|
Now lat us turne agayn to Januarie, |
| That in the gardyn with his faire May |
| 1110 | Syngeth ful murier than the papejay, |
| "Yow love I best, and shal, and oother noon." |
| So longe aboute the aleyes is he goon, |
| Til he was come agaynes thilke pyrie |
| Where as this Damyan sitteth ful myrie |
| 1115 | An heigh among the fresshe leves grene. |
| This fresshe May, that is so bright and sheene, |
| Gan for to syke, and seyde, "Allas, my syde! |
| Now sire," quod she, "for aught that may bityde, |
| I moste han of the peres that I see, |
| 1120 | Or I moot dye, so soore longeth me |
| To eten of the smale peres grene. |
| Help, for hir love that is of hevene queene! |
| I telle yow wel, a womman in my plit |
| May han to fruyt so greet an appetit |
| 1125 | That she may dyen, but she of it have." |
|
| Now let us turn again to January, |
| Who in the garden with his lovely May |
| 1110 | Sang, and that merrier than the popinjay, |
| "I love you best, and ever shall, I know." |
| And so about the alleys did he go |
| Till he had come at last to that pear-tree |
| Wherein this Damian sat right merrily |
| 1115 | On high, among the young leaves fresh and green. |
| This blooming May, who was so bright of sheen, |
| Began to sigh, and said: "Alas, my side! |
| Now, sir," said she, "no matter what betide, |
| I must have some of these pears that I see, |
| 1120 | Or I may die, so much I long," said she, |
| "To eat some of those little pears so green. |
| Help, for Her love Who is of Heaven Queen! |
| I tell you well, a woman in my plight |
| May have for fruit so great an appetite |
| 1125 | That she may die if none of it she have." |
|
