|
Up riseth Damyan the nexte morwe; |
| Al passed was his siknesse and his sorwe. |
| He kembeth hym, he preyneth hym and pyketh, |
| 800 | He dooth al that his lady lust and lyketh; |
| And eek to Januarie he gooth as lowe |
| As evere dide a dogge for the bowe. |
| He is so plesant unto every man |
| (For craft is al, whoso that do it kan) |
| 805 | That every wight is fayn to speke hym good; |
| And fully in his lady grace he stood. |
| Thus lete I Damyan aboute his nede, |
| And in my tale forth I wol procede. |
|
| Up rose this Damian upon the morrow, |
| For gone was all his sickness and his sorrow. |
| He combed himself and preened his feathers smooth, |
| 800 | He did all that his lady liked, in sooth; |
| And then to January went as low |
| As ever did a hound trained to the bow. |
| He was so pleasant unto every man |
| For craft is everything for those who can |
| 805 | That everyone was fain to speak his good; |
| And fully in his lady's grace he stood. |
| Thus Damian I leave about his need |
| And forward in my tale I will proceed. |
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