|
For o thyng, sires, saufly dar I seye, |
| That freendes everych oother moot obeye, |
55 | If they wol longe holden compaignye. |
| Love wol nat been constreyned by maistrye; |
| Whan maistrie comth, the God of Love anon |
| Beteth hise wynges, and farewel, he is gon! |
| Love is a thyng as any spirit free. |
60 | Wommen, of kynde desiren libertee, |
| And nat to been constreyned as a thral; |
| And so doon men, if I sooth seyen shal. |
| Looke who that is moost pacient in love, |
| He is at his avantage al above. |
65 | Pacience is an heigh vertu, certeyn, |
| For it venquysseth, as thise clerkes seyn, |
| Thynges that rigour sholde nevere atteyne. |
| For every word men may nat chide or pleyne, |
| Lerneth to suffre, or elles, so moot I goon, |
70 | Ye shul it lerne, wherso ye wole or noon. |
| For in this world, certein, ther no wight is |
| That he ne dooth or seith som tyme amys. |
| Ire, siknesse, or constellacioun |
| Wyn, wo, or chaungynge of complexioun |
75 | Causeth ful ofte to doon amys or speken. |
| On every wrong a man may nat be wreken; |
| After the tyme moste be temperaunce |
| To every wight that kan on governaunce. |
| And therfore hath this wise worthy knyght, |
80 | To lyve in ese, suffrance hir bihight, |
| And she to hym ful wisly gan to swere |
| That nevere sholde ther be defaute in here. |
|
"Eterne God, that thurgh thy purveiaunce |
| Ledest the world by certein governaunce, |
| In ydel, as men seyn, ye no thyng make. |
160 | But, lord, thise grisly feendly rokkes blake, |
| That semen rather a foul confusioun |
| Of werk, than any fair creacioun |
| Of swich a parfit wys God and a stable, |
| Why han ye wroght this werk unresonable? |
165 | For by this werk, south, north, ne west ne eest |
| Ther nys yfostred man, ne bryd, ne beest. |
| It dooth no good, to my wit, but anoyeth, |
| Se ye nat, lord, how mankynde it destroyeth? |
| An hundred thousand bodyes of mankynde |
170 | Han rokkes slayn, al be they nat in mynde; |
| Which mankynde is so fair part of thy werk |
| That thou it madest lyk to thyn owene merk. |
| Thanne semed it ye hadde a greet chiertee |
| Toward mankynde; but how thanne may it bee |
175 | That ye swiche meenes make it to destroyen, |
| Whiche meenes do no good, but evere anoyen? |
| I woot wel clerkes wol seyn, as hem leste, |
| By argumentz, that al is for the beste, |
| Though I ne kan the causes nat yknowe, |
180 | But thilke God that made wynd to blowe |
| As kepe my lord; this my conclusioun. |
| To clerkes lete I al this disputisoun- |
| But wolde God, that alle thise rokkes blake, |
| Were sonken into helle for his sake! |
185 | Thise rokkes sleen myn herte for the feere!" |
| Thus wolde she seyn, with many a pitous teere. |
|
Hir freendes sawe that it was no disport |
| To romen by the see, but disconfort, |
| And shopen for to pleyen somwher elles; |
190 | They leden hir by ryveres and by welles, |
| And eek in othere places delitables; |
| They dauncen, and they pleyen at ches and tables. |
| So on a day, right in the morwe tyde, |
| Unto a gardyn that was ther bisyde, |
195 | In which that they hadde maad hir ordinaunce |
| Of vitaille and of oother purveiaunce, |
| They goon and pleye hem al the longe day. |
| And this was in the sixte morwe of May, |
| Which May hadde peynted with his softe shoures |
200 | This gardyn ful of leves and of floures, |
| And craft of mannes hand so curiously |
| Arrayed hadde this gardyn trewely, |
| That nevere was ther gardyn of swich prys, |
| But if it were the verray Paradys. |
205 | The odour of floures and the fresshe sighte |
| Wolde han maked any herte lighte |
| That evere was born, but if to greet siknesse |
| Or to greet sorwe helde it in distresse; |
| So ful it was of beautee with plesaunce. |
210 | At after-dyner gonne they to daunce |
| And synge also, save Dorigen allone, |
| Which made alwey hir compleint and hir moone |
| For she ne saugh hym on the daunce go |
| That was hir housbonde, and hir love also. |
215 | But nathelees she moste a tyme abyde, |
| And with good hope lete hir sorwe slyde. |
|
Upon this daunce, amonges othere men, |
| Daunced a squier biforn Dorigen |
| That fressher was, and jolyer of array, |
220 | As to my doom, than is the monthe of May. |
| He syngeth, daunceth, passynge any man |
| That is or was, sith that the world bigan. |
| Therwith he was, if men sholde hym discryve, |
