hir heer was yelowe, and cleer shyning,

I wot no lady so lyking.

Savés-vous qui estoit s'amie?

Léesce qui nel' haoit mie,

L'envoisie, la bien chantans,

Qui dès lors qu'el n'ot que sept ans

De s'amor li donna l'otroi;

840

Déduit la tint parmi le doi

A la karole, et ele lui,

Bien s'entr'amoient ambedui:

Car il iert biaus, et ele bele,

Bien resembloit rose novele

De sa color. S'ot la char tendre,

Qu'en la li péust toute fendre

A une petitete ronce.

Le front ot blanc, poli, sans fronce,

Les sorcis bruns et enarchiés,

850

Les yex gros et si envoisiés,

Qu'il rioient tousjors avant

Que la bouchete par convant.

Je ne vous sai du nés que dire,

L'en nel' féist pas miex de cire.

Ele ot la bouche petitete,

Et por baisier son ami, preste;

Le chief ot blons et reluisant.

Que vous iroie-je disant?

Bele fu et bien atornée;

860

D'ung fil d'or ere galonnée,

S'ot ung chapel d'orfrois tout nuef;

Je qu'en oi véu vint et nuef,

Of orfrays fresh was hir gerland;

870

I, whiche seen have a thousand,

Saugh never, y-wis, no gerlond yit,

So wel [y]-wrought of silk as it.

And in an over-gilt samyt

Clad she was, by gret delyt,

875

Of which hir leef a robe werde,

The myrier she in herte ferde.

Cupide.

And next hir wente, on hir other syde,

The god of Love, that can devyde

Love, as him lyketh it [to] be.

880

But he can cherles daunten, he,

And maken folkes pryde fallen.

And he can wel these lordes thrallen,

And ladies putte at lowe degree,

Whan he may hem to proude see.

885

This God of Love of his fasoun

Was lyk no knave, ne quistroun;

His beautee gretly was to pryse.

But of his robe to devyse

I drede encombred for to be.

890

For nought y-clad in silk was he,

But al in floures and flourettes,

Y-painted al with amorettes;

A nul jor mès véu n'avoie

Chapel si bien ouvré de soie.

D'un samit qui ert tous dorés

Fu ses cors richement parés,

De quoi son ami avoit robe,

Si en estoit assés plus gobe.

A li se tint de l'autre part

870

Li Diex d'Amors, cil qui départ

Amoretes à sa devise.

C'est cil qui les amans justise,

Et qui abat l'orguel des gens,

Et si fait des seignors sergens,

Et des dames refait bajesses,

Quant il les trove trop engresses.

Li Diex d'Amors, de la façon,

Ne resembloit mie garçon:

De beaulté fist moult à prisier,

880

Mes de sa robe devisier

Criens durement qu'encombré soie.

Il n'avoit pas robe de soie,

Ains avoit robe de floretes,

Fete par fines amoretes

And with losenges and scochouns,

With briddes, libardes, and lyouns,

895

And other beestes wrought ful wel.

His garnement was everydel

Y-portreyd and y-wrought with floures,

By dyvers medling of coloures.

Floures ther were of many gyse

900

Y-set by compas in assyse;

Ther lakked no flour, to my dome,

Ne nought so muche as flour of brome,

Ne violete, ne eck pervenke,

Ne flour non, that man can on thenke,

905

And many a rose-leef ful long

Was entermedled ther-among:

And also on his heed was set

Of roses rede a chapelet.

But nightingales, a ful gret route,

910

That flyen over his heed aboute,

The leves felden as they flyen;

And he was al with briddes wryen,

With popiniay, with nightingale,

With chalaundre, and with wodewale,

915

With finch, with lark, and with archaungel.

He semede as he were an aungel

A losenges, à escuciaus,

A oiselés, à lionciaus,

Et à bestes et à liépars;

Fu la robe de toutes pars

Portraite, et ovrée de flors

890

Par diverseté de colors.

Flors i avoit de maintes guises

Qui furent par grant sens assises;

Nulle flor en esté ne nest

Qui n'i soit, neis flor de genest,

Ne violete, ne parvanche,

Ne fleur inde, jaune ne blanche;

Si ot par leus entremeslées

Foilles de roses grans et lées.

Il ot où chief ung chapelet

900

De roses; mès rossignolet

Qui entor son chief voletoient,

Les foilles jus en abatoient:

Car il iert tout covers d'oisiaus,

De papegaus, de rossignaus,

De calandres et de mesanges;

Il sembloit que ce fust uns anges

That doun were comen fro hevene clere.

Love hadde with him a bachelere,

That he made alweyes with him be;

920

Swete-Loking cleped was he.

Swete-Loking.

This bachelere stood biholding

The daunce, and in his honde holding

Turke bowes two hadde he.

That oon of hem was of a tree

925

That bereth a fruyt of savour wikke;

Ful croked was that foule stikke,

And knotty here and there also,

And blak as bery, or any slo.

That other bowe was of a plante

930

Withoute wem, I dar warante,

Ful even, and by proporcioun

Tretys and long, of good fasoun.

And it was peynted wel and thwiten,

And over-al diapred and writen

935

With ladies and with bacheleres,

Ful lightsom and [ful] glad of cheres.

These bowes two held Swete-Loking,

That semed lyk no gadeling.

And ten brode arowes held he there,

940

Of which five in his right hond were.

Qui fust tantost venus du ciau.

Amors avoit ung jovenciau

Qu'il faisoit estre iluec delés;

910

Douz-Regard estoit apelés.

Ici bachelers regardoit

Les caroles, et si gardoit

Au Diex d'Amors deux ars turquois.

Li uns des ars si fu d'un bois

Dont li fruit iert mal savorés;

Tous plains de nouz et bocerés

Fu li ars dessous et dessore,

Et si estoit plus noirs que mores.

Li autres ars fu d'un plançon

920

Longuet et de gente façon;

Si fu bien fait et bien dolés,

Et si fu moult bien pipelés.

Dames i ot de tous sens pointes,

Et valés envoisiés et cointes.

Ices deux ars tint Dous-Regars

Qui ne sembloit mie estre gars,

Avec dix des floiches son mestre.

Il en tint cinq en sa main destre;

But they were shaven wel and dight,

Nokked and fethered a-right;

And al they were with gold bigoon,

And stronge poynted everichoon,

945

And sharpe for to kerven weel.

But iren was ther noon ne steel;

For al was gold, men mighte it see,

Out-take the fetheres and the tree.

The swiftest of these arowes fyve

950

Out of a bowe for to dryve,

And best [y]-fethered for to flee,

Beautee.

And fairest eek, was cleped Beautee.

That other arowe, that hurteth lesse,

Simplesse.

Was cleped, as I trowe, Simplesse.

955

The thridde cleped was Fraunchyse,

Fraunchyse.

That fethered was, in noble wyse,

With valour and with curtesye.

Companye.

The fourthe was cleped Companye

That hevy for to sheten is;

960

But who-so sheteth right, y-wis,

May therwith doon gret harm and wo.

The fifte of these, and laste also,

Mès moult orent ices cinq floiches

930

Les penons bien fais, et les coiches:

Si furent toutes à or pointes,

Fors et tranchans orent les pointes,

Et aguës por bien percier,

Et si n'i ot fer ne acier;

Onc n'i ot riens qui d'or ne fust,

Fors que les penons et le fust:

Car el furent encarrelées

De sajetes d'or barbelées.

La meillore et la plus isnele

940

De ces floiches, et la plus bele,

Et cele où li meillor penon

Furent entés, Biautes ot non.

Une d'eles qui le mains blece,

Ot non, ce m'est avis, Simplece.

Une autre en i ot apelée

Franchise; cele iert empenée

De Valor et de Cortoisie.

La quarte avoit non Compaignie:

En cele ot moult pesant sajete.

950

Ele n'iert pas d'aler loing preste;

Mès qui de près en vosist traire,

Il en péust assez mal faire.

Fair-

Fair-Semblaunt men that arowe calle,

Semblaunt.

The leeste grevous of hem alle;

965

Yit can it make a ful gret wounde,

But he may hope his sores sounde,

That hurt is with that arowe, y-wis;

His wo the bet bistowed is.

For he may soner have gladnesse,

970

His langour oughte be the lesse.

Fyve arowes were of other gyse,

That been ful foule to devyse;

For shaft and ende, sooth to telle,

Were al-so blak as feend in helle.

Pryde. 975

The first of hem is called Pryde;

That other arowe next him bisyde,

Vilanye.

It was [y]-cleped Vilanye;

That arowe was as with felonye

Envenimed, and with spitous blame.

Shame. 980

The thridde of hem was cleped Shame.

Wanhope.

The fourthe, Wanhope cleped is,

Newe-

The fifte, the Newe-Thought, y-wis.

Thought.

These arowes that I speke of here,

Were alle fyve of oon manere,

985

And alle were they resemblable.

To hem was wel sitting and able

La quinte avoit non Biau-Semblant,

Ce fut toute la mains grévant.

Ne porquant el fait moult grant plaie;

Mès cis atent bonne menaie,

Qui de cele floiche est plaiés,

Ses maus en est mielx emplaiés;

Car il puet tost santé atendre,

960

S'en doit estre sa dolor mendre.

Cinq floiches i ot d'autre guise,

Qui furent lédes à devise:

Li fust estoient et li fer

Plus noirs que déables d'enfer.

La premiere avoit non Orguex,

L'autre qui ne valoit pas miex,

Fu apelée Vilenie;

Icele fu de felonie

Toute tainte et envenimée.

970

La tierce fu Honte clamée,

Et la quarte Desesperance:

Novel-Penser fu sans doutance

Apelée la darreniere.

Ces cinq floiches d'une maniere

Furent, et moult bien resemblables;

Moult par lor estoit convenables

The foule croked bowe hidous,

That knotty was, and al roynous.

That bowe semede wel to shete

990

These arowes fyve, that been unmete,

Contrarie to that other fyve.

But though I telle not as blyve

Of hir power, ne of hir might,

Her-after shal I tellen right

995

The sothe, and eek signifiaunce,

As fer as I have remembraunce:

Al shall be seid, I undertake,

Er of this boke an ende I make.

Now come I to my tale ageyn.

1000

But alderfirst, I wol you seyn

The fasoun and the countenaunces

Of al the folk that on the daunce is.

The God of Love, Iolyf and light,

Ladde on his honde a lady bright,

1005

Of high prys, and of greet degree.

Beautee.

This lady called was Beautee,

[As was] an arowe, of which I tolde.

Ful wel [y]-thewed was she holde;

Ne she was derk ne broun, but bright,

1010

And cleer as [is] the mone-light,

Li uns des arcs qui fu hideus,

Et plains de neus, et eschardeus;

Il devoit bien tiex floiches traire,

980

Car el erent force et contraire

As autres cinq floiches sans doute.

Mès ne diré pas ore toute

Lor forces, ne lor poestés.

Bien vous sera la verités

Contée, et la sénefiance

Nel'metré mie en obliance;

Ains vous dirai que tout ce monte,

Ainçois que je fine mon conte.

Or revendrai à ma parole:

990

Des nobles gens de la karole

M'estuet dire les contenances,

Et les façons et les semblances.

Li Diex d'Amors se fu bien pris

A une dame de haut pris,

Et delez lui iert ajoustés:

Icele dame ot non Biautés,

Ainsinc cum une des cinq fleches.

En li ot maintes bonnes teches:

El ne fu oscure, ne brune,

1000

Ains fu clere comme la lune,

Ageyn whom alle the sterres semen

But smale candels, as we demen.

Hir flesh was tendre as dewe of flour,

Hir chere was simple as byrde in bour;

1015

As whyt as lilie or rose in rys,

Hir face gentil and tretys.

Fetys she was, and smal to see;

No windred browes hadde she,

Ne popped hir, for it neded nought

1020

To windre hir, or to peynte hir ought.

Hir tresses yelowe, and longe straughten,

Unto hir heles doun they raughten:

Hir nose, hir mouth, and eye and cheke

Wel wrought, and al the remenaunt eke.

1025

A ful gret savour and a swote

Me thinketh in myn herte rote,

As helpe me god, whan I remembre

Of the fasoun of every membre!

In world is noon so fair a wight;

1030

For yong she was, and hewed bright,

[Wys], plesaunt, and fetys withalle,

Gente, and in hir middel smalle.

Richesse.

Bisyde Beaute yede Richesse,

An high lady of greet noblesse,

Envers qui les autres estoiles

Resemblent petites chandoiles.

Tendre ot la char comme rousée,

Simple fu cum une espousée,

Et blanche comme flor de lis;

Si ot le vis cler et alis,

Et fu greslete et alignie;

Ne fu fardée ne guignie:

Car el n'avoit mie mestier

1010

De soi tifer ne d'afetier.

Les cheveus ot blons et si lons

Qu'il li batoient as talons;

Nez ot bien fait, et yelx et bouche.

Moult grant douçor au cuer me touche,

Si m'aïst Diex, quant il me membre

De la façon de chascun membre

Qu'il n'ot si bele fame où monde.

Briément el fu jonete et blonde,

Sade, plaisant, aperte et cointe,

1020

Grassete et grele, gente et jointe.

Près de Biauté se tint Richece,

Une dame de grant hautece,

1035

And greet of prys in every place.

But who-so durste to hir trespace,

Or til hir folk, in worde or dede,

He were ful hardy, out of drede;

For bothe she helpe and hindre may:

1040

And that is nought of yisterday

That riche folk have ful gret might

To helpe, and eek to greve a wight.

The beste and grettest of valour

Diden Richesse ful gret honour,

1045

And besy weren hir to serve;

For that they wolde hir love deserve,

They cleped hir 'Lady,' grete and smalle;

This wyde world hir dredeth alle;

This world is al in hir daungere.

1050

Hir court hath many a losengere,

And many a traytour envious,

That been ful besy and curious

For to dispreisen, and to blame

That best deserven love and name.

1055

Bifore the folk, hem to bigylen,

These losengeres hem preyse, and smylen,

And thus the world with word anoynten;

But afterward they [prikke] and poynten

De grant pris et de grant affaire.

Qui à li ne as siens meffaire

Osast riens par fais, ou par dis,

Il fust moult fiers et moult hardis;

Qu'ele puet moult nuire et aidier.

Ce n'est mie ne d'ui ne d'ier

Que riches gens out grant poissance

1030

De faire ou aïde, ou grévance.

Tuit li greignor et li menor

Portoient à Richece honor:

Tuit baoient à li servir,

Por l'amor de li deservir;

Chascuns sa dame la clamoit,

Car tous li mondes la cremoit;

Tous li mons iert en son dangier.

En sa cort ot maint losengier,

Maint traïtor, maint envieus:

1040

Ce sunt cil qui sunt curieus

De desprisier et de blasmer

Tous ceus qui font miex à amer.

Par devant, por eus losengier,

Loent les gens li losengier;

Tout le monde par parole oignent,

Mès lor losenges les gens poignent

The folk right to the bare boon,

1060

Bihinde her bak whan they ben goon,

And foule abate the folkes prys.

Ful many a worthy man and wys,

An hundred, have [they] don to dye,

These losengeres, through flaterye;

1065

And maketh folk ful straunge be,

Ther-as hem oughte be prive.

Wel yvel mote they thryve and thee,

And yvel aryved mote they be,

These losengeres, ful of envye!

1070

No good man loveth hir companye.

Richesse a robe of purpre on hadde,

Ne trowe not that I lye or madde;

For in this world is noon it liche,

Ne by a thousand deel so riche,

1075

Ne noon so fair; for it ful wel

With orfrays leyd was everydel,

And portrayed in the ribaninges

Of dukes stories, and of kinges.

And with a bend of gold tasseled,

1080

And knoppes fyne of gold ameled.

Aboute hir nekke of gentil entaile

Was shet the riche chevesaile,

Par derriere dusques as os,

Qu'il abaissent des bons les los,

Et desloent les aloés,

1050

Et si loent les desloés.

Maint prodommes ont encusés,

Et de lor honnor reculés

Li losengier par lor losenges;

Car il font ceus des cors estranges

Qui déussent estre privés:

Mal puissent-il estre arivés

Icil losengier plain d'envie!

Car nus prodons n'aime lor vie.

Richece ot une porpre robe,

1060

Ice ne tenés mie à lobe,

Que je vous di bien et afiche

Qu'il n'ot si bele, ne si riche

Où monde, ne si envoisie.

La porpre fu toute orfroisie;

Si ot portraites à orfrois

Estoires de dus et de rois.

Si estoit au col bien orlée

D'une bende d'or néélée

Moult richement, sachiés sans faille.

1070

Si i avoit tretout à taille

In which ther was ful gret plentee

Of stones clere and bright to see.

1085

Rychesse a girdel hadde upon,

The bokel of it was of a stoon

Of vertu greet, and mochel of might;

For who-so bar the stoon so bright,

Of venim [thurte] him no-thing doute,

1090

While he the stoon hadde him aboute.

That stoon was greetly for to love,

And til a riche mannes bihove

Worth al the gold in Rome and Fryse.

The mourdaunt, wrought in noble wyse,

1095

Was of a stoon ful precious,

That was so fyn and vertuous,

That hool a man it coude make

Of palasye, and of tooth-ake.

And yit the stoon hadde suche a grace,

1100

That he was siker in every place,

Al thilke day, not blind to been,

That fasting mighte that stoon seen.

The barres were of gold ful fyne,

Upon a tissu of satyne,

1105

Ful hevy, greet, and no-thing light,

In everich was a besaunt-wight.

Upon the tresses of Richesse

Was set a cercle, for noblesse,

De riches pierres grant plenté

Qui moult rendoient grant clarté.

Richece ot ung moult riche ceint

Par desus cele porpre ceint;

La boucle d'une pierre fu

Qui ot grant force et grant vertu:

Car cis qui sor soi la portoit,

Nes uns venins ne redotoit:

Nus nel pooit envenimer,

1080

Moult faisoit la pierre à aimer.

Ele vausist à ung prodomme

Miex que trestous li ors de Romme.

D'une pierre fu li mordens,

Qui garissoit du mal des dens;

Et si avoit ung tel éur,

Que cis pooit estre asséur

Tretous les jors de sa véue,

Qui à géun l'avoit véue.

Li clou furent d'or esmeré,

1090

Qui erent el tissu doré;

Si estoient gros et pesant,

En chascun ot bien ung besant.

Richece ot sus ses treces sores

Ung cercle d'or; onques encores

Of brend gold, that ful lighte shoon;

1110

So fair, trowe I, was never noon.

But he were cunning, for the nones,

That coude devysen alle the stones

That in that cercle shewen clere;

It is a wonder thing to here.

1115

For no man coude preyse or gesse

Of hem the valewe or richesse.

Rubyes there were, saphyres, iagounces,

And emeraudes, more than two ounces.

But al bifore, ful sotilly,

1120

A fyn carboucle set saugh I.

The stoon so cleer was and so bright,

That, al-so sone as it was night,

Men mighte seen to go, for nede,

A myle or two, in lengthe and brede.

1125

Swich light [tho] sprang out of the stoon,

That Richesse wonder brighte shoon,

Bothe hir heed, and al hir face,

And eke aboute hir al the place.

Dame Richesse on hir hond gan lede

1130

A yong man ful of semelihede,

That she best loved of any thing;

His lust was muche in housholding.

Ne fu si biaus véus, ce cuit,

Car il fu tout d'or fin recuit;

Mès cis seroit bons devisierres

Qui vous sauroit toutes les pierres,

Qui i estoient, devisier,

1100

Car l'en ne porroit pas prisier

L'avoir que les pierres valoient,

Qui en l'or assises estoient.

Rubis i ot, saphirs, jagonces,

Esmeraudes plus de dix onces.

Mais devant ot, par grant mestrise,

Une escharboucle où cercle assise,

Et la pierre si clere estoit,

Que maintenant qu'il anuitoit,

L'en s'en véist bien au besoing

1110

Conduire d'une liue loing.

Tel clarté de la pierre yssoit,

Que Richece en resplendissoit

Durement le vis et la face,

Et entor li toute la place.

Richece tint parmi la main

Ung valet de grant biauté plain,

Qui fu ses amis veritiez.

C'est uns hons qui en biaus ostiez

In clothing was he ful fetys,

And lovede wel have hors of prys.

1135

He wende to have reproved be

Of thefte or mordre, if that he

Hadde in his stable an hakeney.

And therfore he desyred ay

To been aqueynted with Richesse;

1140

For al his purpos, as I gesse,

Was for to make greet dispense,

Withoute werning or defence.

And Richesse mighte it wel sustene,

And hir dispenses wel mayntene,

1145

And him alwey swich plentee sende

Of gold and silver for to spende

Withoute lakking or daungere,

As it were poured in a garnere.

Largesse.

And after on the daunce wente

1150

Largesse, that sette al hir entente

For to be honourable and free;

Of Alexandres kin was she;

Hir moste Ioye was, y-wis,

Whan that she yaf, and seide, 'have this.'

1155

Not Avarice, the foule caytyf,

Was half to grype so ententyf,

Maintenir moult se délitoit.

1120

Cis se chauçoit bien et vestoit,

Si avoit les chevaus de pris;

Cis cuidast bien estre repris

Ou de murtre, ou de larrecin,

S'en s'estable éust ung roucin.

Por ce amoit-il moult l'acointance

De Richece et la bien-voillance,

Qu'il avoit tous jors en porpens

De demener les grans despens,

Et el les pooit bien soffrir,

1130

Et tous ses despens maintenir;

El li donnoit autant deniers

Cum s'el les puisast en greniers.

