|
This Januarie is ravysshed in a traunce |
| At every tyme he looked on hir face; |
| 540 | But in his herte he gan hire to manace |
| That he that nyght in armes wolde hire streyne |
| Harder than evere Parys dide Eleyne. |
| But nathelees yet hadde he greet pitee |
| That thilke nyght offenden hire moste he, |
| 545 | And thoughte, "Allas! O tendre creature, |
| Now wolde God ye myghte wel endure |
| Al my corage, it is so sharp and keene! |
| I am agast ye shul it nat sustene. |
| But God forbede that I dide al my myght! |
| 550 | Now wolde God that it were woxen nyght, |
| And that the nyght wolde lasten everemo. |
| I wolde that al this peple were ago." |
| And finally he dooth al his labour, |
| As he best myghte, savynge his honour, |
| 555 | To haste hem fro the mete in subtil wyse. |
|
| January was rapt into a trance |
| With each time that he looked upon her face; |
| 540 | And in his heart her beauty he'd embrace, |
| And threatened in his arms to hold her tight, |
| Harder than Paris Helen did, that night. |
| But nonetheless great pity, too, had he |
| Because that night she must deflowered be; |
| 545 | And thought: "Alas! O tender young creature! |
| Now would God you may easily endure |
| All my desire, it is so sharp and keen. |
| I fear you can't sustain it long, my queen. |
| But God forbid that I do all I might! |
| 550 | And now would God that it were come to night, |
| And that the night would last for ever- oh, |
| I wish these people would arise and go." |
| And at the last he laboured all in all, |
| As best he might for manners there in hall, |
| 555 | To haste them from the feast in subtle wise. |
|