| Oon of the beste farynge man of lyve; |
225 | Yong, strong, right vertuous, and riche, and wys, |
| And wel biloved, and holden in greet prys. |
| And shortly, if the sothe I tellen shal, |
| Unwityng of this Dorigen at al, |
| This lusty squier, servant to Venus, |
230 | Which that ycleped was Aurelius, |
| Hadde loved hir best of any creature |
| Two yeer and moore, as was his aventure; |
| But nevere dorste he tellen hir his grevaunce, |
| Withouten coppe he drank al his penaunce. |
235 | He was despeyred, no thyng dorste he seye |
| Save in his songes somwhat wolde he wreye |
| His wo, as in a general compleynyng. |
| He seyde he lovede, and was biloved no thyng, |
| Of swich matere made he manye layes, |
240 | Songes, compleintes, roundels, virelayes, |
| How that he dorste nat his sorwe telle, |
| But langwissheth, as a furye dooth in helle, |
| And dye he moste, he seyde, as dide Ekko |
| For Narcisus, that dorste nat telle hir wo, |
245 | In oother manere than ye heere me seye, |
| Ne dorste he nat to hir his wo biwreye, |
| Save that paraventure som tyme at daunces, |
| Ther yonge folk kepen hir observaunces, |
| It may wel be he looked on hir face, |
250 | In swich a wise as man that asketh grace; |
| But nothyng wiste she of his entente. |
| Nathelees it happed, er they thennes wente, |
| By cause that he was hir neighebour, |
| And was a man of worshipe and honour, |
255 | And hadde yknowen hym of tyme yoore, |
| They fille in speche, and forthe moore and moore |
| Unto this purpos drough Aurelius. |
| And whan he saugh his tyme, he seyde thus: |
|
"Madame," quod he, "by God that this world made, |
260 | So that I wiste it myghte your herte glade, |
| I wolde that day that youre Arveragus |
| Wente over the see, that I, Aurelius, |
| Hadde went ther nevere I sholde have come agayn. |
| For wel I woot my servyce is in vayn, |
265 | My gerdoun is but brestyng of myn herte. |
| Madame, reweth upon my peynes smerte, |
| For with a word ye may me sleen or save. |
| Heere at your feet, God wolde that I were grave, |
| I ne have as now no leyser moore to seye, |
270 | Have mercy, sweete, or ye wol do me deye." |
| She gan to looke upon Aurelius: |
| "Is this youre wyl!" quod she, "and sey ye thus? |
| Nevere erst," quod she, "ne wiste I what ye mente. |
| But now, Aurelie, I knowe youre entente. |
275 | By thilke God, that yaf me soule and lyf, |
| Ne shal I nevere been untrewe wyf, |
| In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit. |
| I wol been his to whom that I am knyt. |
| Taak this for fynal answere as of me." |
280 | But after that, in pley thus seyde she, |
|
"Aurelie," quod she, "by heighe God above, |
| Yet wolde I graunte yow to been youre love, |
| Syn I yow se so pitously complayne. |
| Looke, what day that endelong Britayne |
285 | Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon, |
| That they ne lette shipe ne boot to goon, - |
| I seye, whan ye han maad the coost so clene |
| Of rokkes that ther nys no stoon ysene, |
| Thanne wol I love yow best of any man, |
290 | Have heer my trouthe in al that evere I kan." |
| "Is ther noon oother grace in yow?" quod he. |
| "No, by that lord," quod she, "that maked me; |
| For wel I woot that it shal nevere bityde; |
| Lat swiche folies out of your herte slyde. |
295 | What deyntee sholde a man han in his lyf |
| For to go love another mannes wyf, |
| That hath hir body whan so that hym liketh?" |
| Aurelius ful ofte soore siketh, |
| Wo was Aurelie, whan that he this herde, |
300 | And with a sorweful herte he thus answered. |
| "Madame," quod he, "this were an inpossible; |
| Thanne moot I dye of sodeyn deth horrible." |
| And with that word he turned hym anon. |
| Tho coome hir othere freendes many oon, |
305 | And in the aleyes romeden up and doun, |
| And nothyng wiste of this conclusioun, |
| But sodeynly bigonne revel newe, |
| Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe, |
| For th'orisonte hath reft the sonne his lyght - |
310 | This is as muche to seye as it was nyght - |
| And hoom they goon in joye and in solas, |
| Save oonly wrecche Aurelius, allas! |
| He to his hous is goon with sorweful herte; |
| He seeth he may nat fro his deeth asterte; |
315 | Hym semed that he felte his herte colde; |
| Up to the hevene hise handes he gan holde, |
| And on hise knowes bare he sette hym doun, |