Après refu Largece assise,

Qui fu bien duite et bien aprise

De faire honor, et de despendre:

El fu du linage Alexandre;

Si n'avoit-el joie de rien

Cum quant el pooit dire, 'tien.'

Neis Avarice la chétive

1140

N'ert pas si à prendre ententive

As Largesse is to yeve and spende.

And god y-nough alwey hir sende,

So that the more she yaf awey,

1160

The more, y-wis, she hadde alwey.

Gret loos hath Largesse, and gret prys;

For bothe wys folk and unwys

Were hoolly to hir baundon brought,

So wel with yiftes hath she wrought.

1165

And if she hadde an enemy,

I trowe, that she coude craftily

Make him ful sone hir freend to be,

So large of yift and free was she;

Therfore she stood in love and grace

1170

Of riche and povre in every place.

A ful gret fool is he, y-wis,

That bothe riche and nigard is.

A lord may have no maner vice

That greveth more than avarice.

1175

For nigard never with strengthe of hond

May winne him greet lordship or lond.

For freendes al to fewe hath he

To doon his wil perfourmed be.

And who-so wol have freendes here,

1180

He may not holde his tresour dere.

For by ensample I telle this,

Right as an adamaunt, y-wis,

Cum Largece ere de donner;

Et Diex li fesoit foisonner

Ses biens si qu'ele ne savoit

Tant donner, cum el plus avoit.

Moult a Largece pris et los;

Ele a les sages et les fos

Outréement à son bandon,

Car ele savoit fere biau don;

S'ainsinc fust qu'aucuns la haïst,

1150

Si cuit-ge que de ceus féist

Ses amis par son biau servise;

Et por ce ot-ele à devise

L'amor des povres et des riches.

Moult est fos haus homs qui est chiches!

Haus homs ne puet avoir nul vice,

Qui tant li griet cum avarice:

Car hons avers ne puet conquerre

Ne seignorie ne grant terre;

Car il n'a pas d'amis plenté,

1160

Dont il face sa volenté.

Mès qui amis vodra avoir

Si n'ait mie chier son avoir,

Ains par biaus dons amis acquiere:

Car tout en autretel maniere

Can drawen to him sotilly

The yren, that is leyd therby,

1185

So draweth folkes hertes, y-wis,

Silver and gold that yeven is.

Largesse hadde on a robe fresshe

Of riche purpur Sarsinesshe.

Wel fourmed was hir face and clere,

1190

And opened had she hir colere;

For she right there hadde in present

Unto a lady maad present

Of a gold broche, ful wel wrought.

And certes, it missat hir nought;

1195

For through hir smokke, wrought with silk,

The flesh was seen, as whyt as milk.

Largesse, that worthy was and wys,

Held by the honde a knight of prys,

Was sib to Arthour of Bretaigne.

1200

And that was he that bar the enseigne

Of worship, and the gonfanoun.

And yit he is of swich renoun,

That men of him seye faire thinges

Bifore barouns, erles, and kinges.

1205

This knight was comen al newely

Fro tourneyinge faste by;

Cum la pierre de l'aïment

Trait à soi le fer soutilment,

Ainsinc atrait les cuers des gens

Li ors qu'en donne et li argens.

Largece ot robe toute fresche

1170

D'une porpre Sarrazinesche;

S'ot le vis bel et bien formé;

Mès el ot son col deffermé,

Qu'el avoit iluec en présent

A une dame fet présent,

N'avoit gueres, de son fermal,

Et ce ne li séoit pas mal,

Que sa cheveçaille iert overte,

Et sa gorge si descoverte,

Que parmi outre la chemise

1180

Li blanchoioit sa char alise.

Largece la vaillant, la sage,

Tint ung chevalier du linage

Au bon roy Artus de Bretaigne;

Ce fu cil qui porta l'enseigne

De Valor et le gonfanon.

Encor est-il de tel renom,

Que l'en conte de li les contes

Et devant rois et devant contes.

Cil chevalier novelement

1190

Fu venus d'ung tornoiement,

Ther hadde he doon gret chivalrye

Through his vertu and his maistrye;

And for the love of his lemman

1210

[Had] cast doun many a doughty man.

And next him daunced dame Fraunchyse,

Fraunchyse.

Arrayed in ful noble gyse.

She was not broun ne dun of hewe,

But whyt as snowe y-fallen newe.

1215

Hir nose was wrought at poynt devys,

For it was gentil and tretys;

With eyen gladde, and browes bente;

Hir heer doun to hir heles wente.

And she was simple as dowve on tree,

1220

Ful debonaire of herte was she.

She durste never seyn ne do

But that [thing] that hir longed to.

And if a man were in distresse,

And for hir love in hevinesse,

1225

Hir herte wolde have ful greet pitee,

She was so amiable and free.

For were a man for hir bistad,

She wolde ben right sore adrad

That she dide over greet outrage,

1230

But she him holpe his harm to aswage;

Où il ot faite por s'amie

Mainte jouste et mainte envaïe,

Et percié maint escu bouclé,

Maint hiaume i avoit desserclé,

Et maint chevalier abatu,

Et pris par force et par vertu.

Après tous ceus se tint Franchise,

Qui ne fu ne brune ne bise,

Ains ere blanche comme nois;

1200

Et si n'ot pas nés d'Orlenois,

Ainçois l'avoit lonc et traitis,

Iex vairs rians, sorcis votis:

S'ot les chevous et blons, et lons,

Et fu simple comme uns coulons.

Le cuer ot dous et debonnaire:

Ele n'osast dire ne faire

A nuli riens qu'el ne déust;

Et s'ele ung homme cognéust

Qui fust destrois por s'amitié,

1210

Tantost éust de li pitié,

Qu'ele ot le cuer si pitéable,

Et si dous et si amiable,

Que se nus por li mal traisist,

S'el ne li aidast, el crainsist

Qu'el féïst trop grant vilonnie.

Vestue ot une sorquanie,

Hir thoughte it elles a vilanye.

And she hadde on a sukkenye,

That not of hempen herdes was;

So fair was noon in alle Arras.

1235

Lord, it was rideled fetysly!

Ther nas nat oo poynt, trewely,

That it nas in his right assyse.

Ful wel y-clothed was Fraunchyse;

For ther is no cloth sitteth bet

1240

On damiselle, than doth roket.

A womman wel more fetys is

In roket than in cote, y-wis.

The whyte roket, rideled faire,

Bitokened, that ful debonaire

1245

And swete was she that it bere.

By hir daunced a bachelere;

I can not telle you what he highte,

But fair he was, and of good highte,

Al hadde he be, I sey no more,

1250

The lordes sone of Windesore.

Curtesye.

And next that daunced Curtesye,

That preised was of lowe and hye,

For neither proud ne fool was she.

She for to daunce called me,

Qui ne fu mie de borras:

N'ot si bele jusqu'à Arras;

Car el fu si coillie et jointe,

1220

Qu'il n'i ot une seule pointe

Qui à son droit ne fust assise.

Moult fu bien vestue Franchise;

Car nule robe n'est si bele

Que sorquanie à damoisele.

Fame est plus cointe et plus mignote

En sorquanie que en cote:

La sorquanie qui fu blanche,

Senefioit que douce et franche

Estoit cele qui la vestoit.

1230

Uns bachelers jones s'estoit

Pris à Franchise lez à lez,

Ne soi comment ert apelé,

Mès biaus estoit, se il fust ores

Fiex au seignor de Gundesores.

Après se tenoit Courtoisie,

Qui moult estoit de tous prisie,

Si n'ere orguilleuse ne fole.

C'est cele qui à la karole

1255

(I pray god yeve hir right good grace!)

Whan I com first into the place.

She was not nyce, ne outrageous,

But wys and war, and vertuous,

Of faire speche, and faire answere;

1260

Was never wight misseid of here;

She bar no rancour to no wight.

Cleer broun she was, and therto bright

Of face, of body avenaunt;

I wot no lady so plesaunt.

1265

She were worthy for to bene

An emperesse or crouned quene.

And by hir wente a knight dauncing

That worthy was and wel speking,

And ful wel coude he doon honour.

1270

The knight was fair and stif in stour,

And in armure a semely man,

And wel biloved of his lemman.

Ydelnesse.

Fair Ydelnesse than saugh I,

That alwey was me faste by.

1275

Of hir have I, withouten fayle,

Told yow the shap and apparayle

For (as I seide) lo, that was she

That dide me so greet bountee,

La soe merci m'apela

1240

Ains que nule, quant je vins là.

El ne fu ne nice, n'umbrage,

Mès sages auques sans outrage,

De biaus respons et de biaus dis,

Onc nus ne fu par li laidis,

Ne ne porta nului rancune.

El fu clere comme la lune

Est avers les autres estoiles

Qui ne resemblent que chandoiles.

Faitisse estoit et avenant,

1250

Je ne sai fame plus plaisant.

Ele ere entoutes cors bien digne

D'estre emperieris, ou roïne.

A li se tint uns chevaliers

Acointables et biaus parliers,

Qui sot bien faire honor as gens.

Li chevaliers fu biaus et gens,

Et as armes bien acesmés,

Et de s'amie bien amés.

La bele Oiseuse vint après,

1260

Qui se tint de moi assés près.

De cele vous ai dit sans faille

Toute la façon et la taille;

Jà plus ne vous en iert conté,

Car c'est cele qui la bonté

That she the gate of the gardin

1280

Undide, and leet me passen in.

Youthe.

And after daunced, as I gesse,

[Youthe], fulfild of lustinesse,

That nas not yit twelve yeer of age,

With herte wilde, and thought volage;

1285

Nyce she was, but she ne mente

Noon harm ne slight in hir entente,

But only lust and Iolitee.

For yonge folk, wel witen ye,

Have litel thought but on hir play.

1290

Hir lemman was bisyde alway,

In swich a gyse, that he hir kiste

At alle tymes that him liste,

That al the daunce mighte it see;

They make no force of privetee;

1295

For who spak of hem yvel or wel,

They were ashamed never-a-del,

But men mighte seen hem kisse there,

As it two yonge douves were.

For yong was thilke bachelere,

1300

Of beaute wot I noon his pere;

And he was right of swich an age

As Youthe his leef, and swich corage.

The lusty folk thus daunced there,

And also other that with hem were,

Me fist si grant qu'ele m'ovri

Le guichet del vergier flori.

Après se tint mien esciant,

Jonesce, au vis cler et luisant,

Qui n'avoit encores passés,

1270

Si cum je cuit, douze ans d'assés.

Nicete fu, si ne pensoit

Nul mal, ne nul engin qui soit;

Mès moult iert envoisie et gaie,

Car jone chose ne s'esmaie

Fors de joer, bien le savés.

Ses amis iert de li privés

En tel guise, qu'il la besoit

Toutes les fois que li plesoit,

Voians tous ceus de la karole:

1280

Car qui d'aus deus tenist parole,

Il n'en fussent jà vergondeus,

Ains les véissiés entre aus deus

Baisier comme deus columbiaus.

Le valés fu jones et biaus,

Si estoit bien d'autel aage

Cum s'amie, et d'autel corage.

Ainsi karoloient ilecques,

Ceste gens, et autres avecques,

1305

That weren alle of hir meynee;

Ful hende folk, and wys, and free,

And folk of fair port, trewely,

Ther weren alle comunly.

Whan I hadde seen the countenaunces

1310

Of hem that ladden thus these daunces,

Than hadde I wil to goon and see

The gardin that so lyked me,

And loken on these faire loreres,

On pyn-trees, cedres, and oliveres.

1315

The daunces than y-ended were;

For many of hem that daunced there

Were with hir loves went awey

Under the trees to have hir pley.

A, lord! they lived lustily!

1320

A gret fool were he, sikerly,

That nolde, his thankes, swich lyf lede!

For this dar I seyn, out of drede,

That who-so mighte so wel fare,

For better lyf [thurte] him not care;

1325

For ther nis so good paradys

As have a love at his devys.

Out of that place wente I tho,

And in that gardin gan I go,

Qui estoient de lor mesnies,

1290

Franches gens et bien enseignies,

Et gens de bel afetement

Estoient tuit communément.

Quant j'oi véues les semblances

De ceus qui menoient les dances,

J'oi lors talent que le vergier

Alasse véoir et cerchier,

Et remirer ces biaus moriers,

Ces pins, ces codres, ces loriers.

Les karoles jà remanoient,

1300

Car tuit li plusors s'en aloient

O lor amies umbroier

Sous ces arbres por dosnoier.

Diex, cum menoient bonne vie!

Fox est qui n'a de tel envie;

Qui autel vie avoir porroit,

De mieudre bien se sofferroit,

Qu'il n'est nul greignor paradis

Qu'avoir amie à son devis.

D'ilecques me parti atant,

1310

Si m'en alai seus esbatant

Pleying along ful merily.

1330

The God of Love ful hastely

Unto him Swete-Loking clepte,

No lenger wolde he that he kepte

His bowe of golde, that shoon so bright.

He [bad] him [bende it] anon-right;

1335

And he ful sone [it] sette on ende,

And at a braid he gan it bende,

And took him of his arowes fyve,

Ful sharpe and redy for to dryve.

Now god that sit in magestee

1340

Fro deedly woundes kepe me,

If so be that he [wol] me shete;

For if I with his arowe mete,

It [wol me greven] sore, y-wis!

But I, that no-thing wiste of this,

1345

Wente up and doun ful many a wey,

And he me folwed faste alwey;

But no-wher wolde I reste me,

Til I hadde al the [yerde in] be.

The gardin was, by mesuring,

1350

Right even and squar in compassing;

It was as long as it was large.

The Trees.

Of fruyt hadde every tree his charge,

Par le vergier de çà en là;

Et li Diex d'Amors apela

Tretout maintenant Dous-Regart:

N'a or plus cure qu'il li gart

Son arc: donques sans plus atendre

L'arc li a commandé à tendre,

Et cis gaires n'i atendi,

Tout maintenant l'arc li tendi,

Si li bailla et cinq sajetes

1320

Fors et poissans, d'aler loing prestes.

Li Diex d'Amors tantost de loing

Me prist à suivir, l'arc où poing.

Or me gart Diex de mortel plaie!

Se il fait tant que à moi traie,

Il me grevera moult forment.

Je qui de ce ne soi noient,

Vois par la vergier à délivre,

Et cil pensa bien de moi sivre;

Mès en nul leu ne m'arresté,

1330

Devant que j'oi par tout esté.

Li vergiers par compasséure

Si fu de droite quarréure,

S'ot de lonc autant cum de large;

Nus arbres qui soit qui fruit charge,

But it were any hidous tree

Of which ther were two or three.

1355

Ther were, and that wot I ful wel,

Of pomgarnettes a ful gret del;

That is a fruyt ful wel to lyke,

Namely to folk whan they ben syke.

And trees ther were, greet foisoun,

1360

That baren notes in hir sesoun,

Such as men notemigges calle,

That swote of savour been withalle.

And alemandres greet plentee,

Figes, and many a date-tree

1365

Ther weren, if men hadde nede,

Through the gardin in length and brede.

Ther was eek wexing many a spyce,

As clow-gelofre, and licoryce,

Gingere, and greyn de paradys,

1370

Canelle, and setewale of prys,

And many a spyce delitable,

To eten whan men ryse fro table.

And many hoomly trees ther were,

That peches, coynes, and apples bere,

1375

Medlers, ploumes, peres, chesteynes,

Cheryse, of whiche many on fayn is,

Se n'est aucuns arbres hideus,

Dont il n'i ait ou ung, ou deus

Où vergier, ou plus, s'il avient.

Pomiers i ot, bien m'en sovient,

Qui chargoient pomes grenades,

1340

C'est uns fruis moult bons à malades;

De noiers i ot grant foison,

Qui chargoient en la saison

Itel fruit cum sunt nois mugades,

Qui ne sunt ameres, ne fades;

Alemandiers y ot planté,

Et si ot où vergier planté

Maint figuier, et maint biau datier;

Si trovast qu'en éust mestier,

Où vergier mainte bone espice,

1350

Cloz de girofle et requelice,

Graine de paradis novele,

Citoal, anis, et canele,

Et mainte espice délitable,

Que bon mengier fait après table.

Où vergier ot arbres domesches,

Qui chargoient et coins et pesches,

Chataignes, nois, pommes et poires,

Nefles, prunes blanches et noires,

Notes, aleys, and bolas,

That for to seen it was solas;

With many high lorer and pyn

1380

Was renged clene al that gardyn;

With cipres, and with oliveres,

Of which that nigh no plente here is.

Ther were elmes grete and stronge,

Maples, asshe, ook, asp, planes longe,

1385

Fyn ew, popler, and lindes faire,

And othere trees ful many a payre.

What sholde I telle you more of it?

Ther were so many treës yit,

That I sholde al encombred be

1390

Er I had rekened every tree.

These trees were set, that I devyse,

Oon from another, in assyse,

Five fadome or sixe, I trowe so,

But they were hye and grete also:

1395

And for to kepe out wel the sonne,

The croppes were so thikke y-ronne,

And every braunch in other knet,

And ful of grene leves set,

That sonne mighte noon descende,

1400

Lest [it] the tendre grasses shende.

Cerises fresches vermeilletes,

1360

Cormes, alies et noisetes;

De haus loriers et de haus pins

Refu tous pueplés li jardin,

Et d'oliviers et de ciprés,

Dont il n'a gaires ici prés;

Ormes y ot branchus et gros,

Et avec ce charmes et fos,

Codres droites, trembles et chesnes,

Erables haus, sapins et fresnes.

Que vous iroie-je notant?

1370

De divers arbres i ot tant,

Que moult en seroie encombrés,

Ains que les éusse nombrés.

Sachiés por voir, li arbres furent

Si loing à loing cum estre durent.

Li ung fu loing de l'autre assis

Plus de cinq toises, ou de sis:

Mès li rain furent lonc et haut,

Et por le leu garder de chaut,

Furent si espés par deseure,

1380

Que li solaus en nesune eure

Ne pooit à terre descendre,

Ne faire mal à l'erbe tendre.

Ther mighte men does and roes y-see,

And of squirels ful greet plentee,

From bough to bough alwey leping.

Conies ther were also playing,

1405

That comen out of hir claperes

Of sondry colours and maneres,

And maden many a turneying

Upon the fresshe gras springing.

The Welles.

In places saw I WELLES there,

1410

In whiche ther no frogges were,

And fair in shadwe was every welle;

But I ne can the nombre telle

Of stremes smale, that by devys

Mirthe had don come through condys,

1415

Of which the water, in renning,

Gan make a noyse ful lyking.

About the brinkes of thise welles,

And by the stremes over-al elles

Sprang up the gras, as thikke y-set

1420

And softe as any veluët,

On which men mighte his lemman leye,

As on a fetherbed, to pleye,

For therthe was ful softe and swete.

Through moisture of the welle wete

Où vergier ot daims et chevrions,

Et moult grant plenté d'escoirions,

Qui par ces arbres gravissoient;

Connins i avoit qui issoient

Toute jor hors de lor tesnieres,

Et en plus de trente manieres

Aloient entr'eus tornoiant

1390

Sor l'erbe fresche verdoiant.

Il ot par leus cleres fontaines,

Sans barbelotes et sans raines,

Cui li arbres fesoient umbre;

Mès n'en sai pas dire le numbre.

Par petis tuiaus que Déduis

Y ot fet fere, et par conduis

S'en aloit l'iaue aval, fesant

Une noise douce et plesant.

Entor les ruissiaus et les rives

1400

Des fontaines cleres et vives,

Poignoit l'erbe freschete et drue;

Ausinc y poïst-l'en sa drue

Couchier comme sur une coite,

Car la terre estoit douce et moite

Por la fontaine, et i venoit

Tant d'erbe cum il convenoit.

1425

Sprang up the sote grene gras,

As fair, as thikke, as mister was.

But muche amended it the place,

That therthe was of swich a grace

That it of floures had plente,

1430

That both in somer and winter be.

Ther sprang the violete al newe,

And fresshe pervinke, riche of hewe,

And floures yelowe, whyte, and rede;

Swich plentee grew ther never in mede.

1435

Ful gay was al the ground, and queynt,

And poudred, as men had it peynt,

With many a fresh and sondry flour,

That casten up ful good savour.

I wol not longe holde you in fable

1440

Of al this gardin delitable.

I moot my tonge stinten nede,

For I ne may, withouten drede,

Naught tellen you the beautee al,

Ne half the bountee therewithal.

1445

I wente on right honde and on left

Aboute the place; it was not left,

Til I hadde al the [yerde in] been,

In the estres that men mighte seen.

Mès moult embelissoit l'afaire

Li leus qui ere de tel aire,

Qu'il i avoit tous jours plenté

1410

De flors et yver et esté.

Violete y avoit trop bele,

Et parvenche fresche et novele;

Flors y ot blanches et vermeilles,

De jaunes en i ot merveilles.

Trop par estoit la terre cointe,

Qu'ele ere piolée et pointe

De flors de diverses colors,

Dont moult sunt bonnes les odors.

Ne vous tenrai jà longue fable

1420

Du leu plesant et délitable;

Orendroit m'en convenra taire,

Que ge ne porroie retraire

Du vergier toute la biauté,

Ne la grant délitableté.

