|
Allas! this noble Januarie free, |
| Amydde his lust and his prosperitee, |
| Is woxen blynd, and that al sodeynly, |
| 860 | He wepeth and he wayleth pitously; |
| And therwithal the fyr of jalousie, |
| Lest that his wyf sholde falle in som folye, |
| So brente his herte that he wolde fayn |
| That som man bothe hire and hym had slayn. |
| 865 | For neither after his deeth, nor in his lyf, |
| Ne wolde he that she were love ne wyf, |
| But evere lyve as wydwe in clothes blake, |
| Soul as the turtle that lost hath hire make, |
| But atte laste, after a month or tweye |
| 870 | His sorwe gan aswage, sooth to seye; |
| For whan he wiste it may noon oother be, |
| He paciently took his adversitee, |
| Save, out of doute, he may nat forgoon |
| That he nas jalous everemoore in oon; |
| 875 | Which jalousye it was so outrageous, |
| That neither in halle, n'yn noon oother hous, |
| Ne in noon oother place, neverthemo, |
| He nolde suffre hire for to ryde or go, |
| But if that he had hond on hire alway; |
| 880 | For which ful ofte wepeth fresshe May, |
| That loveth Damyan so benyngnely |
| That she moot outher dyen sodeynly, |
| Or elles she moot han hym as hir leste. |
| She wayteth whan hir herte wolde breste. |
| 885 | Upon that oother syde Damyan |
| Bicomen is the sorwefulleste man |
| That evere was; for neither nyght ne day |
| Ne myghte he speke a word to fresshe May, |
| As to his purpos, of no swich mateere, |
| 890 | But if that Januarie moste it heere, |
| That hadde an hand upon hire everemo. |
| But nathelees, by writyng to and fro, |
| And privee signes, wiste he what she mente, |
| And she knew eek the fyn of his entente. |
| 895 | O Januarie, what myghte it thee availle, |
| Thogh thou myghte se as fer as shippes saille? |
| For as good is blynd deceyved be |
| As to be deceyved whan a man may se. |
|
| Alas! This noble January free, |
| In all his pleasure and prosperity, |
| Is fallen blind, and that all suddenly. |
| 860 | He wept and he lamented, pitifully; |
| And therewithal the fire of jealousy |
| Lest that his wife should fall to some folly, |
| So burned within his heart that he would fain |
| Both him and her some man had swiftly slain. |
| 865 | For neither after death nor in his life |
| Would he that she were other's love or wife, |
| But dress in black and live in widow's state, |
| Lone as the turtle-dove that's lost her mate. |
| But finally, after a month or twain, |
| 870 | His grief somewhat abated, to speak plain; |
| For when he knew it might not elsewise be, |
| He took in patience his adversity, |
| Except, doubtless, he could not renounce, as done, |
| His jealousy, from which he never won. |
| 875 | For this his passion was so outrageous |
| That neither in his hall nor other house |
| Nor any other place, not ever, no, |
| He suffered her to ride or walking go, |
| Unless he had his hand on her alway; |
| 880 | For which did often weep this fresh young May, |
| Who loved her Damian so tenderly |
| That she must either swiftly die or she |
| Must have him as she willed, her thirst to slake; |
| Biding her time, she thought her heart would break. |
| 885 | And on the other side this Damian |
| Was now become the most disconsolate man |
| That ever was; for neither night nor day |
| Might he so much as speak a word to May |
| Of his desire, as I am telling here, |
| 890 | Except it were said to January's ear, |
| Who never took his blind hand off her, no. |
| Nevertheless, by writing to and fro |
| And secret signals, he knew what she meant; |
| And she too knew the aim of his intent. |
| 895 | O January, what might it now avail |
| Could your eyes see as far as ships can sail? |
| For it's as pleasant, blind, deceived to be |
| As be deceived while yet a man may see. |
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