Book Of The Duchesse Read online

405 For hit was, on to beholde,

  406 As thogh the erthe envye wolde

  407 To be gayer than the heven,

  408 To have mo floures, swiche seven

  409 As in the welken sterres be.

  410 Hit had forgete the povertee

  411 That winter, through his colde morwes,

  412 Had mad hit suffren, and his sorwes;

  413 Al was forgeten, and that was sene.

  414 For al the wode was waxen grene,

  415 Swetnesse of dewe had mad it waxe.

  416 Hit is no need eek for to axe

  417 Wher ther were many grene greves,

  418 Or thikke of trees, so ful of leves;

  419 And every tree stood by him-selve

  420 Fro other wel ten foot or twelve.

  421 So grete trees, so huge of strengthe,

  422 Of fourty or fifty fadme lengthe,

  423 Clene withoute bough or stikke,

  424 With croppes brode, and eek as thikke --

  425 They were nat an inche a-sonder --

  426 That hit was shadwe over-al under;

  427 And many an hert and many an hinde

  428 Was both before me and bihinde.

  429 Of founes, soures, bukkes, does

  430 Was ful the wode, and many roes,

  431 And many squirelles that sete

  432 Ful hye upon the trees, and ete,

  433 And in hir maner made festes.

  434 Shortly, hit was so ful of bestes,

  435 That thogh Argus, the noble countour,

  436 Sete to rekene in his countour,

  437 And rekened with his figures ten --

  438 For by tho figures mowe al ken,

  439 If they be crafty, rekene and noumbre,

  440 And telle of every thing the noumbre --

  441 Yet shulde he fayle to rekene even

  442 The wondres, me mette in my sweven.

  443 But forth they romed wonder faste

  444 Doun the wode; so at the laste

  445 I was war of a man in blak,

  446 That sat and had y-turned his bak

  447 To an oke, an huge tree.

  448 `Lord,' thoghte I, `who may that be?

  449 What ayleth him to sitten here?'

  450 Anoon-right I wente nere;

  451 Than fond I sitte even upright

  452 A wonder wel-faringe knight --

  453 By the maner me thoughte so --

  454 Of good mochel, and yong therto,

  455 Of the age of four and twenty yeer.

  456 Upon his berde but litel heer,

  457 And he was clothed al in blakke.

  458 I stalked even unto his bakke,

  459 And ther I stood as stille as ought,

  460 That, sooth to saye, he saw me nought,

  461 For-why he heng his heed adoune.

  462 And with a deedly sorwful soune

  463 He made of ryme ten vers or twelve

  464 Of a compleynt to him-selve,

  465 The moste pite, the moste rowthe,

  466 That ever I herde; for, by my trowthe,

  467 Hit was gret wonder that nature

  468 Might suffren any creature

  469 To have swich sorwe, and be not deed.

  470 Ful pitous, pale, and nothing reed,

  471 He sayde a lay, a maner song,

  472 Withoute note, withoute song,

  473 And hit was this; for wel I can

  474 Reherse hit; right thus hit began. --

  475 `I have of sorwe so grete woon,

  476 That Ioye gete I never noon,

  477 Now that I see my lady bright,

  478 Which I have loved with al my might,

  479 Is fro me dedd, and is a-goon.

  480 And thus in sorwe lefte me alone.

  481 `Allas, o deeth! what ayleth thee,

  482 That thou noldest have taken me,

  483 `Whan that thou toke my lady swete?