| And in his ravyng seyde his orisoun. |
| For verray wo out of his wit he breyde; |
320 | He nyste what he spak, but thus he seyde: |
| With pitous herte his pleynt hath he bigonne |
| Unto the goddes, and first unto the sonne |
|
He seyde, "Appollo, god and governour |
| Of every plaunte, herbe, tree, and flour |
325 | That yevest after thy declinacioun |
| To ech of hem his tyme and his sesoun, |
| As thyn herberwe chaungeth lowe or heighe, |
| Lord Phebus, cast thy mericiable eighe |
| On wrecche Aurelie, which that am but lorn. |
330 | Lo, lord, my lady hath my deeth ysworn |
| Withoute gilt, but thy benignytee |
| Upon my dedly herte have som pitee. |
| For wel I woot, lord Phebus, if yow lest, |
| Ye may me helpen, save my lady, best. |
335 | Now voucheth sauf that I may yow devyse |
| How that I may been holpen and in what wyse. |
| "Your blisful suster, Lucina the sheene, |
| That of the see is chief goddesse and queene, |
| (Though Neptunus have deitee in the see, |
340 | Yet emperisse aboven hym is she), |
| Ye knowen wel, lord, that right as hir desir |
| Is to be quyked and lightned of youre fir, |
| For which she folweth yow ful bisily, |
| Right so the see desireth naturelly |
345 | To folwen hir, as she that is goddesse |
| Bothe in the see and ryveres moore and lesse. |
| Wherfore, lord Phebus, this is my requeste - |
| Do this miracle, or do myn herte breste, - |
| That now next at this opposicioun |
350 | Which in the signe shal be of the Leoun, |
| As preieth hir, so greet a flood to brynge |
| That fyve fadme at the leeste it oversprynge |
| The hyeste rokke in Armorik Briteyne, |
| And lat this flood endure yeres tweyne. |
355 | Thanne, certes, to my lady may I seye |
| 'Holdeth youre heste, the rokkes been aweye.' |
| Lord Phebus, dooth this miracle for me, |
| Preye hir she go no faster cours than ye. |
| I seye, preyeth your suster that she go |
360 | No faster cours than ye thise yeres two. |
| Thanne shal she been evene atte fulle alway; |
| And spryng flood laste bothe nyght and day; |
| And but she vouche sauf in swich manere |
| To graunte me my sovereyn lady deere, |
365 | Prey hir to synken every rok adoun |
| Into hir owene dirke regioun |
| Under the ground ther Pluto dwelleth inne, |
| Or nevere mo shal I my lady wynne. |
| Thy temple in Delphos wol I barefoot seke, |
370 | Lord Phebus; se the teeris on my cheke, |
| And of my peyne have som compassioun!" |
| And with that word in swowne he fil adoun, |
| And longe tyme he lay forth in a traunce. |
| His brother, which that knew of his penaunce, |
375 | Up caughte hym, and to bedde he hath hym broght. |
| Dispeyred in this torment and this thoght |
| Lete I this woful creature lye; |
| Chese he for me wheither he wol lyve or dye. |
| Arveragus, with heele and greet honour, |
380 | As he that was of chivalrie the flour, |
| Is comen hoom, and othere worthy men. |
| O blisful artow now, thou Dorigen! |
| That hast thy lusty housbonde in thyne armes, |
| The fresshe knyght, the worthy man or armes, |
385 | That loveth thee, as his owene hertes lyf. |
| No thyng list hym to been ymaginatyf |
| If any wight hadde spoke, whil he was oute, |
| To hire of love; he hadde of it no doute, |
| He noght entendeth to no swich mateere, |
390 | But daunceth, justeth, maketh hir good cheere, |
| And thus in joye and blisse I lete hem dwelle, |
| And of the sike Aurelius I wol telle. |
| In langour and in torment furyes |
| Two yeer and moore lay wrecche Aurelyus, |
395 | Er any foot he myghte on erthe gon; |
| Ne confort in this tyme hadde he noon, |
| Save of his brother, which that was a clerk. |
| He knew of al this wo and al this werk; |
| For to noon oother creature, certeyn, |
400 | Of this matere he dorste no word seyn. |
| Under his brest he baar it moore secree |
| Than evere dide Pamphilus for Galathee. |
| His brest was hool withoute for to sene, |
| But in his herte ay was the arwe kene. |
405 | And wel ye knowe that of a sursanure |
| In surgerye is perilous the cure, |
| But men myghte touche the arwe, or come therby. |
| His brother weep and wayled pryvely, |
| Til atte laste hym fil in remembraunce |
410 | That whiles he was at Orliens in Fraunce, |
| As yonge clerkes, that been lykerous |
| To reden artes that been curious, |
| Seken in every halke and every herne |
| Particular sciences for to lerne, - |
415 | He hym remembred, that upon a day |