Tant fui à destre et à senestre,

Que j'oi tout l'afere et tout l'estre

Du vergier cerchié et véu;

Et li Diex d'Amors m'a séu

And thus whyle I wente in my pley,

1450

The God of Love me folowed ay,

Right as an hunter can abyde

The beste, til he seeth his tyde

To shete, at good mes, to the dere,

Whan that him nedeth go no nere.

1455

And so befil, I rested me

Besyde a welle, under a tree,

Which tree in Fraunce men calle a pyn.

But, sith the tyme of king Pepyn,

Ne grew ther tree in mannes sighte

1460

So fair, ne so wel woxe in highte;

In al that yerde so high was noon.

And springing in a marble-stoon

Had nature set, the sothe to telle,

Under that pyn-tree a welle.

1465

And on the border, al withoute,

Was writen, in the stone aboute,

Lettres smale, that seyden thus,

Here starf the faire Narcisus.'

Narcisus.

Narcisus was a bachelere,

1470

That Love had caught in his daungere,

And in his net gan him so streyne,

And dide him so to wepe and pleyne,

That nede him muste his lyf forgo.

For a fair lady, hight Echo,

Endementiers en agaitant,

1430

Cum li venieres qui atant

Que la beste en bel leu se mete

Por lessier aler la sajete.

En ung trop biau leu arrivé,

Au darrenier, où je trouvé

Une fontaine sous ung pin;

Mais puis Karles le fils Pepin,

Ne fu ausinc biau pin véus,

Et si estoit si haut créus,

Qu'où vergier n'ot nul si bel arbre.

1440

Dedens une pierre de marbre

Ot nature par grant mestrise

Sous le pin la fontaine assise:

Si ot dedens la pierre escrites

Où bort amont letres petites

Qui disoient: 'ici desus

Se mori li biaus Narcisus.'

Narcisus fu uns damoisiaus

Que Amors tint en ses roisiaus,

Et tant le sot Amors destraindre,

1450

Et tant le fist plorer et plaindre,

Que li estuet à rendre l'ame:

Car Equo, une haute dame,

1475

Him loved over any creature,

And gan for him swich peyne endure,

That on a tyme she him tolde,

That, if he hir loven nolde,

That hir behoved nedes dye,

1480

Ther lay non other remedye.

But natheles, for his beautee,

So fiers and daungerous was he,

That he nolde graunten hir asking,

For weping, ne for fair praying.

1485

And whan she herde him werne hir so,

She hadde in herte so gret wo,

And took it in so gret dispyt,

That she, withoute more respyt,

Was deed anoon. But, er she deyde,

1490

Ful pitously to god she preyde,

That proude-herted Narcisus,

That was in love so daungerous,

Mighte on a day ben hampred so

For love, and been so hoot for wo,

1495

That never he mighte Ioye atteyne;

Than shulde he fele in every veyne

What sorowe trewe lovers maken,

That been so vilaynsly forsaken.

L'avoit amé plus que riens née.

El fu par lui si mal menée

Qu'ele li dist qu'il li donroit

S'amor, ou ele se morroit.

Mès cis fu por sa grant biauté

Plains de desdaing et de fierté,

Si ne la li volt otroier,

1460

Ne por chuer, ne por proier.

Quant ele s'oï escondire,

Si en ot tel duel et tel ire,

Et le tint en si grant despit,

Que morte en fu sans lonc respit;

Mès ainçois qu'ele se morist,

Ele pria Diex et requist

Que Narcisus au cuer ferasche,

Qu'ele ot trové d'amors si flasche,

Fust asproiés encore ung jor,

1470

Et eschaufés d'autel amor

Dont il ne péust joie atendre;

Si porroit savoir et entendre

Quel duel ont li loial amant

Que l'en refuse si vilment.

This prayer was but resonable,

1500

Therefor god held it ferme and stable:

For Narcisus, shortly to telle,

By aventure com to that welle

To reste him in that shadowing

A day, whan he com fro hunting.

1505

This Narcisus had suffred paynes

For renning alday in the playnes,

And was for thurst in greet distresse

Of hete, and of his werinesse

That hadde his breeth almost binomen.

1510

Whan he was to that welle y-comen,

That shadwed was with braunches grene,

He thoughte of thilke water shene

To drinke and fresshe him wel withalle;

And doun on knees he gan to falle,

1515

And forth his heed and nekke out-straughte

To drinken of that welle a draughte

And in the water anoon was sene

His nose, his mouth, his yën shene,

And he ther-of was al abasshed;

1520

His owne shadowe had him bitrasshed.

For wel wende he the forme see

Of a child of greet beautee.

Cele proiere fu resnable,

Et por ce la fist Diex estable,

Que Narcisus, par aventure,

A la fontaine clere et pure

Se vint sous le pin umbroier,

1480

Ung jour qu'il venoit d'archoier,

Et avoit soffert grant travail

De corre et amont et aval,

Tant qu'il ot soif por l'aspreté

Du chault, et por la lasseté

Qui li ot tolue l'alaine.

Et quant il vint à la fontaine

Que li pins de ses rains covroit,

Il se pensa que il bevroit:

Sus la fontaine, tout adens

1490

Se mist lors por boivre dedans.

Si vit en l'iaue clere et nete

Son vis, son nés et sa bouchete,

Et cis maintenant s'esbahi;

Car ses umbres l'ot si trahi,

Que cuida véoir la figure

D'ung enfant bel à desmesure.

Wel couthe Love him wreke tho

Of daunger and of pryde also,

1525

That Narcisus somtyme him bere.

He quitte him wel his guerdon there;

For he so musede in the welle,

That, shortly al the sothe to telle,

He lovede his owne shadowe so,

1530

That atte laste he starf for wo.

For whan he saugh that he his wille

Mighte in no maner wey fulfille,

And that he was so faste caught

That he him couthe comfort naught,

1535

He loste his wit right in that place,

And deyde within a litel space.

And thus his warisoun he took

For the lady that he forsook.

Ladyes, I preye ensample taketh,

1540

Ye that ayeins your love mistaketh:

For if hir deeth be yow to wyte,

God can ful wel your whyle quyte.

Whan that this lettre, of whiche I telle,

Had taught me that it was the welle

1545

Of Narcisus in his beautee,

I gan anoon withdrawe me,

Lors se sot bien Amors vengier

Du grant orguel et du dangier

Que Narcisus li ot mené.

1500

Lors li fu bien guerredoné,

Qu'il musa tant à la fontaine,

Qu'il ama son umbre demaine,

Si en fu mors à la parclose.

Ce est la somme de la chose:

Car quant il vit qu'il ne porroit

Acomplir ce qu'il desirroit,

Et qu'il i fu si pris par sort,

Qu'il n'en pooit avoir confort

En nule guise, n'en nul sens,

1510

Il perdi d'ire tout le sens,

Et fu mors en poi de termine.

Ainsinc si ot de la meschine

Qu'il avoit d'amors escondite,

Son guerredon et sa merite.

Dames, cest exemple aprenés,

Qui vers vos amis mesprenés;

Car se vous les lessiés morir,

Diex le vous sara bien merir.

Quant li escris m'ot fait savoir

1520

Que ce estoit tretout por voir

La fontaine au biau Narcisus,

Je m'en trais lors ung poi en sus,

Whan it fel in my remembraunce,

That him bitidde swich mischaunce.

But at the laste than thoughte I,

1550

That scatheles, ful sikerly,

The Welle.

I mighte unto The Welle go.

Wherof shulde I abasshen so?

Unto the welle than wente I me,

And doun I louted for to see

1555

The clere water in the stoon,

And eek the gravel, which that shoon

Down in the botme, as silver fyn;

For of the welle, this is the fyn,

In world is noon so cleer of hewe.

1560

The water is ever fresh and newe

That welmeth up with wawes brighte

The mountance of two finger highte.

Abouten it is gras springing,

For moiste so thikke and wel lyking,

1565

That it ne may in winter dye,

No more than may the see be drye.

Down at the botme set saw I

Two cristal stones craftely

In thilke fresshe and faire welle.

1570

But o thing soothly dar I telle,

Que dedens n'osai regarder,

Ains commençai à coarder,

Quant de Narcisus me sovint,

Cui malement en mesavint;

Mès ge me pensai qu'asséur,

Sans paor de mavés éur,

A la fontaine aler pooie,

1530

Por folie m'en esmaioie.

De la fontaine m'apressai,

Quant ge fui près, si m'abessai

Por véoir l'iaue qui coroit,

Et la gravele qui paroit

Au fons plus clere qu'argens fins,

De la fontaine c'est la fins.

En tout le monde n'ot si bele,

L'iaue est tousdis fresche et novele,

Qui nuit et jor sourt à grans ondes

1540

Par deux doiz creuses et parfondes.

Tout entour point l'erbe menue,

Qui vient por l'iaue espesse et drue,

Et en iver ne puet morir

Ne que l'iaue ne puet tarir.

Où fons de la fontaine aval

Avoit deux pierres de cristal

Qu'à grande entente remirai,

Et une chose vous dirai,

That ye wol holde a greet mervayle

Whan it is told, withouten fayle.

For whan the sonne, cleer in sighte,

Cast in that welle his bemes brighte,

1575

And that the heet descended is,

Than taketh the cristal stoon, y-wis,

Agayn the sonne an hundred hewes,

Blewe, yelowe, and rede, that fresh and newe is.

Yit hath the merveilous cristal

1580

Swich strengthe, that the place overal,

Bothe fowl and tree, and leves grene,

And al the yerd in it is sene.

And for to doon you understonde,

To make ensample wol I fonde;

1585

Right as a mirour openly

Sheweth al thing that stant therby,

As wel the colour as the figure,

Withouten any coverture;

Right so the cristal stoon, shyning,

1590

Withouten any disceyving,

The estres of the yerde accuseth

To him that in the water museth;

For ever, in which half that he be,

He may wel half the gardin see;

Qu'à merveilles, ce cuit, tenrés

1550

Tout maintenant que vous l'orrés.

Quant li solaus qui tout aguete,

Ses rais en la fontaine giete,

Et la clartés aval descent,

Lors perent colors plus de cent

Où cristal, qui por le soleil

Devient ynde, jaune et vermeil:

Si ot le cristal merveilleus

Itel force que tous li leus,

Arbres et flors et quanqu'aorne

1560

Li vergiers, i pert tout aorne;

Et por faire la chose entendre,

Un essample vous veil aprendre.

Ainsinc cum li miréors montre

Les choses qui li sunt encontre,

Et y voit-l'en sans coverture

Et lor color, et lor figure;

Tretout ausinc vous dis por voir,

Que li cristal, sans décevoir,

Tout l'estre du vergier accusent

1570

A ceus qui dedens l'iaue musent:

Car tous jours quelque part qu'il soient,

L'une moitié du vergier voient;

1595

And if he turne, he may right wel

Seen the remenaunt everydel.

For ther is noon so litel thing

So hid, ne closed with shitting,

That it ne is sene, as though it were

1600

Peynted in the cristal there.

This is the mirour perilous,

In which the proude Narcisus

Saw al his face fair and bright,

That made him sith to lye upright.

1605

For who-so loke in that mirour,

Ther may no-thing ben his socour

That he ne shal ther seen som thing

That shal him lede into [loving].

Ful many a worthy man hath it

1610

Y-blent; for folk of grettest wit

Ben sone caught here and awayted;

Withouten respyt been they bayted.

Heer comth to folk of-newe rage,

Heer chaungeth many wight corage;

1615

Heer lyth no reed ne wit therto;

For Venus sone, daun Cupido,

Hath sowen there of love the seed,

That help ne lyth ther noon, ne reed,

Et s'il se tornent maintenant,

Pueent véoir le remenant.

Si n'i a si petite chose,

Tant reposte, ne tant enclose,

Dont démonstrance n'i soit faite,

Cum s'ele iert es cristaus portraite.

C'est li miréoirs périlleus,

1580

Où Narcisus li orguilleus

Mira sa face et ses yex vers,

Dont il jut puis mors tout envers.

Qui en cel miréor se mire,

Ne puet avoir garant de mire,

Que tel chose à ses yex ne voie,

Qui d'amer l'a tost mis en voie.

Maint vaillant homme a mis à glaive

Cis miréors, car li plus saive,

Li plus preus, li miex afetié

1590

I sunt tost pris et aguetié.

Ci sourt as gens novele rage,

Ici se changent li corage;

Ci n'a mestier sens, ne mesure,

Ci est d'amer volenté pure;

Ci ne se set conseiller nus;

Car Cupido, li fils Venus,

So cercleth it the welle aboute.

1620

His ginnes hath he set withoute

Right for to cacche in his panteres

These damoysels and bacheleres.

Love wil noon other bridde cacche,

Though he sette either net or lacche.

1625

And for the seed that heer was sowen,

This welle is cleped, as wel is knowen,

The Welle of Love, of verray right,

Of which ther hath ful many a wight

Spoke in bokes dyversely.

1630

But they shulle never so verily

Descripcioun of the welle here,

Ne eek the sothe of this matere,

As ye shulle, whan I have undo

The craft that hir bilongeth to.

1635

Alway me lyked for to dwelle,

To seen the cristal in the welle,

That shewed me ful openly

A thousand thinges faste by.

But I may saye, in sory houre

1640

Stood I to loken or to poure;

For sithen [have] I sore syked,

That mirour hath me now entryked.

Sema ici d'Amors la graine

Qui toute a çainte la fontaine;

Et fist ses las environ tendre,

1600

Et ses engins i mist por prendre

Damoiseles et Damoisiaus;

Qu'Amors ne velt autres oisiaus.

Por la graine qui fu semée,

Fu cele fontaine clamée

La Fontaine d'Amors par droit,

Dont plusors ont en maint endroit

Parlé, en romans et en livre;

Mais jamès n'orrez miex descrivre

La verité de la matere,

1610

Cum ge la vous vodré retrere.

Adès me plot à demorer

A la fontaine, et remirer

Les deus cristaus qui me monstroient

Mil choses qui ilec estoient.

Mès de fort hore m'i miré:

Las! tant en ai puis souspiré!

Cis miréors m'a decéu;

Se j'éusse avant cognéu

But hadde I first knowen in my wit

The vertue and [the] strengthe of it,

1645

I nolde not have mused there;

Me hadde bet ben elles-where;

For in the snare I fel anoon,

That hath bitraisshed many oon.

In thilke mirour saw I tho,

1650

Among a thousand thinges mo,

The Roser.

A ROSER charged ful of roses,

That with an hegge aboute enclos is.

Tho had I swich lust and envye,

That, for Parys ne for Pavye,

1655

Nolde I have left to goon and see

Ther grettest hepe of roses be.

Whan I was with this rage hent,

That caught hath many a man and shent,

Toward the roser gan I go.

1660

And whan I was not fer therfro,

The savour of the roses swote

Me smoot right to the herte rote,

As I hadde al embawmed [be.]

And if I ne hadde endouted me

1665

To have ben hated or assailed,

My thankes, wolde I not have failed

Quex sa force ert et sa vertu,

1620

Ne m'i fusse jà embatu:

Car meintenant où las chaï

Qui meint homme ont pris et traï.

Où miroer entre mil choses,

Choisi rosiers chargiés de roses,

Qui estoient en ung détor

D'une haie clos tout entor:

Adont m'en prist si grant envie,

Que ne laissasse por Pavie,

Ne por Paris, que ge n'alasse

1630

Là où ge vi la greignor masse.

Quant cele rage m'ot si pris,

Dont maint ont esté entrepris,

Vers les rosiers tantost me très;

Et sachiés que quant g'en fui près,

L'oudor des roses savorées

M'entra ens jusques es corées,

Que por noient fusse embasmés:

Se assailli ou mesamés

To pulle a rose of al that route

To beren in myn honde aboute,

And smellen to it wher I wente;

1670

But ever I dredde me to repente,

And lest it greved or for-thoughte

The lord that thilke gardyn wroughte.

Of roses were ther gret woon,

So faire wexe never in roon.

1675

Of knoppes clos, some saw I there,

And some wel beter woxen were;

And some ther been of other moysoun,

That drowe nigh to hir sesoun,

And spedde hem faste for to sprede;

1680

I love wel swiche roses rede;

For brode roses, and open also,

Ben passed in a day or two;

But knoppes wilen fresshe be

Two dayes atte leest, or three.

1685

The knoppes gretly lyked me,

For fairer may ther no man see.

Who-so mighte haven oon of alle,

It oughte him been ful leef withalle.

Mighte I [a] gerlond of hem geten,

1690

For no richesse I wolde it leten.

Ne cremisse estre, g'en cuillisse,

1640

Au mains une que ge tenisse

En ma main, por l'odor sentir;

Mès paor oi du repentir:

Car il en péust de legier

Peser au seignor du vergier.

Des roses i ot grans monciaus,

Si beles ne vit homs sous ciaus;

Boutons i ot petit et clos,

Et tiex qui sunt ung poi plus gros.

Si en i ot d'autre moison

1650

Qui se traient à lor soison,

Et s'aprestoient d'espanir,

Et cil ne font pas à haïr.

Les roses overtes et lées

Sunt en ung jor toutes alées;

Mès li bouton durent trois frois

A tout le mains deux jors ou trois.

Icil bouton forment me plurent,

Oncques plus bel nul leu ne crurent.

Qui en porroit ung acroichier,

1660

Il le devroit avoir moult chier;

S'ung chapel en péusse avoir,

Je n'en préisse nul avoir.

The Knoppe.

Among THE KNOPPES I chees oon

So fair, that of the remenaunt noon

Ne preyse I half so wel as it,

Whan I avyse it in my wit.

1695

For it so wel was enlumyned

With colour reed, as wel [y]-fyned

As nature couthe it make faire.

And it had leves wel foure paire,

That Kinde had set through his knowing

1700

Aboute the rede rose springing.

The stalke was as risshe right,

And theron stood the knoppe upright,

That it ne bowed upon no syde.

The swote smelle sprong so wyde

1705

That it dide al the place aboute—

Entre ces boutons en eslui

Ung si très-bel, qu'envers celui

Nus des autres riens ne prisié,

Puis que ge l'oi bien avisié:

Car une color l'enlumine,

Qui est si vermeille et si fine,

Com Nature la pot plus faire.

1670

Des foilles i ot quatre paire

Que Nature par grant mestire

I ot assises tire à tire.

La coe ot droite comme jons,

Et par dessus siet li boutons,

Si qu'il ne cline, ne ne pent.

L'odor de lui entor s'espent;

La soatime qui en ist

1678

Toute la place replenist.

G. = Glasgow MS.; Th. = Thynne's ed. (1532).

1-44. Lost in G.; from Th. 3. Th. some sweuen; but the pl. is required. 4. Th. that false ne bene. 5. Th. apparaunt. 6. Th. warraunt. 12. Th. els; om. a. 13, 14. Th. fal, cal; fole.

23. Th. folke; went. 25. Th. slepte. 26. Th. suche. 27. Th. lyked; wele. 28. Th. dele. 29. Th. afterwarde befal. 30. Th. dreme; tel; al. 31. Th. Nowe; dreme. 35. Th. there. 37. Th. Howe; om. that and the. 38. Th. hatte; read hote.

39. Ed. 1550, Romaunte. 40. Th. arte. 42. Th. graunt me in; omit me. 45. Here begins G. 46. Th. to be; G. torn. 47. Th. G. ought. 49. G. Th. thought. 55. G. Th. bene. 56. G. Th. wrene. 59. G. erth. G. Th. proude. 61. G. Th. forgette. 62. G. Th. had; sette.

66. G. Th. had. 69-72. Imperfect in G. 72. G. so; Th. ful. 73. Th. grylle; G. gryl. 73, 74. G. Th. sight, bright. 76. Th. herte; G. hertis. G. sich. 80. G. om. a. 81. G. om. the. 82. Th. yonge; G. yong. 84. Th. sauorous; G. sauerous. 85. Th. his herte; G. the hert.

89. G. blesful; Th. blysful. 91. G. affraieth; Th. affirmeth. G. Th. al. 96. G. wisshe; hondis. 97. Th. nedyl. G. droughe; Th. drowe. 98. Th. aguyler; G. Aguler. G. ynoughe; Th. ynowe. 101. Th. sowne; G. song. 102. Th. on; G. in. Both buskes. 103. G. om. the. G. swete; Th. lefe. 107. Th. That; G. They. G. om. a. 109. Th. Iolyfe; G. Ioly.

110. Both gan I. 111. G. herd; fast. 113. Both ryuere. 114. Both nere. 117-120. Imperfect in G. 121. Perhaps om. that. 123, 4. G. Th. ryuere, clere. 126. Th. botome ypaued. 132. G. walk thorough.

138. G. Th. Enclosed was; see l. 1652. 139. Th. hye; G. high. 142. G. the ymages and the peyntures; Th. the ymages and peyntures. 146. G. haue in; Th. om. in. 147. Th. Amydde; G. Amyd. 149. Both mynoresse; French, moverresse. 154. Both wode. 155. G. om. Y-.

160. Th. ywrithen; G. writhen. 163. G. om. faste. 165, 6. Both Felony, Vil(l)any. 167. Th. Ycleped; G. Clepid. Both fonde. 168. G. wal; Th. wall. Both honde. 174. Both outragious. 176. Th. suche an ymage.

184. G. gret tresouris; Th. gret treasours. G. leyne; Th. layne. 185. G. om. she. 188. Th. couetous; G. coueitise. 189. G. om. she. Th. for; G. that. 196. Both myscoueiting. 198. Both om. that. 203. Both wode.