  484 That was so fayr, so fresh, so free,

  485 So good, that men may wel y-see

  486 `Of al goodnesse she had no mete!' --

  487 Whan he had mad thus his complaynte,

  488 His sorowful herte gan faste faynte,

  489 And his spirites wexen dede;

  490 The blood was fled, for pure drede,

  491 Doun to his herte, to make him warm --

  492 For wel hit feled the herte had harm --

  493 To wite eek why hit was a-drad,

  494 By kinde, and for to make hit glad;

  495 For hit is membre principal

  496 Of the body; and that made al

  497 His hewe chaunge and wexe grene

  498 And pale, for no blood was sene

  499 In no maner lime of his.

  500 Anoon therwith whan I saw this,

  501 He ferde thus evel ther he sete,

  502 I wente and stood right at his fete,

  503 And grette him, but he spak noght,

  504 But argued with his owne thoght,

  505 And in his witte disputed faste

  506 Why and how his lyf might laste;

  507 Him thoughte his sorwes were so smerte

  508 And lay so colde upon his herte;

  509 So, through his sorwe and hevy thoght,

  510 Made him that he ne herde me noght;

  511 For he had wel nigh lost his minde,

  512 Thogh Pan, that men clepe god of kinde,

  513 Were for his sorwes never so wrooth.

  514 But at the laste, to sayn right sooth,

  515 He was war of me, how I stood

  516 Before him, and dide of myn hood,

  517 And grette him, as I best coude.

  518 Debonairly, and no-thing loude,

  519 He sayde, `I prey thee, be not wrooth,

  520 I herde thee not, to sayn the sooth,

  521 Ne I saw thee not, sir, trewely.'

  522 `A! goode sir, no fors,' quod I,

  523 `I am right sory if I have ought

  524 Destroubled yow out of your thought;

  525 For-yive me if I have mis-take.'

  526 `Yis, thamendes is light to make,'

  527 Quod he, `for ther lyth noon ther-to;

  528 Ther is no-thing missayd nor do,'

  529 Lo! how goodly spak this knight,

  530 As it had been another wight;

  531 He made it nouther tough ne queynte

  532 And I saw that, and gan me aqueynte

  533 With him, and fond him so tretable,

  534 Right wonder skilful and resonable,

  535 As me thoghte, for al his bale.

  536 Anoon-right I gan finde a tale

  537 To him, to loke wher I might ought

  538 Have more knowing of his thought.

  539 `Sir,' quod I, `this game is doon;

  540 I holde that this hert be goon;

  541 Thise huntes conne him nowher see.'

  542 `I do no fors therof,' quod he,

  543 `My thought is ther-on never a del.'

  544 `By our lord,' quod I, `I trow yow wel,

  545 Right so me thinketh by your chere.

  546 But, sir, oo thing wol ye here?

  547 Me thinketh, in gret sorwe I yow see;

  548 But certes, good sir, yif that ye

  549 Wolde ought discure me your wo,

  550 I wolde, as wis god help me so,

  551 Amende hit, yif I can or may;

  552 Ye mowe preve hit by assay.

  553 For, by my trouthe, to make yow hool,

  554 I wol do al my power hool;

 
555 And telleth me of your sorwes smerte,

  556 Paraventure hit may ese your herte,

  557 That semeth ful seke under your syde.'

  558 With that he loked on me asyde,

  559 As who sayth, `Nay, that wol not be.'

  560 `Graunt mercy, goode frend,' quod he,

  561 `I thanke thee that thou woldest so,

  562 But hit may never the rather be do,

  563 No man may my sorwe glade,

  564 That maketh my hewe to falle and fade,

  565 And hath myn understonding lorn,

  566 That me is wo that I was born!

  567 May noght make my sorwes slyde,

  568 Nought the remedies of Ovyde;

  569 Ne Orpheus, god of melodye,

  570 Ne Dedalus, with playes slye;

  571 Ne hele me may phisicien,

  572 Noght Ypocras, ne Galien;

  573 Me is wo that I live houres twelve;

  574 But who so wol assaye him-selve

  575 Whether his herte can have pite

  576 Of any sorwe, lat him see me.

  577 I wrecche, that deeth hath mad al naked

  578 Of alle blisse that ever was maked,

  579 Y-worthe worste of alle wightes,

  580 That hate my dayes and my nightes;

  581 My lyf, my lustes be me lothe,

  582 For al welfare and I be wrothe.

  583 The pure deeth is so my fo

  584 Thogh I wolde deye, hit wolde not so;

  585 For whan I folwe hit, hit wol flee;

  586 I wolde have hit, hit nil not me.

  587 This is my peyne withoute reed,

  588 Alway deinge and be not deed,

  589 That Sesiphus, that lyth in helle,

  590 May not of more sorwe telle.

  591 And who so wiste al, be my trouthe,

  592 My sorwe, but he hadde routhe

  593 And pite of my sorwes smerte,

  594 That man hath a feendly herte.

  595 For who so seeth me first on morwe

  596 May seyn, he hath y-met with sorwe;

  597 For I am sorwe and sorwe is I.

  598 `Allas! and I wol telle the why;

