|
Parfourned hath the sonne his ark diurne; |
| No lenger may the body of hym sojurne |
| 585 | On th'orisonte, as in that latitude. |
| Night with his mantel, that is derk and rude, |
| Gan oversprede the hemysperie aboute; |
| For which departed is this lusty route |
| Fro Januarie, with thank on every syde. |
| 590 | Hoom to hir houses lustily they ryde, |
| Where as they doon hir thynges as hem leste, |
| And whan they sye hir tyme, goon to reste. |
| Soone after than, this hastif Januarie |
| Wolde go to bedde, he wolde no lenger tarye. |
| 595 | He drynketh ypocras, clarree, and vernage |
| Of spices hoote, t'encreessen his corage; |
| And many a letuarie hath he ful fyn, |
| Swiche as the cursed monk, daun Constantyn, |
| Hath writen in his book De Coitu; |
| 600 | To eten hem alle he nas no thyng eschu. |
| And to his privee freendes thus seyde he: |
| "For Goddes love, as soone as it may be, |
| Lat voyden al this hous in curteys wyse." |
| And they han doon right as he wol devyse. |
| 605 | Men drynken, and the travers drawe anon. |
| The bryde was broght abedde as stille as stoon; |
| And whan the bed was with the preest yblessed, |
| Out of the chambre hath every wight hym dressed; |
| And Januarie hath faste in armes take |
| 610 | His fresshe May, his paradys, his make. |
| He lulleth hire, he kisseth hire ful ofte; |
| With thikke brustles of his berd unsofte, |
| Lyk to the skyn of houndfyssh, sharp as brere - |
| For he was shave al newe in his manere - |
| 615 | He rubbeth hire aboute hir tendre face, |
| And seyde thus, "Allas! I moot trespace |
| To yow, my spouse, and yow greetly offende, |
| Er tyme come that I wil doun descende. |
| But nathelees, considereth this," quod he, |
| 620 | "Ther nys no werkman, whatsoevere he be, |
| That may bothe werke wel and hastily; |
| This wol be doon at leyser parfitly. |
| It is no fors how longe that we pleye; |
| In trewe wedlok coupled be we tweye; |
| 625 | And blessed be the yok that we been inne, |
| For in oure actes we mowe do no synne. |
| A man may do no synne with his wyf, |
| Ne hurte hymselven with his owene knyf; |
| For we han leve to pleye us by the lawe." |
| 630 | Thus laboureth he til that the day gan dawe; |
| And thanne he taketh a sop in fyn clarree, |
| And upright in his bed thanne sitteth he, |
| And after that he sang ful loude and cleere, |
| And kiste his wyf, and made wantown cheere |
| 635 | He was al coltissh, ful of ragerye, |
| And ful of jargon as a flekked pye. |
| The slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh, |
| Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh. |
| But God woot what that may thoughte in hir herte, |
| 640 | Whan she hym saugh up sittynge in his sherte, |
| In his nyght-cappe, and with his nekke lene; |
| She preyseth nat his pleyyng worth a bene. |
| Thanne seide he thus, "My reste wol I take; |
| Now day is come, I may no lenger wake." |
| 645 | And doun he leyde his heed, and sleep til pryme. |
| And afterward, whan that he saugh his tyme, |
| Up ryseth Januarie; but fresshe May |
| Heeld hire chambre unto the fourthe day, |
| As usage is of wyves for the beste. |
| 650 | For every labour somtyme moot han reste, |
| Or elles longe may he nat endure; |
| This is to seyn, no lyves creature, |
| Be it of fyssh, or bryd, or beest, or man. |
|
| When traversed has the sun his are of day, |
| No longer may the body of him stay |
| 585 | On the horizon, in that latitude. |
| Night with his mantle, which is dark and rude, |
| Did overspread the hemisphere about; |
| And so departed had this joyous rout |
| From January, with thanks on every side. |
| 590 | Home to their houses happily they ride, |
| Whereat they do what things may please them best, |
| And when they see the time come, go to rest. |
| Soon after that this hasty January |
| Would go to bed, he would no longer tarry. |
| 595 | He drank of claret, hippocras, vernage, |
| All spiced and hot to heighten his love's rage; |
| And many an aphrodisiac, full and fine, |
| Such as the wicked monk, Dan Constantine, |
| Has written in his book De Coitu |
| 600 | Not one of all of them he did eschew. |
| And to his friends most intimate, said he: |
| "For God's love, and as soon as it may be, |
| Let all now leave this house in courteous wise." |
| And all they rose, just as he bade them rise. |
| 605 | They drank good-night, and curtains drew anon; |
| The bride was brought to bed, as still as stone; |
| And when the bed had been by priest well blessed, |
| Out of the chamber everyone progressed. |
| And January lay down close beside |
| 610 | His fresh young May, his paradise, his bride. |
| He soothed her, and he kissed her much and oft, |
| With the thick bristles of his beard, not soft, |
| But sharp as briars, like a dogfish skin, |
| For he'd been badly shaved before he came in. |
| 615 | He stroked and rubbed her on her tender face, |
| And said: "Alas! I fear I'll do trespass |
| Against you here, my spouse, and much offend |
| Before the time when I will down descend. |
| But nonetheless, consider this," said he, |
| 620 | "There is no workman, whosoe'er he be, |
| That may work well, if he works hastily; |
| This will be done at leisure, perfectly. |
| It makes no difference how long we two play; |
| For in true wedlock were we tied today; |
| 625 | And blessed be the yoke that we are in, |
| For in our acts, now, we can do no sin. |
| A man can do no sin with his own wife, |
| Nor can he hurt himself with his own knife; |
| For we have leave most lawfully to play." |
| 630 | Thus laboured he till came the dawn of day; |
| And then he took in wine a sop of bread, |
| And upright sat within the marriage bed, |
| And after that he sang full loud and clear |
| And kissed his wife and made much wanton cheer. |
| 635 | He was all coltish, full of venery, |
| And full of chatter as a speckled pie. |
| The slackened skin about his neck did shake |
| The while he sang and chanted like a crake. |
| But God knows what thing May thought in her heart |
| 640 | When up she saw him sitting in his shirt, |
| In his nightcap, and with his neck so lean; |
| She valued his playing not worth a bean. |
| Then said he thus: "My rest now will I take; |
| Now day is come, I can no longer wake." |
| 645 | And down he laid his head and slept till prime. |
| And afterward, when saw he it was time, |
| Up rose this January; but fresh May, |
| She kept her chamber until the fourth day, |
| As custom is of wives, and for the best. |
| 650 | For every worker sometime must have rest, |
| Or else for long he'll certainly not thrive, |
| That is to say, no creature that's alive, |
| Be it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man. |
|
