1810 |
Saturnus seyde, "Doghter, hoold thy pees, |
| Mars hath his wille, his knyght hath al his boone, |
| And, by myn heed, thow shalt been esed soone." |
| The trompes with the loude mynstralcie, |
| The heraudes that ful loude yolle and crie, |
1815 | Been in hir wele for joye of daun Arcite. |
| But herkneth me, and stynteth noyse a lite, |
| Which a myracle ther bifel anon. |
|
1810 |
But Saturn said: "My daughter, hold your tongue. |
| Mars has his will, his knight has all his boon, |
| And, by my head, you shall be eased, and soon." |
| The trumpeters and other minstrelsy, |
| The heralds that did loudly yell and cry, |
1815 | Were at their best for joy of Arcita. |
| But hear me further while I tell you- ah!- |
| The miracle that happened there anon. |
|