| At Orliens in studie a book he say |
| Of magyk natureel, which his felawe, |
| That was that tyme a bacheler of lawe- |
| Al were he ther to lerne another craft, |
420 | Hadde prively upon his desk ylaft; |
| Which book spak muchel of the operaciouns, |
| Touchynge the eighte and twenty mansiouns |
| That longen to the moone, and swich folye |
| As in oure dayes is nat worth a flye, - |
425 | For hooly chirches feith in oure bileve |
| Ne suffreth noon illusioun us to greve. |
| And whan this book was in his remembraunce, |
| Anon for joye his herte gan to daunce, |
| And to hymself he seyde pryvely, |
430 | "My brother shal be warisshed hastily; |
| For I am siker that ther be sciences |
| By whiche men make diverse apparences |
| Swiche as thise subtile tregetoures pleye; |
| For ofte at feestes have I wel herd seye |
435 | That tregetoures withinne an halle large |
| Have maad come in a water and a barge, |
| And in the halle rowen up and doun. |
| Somtyme hath semed come a grym leoun; |
| And somtyme floures sprynge as in a mede, |
440 | Somtyme a vyne, and grapes white and rede, |
| Somtyme a castel al of lym and stoon; |
| And whan hem lyked, voyded it anoon, |
| Thus semed it to every mannes sighte. |
|
Now thanne conclude I thus, that if I myghte |
445 | At Orliens som oold felawe yfynde |
| That hadde this moones mansions in mynde, |
| Or oother magyk natureel above, |
| He sholde wel make my brother han his love; |
| For with an apparence a clerk may make |
450 | To mannes sighte, that alle the rokkes blake |
| Of Britaigne weren yvoyded everichon, |
| And shippes by the brynke comen and gon, |
| And in swich forme enduren a wowke or two. |
| Thanne were my brother warisshed of his wo; |
455 | Thanne moste she nedes holden hire biheste, |
| Or elles he shal shame hire atte leste." |
| What sholde I make a lenger tale of this? |
| Unto his brotheres bed he comen is, |
| And swich confort he yaf hym for to gon |
460 | To Orliens that he up stirte anon, |
| And on his wey forthward thanne is he fare |
| In hope for to been lissed of his care. |
| Whan they were come almoost to that citee, |
| But if it were a furlong or three, |
465 | A yong clerk romynge by hymself they mette, |
| Which that in Latyn thriftily hem grette, |
| And after that he seyde a wonder thyng: |
| "I knowe," quod he, "the cause of youre comyng." |
| And er they ferther any foote wente, |
470 | He tolde hem al that was in hire entente. |
| This Briton clerk hym asked of felawes |
| The whiche that he had knowe in olde dawes, |
| And he answerde hym that they dede were, |
| For which he weep ful ofte many a teere. |
475 | Doun of his hors Aurelius lighte anon, |
| And with this magicien forth is he gon |
| Hoom to his hous, and maden hem wel at ese. |
| Hem lakked no vitaille that myghte hem plese. |
| So wel arrayed hous as ther was oon |
480 | Aurelius in his lyf saugh nevere noon. |
| He shewed hym, er he wente to sopeer, |
| Forestes, parkes ful of wilde deer; |
| Ther saugh he hertes with hir hornes hye, |
| The gretteste that evere were seyn with ye. |
485 | He saugh of hem an hondred slayn with houndes, |
| And somme with arwes blede of bittre woundes. |
| He saugh, whan voyded were thise wilde deer, |
| Thise fauconers upon a fair ryver, |
| That with hir haukes han the heron slayn. |
490 | Tho saugh he knyghtes justyng in a playn; |
| And after this he dide hym swich plesaunce |
| That he hym shewed his lady on a daunce, |
| On which hymself he daunced, as hym thoughte. |
| And whan this maister that his magyk wroughte |
495 | Saugh it was tyme, he clapte his handes two, |
| And farewel! al oure revel was ago. |
| And yet remoeved they nevere out of the hous, |
| Whil they saugh al this sighte marveillous, |
| But in his studie, ther as his bookes be, |
500 | They seten stille, and no wight but they thre. |
| To hym this maister called his squier, |
| And seyde hym thus: "Is redy oure soper? |
| Almoost an houre it is, I undertake, |
| Sith I yow bad oure soper for to make, |
505 | Whan that thise worthy men wenten with me |
| Into my studie, ther as my bookes be." |
| "Sire," quod this squier, "whan it liketh yow, |
| It is al redy, though ye wol right now." |
| "Go we thanne soupe," quod he, "as for the beste. |
510 | Thise amorous folk somtyme moote han hir reste." |
| At after-soper fille they in tretee |