204. Both gode. 208. Both fast. 212. Th. any; G. ony. 214. Both semed to haue. 219. G. porely; Th. poorely. 220. Both courtpy. 224. Th. mantel; G. mantyl. Both fast.

234. Th. ilke; G. ilk. 239. Th. helde; G. hilde. 240. Both om. doun. 241, 2. Th. stronge, longe; G. strong, long. 245, 6. Both entent, went. 248. Both peynted. 249, 250. Both in hir herte. G. farede, herede; Th. ferde, herde.

255. Perhaps read On ... to falle. 256. Both om. ful. 259. Th. shamful; G. shynful. 261. Both or by his prowesse. 264. Th. chaunce; G. chaunge. 266. G. trouth. 271. G. farede; Th. fared. 273. Both male talent; see 330.

275. G. hath; Th. hate. I supply wo. 276. Read melt'th or melt. 277. Both so (for to-). 278. Th. people; G. puple. 282. Both best. 291. G. Th. awrie. 292. G. -thart; Th. -twharte, misprint for -thwart. 293. I supply eek. G. om. a foul. 296. G. hir eien; Th. her one eye.

298. Both se. 299. So Th.; G. fairer or worthier. 303. G. seyn; Th. sene. 305. Both to haue; read hav-ë. Th. iaundice. 307. I supply as. 310. Th. yelowe; G. yolare.

324. Both rent. 333-380. Lost in G; from Th. 334. Th. had sene. 340. Th. rechelesse. 341. Th. rought. 342. I supply of.

344. Th. luste; play. 349. Th. contrarie. 352. Th. might. 356. Th. for hore.

367, 368. Th. went, potent. 370. Th. restlesse. 379. Supply er (Kaluza). 381. G. begins again. 382. Both may neuer. 387. Both frette. Th. shal; G. shalle. 388. Th. al; G. alle. 389. Th. al; G. alle. 390. Both al.

398. Both myght. 401. Both witte; pithe; in. 404. Both faire. 408. Th. cappe.

421. Th. symple; G. semely. 435. G. ne fresh; Th. om. ne. 436. Both to be.

442. Both ay (giving no sense); read shal. 444. Both grace (for face). 446. G. om. hem. 448. G. om. eek. 452. I supply that. 455. G. wedir; Th. wether. 456. G. deyd; Th. dyed. 462. Both had.

466. G. pouer. 467. G. shamefast; dispised. 471. G. ony pouere; fedde. Th. yfedde. 472. G. cledde; Th. ycledde. 478. Th. were; G. newe. 479. Both Square. 480. Th. ybarred; G. barred. 483. Both wrought. 485. G. laddris; Th. ladders; read laddre; see 523.

489. Both As was in. 492. G. yeer; Th. yere; read yerd; see 656. 494. Th. Therin; G. Therynne. 498. Both ought. 501. Th. hundred; G. hundreth. Both wolde (by confusion). 503. Both be. 505. Both kepe it fro care; a false rime. 506. Both ware; a false spelling. 510. Both weymentyng.

512. Both into. 516. Both where; read o-where. 517. Both myght. 520. Both For; read Ful. G. angwishis; see F. text. 532. I supply 1st so.

535. G. and of herknyng; Th. al herkenyng. 536. G. ony; Th. any; read a. 537. G. om. the. 540. G. ony; Th. any. 541. I supply 1st as. 542. Both bent. 546. Both as is a; omit is or a. 558. G. snawe; Th. snowe. G. snawed; Th. snowed.

560. G. neded; Th. neden. 564. Some lines lost? 567. I supply in honde. 568. Th. tressour; G. tresour; (cf. Gawain, 1739). 569. Both queyntly; see l. 783. 570. Both fetously; see l. 577.

583. Both but if; om. if. 586. Both may; see l. 538. 587, 588. Both myght, hyght. 592. G. answeride; Th. answerde. 603. G. hidre be; Th. hyther be. Both fette. 604. G. sette; Th. ysette.

605. Both hight. 606. Both sight. 617. Th. therin; G. therynne. 623. Th. playen in; G. pleyn ynne.

631. Th. Than; G. Thanne. 645, 653. Th. in; G. Inne. 654. Both thought.

655. Th. byrde; G. bridde; read brid. 660. Both places (badly). 661. Both might. 668. Both That (for These). 673. Th. whan; G. that. Th. herde; G. herd. 676. Both myght.

684. Both clepe. 688. Th. But; G. For. Both om. hir. 699. Th. gardyn; G. gardyne. 700. G. inne; Th. in.

701. G. hens-; wrought. 702. Both thought. 709. Both wrought. 716. Th. her; G. their. Th. iargonyng; G. yarkonyng. 718. Th. ispronge; G. spronge. 720. Th. reuelrye; G. reuerye; see French. 724. Th. in; G. inne.

728. Both sight (wrongly). 732. Th. faste; G. fast. Both without. 739. Th. whence; G. whenne. Both might. 741, 2. Both sight, bright. 743. Th. These; G. This. 745. Both hyght. 746. Both blisfull. Th. and lyght; G. and the light; see 797. 749. Both add couthe before make.

760. I supply ther. 761. Both made (for make). 770. Th. saylours; G. saillouris. 773. Both, hente; I supply hem.

776. G. damysels; Th. damosels. 782. Both lieth. 783. Both queyntly; see l. 569. 791. Both bode; read bede; see note. 798. Both pray to God.

801. I supply neer. 806. Both it to me liked. 811. Both right blythe; om. right. 812. Th. Than; G. Thanne. 819. Th. appel; G. appille.

834. Both first. 836. Both samette. 837. Both beten ful; om. ful. 844. Both drury. 845. Th. rosen; G. rosyn.

848. Both gladnesse. 859. G. seye; Th. sey (for sayn). 860. G. pleye; Th. pley (for pleyn). 861. Both Bent. 863. Both laugheden. 865. Both I wot not what of hir nose I shal descryve (eleven syllables). 866. Two lines lost.

869. Th. orfrayes. 870. Th. whiche; G. which. Th. sene; G. seyen. 873. Th. samyte; G. samet. 875, 6. Th. werde, ferde; G. werede, ferede. Both ins. hir bef. herte. 877. Th. on; G. in. 879. Both Love, and as hym likith it be. 887. Th. prise; G. preyse. 890. Th. ycladde; G. clad. 891. G. and in; Th. om. in. 892. From Th.; G. om.

893. Th. losenges; G. losynges. 897. Th. Ypurtrayed; G. Portreied. Th. ywrought; G. wrought. 900. Th. Yset; G. Sett. 902. Th. moche; G. mych. 903, 4. Both peruynke, thynke. 906. G. -melled; Th. -medled; see l. 898.

923. Both Turke bowes two, full wel deuysed had he (too long). 928. Th. any; G. ony. 929, 930. Th. plante, warante; G. plant, warant. Both Without. 932. G. Treitys; Th. Trectes. Both ins. ful after of. 933. G. twythen; Th. thwitten (printed twhitten). 936. I supply ful. 939. Th. helde; G. hilde.

942. Th. aryght; G. right. 944. G. peynted (!). 945. Th. sharpe; G. sharp. Th. wele; G. welle. 946. Th. stele; G. steelle. 948. Th. Out take; G. Outake. 953. G. lasse; Th. lesse. 958. Th. companye; G. compaigny. 959. Both shoten; see l. 989. 960. For right read nigh (K.).

964. Both leest. 969. Th. soner; G. sonner. 970. Th. Hys; G. Hir. Th. ought be; G. ought to be. 973. Both for to telle. 984. Both on; read of (K.).

991. Both And contrarye. 998. Th. booke; G. book. 1007. G. Th. And; read As was; F. Ainsinc cum. 1010. I supply is.

1015. For As read And (K.). 1017. Both smale. 1018. Both wyntred; see l. 1020. 1026. Both thought; read thinketh (K.). 1031. Both Sore (!); read Wys (?). 1034. Both And hight (!).

1037. Both in werk (!). 1043. G. and the; Th. om. the. 1045. Th. weren; G. were. 1058. Th. But; G. And. Th. prill; G. prile; prob. error for prike, or prikke.

1062. Th. and wyse; G. ywys. 1063. G. haue do; Th. and ydon. 1065. Th. And maketh; G. Haue maad. 1066. G. om. as. Both ought. 1068. Th. aryued; G. achyued. 1071. G. purpur; Th. purple. 1073. Th. it; G. hir. 1080. Th. amyled; Speght, ameled; G. enameled. 1082. G. shete; Th. shette.

1089. Both durst (!); read thurte or thurfte. 1092. Th. mannes; G. man. 1098. G. om. of. Both tothe. 1101. Th. thylke; G. thilk. 1102. Both myght.

1109. Both light. 1111. Th. he; G. she. 1112. Both deuyse. 1116. Th. the; G. that. 1117. Both ragounces (!). 1125. Morris supplies tho. 1132. G. mych.

1134. Th. loued wel to haue; G. loued to haue well. 1137. Th. an; G. ony. 1139. Th. ben; G. be. 1141. Th. Was; G. And. 1142. Th. or defence; G. of diffense. 1144. Th. dispences; G. dispence. 1146. Th. for to spende; G. for to dispende; see 1157. 1147. Th. lackynge; G. lakke. 1150. Th. sette; G. settith.

1162. G. om. wys. 1166. Th. craftely; G. tristely. 1172. Th. nygarde; G. nygart. 1176. G. om. him. 1178. Th. wyl; G. wille. 1182. Th. adamant; G. adamaund.

1187. Th. fresshe; G. fresh. 1188. G. sarlynysh; Th. Sarlynyssche. 1199. Both sibbe. Th. Arthour; G. Artour. Th. Breteigne; G. Britaigne. 1200. Th. enseigne; G, ensaigne. 1201. Both gousfaucoun. 1205. Both newly. 1206. Th. tourneyeng; G. tourneryng.

1207. Th. There; G. The. 1210. Both He caste. 1214. Th. yfallen; G. falle. 1219. Th. on; G. of. 1221. Both durst. 1227, 8. Both bistadde, adradde. 1230. Th. taswage.

1233. Th. hempe; G. hempe ne (for hempene). 1235. G. ridled; Th. ryddeled. 1236. G. om. nat. Both a; read oo. 1238. Th. yclothed; G. clothed. 1243; see 1235. 1244. Both Bitokeneth. 1247, 8. Both hight.

1255. Th. om. right. 1259. G. and of; Th. om. of. 1261. G. om. 1st no. 1263. G. wenaunt (!). 1265. G. om. were. 1274. Both fast. 1275. Both without.

1282. Both And she; read Youthe; see 1302. 1288. Th. yonge; G. yong. Th. wel; G. wole. 1303. Both that; read thus; see 1310.

1307. Both faire; truly (truely). 1308. Both were. 1313. G. loreyes; Th. Laurelles. 1315. Th. ended; G. eended (=y-ended?). 1323. Both myght. 1324. Both durst (for thurte). 1326. Both As to haue.

1332. Both she (for 2nd he). 1334. Both hadde (for bad); bent; om. it. 1335. I supply it. Both an (for on). 1339. Both sittith. 1340. Both he kepe me; (om. he). 1341. G. hadde me shette; Th. had me shete. 1342. G. mette; Th. mete. 1343. Both had me greued. 1348. Both hadde in all the gardyn be.

1359. G. of gret; Th. om. of. 1360. Th. nuttes. 1363. Both almandres. 1365. Th. weren; G. wexen. 1366. Read Throughout the yerd? 1369. Th. Gyngere; G. Gyngevre. Both Parys (!). 1375. Th. plommes. Th. chesteynis; G. chesteyns. 1376. G. Cherys; Th. Cheryse. G. which.

1379. Th. laurer; G. lorey (!). 1381. G. olyuers; Th. olyueris. 1384. Both oke. 1386-1482. Lost in G. 1397, 8. Th. knytte, sytte; see Parl. Fo. 628. 1399. Th. myght there noon. 1400. I supply it.

1403. Th. bowe; Speght, bough (twice). 1404. Th. Connes. 1405, 6. Th. clapers, maners. 1411, 2. Th. wel, tel. 1413, 4. Th. deuyse, condyse 1423. Th. the erthe; see 1428. 1424. Th. wel.

1425. Th. Spronge; see l. 1419. 1428. Th. suche. 1429. Th. hath. 1431. Th. vyolet. 1440. Th. dilectable. 1445, 6. Th. lefte. 1447. Th. garden; read yerde in (K.); cf. 1366 (note). 1448. Th. efters (!).

1452. Th. beest. 1453. Th. shoten; read shete. 1453. Th. goodmesse; see 3462. 1456. Th. Besydes. 1474. Th. that hight; (om. that).

1482. Th. feirs. 1483. G. begins again. 1485. G. om. hir. 1486. Th. hert. 1488. Th. without. 1489. Th. deyde; G. dide. 1495. Both might to; I omit to. 1496. Th. Than; G. And that. Th. shulde he; G. he shulde. 1498. G. velaynesly; Th. vilaynously.

1500. Th. ferme; G. forme. 1503. G. resten; Th. rest. G. that; Th. the. 1508. G. heet; Th. herte (for heete). 1510. Both wel. Th. y-comen; G. comen. 1515. G. he straught; Th. out-straught. 1516. Both draught. 1517, 8. G. seen, sheen; Th. sene, shene. 1520. Th. had; G. was.

1527. Both musede so. 1528. Th. om. al. 1534: Both comforte.

1550. G. scathles; Th. scathlesse. 1552. Th. abasshen; G. abaisshen. 1553. From Th.; not in G. 1561, 2. Both bright, hight. 1563. Both Aboute.

1573, 4. Both sight, bright. 1581. Both foule. 1583. Both you to; I omit to. 1585. Both mirrour. 1586. G. stondith; Th. stondeth. 1591. Both entrees. 1593, 4. Both ye (for he).

1601, 1605. Both mirrour. 1604. So Th.; G. swithe to ligge. 1605. Th. loke; G. loketh. 1608. Both laughyng (!); read loving. 1609. G. om. a. 1610. Th. Y-blent; G. Blent. 1617. Th. sowen; G. sowne.

1621, 2. Both panters, bachelers. 1638. G. fast; Th. faste. 1641. I supply have. Both sighed (for syked). 1642, 9. Both mirrour.

1644. Th. vertue; G. vertues. I supply the. Both strengthes; read strengthe. 1646. Both had. 1648. G. bitrisshed; Th. bytresshed. 1649. Th. thylke; G. thilk. 1652. Th. enclos; G. enclosid. 1655. G. att (for and). 1663. Th. G. me; read be (F. fusse). 1666. So Th.; G. Me thankis. G. wole; Th. wol; read wolde.

1668. Both bere. 1671, 2. Both -thought, wrought. 1673. Both ther were; both wone. 1674. Th. ware; G. waxe; both Rone. 1679. Th. faste; G. fast. 1683. G. wille; Th. wyl. Th. fresshe; G. fresh. 1687. Both myght haue. 1688. G. lief; Th. lefe. 1689. I supply a.

1694. G. it in; Th. om. it. 1695. G. enlomyned. 1698. Both hath; om. wel? 1700. Both roses. 1701. Th. rysshe; G. rish. 1705. Th. dyed (for dide; wrongly). 1705, 6. A false rime; l. 1705 is incomplete in sense, as the sentence has no verb. Here the genuine portion ends. L. 1706 is by another hand.

FRAGMENT B.

Whan I had smelled the savour swote,

No wille hadde I fro thens yit go,

But somdel neer it wente I tho,

To take it; but myn hond, for drede,

1710

Ne dorste I to the rose bede,

For thistels sharpe, of many maneres,

Netles, thornes, and hoked breres;

[Ful] muche they distourbled me,

For sore I dradde to harmed be.

1715

The God of Love, with bowe bent,

That al day set hadde his talent

To pursuen and to spyen me,

Was stonding by a fige-tree.

And whan he sawe how that I

1720

Had chosen so ententifly

The botoun, more unto my pay

Than any other that I say,

He took an arowe ful sharply whet,

And in his bowe whan it was set,

1725

He streight up to his ere drough

The stronge bowe, that was so tough,

And shet at me so wonder smerte,

That through myn eye unto myn herte

The takel smoot, and depe it wente.

1730

And ther-with-al such cold me hente,

That, under clothes warme and softe,

Sith that day I have chevered ofte.

Whan I was hurt thus in [that] stounde,

I fel doun plat unto the grounde.

1735

Myn herte failed and feynted ay,

And long tyme [ther] a-swone I lay.

But whan I com out of swoning,

And hadde wit, and my feling,

I was al maat, and wende ful wel

1740

Of blood have loren a ful gret del.

But certes, the arowe that in me stood

Of me ne drew no drope of blood,

For-why I found my wounde al dreye.

Than took I with myn hondis tweye

1745

The arowe, and ful fast out it plight,

And in the pulling sore I sight.

So at the last the shaft of tree

I drough out, with the fethers three.

But yet the hoked heed, y-wis,

1750

The whiche Beautee callid is,

Gan so depe in myn herte passe,

That I it mighte nought arace;

But in myn herte stille it stood,

Al bledde I not a drope of blood.

1755

I was bothe anguissous and trouble

For the peril that I saw double;

I niste what to seye or do,

Ne gete a leche my woundis to;

For neithir thurgh gras ne rote,

1760

Ne hadde I help of hope ne bote.

But to the botoun ever-mo

Myn herte drew; for al my wo,

My thought was in non other thing.

For hadde it been in my keping,

1765

It wolde have brought my lyf agayn.

For certeinly, I dar wel seyn,

The sight only, and the savour,

Alegged muche of my langour.

Than gan I for to drawe me

1770

Toward the botoun fair to see;

And Love hadde gete him, in [a] throwe,

Another arowe into his bowe,

And for to shete gan him dresse;

The arowis name was Simplesse.

1775

And whan that Love gan nyghe me nere,

He drow it up, withouten were,

And shet at me with al his might,

So that this arowe anon-right

Thourghout [myn] eigh, as it was founde,

1780

Into myn herte hath maad a wounde.

Thanne I anoon dide al my crafte

For to drawen out the shafte,

And ther-with-al I sighed eft.

But in myn herte the heed was left,

1785

Which ay encresid my desyre,

Unto the botoun drawe nere;

And ever, mo that me was wo,

The more desyr hadde I to go

Unto the roser, where that grew

1790

The fresshe botoun so bright of hewe.

Betir me were have leten be;

But it bihoved nedes me

To don right as myn herte bad.

For ever the body must be lad

1795

Aftir the herte; in wele and wo,

Of force togidre they must go.

But never this archer wolde fyne

To shete at me with alle his pyne,

And for to make me to him mete.

1800

The thridde arowe he gan to shete,

Whan best his tyme he mighte espye,

The which was named Curtesye;

Into myn herte it dide avale.

A-swone I fel, bothe deed and pale;

1805

Long tyme I lay, and stired nought,

Til I abraid out of my thought.

And faste than I avysed me

To drawen out the shafte of tree;

But ever the heed was left bihinde

1810

For ought I couthe pulle or winde.

So sore it stikid whan I was hit,

That by no craft I might it flit;

But anguissous and ful of thought,

I felte such wo, my wounde ay wrought,

1815

That somoned me alway to go

Toward the rose, that plesed me so;

But I ne durste in no manere,

Bicause the archer was so nere.

For evermore gladly, as I rede,

1820

Brent child of fyr hath muche drede.

And, certis yit, for al my peyne,

Though that I sigh yit arwis reyne,

And grounde quarels sharpe of stele,

Ne for no payne that I might fele,

1825

Yit might I not my-silf withholde

The faire roser to biholde;

For Love me yaf sich hardement

For to fulfille his comaundement.

Upon my feet I roos up than

1830

Feble, as a forwoundid man;

And forth to gon [my] might I sette,

And for the archer nolde I lette.

Toward the roser fast I drow;

But thornes sharpe mo than y-now

1835

Ther were, and also thistels thikke,

And breres, brimme for to prikke,

That I ne mighte gete grace

The rowe thornes for to passe,

To sene the roses fresshe of hewe.

1840

I must abide, though it me rewe,

The hegge aboute so thikke was,

That closid the roses in compas.

But o thing lyked me right wele;

I was so nygh, I mighte fele

1845

Of the botoun the swote odour,

And also see the fresshe colour;

And that right gretly lyked me,

That I so neer it mighte see.

Sich Ioye anoon therof hadde I,

1850

That I forgat my malady.

To sene [it] hadde I sich delyt,

Of sorwe and angre I was al quit,

And of my woundes that I had thar;

For no-thing lyken me might mar

1855

Than dwellen by the roser ay,

And thennes never to passe away.

But whan a whyle I had be thar,

The God of Love, which al to-shar

Myn herte with his arwis kene,

1860

Caste him to yeve me woundis grene.

He shet at me ful hastily

An arwe named Company,

The whiche takel is ful able

To make these ladies merciable.

1865

Than I anoon gan chaungen hewe

For grevaunce of my wounde newe,

That I agayn fel in swoning,

And sighed sore in compleyning.

Sore I compleyned that my sore

1870

On me gan greven more and more.

I had non hope of allegeaunce;

So nigh I drow to desperaunce,

I rought of dethe ne of lyf,

Whither that love wolde me dryf.

1875

If me a martir wolde he make,

I might his power nought forsake.

