|
Thus been they wedded with solempnitee, |
| And at the feeste sitteth he and she |
| With othere worthy folk upon the deys. |
| 500 | Al ful of joye and blisse is the paleys, |
| And ful of instrumentz and of vitaille, |
| The mooste deyntevous of al Ytaille. |
| Biforn hem stoode instrumentz of swich soun |
| That Orpheus, ne of Thebes Amphioun, |
| 505 | Ne maden nevere swich a melodye. |
| At every cours thanne cam loud mynstralcye, |
| That nevere tromped Joab for to heer, |
| Nor he Theodomas, yet half so cleere, |
| At Thebes, whan the citee was in doute. |
| 510 | Bacus the wyn hem shynketh al aboute, |
| And Venus laugheth upon every wight, |
| For Januarie was bicome hir knyght, |
| And wolde bothe assayen his corage |
| In libertee, and eek in mariage; |
| 515 | And with hire fyrbrond in hire hand aboute |
| Daunceth biforn the bryde and al the route. |
| And certeinly, I dar right wel seyn this, |
| Ymeneus, that God of weddyng is, |
| Saugh nevere his lyf so myrie a wedded man. |
| 520 | Hoold thou thy pees, thou poete Marcian, |
| That writest us that ilke weddyng murie |
| Of hire Philologie and hym Mercurie, |
| And of the songes that the Muses songe! |
| To smal is bothe thy penen, and eek thy tonge, |
| 525 | For to descryven of this mariage. |
| Whan tendre youthe hath wedded stoupyng age, |
| Ther is swich myrthe that it may nat be writen. |
| Assayeth it youreself, thanne may ye witen |
| If that I lye or noon in this matiere. |
|
| Thus are they wedded with solemnity, |
| And at the feast are sitting, he and she, |
| With other worthy folk upon the dais. |
| 500 | All full of joy and bliss the palace gay is, |
| And full of instruments and viandry, |
| The daintiest in all of Italy. |
| Before them played such instruments anon |
| That Orpheus or Theban Amphion |
| 505 | Never in life made such a melody. |
| With every course there rose loud minstrelsy, |
| And never Joab sounded trump, to hear, |
| Nor did Theodomas, one half so clear |
| At Thebes, while yet the city hung in doubt. |
| 510 | Bacchus the wine poured out for all about, |
| And Venus gaily laughed for every wight. |
| For January had become her knight, |
| And would make trial of his amorous power |
| In liberty and in the bridal bower; |
| 515 | And with her firebrand in her hand, about |
| Danced she before the bride and all the rout. |
| And certainly I dare right well say this, |
| That Hymenaeus, god of wedded bliss, |
| Ne'er saw in life so merry a married man. |
| 520 | Hold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian |
| Who tellest how Philology was wed |
| And how with Mercury she went to bed, |
| And of the sweet songs by the Muses sung. |
| Too slight are both thy pen and thy thin tongue. |
| 525 | To show aright this wedding on thy page. |
| When tender youth has wedded stooping age, |
| There is such mirth that no one may it show; |
| Try it yourself, and then you well will know |
| Whether I lie or not in matters here. |
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