| What somme sholde this maistres gerdon be, |
| To remoeven alle the rokkes of Britayne, |
| And eek from Gerounde to the mouth of Sayne |
|
Upon the morwe, whan that it was day, |
| To Britaigne tooke they the righte way, |
| Aurelius and this magicien bisyde, |
| And been descended ther they wolde abyde. |
535 | And this was, as thise bookes me remembre, |
| The colde, frosty sesoun of Decembre. |
| Phebus wax old, and hewed lyk latoun, |
| That in this hoote declynacioun |
| Shoon as the burned gold, and stremes brighte; |
540 | But now in Capricorn adoun he lighte, |
| Where as he shoon ful pale, I dar wel seyn. |
| The bittre frostes, with the sleet and reyn, |
| Destroyed hath the grene in every yerd; |
| Janus sit by the fyr, with double berd, |
545 | And drynketh of his bugle horn the wyn. |
| Biforn hym stant brawen of the tusked swyn, |
| And "Nowel" crieth every lusty man. |
| Aurelius, in al that evere he kan, |
| Dooth to his master chiere and reverence, |
550 | And preyeth hym to doon his diligence |
| To bryngen hym out of his peynes smerte, |
| Or with a swerd that he wolde slitte his herte. |
| This subtil clerk swich routhe had of this man, |
| That nyght and day he spedde hym that he kan |
555 | To wayten a tyme of his conclusioun, |
| This is to seye, to maken illusioun |
| By swich an apparence or jogelrye - |
| I ne kan no termes of astrologye - |
| That she and every wight sholde wene and seye |
560 | That of Britaigne the rokkes were aweye, |
| Or ellis they were sonken under grounde. |
| So atte laste he hath his tyme yfounde |
| To maken hise japes and his wrecchednesse |
| Of swich a supersticious cursednesse. |
565 | Hise tables Tolletanes forth he brought, |
| Ful wel corrected, ne ther lakked nought, |
| Neither his collect ne hise expans yeeris, |
| Ne his rootes, ne hise othere geeris, |
| As been his centris and hise argumentz, |
570 | And hise proporcioneles convenientz |
| For hise equacions in every thyng. |
| And by his eighte speere in his wirkyng |
| He knew ful wel how fer Alnath was shove |
| Fro the heed of thilke fixe Aries above |
575 | That in the ninthe speere considered is. |
| Ful subtilly he kalkuled al this. |
| Whan he hadde founde his firste mansioun, |
| He knew the remenaunt by proporcioun, |
| And knew the arisyng of his moone weel, |
580 | And in whos face and terme, and everydeel; |
| And knew ful weel the moones mansioun |
| Acordaunt to his operacioun, |
| And knew also hise othere observaunces |
| For swiche illusiouns and swiche meschaunces |
585 | As hethen folk useden in thilke dayes;- |
| For which no lenger maked he delayes, |
| But thurgh his magik, for a wyke or tweye, |
| It semed that alle the rokkes were aweye. |
|
Aurelius, which that yet despeired is, |
590 | Wher he shal han his love, or fare amys, |
| Awaiteth nyght and day on this myracle. |
| And whan he knew that ther was noon obstacle, |
| That voyded were thise rokkes everychon, |
| Doun to hise maistres feet he fil anon, |
595 | And seyde, "I woful wrecche, Aurelius, |
| Thanke yow, lord, and lady myn, Venus, |
| That me han holpen fro my cares colde." |
| And to the temple his wey forth hath he holde |
| Where as he knew he sholde his lady see, |
600 | And whan he saugh his tyme, anon right hee |
| With dredful herte and with ful humble cheere |
| Salewed hath his sovereyn lady deere. |
| "My righte lady," quod this woful man, |
| "Whom I moost drede and love as I best kan, |
605 | And lothest were of al this world displese, |
| Nere it that I for yow have swich disese |
| That I moste dyen heere at youre foot anon, |
| Noght wolde I telle how me is wo bigon; |
| But, certes, outher moste I dye or pleyne, |
610 | Ye sle me giltelees for verray peyne. |
| But of my deeth thogh that ye have no routhe, |
| Avyseth yow er that ye breke youre trouthe. |
| Repenteth yow for thilke God above, |
| Er ye me sleen by cause that I yow love. |
615 | For madame, wel ye woot what ye han hight - |
| Nat that I chalange any thyng of right |
| Of yow, my sovereyn lady, but youre grace - |
| But in a gardyn yond, at swich a place |
| Ye woot right wel what ye bihighten me, |
620 | And in myn hand youre trouthe plighten ye |
| To love me best - God woot ye seyde so, |
| Al be that I unworthy be therto. |
| Madame, I speke it for the honour of yow, |
| Moore than to save myn hertes lyf right now, - |