  599 My song is turned to pleyning,

  600 And al my laughter to weping,

  601 My glade thoghtes to hevinesse,

  602 In travaile is myn ydelnesse

  603 And eek my reste; my wele is wo,

  604 My goode is harm, and ever-mo

  605 In wrathe is turned my pleying,

  606 And my delyt in-to sorwing.

  607 Myn hele is turned into seeknesse,

  608 In drede is al my sikernesse.

  609 To derke is turned al my light,

  610 My wit is foly, my day is night,

  611 My love is hate, my sleep waking,

  612 My mirthe and meles is fasting,

  613 My countenaunce is nycete,

  614 And al abaved wher-so I be,

  615 My pees, in pleding and in werre;

  616 Allas! how mighte I fare werre?

  617 `My boldnesse is turned to shame,

  618 For fals Fortune hath pleyd a game

  619 Atte ches with me, allas! the whyle!

  620 The trayteresse fals and ful of gyle,

  621 That al behoteth and no-thing halt,

  622 She goth upryght and yet she halt,

  623 That baggeth foule and loketh faire,

  624 The dispitouse debonaire,

  625 That scorneth many a creature!

  626 An ydole of fals portraiture

  627 Is she, for she wil sone wryen;

  628 She is the monstres heed y-wryen,

  629 As filth over y-strawed with floures;

  630 Hir moste worship and hir flour is

  631 To lyen, for that is hir nature;

  632 Withoute feyth, lawe, or mesure.

  633 She is fals; and ever laughinge

  634 With oon eye, and that other wepinge.

  635 That is broght up, she set al doun.

  636 I lykne hir to the scorpioun,

  637 That is a fals, flateringe beste;

  638 For with his hede he maketh feste,

  639 But al amid his flateringe

  640 With his tayle he wol stinge,

  641 And envenyme; and so wol she.

  642 She is thenvyouse charite

  643 That is ay fals, and seemeth wele,

  644 So turneth she hir false whele

  645 Aboute, for it is no-thing stable,

  646 Now by the fyre, now at table;

  647 Ful many oon hath she thus y-blent;

  648 She is pley of enchauntement,

  649 That semeth oon and is not so,

  650 The false theef! what hath she do,

  651 Trowest thou? By our lord, I wol thee seye.

  652 Atte ches with me she gan to pleye;

  653 With hir false draughtes divers

  654 She stal on me, and took my fers.

  655 And whan I saw my fers aweye,

  656 Alas! I couthe no lenger playe,

  657 But seyde, "Farewel, swete, y-wis,

  658 And farwel al that ever ther is!"

  659 Therwith Fortune seyde, "Chek here!"

  660 And "Mate!" in mid pointe of the chekkere

  661 With a poune erraunt, allas!

  662 Ful craftier to pley she was

  663 Than Athalus, that made the game

  664 First of the ches: so was his name.

  665 But God wolde I had ones or twyes

  666 Y-koud and knowe the Ieupardyes

  667 That coude the Grek Pithagores!

  668 I shulde have pleyd the bet at ches,

  669 And kept my fers the bet therby;

  670 And thogh wherto? for trewely,

  671 I hold that wish nat worth a stree!

  672 Hit had be never the bet for me.

  673 For Fortune can so many a wyle,

  674 Ther be but fewe can hir begyle,

  675 And eek she is the las to blame;

  676 My-self I wolde have do the same,

  677 Before god, hadde I been as she;

  678 She oghte the more excused be.

  679 For this I say yet more therto,

  680 Hadde I be god and mighte have do

  681 My wille, whan she my fers caughte,

  682 I wolde have drawe the same draughte.

  683 For, also wis god yive me reste,

  684 I dar wel swere she took the beste!

  685 `But through that draughte I have lorn

  686 My blisse; allas! that I was born!

  687 For evermore, I trowe trewly,

  688 For al my wil, my lust hoolly

  689 Is turned; but yet what to done?

  690 Be oure lord, hit is to deye sone;

  691 For no-thing I ne leve it noght,

  692 But live and deye right in this thoght.

  693 There nis planete in firmament,

  694 Ne in air, ne in erthe, noon element,

  695 That they ne yive me a yift echoon

  696 Of weping, whan I am aloon.

  697 For whan that I avyse me wel,

  698 And bethenke me every-del,

  699 How that ther lyth in rekening,

  700 In my sorwe for no-thing;

  701 And how ther leveth no gladnesse

  702 May gladde me of my distresse,

  703 And how I have lost suffisance,

  704 And therto I have no plesance,

  705 Than may I say, I have right noght.

  706 And whan al this falleth in my thoght,

  707 Allas! t
han am I overcome!

  708 For that is doon is not to come!

  709 I have more sorowe than Tantale.'

  710 And whan I herde him telle this tale

  711 Thus pitously, as I yow telle,

  712 Unnethe mighte I lenger dwelle,

  713 Hit dide myn hert so moche wo.

  714 `A! good sir!' quod I, `say not so!

