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Whan that the firste cok hathe crowe, anon |
| 580 | Up rist this joly lovere Absolon, |
| And hym arraieth gay, at poynt-devys. |
| But first he cheweth greyn and lycorys, |
| To smellen sweete, er he hadde kembd his heer. |
| Under his tonge a trewe-love he beer, |
| 585 | For therby wende he to ben gracious. |
| He rometh to the carpenteres hous, |
| And stille he stant under the shot-wyndowe - |
| Unto his brest it raughte, it was so lowe - |
| And softe he cougheth with a semy soun: |
| 590 | "What do ye, hony-comb, sweete Alisoun, |
| My faire bryd, my sweete cynamome? |
| Awaketh, lemman myn, and speketh to me! |
| Wel lithel thynken ye upon me wo, |
| That for youre love I swete ther I go. |
| 595 | No wonder is thogh that I swelte and swete; |
| I moorne as dooth a lamb after the tete. |
| Ywis, lemman, I have swich love-longynge, |
| That lik a turtel trewe is my moornynge. |
| I may nat ete na moore than a mayde." |
|
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And so when time of first cock-crow was come, |
| 580 | Up rose this merry lover, Absalom, |
| And dressed him gay and all at point-device, |
| But first he chewed some licorice and spice |
| So he'd smell sweet, ere he had combed his hair. |
| Under his tongue some bits of true-love rare, |
| 585 | For thereby thought he to be more gracious. |
| He went, then, to the carpenter's dark house. |
| And silent stood beneath the shot-window; |
| Unto his breast it reached, it was so low; |
| And he coughed softly, in a low half tone: |
| 590 | "What do you, honeycomb, sweet Alison? |
| My cinnamon, my fair bird, my sweetie, |
| Awake, O darling mine, and speak to me! |
| It's little thought you give me and my woe, |
| Who for your love do sweat where'er I go. |
| 595 | Yet it's no wonder that I faint and sweat; |
| I long as does the lamb for mother's teat. |
| Truly, sweetheart, I have such love-longing |
| That like a turtle-dove's my true yearning; |
| And I can eat no more than can a maid." |
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