625 | I have do so as ye comanded me, |
| And if ye vouche sauf, ye may go see. |
| Dooth as yow list, have youre biheste in mynde, |
| For, quyk or deed, right there ye shal me fynde. |
| In yow lith al, to do me lyve of deye, |
630 | But wel I woot the rokkes been aweye!" |
| He taketh his leve, and she astonied stood, |
| In al hir face nas a drope of blood. |
| She wende nevere han come in swich a trappe. |
| "Allas," quod she, "that evere this sholde happe. |
635 | For wende I nevere, by possibilitee, |
| That swich a monstre or merveille myghte be. |
| It is agayns the proces of nature." |
| And hoom she goth a sorweful creature, |
| For verray feere unnethe may she go. |
640 | She wepeth, wailleth, al a day or two, |
| And swowneth that it routhe was to see; |
| But why it was, to no wight tolde shee, |
| For out of towne was goon Arveragus. |
| But to hirself she spak, and seyde thus, |
645 | With face pale and with ful sorweful cheere, |
| In hire compleynt, as ye shal after heere. |
| "Allas!" quod she, "on thee, Fortune, I pleyne, |
| That unwar wrapped hast me in thy cheyne; |
| For which t'escape woot I no socour |
650 | Save oonly deeth or elles dishonour; |
| Oon of thise two bihoveth me to chese. |
| But nathelees, yet have I levere to lese |
| My lif, thanne of my body have a shame, |
| Or knowe myselven fals or lese my name, |
655 | And with my deth I may be quyt, ywis; |
| Hath ther nat many a noble wyf er this |
| And many a mayde yslayn hirself, allas, |
| Rather than with hir body doon trespas? |
|
Yis, certes, lo, thise stories beren witnesse, |
660 | Whan thritty tirauntz, ful of cursednesse, |
| Hadde slayn Phidoun in Atthenes, at feste, |
| They comanded hise doghtres for tareste, |
| And bryngen hem biforn hem in despit, |
| Al naked, to fulfille hir foul delit, |
665 | And in hir fadres blood they made hem daunce |
| Upon the pavement, God yeve hem meschaunce! |
| For which thise woful maydens ful of drede, |
| Rather than they wolde lese hir maydenhede, |
| They prively been stirt into a welle |
670 | And dreynte hemselven, as the bookes telle. |
| They of Mecene leete enquere and seke |
| Of Lacedomye fifty maydens eke, |
| On whiche they wolden doon hir lecherye; |
| But was ther noon of al that compaignye |
675 | That she nas slayn, and with a good entente |
| Chees rather for to dye than assente |
| To been oppressed of hir maydenhede. |
| Why sholde I thanne to dye been in drede? |
| Lo, eek, the tiraunt Aristoclides, |
680 | That loved a mayden heet Stymphalides, |
| Whan that hir fader slayn was on a nyght, |
| Unto Dianes temple goth she right, |
| And hente the ymage in hir handes two; |
| Fro which ymage wolde she nevere go, |
685 | No wight ne myghte hir handes of it arace, |
| Til she was slayn right in the selve place. |
| Now sith that maydens hadden swich despit, |
| To been defouled with mannes foul delit, |
| Wel oghte a wyf rather hirselven slee, |
690 | Than be defouled, as it thynketh me. |
| What shal I seyn of Hasdrubales wyf |
| That at Cartage birafte hirself hir lyf? |
| For whan she saugh that Romayns wan the toun, |
| She took hir children alle and skipte adoun |
695 | Into the fyr, and chees rather to dye |
| Than any Romayn dide hir vileynye. |
| Hath nat Lucresse yslayn hirself, allas! |
| At Rome whan that she oppressed was |
| Of Tarquyn, for hir thoughte it was a shame |
700 | To lyven whan she hadde lost hir name? |
| The sevene maydens of Milesie also |
| Han slayn hemself, for verray drede and wo |
| Rather than folk of Gawle hem sholde oppresse. |
| Mo than a thousand stories, as I gesse, |
705 | Koude I now telle as touchynge this mateere. |
| Whan Habradate was slayn, his wyf so deere |
| Hirselven slow, and leet hir blood to glyde |
| In Habradates woundes depe and wyde; |
| And seyde, 'My body at the leeste way |
710 | Ther shal no wight defoulen, if I may.' |
|
What sholde I mo ensamples heer of sayn? |
| Sith that so manye han hemselven slayn, |
| Wel rather than they wolde defouled be, |
| I wol conclude that it is bet for me |
715 | To sleen myself, than been defouled thus. |
| I wol be trewe unto Arveragus, |
| Or rather sleen myself in som manere, |
| As dide Demociones doghter deere, |
| By cause that she wolde nat defouled be. |
720 | O Cedasus, it is ful greet pitee |
| To reden how thy doghtren deyde, allas, |
| That slowe hemself, for swich manere cas! |