And whyl for anger thus I wook,

The God of Love an arowe took;

Ful sharp it was and [ful] pugnaunt,

1880

And it was callid Fair-Semblaunt,

The which in no wys wol consente,

That any lover him repente

To serve his love with herte and alle,

For any peril that may bifalle.

1885

But though this arwe was kene grounde

As any rasour that is founde,

To cutte and kerve, at the poynt,

The God of Love it hadde anoynt

With a precious oynement,

1890

Somdel to yeve aleggement

Upon the woundes that he had

Through the body in my herte maad,

To helpe hir sores, and to cure,

And that they may the bet endure.

1895

But yit this arwe, withoute more,

Made in myn herte a large sore,

That in ful gret peyne I abood.

But ay the oynement wente abrood;

Throughout my woundes large and wyde

1900

It spredde aboute in every syde;

Through whos vertu and whos might

Myn herte Ioyful was and light.

I had ben deed and al to-shent

But for the precious oynement.

1905

The shaft I drow out of the arwe,

Roking for wo right wondir narwe;

But the heed, which made me smerte,

Lefte bihinde in myn herte

With other foure, I dar wel say,

1910

That never wol be take away;

But the oynement halp me wele.

And yit sich sorwe dide I fele,

That al-day I chaunged hewe,

Of my woundes fresshe and newe,

1915

As men might see in my visage.

The arwis were so fulle of rage,

So variaunt of diversitee,

That men in everich mighte see

Bothe gret anoy and eek swetnesse,

1920

And Ioye meynt with bittirnesse.

Now were they esy, now were they wood,

In hem I felte bothe harm and good;

Now sore without aleggement,

Now softening with oynement;

1925

It softned here, and prikked there,

Thus ese and anger togider were.

The God of Love deliverly

Com lepand to me hastily,

And seide to me, in gret rape,

1930

'Yeld thee, for thou may not escape!

May no defence availe thee here;

Therfore I rede mak no daungere.

If thou wolt yelde thee hastily,

Thou shalt [the] rather have mercy.

1935

He is a fool in sikernesse,

That with daunger or stoutnesse

Rebellith ther that he shulde plese;

In such folye is litel ese.

Be meek, wher thou must nedis bowe;

1940

To stryve ageyn is nought thy prowe.

Come at ones, and have y-do,

For I wol that it be so.

Than yeld thee here debonairly.'

And I answerid ful humbly,

1945

'Gladly, sir; at your bidding,

I wol me yelde in alle thing.

To your servyse I wol me take;

For god defende that I shulde make

Ageyn your bidding resistence;

1950

I wol not doon so gret offence;

For if I dide, it were no skile.

Ye may do with me what ye wile,

Save or spille, and also sloo;

Fro you in no wyse may I go.

1955

My lyf, my deth, is in your honde,

I may not laste out of your bonde.

Pleyn at your list I yelde me,

Hoping in herte, that sumtyme ye

Comfort and ese shulle me sende;

1960

Or ellis shortly, this is the ende,

Withouten helthe I moot ay dure,

But-if ye take me to your cure.

Comfort or helthe how shuld I have,

Sith ye me hurte, but ye me save?

1965

The helthe of lovers moot be founde

Wher-as they token firste hir wounde.

And if ye list of me to make

Your prisoner, I wol it take

Of herte and wil, fully at gree.

1970

Hoolly and pleyn I yelde me,

Withoute feyning or feyntyse,

To be governed by your empryse.

Of you I here so much prys,

I wol ben hool at your devys

1975

For to fulfille your lyking

And repente for no-thing,

Hoping to have yit in som tyde

Mercy, of that [that] I abyde.'

And with that covenaunt yeld I me,

1980

Anoon doun kneling upon my knee,

Profering for to kisse his feet;

But for no-thing he wolde me lete,

And seide, 'I love thee bothe and preyse,

Sen that thyn answer doth me ese,

1985

For thou answerid so curteisly.

For now I wot wel uttirly,

That thou art gentil, by thy speche.

For though a man fer wolde seche,

He shulde not finden, in certeyn,

1990

No sich answer of no vileyn;

For sich a word ne mighte nought

Isse out of a vilayns thought.

Thou shalt not lesen of thy speche,

For [to] thy helping wol I eche,

1995

And eek encresen that I may.

But first I wol that thou obay

Fully, for thyn avauntage,

Anon to do me here homage.

And sithen kisse thou shalt my mouth,

2000

Which to no vilayn was never couth

For to aproche it, ne for to touche;

For sauf of cherlis I ne vouche

That they shulle never neigh it nere.

For curteys, and of fair manere,

2005

Wel taught, and ful of gentilnesse

He muste ben, that shal me kisse,

And also of ful high fraunchyse,

That shal atteyne to that empryse.

And first of o thing warne I thee,

2010

That peyne and gret adversitee

He mot endure, and eek travaile,

That shal me serve, withoute faile.

But ther-ageyns, thee to comforte,

And with thy servise to desporte,

2015

Thou mayst ful glad and Ioyful be

So good a maister to have as me,

And lord of so high renoun.

I bere of Love the gonfanoun,

Of Curtesye the banere;

2020

For I am of the silf manere,

Gentil, curteys, meek and free;

That who [so] ever ententif be

Me to honoure, doute, and serve,

And also that he him observe

2025

Fro trespas and fro vilanye,

And him governe in curtesye

With wil and with entencioun;

For whan he first in my prisoun

Is caught, than muste he uttirly,

2030

Fro thennes-forth ful bisily,

Caste him gentil for to be,

If he desyre helpe of me.'

Anoon withouten more delay,

Withouten daunger or affray,

2035

I bicom his man anoon,

And gave him thankes many a oon,

And kneled doun with hondis Ioynt,

And made it in my port ful queynt;

The Ioye wente to myn herte rote.

2040

Whan I had kissed his mouth so swote,

I had sich mirthe and sich lyking,

It cured me of languisshing.

He askid of me than hostages:—

I have,' he seide, 'taken fele homages

2045

Of oon and other, where I have been

Disceyved ofte, withouten wene.

These felouns, fulle of falsitee,

Have many sythes bigyled me,

And through falshede hir lust acheved,

2050

Wherof I repente and am agreved.

And I hem gete in my daungere,

Hir falshed shulie they bye ful dere.

But for I love thee, I seye thee pleyn,

I wol of thee be more certeyn;

2055

For thee so sore I wol now binde,

That thou away ne shalt not winde

For to denyen the covenaunt,

Or doon that is not avenaunt.

That thou were fals it were gret reuthe,

2060

Sith thou semest so ful of treuthe.'

'Sire, if thee list to undirstande,

I merveile thee asking this demande.

For-why or wherfore shulde ye

Ostages or borwis aske of me,

2065

Or any other sikirnesse,

Sith ye wote, in sothfastnesse,

That ye have me surprysed so,

And hool myn herte taken me fro,

That it wol do for me no-thing

2070

But-if it be at your bidding?

Myn herte is yours, and myn right nought,

As it bihoveth, in dede and thought,

Redy in alle to worche your wille,

Whether so [it] turne to good or ille.

2075

So sore it lustith you to plese,

No man therof may you disseise.

Ye have theron set sich Iustise,

That it is werreyd in many wise.

And if ye doute it nolde obeye,

2080

Ye may therof do make a keye,

And holde it with you for ostage.'

Now certis, this is noon outrage,'

Quoth Love, 'and fully I accord;

For of the body he is ful lord

2085

That hath the herte in his tresor;

Outrage it were to asken more.'

Than of his aumener he drough

A litel keye, fetys y-nough,

Which was of gold polisshed clere,

2090

And seide to me, 'With this keye here

Thyn herte to me now wol I shette;

For al my Iowellis loke and knette

I binde under this litel keye,

That no wight may carye aweye;

2095

This keye is ful of gret poeste.'

With which anoon he touchid me

Undir the syde ful softely,

That he myn herte sodeynly

Without [al] anoy had spered,

2100

That yit right nought it hath me dered.

Whan he had doon his wil al-out,

And I had put him out of dout,

Sire,' I seide, 'I have right gret wille

Your lust and plesaunce to fulfille.

2105

Loke ye my servise take at gree,

By thilke feith ye owe to me.

I seye nought for recreaundyse,

For I nought doute of your servyse.

But the servaunt traveileth in vayne,

2110

That for to serven doth his payne

Unto that lord, which in no wyse

Can him no thank for his servyse.'

Love seide, 'Dismaye thee nought,

Sin thou for sucour hast me sought,

2115

In thank thy servise wol I take,

And high of degree I wol thee make,

If wikkidnesse ne hindre thee;

But, as I hope, it shal nought be.

To worship no wight by aventure

2120

May come, but-if he peyne endure.

Abyde and suffre thy distresse;

That hurtith now, it shal be lesse;

I wot my-silf what may thee save,

What medicyne thou woldist have.

2125

And if thy trouthe to me thou kepe,

I shal unto thyn helping eke,

To cure thy woundes and make hem clene,

Wher-so they be olde or grene;

Thou shalt be holpen, at wordis fewe.

2130

For certeynly thou shalt wel shewe

Wher that thou servest with good wille,

For to complisshen and fulfille

My comaundementis, day and night,

Whiche I to lovers yeve of right.'

2135

'Ah, sire, for goddis love,' seide I,

Er ye passe hens, ententifly

Your comaundementis to me ye say,

And I shal kepe hem, if I may;

For hem to kepen is al my thought.

2140

And if so be I wot hem nought,

Than may I [sinne] unwitingly.

Wherfore I pray you enterely,

With al myn herte, me to lere,

That I trespasse in no manere.'

2145

The god of love than chargid me

Anoon, as ye shal here and see,

Word by word, by right empryse,

So as the Romance shal devyse.

The maister lesith his tyme to lere,

2150

Whan the disciple wol not here.

It is but veyn on him to swinke,

That on his lerning wol not thinke.

Who-so lust love, let him entende,

For now the Romance ginneth amende.

2155

Now is good to here, in fay,

If any be that can it say,

And poynte it as the resoun is

Set; for other-gate, y-wis,

It shal nought wel in alle thing

2160

Be brought to good undirstonding:

For a reder that poyntith ille

A good sentence may ofte spille.

The book is good at the ending,

Maad of newe and lusty thing;

2165

For who-so wol the ending here,

The crafte of love he shal now lere,

If that he wol so long abyde,

Til I this Romance may unhyde,

And undo the signifiaunce

2170

Of this dreme into Romaunce.

The sothfastnesse that now is hid,

Without coverture shal be kid,

Whan I undon have this dreming,

Wherin no word is of lesing.

2175

'Vilany, at the biginning,

I wol,' sayd Love, 'over alle thing,

Thou leve, if thou wolt [not] be

Fals, and trespasse ageynes me.

I curse and blame generally

2180

Alle hem that loven vilany;

For vilany makith vilayn,

And by his dedis a cherle is seyn.

Thise vilayns arn without pitee,

Frendshipe, love, and al bounte.

2185

I nil receyve to my servyse

Hem that ben vilayns of empryse.

'But undirstonde in thyn entent,

That this is not myn entendement,

To clepe no wight in no ages

2190

Only gentil for his linages.

But who-so [that] is vertuous,

And in his port nought outrageous,

Whan sich oon thou seest thee biforn,

Though he be not gentil born,

2195

Thou mayst wel seyn, this is a soth,

That he is gentil, bicause he doth

As longeth to a gentilman;

Of hem non other deme I can.

For certeynly, withouten drede,

2200

A cherl is demed by his dede,

Of hye or lowe, as ye may see,

Or of what kinrede that he be.

Ne say nought, for noon yvel wille,

Thing that is to holden stille;

2205

It is no worship to misseye.

Thou mayst ensample take of Keye,

That was somtyme, for misseying,

Hated bothe of olde and ying;

As fer as Gaweyn, the worthy,

2210

Was preysed for his curtesy,

Keye was hated, for he was fel,

Of word dispitous and cruel.

Wherfore be wyse and aqueyntable,

Goodly of word, and resonable

2215

Bothe to lesse and eek to mar.

And whan thou comest ther men ar,

Loke that thou have in custom ay

First to salue hem, if thou may:

And if it falle, that of hem som

2220

Salue thee first, be not dom,

But quyte him curteisly anoon

Without abiding, er they goon.

'For no-thing eek thy tunge applye

To speke wordis of ribaudye.

2225

To vilayn speche in no degree

Lat never thy lippe unbounden be.

For I nought holde him, in good feith,

Curteys, that foule wordis seith.

And alle wimmen serve and preyse,

2230

And to thy power hir honour reyse.

And if that any missayere

Dispyse wimmen, that thou mayst here,

Blame him, and bidde him holde him stille.

And set thy might and al thy wille

2235

Wimmen and ladies for to plese,

And to do thing that may hem ese,

That they ever speke good of thee,

For so thou mayst best preysed be.

'Loke fro pryde thou kepe thee wele;

2240

For thou mayst bothe perceyve and fele,

That pryde is bothe foly and sinne;

And he that pryde hath, him withinne,

Ne may his herte, in no wyse,

Meken ne souplen to servyse.

2245

For pryde is founde, in every part,

Contrarie unto Loves art.

And he that loveth trewely

Shulde him contene Iolily,

Withouten pryde in sondry wyse,

2250

And him disgysen in queyntyse.

For queynt array, withouten drede,

Is no-thing proud, who takith hede;

For fresh array, as men may see,

Withouten pryde may ofte be.

2255

'Mayntene thy-silf aftir thy rent,

Of robe and eek of garnement;

For many sythe fair clothing

A man amendith in mich thing.

And loke alwey that they be shape,

2260

What garnement that thou shalt make,

Of him that can [hem] beste do,

With al that perteyneth therto.

Poyntis and sleves be wel sittand,

Right and streight upon the hand.

2265

Of shoon and botes, newe and faire,

Loke at the leest thou have a paire;

And that they sitte so fetisly,

That these rude may uttirly

Merveyle, sith that they sitte so pleyn,

2270

How they come on or of ageyn.

Were streite gloves, with aumenere

Of silk; and alwey with good chere

Thou yeve, if thou have richesse;

And if thou have nought, spend the lesse.

2275

Alwey be mery, if thou may,

But waste not thy good alway.

Have hat of floures fresh as May,

Chapelet of roses of Whitsonday;

For sich array ne cost but lyte.

2280

Thyn hondis wasshe, thy teeth make whyte,

And let no filthe upon thee be.

Thy nailes blak if thou mayst see,

Voide it awey deliverly,

And kembe thyn heed right Iolily.

2285

[Fard] not thy visage in no wyse,

For that of love is not thempryse;

For love doth haten, as I finde,

A beaute that cometh not of kinde.

Alwey in herte I rede thee

2290

Glad and mery for to be,

And be as Ioyful as thou can;

Love hath no Ioye of sorowful man.

That yvel is ful of curtesye

That [lauhwith] in his maladye;

2295

For ever of love the siknesse

Is meynd with swete and bitternesse.

The sore of love is merveilous;

For now the lover [is] Ioyous,

Now can he pleyne, now can he grone,

2300

Now can he singen, now maken mone.

To-day he pleyneth for hevinesse,

To-morowe he pleyeth for Iolynesse.

The lyf of love is ful contrarie,

Which stoundemele can ofte varie.

2305

But if thou canst [som] mirthis make,

That men in gree wole gladly take,

Do it goodly, I comaunde thee;

For men sholde, wher-so-ever they be,

Do thing that hem [best] sitting is,

2310

For therof cometh good loos and pris.

Wher-of that thou be vertuous,

Ne be not straunge ne daungerous.

For if that thou good rider be,

Prike gladly, that men may se.

2315

In armes also if thou conne,

Pursue, til thou a name hast wonne.

And if thy voice be fair and clere,

Thou shalt maken no gret daungere

Whan to singe they goodly preye;

2320

It is thy worship for to obeye.

Also to you it longith ay

To harpe and giterne, daunce and play;

For if he can wel foote and daunce,

It may him greetly do avaunce.

2325

Among eek, for thy lady sake,

Songes and complayntes that thou make;

For that wol meve [hem] in hir herte,

Whan they reden of thy smerte.

Loke that no man for scarce thee holde,

2330

For that may greve thee manyfolde.

Resoun wol that a lover be

In his yiftes more large and free

Than cherles that been not of loving.

For who ther-of can any thing,

2335

He shal be leef ay for to yeve,

In [Loves] lore who so wolde leve;

For he that, through a sodeyn sight,

Or for a kissing, anon-right

Yaf hool his herte in wille and thought,

2340

And to him-silf kepith right nought,

Aftir [swich yift], is good resoun,

He yeve his good in abandoun.

'Now wol I shortly here reherce,

Of that [that] I have seid in verse,

2345

Al the sentence by and by,

In wordis fewe compendiously,

That thou the bet mayst on hem thinke,

Whether-so it be thou wake or winke;

For [that] the wordis litel greve

2350

A man to kepe, whanne it is breve.

'Who-so with Love wol goon or ryde

He mot be curteys, and void of pryde,

Mery and fulle of Iolite,

And of largesse alosed be.

2355

'First I Ioyne thee, here in penaunce,

That ever, withoute repentaunce,

Thou set thy thought in thy loving,

To laste withoute repenting;

And thenke upon thy mirthis swete,

2360

That shal folowe aftir whan ye mete.

'And for thou trewe to love shalt be,

I wol, and [eek] comaunde thee,

That in oo place thou sette, al hool,

Thyn herte, withouten halfen dool,

2365

For trecherie, [in] sikernesse;

For I lovede never doublenesse.

To many his herte that wol depart,

Everiche shal have but litel part.

But of him drede I me right nought,

2370

That in oo place settith his thought.

Therfore in oo place it sette,

And lat it never thennes flette.

For if thou yevest it in lening,

I holde it but a wrecchid thing:

2375

Therfore yeve it hool and quyte,

And thou shalt have the more merite.

If it be lent, than aftir soon,

The bountee and the thank is doon;

But, in love, free yeven thing

2380

Requyrith a gret guerdoning.

Yeve it in yift al quit fully,

And make thy yift debonairly;

For men that yift [wol] holde more dere

That yeven is with gladsome chere.

2385

That yift nought to preisen is

That man yeveth, maugre his.

Whan thou hast yeven thyn herte, as I

Have seid thee here [al] openly,

Than aventures shulle thee falle,

2390

Which harde and hevy been withalle.

For ofte whan thou bithenkist thee

Of thy loving, wher-so thou be,

Fro folk thou must depart in hy,

That noon perceyve thy malady,

2395

But hyde thyn harm thou must alone,

And go forth sole, and make thy mone.

Thou shalt no whyl be in oo stat,

But whylom cold and whylom hat;

Now reed as rose, now yelowe and fade.

2400

Such sorowe, I trowe, thou never hade;

Cotidien, ne [yit] quarteyne,

It is nat so ful of peyne.

For ofte tymes it shal falle

In love, among thy peynes alle,

2405

That thou thy-self, al hoolly,

Foryeten shalt so utterly,

That many tymes thou shalt be

Stille as an image of tree,

Dom as a stoon, without stering

2410

Of foot or hond, without speking.

Than, sone after al thy peyne,

To memorie shalt thou come ageyn,

As man abasshed wondre sore,

And after sighen more and more.

2415

For wit thou wel, withouten wene,

In swich astat ful oft have been

That have the yvel of love assayd,

Wher-through thou art so dismayd.

'After, a thought shal take thee so,

2420

That thy love is to fer thee fro:

Thou shalt say, "God, what may this be,

That I ne may my lady see?

Myne herte aloon is to her go,

And I abyde al sole in wo,

2425

Departed fro myn owne thought,

And with myne eyen see right nought.

'"Alas, myn eyen sende I ne may,

My careful herte to convay!

Myn hertes gyde but they be,

2430

I praise no-thing what ever they see.

Shul they abyde thanne? nay;

But goon visyte without delay

That myn herte desyreth so.

For certeynly, but-if they go,

2435

A fool my-self I may wel holde,

Whan I ne see what myn herte wolde.

Wherfore I wol gon her to seen,

Or esed shal I never been,

But I have som tokening."

2440

Then gost thou forth without dwelling;

But ofte thou faylest of thy desyre,

Er thou mayst come hir any nere,

And wastest in vayn thy passage.

Than fallest thou in a newe rage;

2445

For want of sight thou ginnest morne,

And homward pensif dost retorne.

In greet mischeef than shall thou be,

For than agayn shal come to thee

Sighes and pleyntes, with newe wo,

2450

That no icching prikketh so.

Who wot it nought, he may go lere

Of hem that byen love so dere.

'No-thing thyn herte appesen may,

That oft thou wolt goon and assay,

2455

If thou mayst seen, by aventure,

Thy lyves joy, thyn hertis cure;

So that, by grace if thou might

Atteyne of hir to have a sight,

Than shall thou doon non other dede

2460

But with that sight thyn eyen fede.

That faire fresh whan thou mayst see,

Thyn herte shal so ravisshed be,

That never thou woldest, thy thankis, lete,

Ne remove, for to see that swete.

2465

The more thou seest in sothfastnesse,

The more thou coveytest of that swetnesse;

The more thyn herte brenneth in fyr,

The more thyn herte is in desyr.

For who considreth every del,

2470

It may be lykned wondir wel,

The peyne of love, unto a fere;

For ever [the] more thou neighest nere

Thought, or who-so that it be,

For verray sothe I telle it thee,

2475

The hatter ever shal thou brenne,

As experience shal thee kenne.

Wher-so [thou] comest in any cost,

Who is next fyr, he brenneth most.