| As greet a pitee was it, or wel moore, |
| The Theban mayden, that for Nichanore |
725 | Hirselven slow right for swich manere wo. |
| Another Theban mayden dide right so; |
| For oon of Macidonye hadde hire oppressed, |
| She with hire deeth hir maydenhede redressed. |
| What shal I seye of Nicerates wyf, |
730 | That for swich cas birafte hirself hir lyf? |
| How trewe eek was to Alcebiades |
| His love that rather for to dyen chees |
| Than for to suffre his body unburyed be. |
| Lo, which a wyf was Alceste," quod she, |
735 | "What seith Omer of goode Penalopee? |
| Al Grece knoweth of hire chastitee. |
| Pardee of Lacedomya is writen thus, |
| That whan at Troie was slayn Protheselaus, |
| Ne lenger wolde she lyve after his day. |
740 | The same of noble Porcia telle I may, |
| Withoute Brutus koude she nat lyve, |
| To whom she hadde al hool hir herte yeve. |
| The parfit wyfhod of Arthemesie |
| Honured is thurgh al the Barbarie. |
745 | O Teuta, queene! thy wyfly chastitee |
| To alle wyves may a mirrour bee! |
| The same thyng I seye of Bilyea, |
| Of Rodogone, and eek Valeria." |
| Thus pleyned Dorigene a day or tweye, |
750 | Purposynge evere that she wolde deye. |
| But nathelees, upon the thridde nyght |
| Hoom cam Arveragus, this worthy knyght, |
| And asked hir why that she weep so soore. |
| And she gan wepen ever lenger the moore. |
755 | "Allas!" quod she, "that evere I was born. |
| Thus have I seyd," quod she, "thus have I sworn" - |
| And toold hym al as ye han herd bifore, |
| It nedeth nat reherce it yow namoore. |
| This housbonde with glad chiere in freendly wyse |
760 | Answerde and seyde, as I shal yow devyse, |
| "Is ther oght elles, Dorigen, but this?" |
|
"Nay, nay," quod she, "God helpe me so, as wys, |
| This is to muche, and it were Goddes wille." |
| "Ye, wyf," quod he, "lat slepen that is stille. |
765 | It may be wel paraventure yet to-day. |
| Ye shul youre trouthe holden, by my fay. |
| For God so wisly have mercy upon me, |
| I hadde wel levere ystiked for to be |
| For verray love which that I to yow have, |
770 | But if ye sholde your trouthe kepe and save. |
| Trouthe is the hyeste thyng that man may kepe." |
| But with that word he brast anon to wepe |
| And seyde, "I yow forbede, up peyne of deeth, |
| That nevere whil thee lasteth lyf ne breeth, |
775 | To no wight telle thou of this aventure - |
| As I may best, I wol my wo endure, - |
| Ne make no contenance of hevynesse, |
| That folk of yow may demen harm or gesse." |
| And forth he cleped a squier and a mayde; |
780 | "Gooth forth anon with Dorigen," he sayde, |
| "And bryngeth hir to swich a place anon," |
| They take hir leve, and on hir wey they gon, |
| But they ne weste why she thider wente, |
| He nolde no wight tellen his entente. |
785 | Paraventure, an heep of yow, ywis, |
| Wol holden hym a lewed man in this, |
| That he wol putte his wyf in jupartie. |
| Herkneth the tale er ye upon hire crie; |
| She may have bettre fortune than yow semeth, |
790 | And whan that ye han herd the tale, demeth. |
| This squier, which that highte Aurelius, |
| On Dorigen that was so amorus, |
| Of aventure happed hir to meete |
| Amydde the toun, right in the quykkest strete, |
795 | As she was bown to goon the wey forth-right |
| Toward the gardyn, ther as she had hight. |
| And he was to the gardyn-ward also, |
| For wel he spyed whan she wolde go |
| Out of hir hous to any maner place. |
800 | But thus they mette, of aventure or grace |
| And he saleweth hir with glad entente, |
| And asked of hir whiderward she wente. |
| And she answerde, half as she were mad, |
| "Unto the gardyn as myn housbonde bad, |
805 | My trouthe for to holde, allas! allas!" |
|
Aurelius gan wondren on this cas, |
| And in his herte hadde greet compassioun |
| Of hir and of hir lamentacioun, |
| And of Arveragus, the worthy knyght, |
810 | That bad hire holden al that she had hight, |
| So looth hym was his wyf sholde breke hir trouthe; |
| And in his herte he caughte of this greet routhe, |
| Considerynge the beste on every syde |
| That fro his lust yet were hym levere abyde |
815 | Than doon so heigh a cherlyssh wrecchednesse |
| Agayns franchise and alle gentillesse.- |
| For which in fewe wordes seyde he thus: |
| "Madame, seyeth to your lord Arveragus, |
| That sith I se his grete gentillesse |