And yit forsothe, for al thyn hete,

2480

Though thou for love swelte and swete,

Ne for no-thing thou felen may,

Thou shalt not willen to passe away.

And though thou go, yet must thee nede

Thenke al-day on hir fairhede,

2485

Whom thou bihelde with so good wille;

And holde thysilf bigyled ille,

That thou ne haddest non hardement

To shewe hir ought of thyn entent.

Thyn herte ful sore thou wolt dispyse,

2490

And eek repreve of cowardyse,

That thou, so dulle in every thing,

Were dom for drede, without speking.

Thou shalt eek thenke thou didest foly,

That thou were hir so faste by,

2495

And durst not auntre thee to say

Som-thing, er thou cam away;

For thou haddist no more wonne,

To speke of hir whan thou bigonne:

But yif she wolde, for thy sake,

2500

In armes goodly thee have take,

It shulde have be more worth to thee

Than of tresour greet plentee.

'Thus shalt thou morne and eek compleyn,

And gete enchesoun to goon ageyn

2505

Unto thy walk, or to thy place,

Where thou biheld hir fleshly face.

And never, for fals suspeccioun,

Thou woldest finde occasioun

For to gon unto hir hous.

2510

So art thou thanne desirous

A sight of hir for to have,

If thou thine honour mightest save,

Or any erand mightist make

Thider, for thy loves sake;

2515

Ful fayn thou woldist, but for drede

Thou gost not, lest that men take hede.

Wherfore I rede, in thy going,

And also in thyn ageyn-coming,

Thou be wel war that men ne wit;

2520

Feyne thee other cause than it

To go that weye, or faste by;

To hele wel is no folye.

And if so be it happe thee

That thou thy love ther mayst see,

2525

In siker wyse thou hir salewe,

Wherwith thy colour wol transmewe,

And eke thy blood shal al to-quake,

Thyn hewe eek chaungen for hir sake.

But word and wit, with chere ful pale,

2530

Shul wante for to telle thy tale.

And if thou mayst so fer-forth winne,

That thou [thy] resoun durst biginne,

And woldist seyn three thingis or mo,

Thou shalt ful scarsly seyn the two.

2535

Though thou bithenke thee never so wel,

Thou shalt foryete yit somdel,

But-if thou dele with trecherye.

For fals lovers mowe al folye

Seyn, what hem lust, withouten drede,

2540

They be so double in hir falshede;

For they in herte cunne thenke a thing

And seyn another, in hir speking.

And whan thy speche is endid al,

Right thus to thee it shal bifal;

2545

If any word than come to minde,

That thou to seye hast left bihinde,

Than thou shalt brenne in greet martyr;

For thou shalt brenne as any fyr.

This is the stryf and eke the affray,

2550

And the batail that lastith ay.

This bargeyn ende may never take,

But-if that she thy pees wil make.

'And whan the night is comen, anon

A thousand angres shal come upon.

2555

To bedde as fast thou wolt thee dight,

Where thou shalt have but smal delyt;

For whan thou wenest for to slepe,

So ful of peyne shalt thou crepe,

Sterte in thy bedde aboute ful wyde,

2560

And turne ful ofte on every syde;

Now dounward groffe, and now upright,

And walowe in wo the longe night,

Thyne armis shalt thou sprede a-brede,

As man in werre were forwerreyd.

2565

Than shal thee come a remembraunce

Of hir shape and hir semblaunce,

Wherto non other may be pere.

And wite thou wel, withoute were,

That thee shal [seme], somtyme that night,

2570

That thou hast hir, that is so bright,

Naked bitwene thyn armes there,

Al sothfastnesse as though it were.

Thou shalt make castels than in Spayne,

And dreme of Ioye, al but in vayne,

2575

And thee delyten of right nought,

Whyl thou so slomrest in that thought,

That is so swete and delitable,

The which, in soth, nis but a fable,

For it ne shal no whyle laste.

2580

Than shalt thou sighe and wepe faste,

And say, "Dere god, what thing is this?

My dreme is turned al amis,

Which was ful swete and apparent,

But now I wake, it is al shent!

2585

Now yede this mery thought away!

Twenty tymes upon a day

I wolde this thought wolde come ageyn,

For it alleggith wel my peyn.

It makith me ful of Ioyful thought,

2590

It sleeth me, that it lastith noght.

A, lord! why nil ye me socoure,

The Ioye, I trowe, that I langoure?

The deth I wolde me shulde slo

Whyl I lye in hir armes two.

2595

Myn harm is hard, withouten wene,

My greet unese ful ofte I mene.

But wolde Love do so I might

Have fully Ioye of hir so bright,

My peyne were quit me richely.

2600

Allas, to greet a thing aske I!

It is but foly, and wrong wening,

To aske so outrageous a thing.

And who-so askith folily,

He moot be warned hastily;

2605

And I ne wot what I may say,

I am so fer out of the way;

For I wolde have ful gret lyking

And ful gret Ioye of lasse thing.

For wolde she, of hir gentilnesse,

2610

Withouten more, me onis kesse,

It were to me a greet guerdoun,

Relees of al my passioun.

But it is hard to come therto;

Al is but foly that I do,

2615

So high I have myn herte set,

Where I may no comfort get.

I noot wher I sey wel or nought;

But this I wot wel in my thought,

That it were bet of hir aloon,

2620

For to stinte my wo and moon,

A loke on [me] y-cast goodly,

[Than] for to have, al utterly,

Of another al hool the pley.

A! lord! wher I shal byde the day

2625

That ever she shal my lady be?

He is ful cured that may hir see.

A! god! whan shal the dawning spring?

To ly thus is an angry thing;

I have no Ioye thus here to ly

2630

Whan that my love is not me by.

A man to lyen hath gret disese,

Which may not slepe ne reste in ese.

I wolde it dawed, and were now day,

And that the night were went away;

2635

For were it day, I wolde upryse.

A! slowe sonne, shew thyn enpryse!

Speed thee to sprede thy bemis bright,

And chace the derknesse of the night,

To putte away the stoundes stronge,

2640

Which in me lasten al to longe."

'The night shalt thou contene so,

Withoute rest, in peyne and wo;

If ever thou knewe of love distresse,

Thou shalt mowe lerne in that siknesse.

2645

And thus enduring shalt thou ly,

And ryse on morwe up erly

Out of thy bedde, and harneys thee

Er ever dawning thou mayst see.

Al privily than shalt thou goon,

2650

What [weder] it be, thy-silf aloon,

For reyn, or hayl, for snow, for slete,

Thider she dwellith that is so swete,

The which may falle aslepe be,

And thenkith but litel upon thee.

2655

Than shalt thou goon, ful foule aferd;

Loke if the gate be unsperd,

And waite without in wo and peyn,

Ful yvel a-cold in winde and reyn.

Than shal thou go the dore bifore,

2660

If thou maist fynde any score,

Or hole, or reft, what ever it were;

Than shalt thou stoupe, and lay to ere,

If they within a-slepe be;

I mene, alle save thy lady free.

2665

Whom waking if thou mayst aspye,

Go put thy-silf in Iupartye,

To aske grace, and thee bimene,

That she may wite, withouten wene,

That thou [a]night no rest hast had,

2670

So sore for hir thou were bistad.

Wommen wel ought pite to take

Of hem that sorwen for hir sake.

And loke, for love of that relyke,

That thou thenke non other lyke,

2675

For [whom] thou hast so greet annoy,

Shal kisse thee er thou go away,

And hold that in ful gret deyntee.

And, for that no man shal thee see

Bifore the hous, ne in the way,

2680

Loke thou be goon ageyn er day.

Suche coming, and such going,

Such hevinesse, and such walking,

Makith lovers, withouten wene,

Under hir clothes pale and lene,

2685

For Love leveth colour ne cleernesse;

Who loveth trewe hath no fatnesse.

Thou shalt wel by thy-selfe see

That thou must nedis assayed be.

For men that shape hem other wey

2690

Falsly her ladies to bitray,

It is no wonder though they be fat;

With false othes hir loves they gat;

For oft I see suche losengeours

Fatter than abbatis or priours.

2695

'Yet with o thing I thee charge,

That is to seye, that thou be large

Unto the mayd that hir doth serve,

So best hir thank thou shalt deserve.

Yeve hir yiftes, and get hir grace,

2700

For so thou may [hir] thank purchace,

That she thee worthy holde and free,

Thy lady, and alle that may thee see.

Also hir servauntes worshipe ay,

And plese as muche as thou may;

2705

Gret good through hem may come to thee,

Bicause with hir they been prive.

They shal hir telle how they thee fand

Curteis and wys, and wel doand,

And she shal preyse [thee] wel the mare.

2710

Loke out of londe thou be not fare;

And if such cause thou have, that thee

Bihoveth to gon out of contree,

Leve hool thyn herte in hostage,

Til thou ageyn make thy passage.

2715

Thenk long to see the swete thing

That hath thyn herte in hir keping.

'Now have I told thee, in what wyse

A lover shal do me servyse.

Do it than, if thou wolt have

2720

The mede that thou aftir crave.'

Whan Love al this had boden me,

I seide him:—'Sire, how may it be

That lovers may in such manere

Endure the peyne ye have seid here?

2725

I merveyle me wonder faste,

How any man may live or laste

In such peyne, and such brenning,

In sorwe and thought, and such sighing,

Ay unrelesed wo to make,

2730

Whether so it be they slepe or wake.

In such annoy continuely,

As helpe me god, this merveile I,

How man, but he were maad of stele,

Might live a month, such peynes to fele.'

2735

The God of Love than seide me,

Freend, by the feith I owe to thee,

May no man have good, but he it by.

A man loveth more tendirly

The thing that he hath bought most dere.

2740

For wite thou wel, withouten were,

In thank that thing is taken more,

For which a man hath suffred sore.

Certis, no wo ne may atteyne

Unto the sore of loves peyne.

2745

Non yvel therto ne may amounte,

No more than a man [may] counte

The dropes that of the water be.

For drye as wel the grete see

Thou mightist, as the harmes telle

2750

Of hem that with Love dwelle

In servyse; for peyne hem sleeth,

And that ech man wolde flee the deeth,

And trowe they shulde never escape,

Nere that hope couthe hem make

2755

Glad as man in prisoun set,

And may not geten for to et

But barly-breed, and watir pure,

And lyeth in vermin and in ordure;

With alle this, yit can he live,

2760

Good hope such comfort hath him yive,

Which maketh wene that he shal be

Delivered and come to liberte;

In fortune is [his] fulle trust.

Though he lye in strawe or dust,

2765

In hope is al his susteyning.

And so for lovers, in hir wening,

Whiche Love hath shit in his prisoun;

Good-Hope is hir salvacioun.

Good-Hope, how sore that they smerte,

2770

Yeveth hem bothe wille and herte

To profre hir body to martyre;

For Hope so sore doth hem desyre

To suffre ech harm that men devyse,

For Ioye that aftir shal aryse.

2775

Hope, in desire [to] cacche victorie;

In Hope, of love is al the glorie,

For Hope is al that love may yive;

Nere Hope, ther shulde no lover live.

Blessid be Hope, which with desyre

2780

Avaunceth lovers in such manere.

Good-Hope is curteis for to plese,

To kepe lovers from al disese.

Hope kepith his lond, and wol abyde,

For any peril that may betyde;

2785

For Hope to lovers, as most cheef,

Doth hem enduren al mischeef;

Hope is her help, whan mister is.

And I shal yeve thee eek, y-wis,

Three other thingis, that greet solas

2790

Doth to hem that be in my las.

'The firste good that may be founde,

To hem that in my lace be bounde,

Is Swete-Thought, for to recorde

Thing wherwith thou canst accorde

2795

Best in thyn herte, wher she be;

Thought in absence is good to thee.

Whan any lover doth compleyne,

And liveth in distresse and peyne,

Than Swete-Thought shal come, as blyve,

2800

Awey his angre for to dryve.

It makith lovers have remembraunce

Of comfort, and of high plesaunce,

That Hope hath hight him for to winne.

For Thought anoon than shal biginne,

2805

As fer, god wot, as he can finde,

To make a mirrour of his minde;

For to biholde he wol not lette.

Hir person he shal afore him sette,

Hir laughing eyen, persaunt and clere,

2810

Hir shape, hir fourme, hir goodly chere,

Hir mouth that is so gracious,

So swete, and eek so saverous;

Of alle hir fetures he shal take heede,

His eyen with alle hir limes fede.

2815

'Thus Swete-Thenking shal aswage

The peyne of lovers, and hir rage.

Thy Ioye shal double, withoute gesse,

Whan thou thenkist on hir semlinesse,

Or of hir laughing, or of hir chere,

2820

That to thee made thy lady dere.

This comfort wol I that thou take;

And if the next thou wolt forsake

Which is not lesse saverous,

Thou shuldist been to daungerous.

2825

'The secounde shal be Swete-Speche,

That hath to many oon be leche,

To bringe hem out of wo and were,

And helpe many a bachilere;

And many a lady sent socoure,

2830

That have loved par-amour,

Through speking, whan they mighten here

Of hir lovers, to hem so dere.

To [hem] it voidith al hir smerte,

The which is closed in hir herte.

2835

In herte it makith hem glad and light,

Speche, whan they mowe have sight.

And therfore now it cometh to minde,

In olde dawes, as I finde,

That clerkis writen that hir knewe

2840

Ther was a lady fresh of hewe,

Which of hir love made a song

On him for to remembre among,

In which she seide, "Whan that I here

Speken of him that is so dere,

2845

To me it voidith al [my] smerte,

Y-wis, he sit so nere myn herte.

To speke of him, at eve or morwe,

It cureth me of al my sorwe.

To me is noon so high plesaunce

2850

As of his persone daliaunce."

She wist ful wel that Swete-Speking

Comfortith in ful muche thing.

Hir love she had ful wel assayed,

Of him she was ful wel apayed;

2855

To speke of him hir Ioye was set.

Therfore I rede thee that thou get

A felowe that can wel concele

And kepe thy counsel, and wel hele,

To whom go shewe hoolly thyn herte,

2860

Bothe wele and wo, Ioye and smerte:

To gete comfort to him thou go,

And privily, bitween yow two,

Ye shal speke of that goodly thing,

That hath thyn herte in hir keping;

2865

Of hir beaute and hir semblaunce,

And of hir goodly countenaunce.

Of al thy state thou shalt him sey,

And aske him counseil how thou may

Do any thing that may hir plese;

2870

For it to thee shal do gret ese,

That he may wite thou trust him so,

Bothe of thy wele and of thy wo.

And if his herte to love be set,

His companye is muche the bet,

2875

For resoun wol, he shewe to thee

Al uttirly his privite;

And what she is he loveth so,

To thee pleynly he shal undo,

Withoute drede of any shame,

2880

Bothe telle hir renoun and hir name.

Than shal he forther, ferre and nere,

And namely to thy lady dere,

In siker wyse; ye, every other

Shal helpen as his owne brother,

2885

In trouthe withoute doublenesse,

And kepen cloos in sikernesse.

For it is noble thing, in fay,

To have a man thou darst say

Thy prive counsel every del;

2890

For that wol comfort thee right wel,

And thou shall holde thee wel apayed,

Whan such a freend thou hast assayed.

'The thridde good of greet comfort

That yeveth to lovers most disport,

2895

Comith of sight and biholding,

That clepid is Swete-Loking,

The whiche may noon ese do,

Whan thou art fer thy lady fro;

Wherfore thou prese alwey to be

2900

In place, where thou mayst hir se.

For it is thing most amerous,

Most delitable and saverous,

For to aswage a mannes sorowe,

To sene his lady by the morowe.

2905

For it is a ful noble thing

Whan thyn eyen have meting

With that relyke precious,

Wherof they be so desirous.

But al day after, soth it is,

2910

They have no drede to faren amis,

They dreden neither wind ne reyn,

Ne [yit] non other maner peyn.

For whan thyn eyen were thus in blis,

Yit of hir curtesye, y-wis,

2915

Aloon they can not have hir Ioye,

But to the herte they [it] convoye;

Part of hir blis to him [they] sende,

Of al this harm to make an ende.

The eye is a good messangere,

2920

Which can to the herte in such manere

Tidyngis sende, that [he] hath seen,

To voide him of his peynes cleen.

Wherof the herte reioyseth so

That a gret party of his wo

2925

Is voided, and put awey to flight.

Right as the derknesse of the night

Is chased with clerenesse of the mone,

Right so is al his wo ful sone

Devoided clene, whan that the sight

2930

Biholden may that fresshe wight

That the herte desyreth so,

That al his derknesse is ago;

For than the herte is al at ese,

Whan they seen that [that] may hem plese.

2935

'Now have I thee declared alout,

Of that thou were in drede and dout;

For I have told thee feithfully

What thee may curen utterly,

And alle lovers that wole be

2940

Feithful, and ful of stabilite.

Good-Hope alwey kepe by thy syde,

And Swete-Thought make eek abyde,

Swete-Loking and Swete-Speche;

Of alle thyn harmes they shal be leche.

2945

Of every thou shalt have greet plesaunce;

If thou canst byde in sufferaunce,

And serve wel without feyntyse,

Thou shalt be quit of thyn empryse,

With more guerdoun, if that thou live;

2950

But al this tyme this I thee yive.'

The God of Love whan al the day

Had taught me, as ye have herd say,

And enfourmed compendiously,

He vanished awey al sodeynly,

2955

And I alone lefte, al sole,

So ful of compleynt and of dole,

For I saw no man ther me by.

My woundes me greved wondirly;

Me for to curen no-thing I knew,

2960

Save the botoun bright of hew,

Wheron was set hoolly my thought;

Of other comfort knew I nought,

But it were through the God of Love;

I knew nat elles to my bihove

2965

That might me ese or comfort gete,

But-if he wolde him entermete.

The roser was, withoute doute,

Closed with an hegge withoute,

As ye to-forn have herd me seyn;

2970

And fast I bisied, and wolde fayn

Have passed the haye, if I might

Have geten in by any slight

Unto the botoun so fair to see.

But ever I dradde blamed to be,

2975

If men wolde have suspeccioun

That I wolde of entencioun

Have stole the roses that ther were;

Therfore to entre I was in fere.

But at the last, as I bithought

2980

Whether I sholde passe or nought,

I saw come with a gladde chere

To me, a lusty bachelere,

Of good stature, and of good hight,

And Bialacoil forsothe he hight.

2985

Sone he was to Curtesy,

And he me graunted ful gladly

The passage of the outer hay,

And seide:—'Sir, how that ye may

Passe, if [it] your wille be,

2990

The fresshe roser for to see,

And ye the swete savour fele.

Your warrant may [I be] right wele;

So thou thee kepe fro folye,

Shal no man do thee vilanye.

2995

If I may helpe you in ought,

I shal not feyne, dredeth nought;

For I am bounde to your servyse,

Fully devoide of feyntyse.'

Than unto Bialacoil saide I,

3000

'I thank you, sir, ful hertely,

And your biheest [I] take at gree,

That ye so goodly prefer me;

To you it cometh of greet fraunchyse,

That ye me prefer your servyse.'

3005

Than aftir, ful deliverly,

Through the breres anoon wente I,

Wherof encombred was the hay.

I was wel plesed, the soth to say,

To see the botoun fair and swote,

3010

So fresshe spronge out of the rote.

And Bialacoil me served wel,

Whan I so nygh me mighte fele

Of the botoun the swete odour,

And so lusty hewed of colour.

3015

But than a cherl (foule him bityde!)

Bisyde the roses gan him hyde,

To kepe the roses of that roser,

Of whom the name was Daunger.

This cherl was hid there in the greves,

3020

Covered with grasse and with leves,

To spye and take whom that he fond

Unto that roser putte an hond.

He was not sole, for ther was mo;

For with him were other two

3025

Of wikkid maners, and yvel fame.

That oon was clepid, by his name,

Wikked-Tonge, god yeve him sorwe!

For neither at eve, ne at morwe,

He can of no man [no] good speke;

3030

On many a Iust man doth he wreke.

Ther was a womman eek, that hight

Shame, that, who can reken right,

Trespas was hir fadir name,

Hir moder Resoun; and thus was Shame

3035

[On lyve] brought of these ilk two.

And yit had Trespas never ado

With Resoun, ne never ley hir by,

He was so hidous and ugly,

I mene, this that Trespas hight;

3040

But Resoun conceyveth, of a sight,

Shame, of that I spak aforn.

And whan that Shame was thus born,

It was ordeyned, that Chastitee

Shulde of the roser lady be,

3045

Which, of the botouns more and las,

With sondry folk assailed was,

That she ne wiste what to do.

For Venus hir assailith so,

That night and day from hir she stal

3050

Botouns and roses over-al.

To Resoun than prayeth Chastitee,

Whom Venus flemed over the see,

That she hir doughter wolde hir lene,

To kepe the roser fresh and grene.

3055

Anoon Resoun to Chastitee

Is fully assented that it be,

And grauntid hir, at hir request,

That Shame, bicause she is honest,

Shal keper of the roser be.

3060

And thus to kepe it ther were three,

That noon shulde hardy be ne bold

(Were he yong, or were he old)

Ageyn hir wille awey to bere

Botouns ne roses, that ther were.

3065

I had wel sped, had I not been

Awayted with these three, and seen.

For Bialacoil, that was so fair,

So gracious and debonair,

Quitte him to me ful curteisly,

3070

And, me to plese, bad that I

Shuld drawe me to the botoun nere;

Prese in, to touche the rosere

Which bar the roses, he yaf me leve;

This graunt ne might but litel greve.

3075

And for he saw it lyked me,

Right nygh the botoun pullede he

A leef al grene, and yaf me that,

The which ful nygh the botoun sat;

I made [me] of that leef ful queynt.

3080

And whan I felte I was aqueynt

With Bialacoil, and so prive,

I wende al at my wille had be.

Than wex I hardy for to tel

To Bialacoil how me bifel

3085

Of Love, that took and wounded me,

And seide: 'Sir, so mote I thee,

I may no loye have in no wyse,

Upon no syde, but it ryse;

For sithe (if I shal not feyne)

3090

In herte I have had so gret peyne,

So gret annoy, and such affray,

That I ne wot what I shal say;

I drede your wrath to disserve.

Lever me were, that knyves kerve

3095

My body shulde in pecis smalle,

Than in any wyse it shulde falle

That ye wratthed shulde been with me.'

Sey boldely thy wille,' quod he,

I nil be wroth, if that I may,

3100

For nought that thou shalt to me say.'

Thanne seide I, 'Sir, not you displese

To knowen of my greet unese,

In which only love hath me brought;

For peynes greet, disese and thought,

3105

Fro day to day he doth me drye;

Supposeth not, sir, that I lye.

In me fyve woundes dide he make,

The sore of whiche shal never slake

But ye the botoun graunte me,

3110

Which is most passaunt of beautee,

My lyf, my deth, and my martyre,

And tresour that I most desyre.'

Than Bialacoil, affrayed all,

Seyde, 'Sir, it may not fall;

3115

That ye desire, it may not ryse.

What? wolde ye shende me in this wyse?

A mochel foole than I were,

If I suffrid you awey to bere

The fresh botoun, so fair of sight.

3120

For it were neither skile ne right

Of the roser ye broke the rind,

Or take the rose aforn his kind;

Ye ar not courteys to aske it.

Lat it stil on the roser sit,

3125

And growe til it amended be,

And parfitly come to beaute.

I nolde not that it pulled wer

Fro the roser that it ber,

To me it is so leef and dere.'

3130

With that sterte out anoon Daungere,

Out of the place where he was hid.

His malice in his chere was kid;

Ful greet he was, and blak of hewe,

Sturdy and hidous, who-so him knewe;

3135

Like sharp urchouns his here was growe,

His eyes rede as the fire-glow;

His nose frounced ful kirked stood,

He com criand as he were wood,

And seide, 'Bialacoil, tel me why

3140

Thou bringest hider so boldly

Him that so nygh [is] the roser?

Thou worchist in a wrong maner;

He thenkith to dishonour thee,

Thou art wel worthy to have maugree

3145

To late him of the roser wit;

Who serveth a feloun is yvel quit.

Thou woldist have doon greet bountee,

And he with shame wolde quyte thee.

Flee hennes, felowe! I rede thee go!

3150

It wanteth litel I wol thee slo;

For Bialacoil ne knew thee nought,

Whan thee to serve he sette his thought;

For thou wolt shame him, if thou might,

Bothe ageyn resoun and right.

3155

I wol no more in thee affye,

That comest so slyghly for tespye;

For it preveth wonder wel,

Thy slight and tresoun every del.'

I durst no more ther make abode,

3160

For the cherl, he was so wode;

So gan he threten and manace,

And thurgh the haye he did me chace.

For feer of him I tremblid and quook,

So cherlishly his heed he shook;

3165

And seide, if eft he might me take,

I shulde not from his hondis scape.

Than Bialacoil is fled and mate,

And I al sole, disconsolate,

Was left aloon in peyne and thought;

3170

For shame, to deth I was nygh brought.

Than thought I on myn high foly,

How that my body, utterly,

Was yeve to peyne and to martyre;

And therto hadde I so gret yre,

3175

That I ne durst the hayes passe;

There was non hope, there was no grace.

I trowe never man wiste of peyne,

But he were laced in Loves cheyne;

Ne no man [wot], and sooth it is,

3180

But-if he love, what anger is.

Love holdith his heest to me right wele,

Whan peyne he seide I shulde fele.

Non herte may thenke, ne tunge seyne,

A quarter of my wo and peyne.

3185

I might not with the anger laste;

Myn herte in poynt was for to braste,

Whan I thought on the rose, that so

Was through Daunger cast me froo.

A long whyl stood I in that state,

3190

Til that me saugh so mad and mate

The lady of the highe ward,

Which from hir tour lokid thiderward.

Resoun men clepe that lady,

Which from hir tour deliverly

3195

Come doun to me withouten more.

But she was neither yong, ne hore,

Ne high ne low, ne fat ne lene,

But best, as it were in a mene.

Hir eyen two were cleer and light

3200

As any candel that brenneth bright;

And on hir heed she hadde a crown.

Hir semede wel an high persoun;

For rounde enviroun, hir crownet

Was ful of riche stonis fret.

3205

Hir goodly semblaunt, by devys,

I trowe were maad in paradys;

Nature had never such a grace,

To forge a werk of such compace.

For certeyn, but the letter lye,

3210

God him-silf, that is so high,

Made hir aftir his image,

And yaf hir sith sich avauntage,

That she hath might and seignorye

To kepe men from al folye;

3215

Who-so wole trowe hir lore,

Ne may offenden nevermore.

And whyl I stood thus derk and pale,

Resoun bigan to me hir tale;

She seide: 'Al hayl, my swete frend!

3220

Foly and childhood wol thee shend,

Which thee have put in greet affray;

Thou hast bought dere the tyme of May,

That made thyn herte mery to be.

In yvel tyme thou wentist to see

3225

The gardin, wherof Ydilnesse

Bar the keye, and was maistresse

Whan thou yedest in the daunce

With hir, and haddest aqueyntaunce:

Hir aqueyntaunce is perilous,

3230

First softe, and aftir[ward] noyous;

She hath [thee] trasshed, withoute ween;

The God of Love had thee not seen,

Ne hadde Ydilnesse thee conveyed

In the verger where Mirthe him pleyed.

3235

If Foly have supprised thee,

Do so that it recovered be;

And be wel war to take no more

Counsel, that greveth aftir sore;

He is wys that wol himsilf chastyse.

3240

And though a young man in any wyse

Trespace among, and do foly,

Lat him not tarye, but hastily

Lat him amende what so be mis.

And eek I counseile thee, y-wis,

3245

The God of Love hoolly foryet,

That hath thee in sich peyne set,

And thee in herte tormented so.

I can nat seen how thou mayst go

Other weyes to garisoun;

3250

For Daunger, that is so feloun,

Felly purposith thee to werrey,

Which is ful cruel, the soth to sey.

'And yit of Daunger cometh no blame,

In reward of my doughter Shame,

3255

Which hath the roses in hir warde,

As she that may be no musarde.

And Wikked-Tunge is with these two,

That suffrith no man thider go;

For er a thing be do, he shal,

3260

Where that he cometh, over-al,

In fourty places, if it be sought,

Seye thing that never was doon ne wrought;

So moche tresoun is in his male,

Of falsnesse for to [feyne] a tale.

3265

Thou delest with angry folk, y-wis;

Wherfor to thee [it] bettir is

From these folk awey to fare,

For they wol make thee live in care.

This is the yvel that Love they calle,

3270

Wherin ther is but foly alle,

For love is foly everydel;

Who loveth, in no wyse may do wel,

Ne sette his thought on no good werk.

His scole he lesith, if he be clerk;

3275

Of other craft eek if he be,

He shal not thryve therin; for he

In love shal have more passioun

Than monke, hermyte, or chanoun.

The peyne is hard, out of mesure,

3280

The Ioye may eek no whyl endure;

And in the possessioun

Is muche tribulacioun;

The Ioye it is so short-lasting,

And but in happe is the geting;

3285

For I see ther many in travaille,

That atte laste foule fayle.

I was no-thing thy counseler,

Whan thou were maad the homager

Of God of Love to hastily;

3290

Ther was no wisdom, but foly.

Thyn herte was Ioly, but not sage,

Whan thou were brought in sich a rage,

To yelde thee so redily,

And to Love, of his gret maistry.

3295

'I rede thee Love awey to dryve,

That makith thee recche not of thy lyve.

The foly more fro day to day

Shal growe, but thou it putte away.

Take with thy teeth the bridel faste,

3300

To daunte thyn herte; and eek thee caste,

If that thou mayst, to gete defence

For to redresse thy first offence.

Who-so his herte alwey wol leve,

Shal finde among that shal him greve'

3305

Whan I hir herd thus me chastyse,

I answerd in ful angry wyse.

I prayed hir cessen of hir speche,

Outher to chastyse me or teche,

To bidde me my thought refreyne,

3310

Which Love hath caught in his demeyne:—

What? wene ye Love wol consent,

That me assailith with bowe bent,

To draw myn herte out of his honde,

Which is so quikly in his bonde?

3315

That ye counsayle, may never be;

For whan he first arested me,

He took myn herte so hool him til,

That it is no-thing at my wil;

He [taughte] it so him for to obey,

3320

That he it sparred with a key.

I pray yow lat me be al stille.

For ye may wel, if that ye wille,

Your wordis waste in idilnesse;

For utterly, withouten gesse,

3325

Al that ye seyn is but in veyne.

Me were lever dye in the peyne,

Than Love to me-ward shulde arette

Falsheed, or tresoun on me sette.

I wol me gete prys or blame,

3330

And love trewe, to save my name;

Who me chastysith, I him hate.'

With that word Resoun wente hir gate,

Whan she saugh for no sermoning

She might me fro my foly bring.

3335

Than dismayed, I lefte al sool,

Forwery, forwandred as a fool,

For I ne knew no chevisaunce.

Than fel into my remembraunce,

How Love bade me to purveye

3340

A felowe, to whom I mighte seye

My counsel and my privete,

For that shulde muche availe me.

With that bithought I me, that I

Hadde a felowe faste by,

3345

Trewe and siker, curteys, and hend,

And he was called by name a Freend;

A trewer felowe was no-wher noon.

In haste to him I wente anoon,

And to him al my wo I tolde,

3350

Fro him right nought I wold withholde.

I tolde him al withoute were,

And made my compleynt on Daungere,

How for to see he was hidous,

And to-me-ward contrarious;

3355

The whiche through his cruelte

Was in poynt to have meygned me;

With Bialacoil whan he me sey

Within the gardyn walke and pley,

Fro me he made him for to go,

3360

And I bilefte aloon in wo;

I durst no lenger with him speke,

For Daunger seide he wolde be wreke,

Whan that he sawe how I wente

The fresshe botoun for to hente,

3365

If I were hardy to come neer

Bitwene the hay and the roser.

This Freend, whan he wiste of my thought,

He discomforted me right nought,

But seide, 'Felowe, be not so mad,

3370

Ne so abaysshed nor bistad.

My-silf I knowe ful wel Daungere,

And how he is feers of his chere,

At prime temps, Love to manace;

Ful ofte I have ben in his caas.

3375

A feloun first though that he be,

Aftir thou shalt him souple see.

Of long passed I knew him wele;

Ungoodly first though men him fele,

He wol meek aftir, in his bering,

3380

Been, for service and obeysshing.

I shal thee telle what thou shalt do.—

Mekely I rede thou go him to,

Of herte pray him specialy

Of thy trespace to have mercy,

3385

And hote him wel, [him] here to plese,

That thou shalt nevermore him displese.

Who can best serve of flatery,

Shal plese Daunger most uttirly.'

My Freend hath seid to me so wel,

3390

That he me esid hath somdel,

And eek allegged of my torment;

For through him had I hardement

Agayn to Daunger for to go,

To preve if I might meke him so.

3395

To Daunger cam I, al ashamed,

The which aforn me hadde blamed,

Desyring for to pese my wo;

But over hegge durst I not go,

For he forbad me the passage.

3400

I fond him cruel in his rage,

And in his hond a gret burdoun.

To him I knelid lowe adoun,

Ful meke of port, and simple of chere,

And seide, 'Sir, I am comen here

3405

Only to aske of you mercy.

That greveth me, [sir], ful gretly

That ever my lyf I wratthed you,

But for to amende I am come now,

With al my might, bothe loude and stille,

3410

To doon right at your owne wille;

For Love made me for to do

That I have trespassed hidirto;

Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myn herte;

Yit shal I never, for Ioy ne smerte,

3415

What so bifalle, good or ille,

Offende more ageyn your wille.

Lever I have endure disese

Than do that shulde you displese.

'I you require and pray, that ye

3420

Of me have mercy and pitee,

To stinte your yre that greveth so,

That I wol swere for evermo

To be redressid at your lyking,

If I trespasse in any thing;

3425

Save that I pray thee graunte me

A thing that may nat warned be,

That I may love, al only;

Non other thing of you aske I.

I shal doon elles wel, y-wis,

3430

If of your grace ye graunte me this.

And ye [ne] may not letten me,

For wel wot ye that love is free,

And I shal loven, [sith] that I wil,

Who-ever lyke it wel or il;

3435

And yit ne wold I, for al Fraunce,

Do thing to do you displesaunce.'

Than Daunger fil in his entent

For to foryeve his maltalent;

But al his wratthe yit at laste

3440

He hath relesed, I preyde so faste:

Shortly he seide, 'Thy request

Is not to mochel dishonest;

Ne I wol not werne it thee,

For yit no-thing engreveth me.

3445

For though thou love thus evermore,

To me is neither softe ne sore.

Love wher thee list; what recchith me,

So [thou] fer fro my roses be?

Trust not on me, for noon assay,

3450

In any tyme to passe the hay.'

Thus hath he graunted my prayere.

Than wente I forth, withouten were,

Unto my Freend, and tolde him al,

Which was right Ioyful of my tale.

3455

He seide, 'Now goth wel thyn affaire,

He shal to thee be debonaire.

Though he aforn was dispitous,

He shal heeraftir be gracious.

If he were touchid on som good veyne,

3460

He shuld yit rewen on thy peyne.

Suffire, I rede, and no boost make,

Til thou at good mes mayst him take.

By suffraunce, and [by] wordis softe,

A man may overcomen ofte

3465

Him that aforn he hadde in drede,

In bookis sothly as I rede.'

Thus hath my Freend with gret comfort

Avaunced me with high disport,

Which wolde me good as mich as I.

3470

And thanne anoon ful sodeynly

I took my leve, and streight I went

Unto the hay; for gret talent

I had to seen the fresh botoun,

Wherin lay my salvacioun;

3475

And Daunger took kepe, if that I

Kepe him covenaunt trewly.

So sore I dradde his manasing,

I durst not breke[n] his bidding;

For, lest that I were of him shent,

3480

I brak not his comaundement,

For to purchase his good wil.

It was [hard] for to come ther-til,

His mercy was to fer bihinde;

I wepte, for I ne might it finde.

3485

I compleyned and sighed sore,

And languisshed evermore,

For I durst not over go

Unto the rose I loved so.

Thurghout my deming outerly,

3490

[Than] had he knowlege certeinly,

[That] Love me ladde in sich a wyse,

That in me ther was no feyntyse,

Falsheed, ne no trecherye.

And yit he, ful of vilanye,

3495

Of disdeyne, and cruelte,

On me ne wolde have pite,

His cruel wil for to refreyne,

Though I wepe alwey, and compleyne.

And while I was in this torment,

3500

Were come of grace, by god sent,

Fraunchyse, and with hir Pite

Fulfild the botoun of bountee.

They go to Daunger anon-right

To forther me with al hir might,

3505

And helpe in worde and in dede,

For wel they saugh that it was nede.

First, of hir grace, dame Fraunchyse

Hath taken [word] of this empryse:

She seide, 'Daunger, gret wrong ye do

3510

To worche this man so muche wo,

Or pynen him so angerly;

It is to you gret vilany.

I can not see why, ne how,

That he hath trespassed ageyn you,

3515

Save that he loveth; wherfore ye shulde

The more in cherete of him holde.

The force of love makith him do this;

Who wolde him blame he dide amis?

He leseth more than ye may do;

3520

His peyne is hard, ye may see, lo!

And Love in no wyse wolde consente

That [he] have power to repente;

For though that quik ye wolde him sloo,

Fro Love his herte may not go.

3525

Now, swete sir, is it your ese

Him for to angre or disese?

Allas, what may it you avaunce

To doon to him so greet grevaunce?

What worship is it agayn him take,

3530

Or on your man a werre make,

Sith he so lowly every wyse

Is redy, as ye lust devyse?

If Love hath caught him in his lace,

You for tobeye in every caas,

3535

And been your suget at your wille,

Shulde ye therfore willen him ille?

Ye shulde him spare more, al-out,

Than him that is bothe proud and stout.

Curtesye wol that ye socour

3540

Hem that ben meke undir your cure.

His herte is hard, that wole not meke,

Whan men of mekenesse him biseke.'

'That is certeyn,' seide Pite;

We see ofte that humilitee

3545

Bothe ire, and also felonye

Venquissheth, and also melancolye;

To stonde forth in such duresse,

This crueltee and wikkednesse.

Wherfore I pray you, sir Daungere,

3550

For to mayntene no lenger here

Such cruel werre agayn your man,

As hoolly youres as ever he can;

Nor that ye worchen no more wo

On this caytif that languisshith so,

3555

Which wol no more to you trespasse,

But put him hoolly in your grace.

His offense ne was but lyte;

The God of Love it was to wyte,

That he your thral so gretly is,

3560

And if ye harm him, ye doon amis;

For he hath had ful hard penaunce,

Sith that ye refte him thaqueyntaunce

Of Bialacoil, his moste Ioye,

Which alle his peynes might acoye.

3565

He was biforn anoyed sore,

But than ye doubled him wel more;

For he of blis hath ben ful bare,

Sith Bialacoil was fro him fare.

Love hath to him do greet distresse,

3570

He hath no nede of more duresse.

Voideth from him your ire, I rede;

Ye may not winnen in this dede.

Makith Bialacoil repeire ageyn,

And haveth pite upon his peyn;

3575

For Fraunchise wol, and I, Pite,

That merciful to him ye be;

And sith that she and I accorde,

Have upon him misericorde;

For I you pray, and eek moneste,

3580

Nought to refusen our requeste;

For he is hard and fel of thought,

That for us two wol do right nought.'

Daunger ne might no more endure,

He meked him unto mesure.

3585

'I wol in no wyse,' seith Daungere,

Denye that ye have asked here;

It were to greet uncurtesye.

I wol ye have the companye

Of Bialacoil, as ye devyse;

3590

I wol him letten in no wyse.'

To Bialacoil than wente in hy

Fraunchyse, and seide ful curteisly:—

Ye have to longe be deignous

Unto this lover, and daungerous,

3595

Fro him to withdrawe your presence,

Which hath do to him grete offence,

That ye not wolde upon him see;

Wherfore a sorowful man is he.

Shape ye to paye him, and to plese,

3600

Of my love if ye wol have ese.

Fulfil his wil, sith that ye knowe

Daunger is daunted and brought lowe

Thurgh help of me and of Pite;

You [thar] no more afered be.'

3605

'I shal do right as ye wil,'

Saith Bialacoil, 'for it is skil,

Sith Daunger wol that it so be.'

Than Fraunchise hath him sent to me.

Bialacoil at the biginning

3610

Salued me in his coming.

No straungenes was in him seen,

No more than he ne had wrathed been.

As faire semblaunt than shewed he me,

And goodly, as aforn did he;

3615

And by the honde, withouten doute,

Within the haye, right al aboute

He ladde me, with right good chere,

Al environ the vergere,

That Daunger had me chased fro.

3620

Now have I leve over-al to go;

Now am I raised, at my devys,

Fro helle unto paradys.

Thus Bialacoil, of gentilnesse,

With alle his peyne and besinesse,

3625

Hath shewed me, only of grace,

The estres of the swote place.

I saw the rose, whan I was nigh,

Was gretter woxen, and more high,

Fresh, rody, and fair of hewe,

3630

Of colour ever yliche newe.

And whan I had it longe seen,

I saugh that through the leves grene

The rose spredde to spanishing;

To sene it was a goodly thing.

3635

But it ne was so spred on brede,

That men within might knowe the sede;

For it covert was and [en]close

Bothe with the leves and with the rose.

The stalk was even and grene upright,

3640

It was theron a goodly sight;

And wel the better, withouten wene,

For the seed was not [y]-sene.

Ful faire it spradde, [god it] blesse!

For suche another, as I gesse,

3645

Aforn ne was, ne more vermayle.

I was abawed for merveyle,

For ever, the fairer that it was,

The more I am bounden in Loves laas.

Longe I abood there, soth to saye,

3650

Til Bialacoil I gan to praye,

Whan that I saw him in no wyse

To me warnen his servyse,

That he me wolde graunte a thing,

Which to remembre is wel sitting;

3655

This is to sayne, that of his grace

He wolde me yeve leyser and space

To me that was so desirous

To have a kissing precious

Of the goodly freshe rose,

3660

That swetely smelleth in my nose;

For if it you displesed nought,

I wolde gladly, as I have sought,

Have a cos therof freely

Of your yeft; for certainly

3665

I wol non have but by your leve,

So loth me were you for to greve.'

He sayde, 'Frend, so god me spede,

Of Chastite I have suche drede,

Thou shuldest not warned be for me,

3670

But I dar not, for Chastite.