820 | To yow, and eek I se wel youre distresse, |
| That him were levere han shame - and that were routhe - |
| Than ye to me sholde breke thus youre trouthe, |
| I have wel levere evere to suffre wo |
| Than I departe the love bitwix yow two. |
825 | I yow relesse, madame, into youre hond |
| Quyt every surement and every bond, |
| That ye han maad to me as heer biforn, |
| Sith thilke tyme which that ye were born. |
| My trouthe I plighte, I shal yow never repreve |
830 | Of no biheste, and heere I take my leve, |
| As of the treweste and the beste wyf |
| That evere yet I knew in al my lyf." |
| But every wyf be war of hir biheeste, |
| On Dorigen remembreth atte leeste! |
835 | Thus kan a squier doon a gentil dede |
| As wel as kan a knyght, with outen drede. |
| She thonketh hym upon hir knees al bare, |
| And hoom unto hir housbonde is she fare, |
| And tolde hym al, as ye han herd me sayd; |
840 | And be ye siker, he was so weel apayd |
| That it were inpossible me to wryte. |
| What sholde I lenger of this cas endyte? |
| Arveragus and Dorigen his wyf |
| In sovereyn blisse leden forth hir lyf, |
845 | Nevere eft ne was ther angre hem bitwene. |
| He cherisseth hire as though she were a queene, |
| And she was to hym trewe for everemoore.- |
| Of thise two folk ye gete of me namoore. |
| Aurelius, that his cost hath al forlorn |
850 | Curseth the tyme that evere he was born. |
| "Allas," quod he, "allas, that I bihighte |
| Of pured gold a thousand pound of wighte |
| Unto this philosophre! How shal I do? |
| I se namoore but that I am fordo; |
855 | Myn heritage moot I nedes selle |
| And been a beggere; heere may I nat dwelle, |
| And shamen al my kynrede in this place, |
| But I of hym may gete bettre grace. |
| But nathelees I wole of hym assaye |
860 | At certeyn dayes yeer by yeer to paye, |
| And thanke hym of his grete curteisye; |
| My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol nat lye." |
| With herte soor he gooth unto his cofre, |
| And broghte gold unto this philosophre |
865 | The value of fyve hundred pound, I gesse, |
| And hym bisecheth of his gentillesse |
| To graunte hym dayes of the remenaunte, |
| And seyde, "Maister, I dar wel make avaunt, |
| I failled nevere of my trouthe as yit. |
870 | For sikerly my dette shal be quyt |
| Towareds yow, how evere that I fare, |
| To goon a begged in my kirtle bare! |
| But wolde ye vouche sauf upon seuretee |
| Two yeer or thre, for to respiten me, |
875 | Thanne were I wel, for elles moot I selle |
| Myn heritage, ther is namoore to telle." |
| This philosophre sobrely answerde, |
| And seyde thus, whan he thise wordes herde, |
| "Have I nat holden covenant unto thee?" |
880 | "Yes, certes, wel and trewely," quod he. |
| "Hastow nat had thy lady, as thee liketh?" |
| "No, no," quod he, and sorwefully he siketh. |
| "What was the cause, tel me if thou kan?" |
| Aurelius his tale anon bigan, |
885 | And tolde hym al, as ye han herd bifoore, |
| It nedeth nat to yow reherce it moore. |
| He seide, "Arveragus of gentillesse |
| Hadde levere dye in sorwe and in distresse |
| Than that his wyf were of hir trouthe fals; |
890 | The sorwe of Dorigen he tolde hym als, |
| How looth hir was to been a wikked wyf, |
| And that she levere had lost that day hir lyf, |
| And that hir trouthe she swoor, thurgh innocence, |
| She nevere erst hadde herd speke of apparence. |
895 | "That made me han of hir so greet pitee; |
| And right as frely as he sente hir me, |
| As frely sente I hir to hym ageyn. |
| This al and som, ther is namoore to seyn." |
| This philosophre answerde, "Leeve brother, |
900 | Everich of yow dide gentilly til oother. |
| Thou art a squier, and he is a knyght; |
| But God forbede, for his blisful myght, |
| But if a clerk koude doon a gentil dede |
| As wel as any of yow, it is no drede. |
905 | Sire, I releesse thee thy thousand pound, |
| As thou right now were cropen out of the ground, |
| Ne nevere er now ne haddest knowen me; |
| For, sire, I wol nat taken a peny of thee |
| For al my craft, ne noght for my travaille. |
910 | Thou hast ypayed wel for my vitaille, |
| It is ynogh, and farewel, have good day." |
| And took his hors, and forth he goth his way. |
| Lordynges, this questioun wolde I aske now, |
| Which was the mooste fre, as thynketh yow? |
915 | Now telleth me, er that ye ferther wende, |
| I kan namoore, my tale is at an ende. |