Agayn hir dar I not misdo,

For alwey biddeth she me so

To yeve no lover leve to kisse;

For who therto may winnen, y-wis,

3675

He of the surplus of the pray

May live in hope to get som day.

For who so kissing may attayne,

Of loves peyne hath, soth to sayne,

The beste and most avenaunt,

3680

And ernest of the remenaunt.'

Of his answere I syghed sore;

I durst assaye him tho no more,

I had such drede to greve him ay.

A man shulde not to muche assaye

3685

To chafe his frend out of mesure,

Nor put his lyf in aventure;

For no man at the firste stroke

Ne may nat felle doun an oke;

Nor of the reisins have the wyne,

3690

Til grapes rype and wel afyne

Be sore empressid, I you ensure,

And drawen out of the pressure.

But I, forpeyned wonder stronge,

[Thought] that I abood right longe

3695

Aftir the kis, in peyne and wo,

Sith I to kis desyred so:

Til that, [rewing] on my distresse,

Ther [to me] Venus the goddesse,

Which ay werreyeth Chastite,

3700

Came of hir grace, to socoure me,

Whos might is knowe fer and wyde,

For she is modir of Cupyde,

The God of Love, blinde as stoon,

That helpith lovers many oon.

3705

This lady brought in hir right hond

Of brenning fyr a blasing brond;

Wherof the flawme and hote fyr

Hath many a lady in desyr

Of love brought, and sore het,

3710

And in hir servise hir hertes set.

This lady was of good entayle,

Right wondirful of apparayle;

By hir atyre so bright and shene,

Men might perceyve wel, and seen,

3715

She was not of religioun.

Nor I nil make mencioun

Nor of [hir] robe, nor of tresour,

Of broche, [nor] of hir riche attour;

Ne of hir girdil aboute hir syde,

3720

For that I nil not long abyde.

But knowith wel, that certeynly

She was arayed richely.

Devoyd of pryde certeyn she was;

To Bialacoil she wente a pas,

3725

And to him shortly, in a clause,

She seide: 'Sir, what is the cause

Ye been of port so daungerous

Unto this lover, and deynous,

To graunte him no-thing but a kis?

3730

To werne it him ye doon amis;

Sith wel ye wote, how that he

Is Loves servaunt, as ye may see,

And hath beaute, wher-through [he] is

Worthy of love to have the blis.

3735

How he is semely, biholde and see,

How he is fair, how he is free,

How he is swote and debonair,

Of age yong, lusty, and fair.

Ther is no lady so hauteyne,

3740

Duchesse, countesse, ne chasteleyne,

That I nolde holde hir ungoodly

For to refuse him outerly.

His breeth is also good and swete,

And eke his lippis rody, and mete

3745

Only to pleyen, and to kisse.

Graunte him a kis, of gentilnesse!

His teeth arn also whyte and clene;

Me thinkith wrong, withouten wene,

If ye now werne him, trustith me,

3750

To graunte that a kis have he;

The lasse [to] helpe him that ye haste,

The more tyme shul ye waste.'

Whan the flawme of the verry brond,

That Venus brought in hir right hond,

3755

Had Bialacoil with hete smete,

Anoon he bad, withouten lette,

Graunte to me the rose kisse.

Than of my peyne I gan to lisse,

And to the rose anoon wente I,

3760

And kissid it ful feithfully.

Thar no man aske if I was blythe,

Whan the savour soft and lythe

Strook to myn herte withoute more,

And me alegged of my sore,

3765

So was I ful of Ioye and blisse.

It is fair sich a flour to kisse,

It was so swote and saverous.

I might not be so anguisshous,

That I mote glad and Ioly be,

3770

Whan that I remembre me.

Yit ever among, sothly to seyn,

I suffre noye and moche peyn.

The see may never be so stil,

That with a litel winde it [nil]

3775

Overwhelme and turne also,

As it were wood, in wawis go.

Aftir the calm the trouble sone

Mot folowe, and chaunge as the mone.

Right so farith Love, that selde in oon

3780

Holdith his anker; for right anoon

Whan they in ese wene best to live,

They been with tempest al fordrive.

Who serveth Love, can telle of wo;

The stoundemele Ioye mot overgo.

3785

Now he hurteth, and now he cureth,

For selde in oo poynt Love endureth.

Now is it right me to procede,

How Shame gan medle and take hede,

Thurgh whom felle angres I have had;

3790

And how the stronge wal was maad,

And the castell of brede and lengthe,

That God of Love wan with his strengthe.

Al this in romance wil I sette,

And for no-thing ne wil I lette,

3795

So that it lyking to hir be,

That is the flour of beaute;

For she may best my labour quyte,

That I for hir love shal endyte.

Wikkid-Tunge, that the covyne

3800

Of every lover can devyne

Worst, and addith more somdel,

(For Wikkid-Tunge seith never wel),

To me-ward bar he right gret hate,

Espying me erly and late,

3805

Til he hath seen the grete chere

Of Bialacoil and me y-fere.

He mighte not his tunge withstonde

Worse to reporte than he fonde,

He was so ful of cursed rage;

3810

It sat him wel of his linage,

For him an Irish womman bar.

His tunge was fyled sharp, and squar,

Poignaunt and right kerving,

And wonder bitter in speking.

3815

For whan that he me gan espye,

He swoor, afferming sikirly,

Bitwene Bialacoil and me

Was yvel aquayntaunce and privee.

He spak therof so folily,

3820

That he awakid Ielousy;

Which, al afrayed in his rysing,

Whan that he herde [him] Iangling,

He ran anoon, as he were wood,

To Bialacoil ther that he stood;

3825

Which hadde lever in this caas

Have been at Reynes or Amyas;

For foot-hoot, in his felonye

To him thus seide Ielousye:—

Why hast thou been so necligent,

3830

To kepen, whan I was absent,

This verger here left in thy ward?

To me thou haddist no reward,

To truste (to thy confusioun)

Him thus, to whom suspeccioun

3835

I have right greet, for it is nede;

It is wel shewed by the dede.

Greet faute in thee now have I founde;

By god, anoon thou shalt be bounde,

And faste loken in a tour,

3840

Withoute refuyt or socour.

For Shame to long hath be thee fro;

Over sone she was agoo.

Whan thou hast lost bothe drede and fere,

It semed wel she was not here.

3845

She was [not] bisy, in no wyse,

To kepe thee and [to] chastyse,

And for to helpen Chastitee

To kepe the roser, as thinkith me.

For than this boy-knave so boldely

3850

Ne sholde not have be hardy,

[Ne] in this verger had such game,

Which now me turneth to gret shame.'

Bialacoil nist what to sey;

Ful fayn he wolde have fled awey,

3855

For fere han hid, nere that he

Al sodeynly took him with me.

And whan I saugh he hadde so,

This Ielousye, take us two,

I was astoned, and knew no rede,

3860

But fledde awey for verrey drede.

Than Shame cam forth ful simply;

She wende have trespaced ful gretly;

Humble of hir port, and made it simple,

Wering a vayle in stede of wimple,

3865

As nonnis doon in hir abbey.

Bicause hir herte was in affray,

She gan to speke, within a throwe,

To Ielousye, right wonder lowe.

First of his grace she bisought,

3870

And seide:—'Sire, ne leveth nought

Wikkid-Tunge, that fals espye,

Which is so glad to feyne and lye.

He hath you maad, thurgh flatering,

On Bialacoil a fals lesing.

3875

His falsnesse is not now anew,

It is to long that he him knew.

This is not the firste day;

For Wikkid-Tunge hath custom ay

Yongé folkis to bewreye,

3880

And false lesinges on hem leye.

'Yit nevertheles I see among,

That the loigne it is so longe

Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure,

In Loves servise for to endure,

3885

Drawing suche folk him to,

That he had no-thing with to do;

But in sothnesse I trowe nought,

That Bialacoil hadde ever in thought

To do trespace or vilanye;

3890

But, for his modir Curtesye

Hath taught him ever [for] to be

Good of aqueyntaunce and privee;

For he loveth non hevinesse,

But mirthe and pley, and al gladnesse;

3895

He hateth alle [trecherous],

Soleyn folk and envious;

For [wel] ye witen how that he

Wol ever glad and Ioyful be

Honestly with folk to pley.

3900

I have be negligent, in good fey,

To chastise him; therfore now I

Of herte crye you here mercy,

That I have been so recheles

To tamen him, withouten lees.

3905

Of my foly I me repente;

Now wol I hool sette myn entente

To kepe, bothe [loude] and stille,

Bialacoil to do your wille.'

'Shame, Shame,' seyde Ielousy,

3910

'To be bitrasshed gret drede have I.

Lecherye hath clombe so hye,

That almost blered is myn ye;

No wonder is, if that drede have I.

Over-al regnith Lechery,

3915

Whos might [yit] growith night and day.

Bothe in cloistre and in abbey

Chastite is werreyed over-al.

Therfore I wol with siker wal

Close bothe roses and roser.

3920

I have to longe in this maner

Left hem unclosid wilfully;

Wherfore I am right inwardly

Sorowful and repente me.

But now they shal no lenger be

3925

Unclosid; and yit I drede sore,

I shal repente ferthermore,

For the game goth al amis.

Counsel I [mot take] newe, y-wis.

I have to longe tristed thee,

3930

But now it shal no lenger be;

For he may best, in every cost,

Disceyve, that men tristen most.

I see wel that I am nygh shent,

But-if I sette my ful entent

3935

Remedye to purveye.

Therfore close I shal the weye

Fro hem that wol the rose espye,

And come to wayte me vilanye,

For, in good feith and in trouthe,

3940

I wol not lette, for no slouthe,

To live the more in sikirnesse,

[To] make anoon a forteresse,

[To enclose] the roses of good savour.

In middis shal I make a tour

3945

To putte Bialacoil in prisoun,

For ever I drede me of tresoun.

I trowe I shal him kepe so,

That he shal have no might to go

Aboute to make companye

3950

To hem that thenke of vilanye;

Ne to no such as hath ben here

Aforn, and founde in him good chere,

Which han assailed him to shende,

And with hir trowandyse to blende.

3955

A fool is eyth [for] to bigyle;

But may I lyve a litel while,

He shal forthenke his fair semblaunt.'

And with that word cam Drede avaunt,

Which was abasshed, and in gret fere,

3960

Whan he wiste Ielousye was there.

He was for drede in such affray,

That not a word durste he say,

But quaking stood ful stille aloon,

Til Ielousye his wey was goon,

3965

Save Shame, that him not forsook;

Bothe Drede and she ful sore quook;

[Til] that at laste Drede abreyde,

And to his cosin Shame seyde:

Shame,' he seide, 'in sothfastnesse,

3970

To me it is gret hevinesse,

That the noyse so fer is go,

And the sclaundre of us two.

But sith that it is [so] bifalle,

We may it not ageyn [do] calle,

3975

Whan onis sprongen is a fame.

For many a yeer withouten blame

We han been, and many a day;

For many an April and many a May

We han [y]-passed, not [a]shamed,

3980

Til Ielousye hath us blamed

Of mistrust and suspecioun

Causeles, withouten enchesoun.

Go we to Daunger hastily,

And late us shewe him openly,

3985

That he hath not aright [y]-wrought,

Whan that he sette nought his thought

To kepe better the purpryse;

In his doing he is not wyse.

He hath to us [y]-do gret wrong,

3990

That hath suffred now so long

Bialacoil to have his wille,

Alle his lustes to fulfille.

He must amende it utterly,

Or ellis shal he vilaynsly

3995

Exyled be out of this londe;

For he the werre may not withstonde

Of Ielousye, nor the greef,

Sith Bialacoil is at mischeef.'

To Daunger, Shame and Drede anoon

4000

The righte wey ben [bothe a]-goon.

The cherl they founden hem aforn

Ligging undir an hawethorn.

Undir his heed no pilowe was,

But in the stede a trusse of gras.

4005

He slombred, and a nappe he took,

Til Shame pitously him shook,

And greet manace on him gan make.

Why slepist thou whan thou shulde wake?'

Quod Shame; 'thou dost us vilanye!

4010

Who tristith thee, he doth folye,

To kepe roses or botouns,

Whan they ben faire in hir sesouns.

Thou art woxe to familiere

Where thou shulde be straunge of chere,

4015

Stout of thy port, redy to greve.

Thou dost gret foly for to leve

Bialacoil here-in, to calle

The yonder man to shenden us alle.

Though that thou slepe, we may here

4020

Of Ielousie gret noyse here.

Art thou now late? ryse up [in hy],

And stoppe sone and deliverly

Alle the gappis of the hay;

Do no favour, I thee pray.

4025

It fallith no-thing to thy name

Make fair semblaunt, where thou maist blame.

'If Bialacoil be swete and free,

Dogged and fel thou shuldist be;

Froward and outrageous, y-wis;

4030

A cherl chaungeth that curteis is.

This have I herd ofte in seying,

That man [ne] may, for no daunting,

Make a sperhauke of a bosarde.

Alle men wole holde thee for musarde,

4035

That debonair have founden thee,

It sit thee nought curteis to be;

To do men plesaunce or servyse,

In thee it is recreaundyse.

Let thy werkis, fer and nere,

4040

Be lyke thy name, which is Daungere.'

Than, al abawid in shewing,

Anoon spak Dreed, right thus seying,

And seide, 'Daunger, I drede me

That thou ne wolt [not] bisy be

4045

To kepe that thou hast to kepe;

Whan thou shuldist wake, thou art aslepe.

Thou shalt be greved certeynly,

If thee aspye Ielousy,

Or if he finde thee in blame.

4050

He hath to-day assailed Shame,

And chased awey, with gret manace,

Bialacoil out of this place,

And swereth shortly that he shal

Enclose him in a sturdy wal;

4055

And al is for thy wikkednesse,

For that thee faileth straungenesse.

Thyn herte, I trowe, be failed al;

Thou shalt repente in special,

If Ielousye the sothe knewe;

4060

Thou shalt forthenke, and sore rewe.'

With that the cherl his clubbe gan shake,

Frouning his eyen gan to make,

And hidous chere; as man in rage,

For ire he brente in his visage.

4065

Whan that he herde him blamed so,

He seide, 'Out of my wit I go;

To be discomfit I have gret wrong.

Certis, I have now lived to long,

Sith I may not this closer kepe;

4070

Al quik I wolde be dolven depe,

If any man shal more repeire

Into this garden, for foule or faire.

Myn herte for ire goth a-fere,

That I lete any entre here.

4075

I have do foly, now I see,

But now it shal amended bee.

Who settith foot here any more,

Truly, he shal repente it sore;

For no man mo into this place

4080

Of me to entre shal have grace.

Lever I hadde, with swerdis tweyne,

Thurgh-out myn herte, in every veyne

Perced to be, with many a wounde,

Than slouthe shulde in me be founde.

4085

From hennesforth, by night or day,

I shal defende it, if I may,

Withouten any excepcioun

Of ech maner condicioun;

And if I any man it graunte,

4090

Holdeth me for recreaunte.'

Than Daunger on his feet gan stonde,

And hente a burdoun in his honde.

Wroth in his ire, ne lefte he nought,

But thurgh the verger he hath sought.

4095

If he might finde hole or trace,

Wher-thurgh that men mot forth-by pace,

Or any gappe, he dide it close,

That no man mighte touche a rose

Of the roser al aboute;

4100

He shitteth every man withoute.

Thus day by day Daunger is wers,

More wondirful and more divers,

And feller eek than ever he was;

For him ful oft I singe 'allas!'

4105

For I ne may nought, thurgh his ire,

Recover that I most desire.

Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,

For Bialacoil I wratthed so.

For certeynly, in every membre

4110

I quake, whan I me remembre

Of the botoun, which [that] I wolde

Fulle ofte a day seen and biholde.

And whan I thenke upon the kisse,

And how muche Ioye and blisse

4115

I hadde thurgh the savour swete,

For wante of it I grone and grete.

Me thenkith I fele yit in my nose

The swete savour of the rose.

And now I woot that I mot go

4120

So fer the fresshe floures fro,

To me ful welcome were the deeth;

Absens therof, allas, me sleeth!

For whylom with this rose, allas,

I touched nose, mouth, and face;

4125

But now the deeth I must abyde.

But Love consente, another tyde,

That onis I touche may and kisse,

I trowe my peyne shal never lisse.

Theron is al my coveityse,

4130

Which brent myn herte in many wyse.

Now shal repaire agayn sighinge,

Long wacche on nightis, and no slepinge;

Thought in wisshing, torment, and wo,

With many a turning to and fro,

4135

That half my peyne I can not telle.

For I am fallen into helle

From paradys and welthe, the more

My turment greveth; more and more

Anoyeth now the bittirnesse,

4140

That I toforn have felt swetnesse.

And Wikkid-Tunge, thurgh his falshede,

Causeth al my wo and drede.

On me he leyeth a pitous charge,

Bicause his tunge was to large.

4145

Now it is tyme, shortly that I

Telle you som-thing of Ielousy,

That was in gret suspecioun.

Aboute him lefte he no masoun,

That stoon coude leye, ne querrour;

4150

He hired hem to make a tour.

And first, the roses for to kepe,

Aboute hem made he a diche depe,

Right wondir large, and also brood;

Upon the whiche also stood

4155

Of squared stoon a sturdy wal,

Which on a cragge was founded al,

And right gret thikkenesse eek it bar.

Abouten, it was founded squar,

An hundred fadome on every syde,

4160

It was al liche longe and wyde.

Lest any tyme it were assayled,

Ful wel aboute it was batayled;

And rounde enviroun eek were set

Ful many a riche and fair touret.

4165

At every corner of this wal

Was set a tour ful principal;

And everich hadde, withoute fable,

A porte-colys defensable

To kepe of enemies, and to greve,

4170

That there hir force wolde preve.

And eek amidde this purpryse

Was maad a tour of gret maistryse;

A fairer saugh no man with sight,

Large and wyde, and of gret might.

4175

They [ne] dredde noon assaut

Of ginne, gunne, nor skaffaut.

[For] the temprure of the mortere

Was maad of licour wonder dere;

Of quikke lyme persant and egre,

4180

The which was tempred with vinegre.

The stoon was hard [as] ademant,

Wherof they made the foundement.

The tour was rounde, maad in compas;

In al this world no richer was,

4185

Ne better ordeigned therwithal.

Aboute the tour was maad a wal,

So that, bitwixt that and the tour,

Rosers were set of swete savour,

With many roses that they bere.

4190

And eek within the castel were

Springoldes, gunnes, bows, archers;

And eek above, atte corners,

Men seyn over the walle stonde

Grete engynes, [whiche] were nigh honde;

4195

And in the kernels, here and there,

Of arblasters gret plentee were.

Noon armure might hir stroke withstonde,

It were foly to prece to honde.

Without the diche were listes made,

4200

With walles batayled large and brade,

For men and hors shulde not atteyne

To neigh the diche over the pleyne.

Thus Ielousye hath enviroun

Set aboute his garnisoun

4205

With walles rounde, and diche depe,

Only the roser for to kepe.

And Daunger [eek], erly and late

The keyes kepte of the utter gate,

The which openeth toward the eest.

4210

And he hadde with him atte leest

Thritty servauntes, echon by name.

That other gate kepte Shame,

Which openede, as it was couth,

Toward the parte of the south.

4215

Sergeauntes assigned were hir to

Ful many, hir wille for to do.

Than Drede hadde in hir baillye

The keping of the conestablerye,

Toward the north, I undirstonde,

4220

That opened upon the left honde,

The which for no-thing may be sure,

But-if she do [hir] bisy cure

Erly on morowe and also late,

Strongly to shette and barre the gate.

4225

Of every thing that she may see

Drede is aferd, wher-so she be;

For with a puff of litel winde

Drede is astonied in hir minde.

Therfore, for stelinge of the rose,

4230

I rede hir nought the yate unclose.

A foulis flight wol make hir flee,

And eek a shadowe, if she it see.

Thanne Wikked-Tunge, ful of envye,

With soudiours of Normandye,

4235

As he that causeth al the bate,

Was keper of the fourthe gate,

And also to the tother three

He went ful ofte, for to see.

Whan his lot was to wake a-night,

4240

His instrumentis wolde he dight,

For to blowe and make soun,

Ofter than he hath enchesoun;

And walken oft upon the wal,

Corners and wikettis over-al

4245

Ful narwe serchen and espye;

Though he nought fond, yit wolde he lye.

Discordaunt ever fro armonye,

And distoned from melodye,

Controve he wolde, and foule fayle,

4250

With hornpypes of Cornewayle.

In floytes made he discordaunce,

And in his musik, with mischaunce,

He wolde seyn, with notes newe,

That he [ne] fond no womman trewe,

4255

Ne that he saugh never, in his lyf,

Unto hir husbonde a trewe wyf;

Ne noon so ful of honestee,

That she nil laughe and mery be

Whan that she hereth, or may espye,

4260

A man speken of lecherye.

Everich of hem hath somme vyce;

Oon is dishonest, another is nyce;

If oon be ful of vilanye,

Another hath a likerous ye;

4265

If oon be ful of wantonesse,

Another is a chideresse.

Thus Wikked-Tunge (god yeve him shame!)

Can putte hem everichone in blame

Withoute desert and causeles;

4270

He lyeth, though they been giltles.

I have pite to seen the sorwe,

That waketh bothe eve and morwe,

To innocents doth such grevaunce;

I pray god yeve him evel chaunce,

4275

That he ever so bisy is

Of any womman to seyn amis!

Eek Ielousye god confounde,