  715 Have som pite on your nature

  716 That formed yow to creature,

  717 Remembre yow of Socrates;

  718 For he ne counted nat three strees

  719 Of noght that Fortune coude do.`

  720 `No,' quod he, `I can not so.'

  721 `Why so? good sir! parde!' quod I;

  722 `Ne say noght so, for trewely,

  723 Thogh ye had lost the ferses twelve,

  724 And ye for sorwe mordred your-selve,

  725 Ye sholde be dampned in this cas

  726 By as good right as Medea was,

  727 That slow hir children for Iason;

  728 And Phyllis als for Demophon

  729 Heng hir-self, so weylaway!

  730 For he had broke his terme-day

  731 To come to hir. Another rage

  732 Had Dydo, quene eek of Cartage,

  733 That slow hir-self for Eneas

  734 Was fals; a whiche a fool she was!

  735 And Ecquo dyed for Narcisus.

  736 Nolde nat love hir; and right thus

  737 Hath many another foly don.

  738 And for Dalida died Sampson,

  739 That slow him-self with a pilere.

  740 But ther is noon a-lyve here

  741 Wolde for a fers make this wo!'

  742 `Why so?' quod he; `hit is nat so,

  743 Thou woste ful litel what thou menest;

  744 I have lost more than thow wenest.'

  745 `Lo, sir, how may that be?' quod I;

  746 `Good sir, tel me al hoolly

  747 In what wyse, how, why, and wherfore

  748 That ye have thus your blisse lore,'

  749 `Blythly,' quod he, `com sit adoun,

  750 I telle thee up condicioun

  751 That thou hoolly, with al thy wit,

  752 Do thyn entent to herkene hit.'

  753 `Yis, sir.' `Swere thy trouthe ther-to.'

  754 `Gladly.' `Do than holde her-to!'

  755 `I shal right blythly, so god me save,

  756 Hoolly, with al the witte I have,

  757 Here yow, as wel as I can,'

  758 `A goddes half!' quod he, and began: --

  759 `Sir,' quod he, `sith first I couthe

  760 Have any maner wit fro youthe,

  761 Or kyndely understonding

  762 To comprehende, in any thing,

  763 What love was, in myn owne wit,

  764 Dredeles, I have ever yit

  765 Be tributary, and yiven rente

  766 To love hoolly with goode entente,

  767 And through plesaunce become his thral,

  768 With good wil, body, herte, and al.

  769 Al this I putte in his servage,

  770 As to my lorde, and dide homage;

  771 And ful devoutly prayde him to,

  772 He shulde besette myn herte so,

  773 That it plesaunce to him were,

  774 And worship to my lady dere.

  775 `And this was longe, and many a yeer

  776 Or that myn herte was set o-wher,

  777 That I did thus, and niste why;

  778 I trowe hit cam me kindely.

  779 Paraunter I was therto most able

  780 As a whyt wal or a table;

  781 For hit is redy to cacche and take

  782 Al that men wil therin make,

  783 Wher-so so men wol portreye or peynte,

  784 Be the werkes never so queynte.

  785 `And thilke tyme I ferde so

  786 I was able to have lerned tho,

  787 And to have coud as wel or better,

  788 Paraunter, other art or letter.

  789 But for love cam first in my thought,

  790 Therfore I forgat hit nought.

  791 I chees love to my firste craft,

  792 Therfor hit is with me y-laft.

  793 Forwhy I took hit of so yong age,

  794 That malice hadde my corage

  795 Nat that tyme turned to no-thing

  796 Through to mochel knowleching.

  797 For that tyme youthe, my maistresse,

  798 Governed me in ydelnesse;

  799 For hit was in my firste youthe,

  800 And tho ful litel good I couthe,

  801 For al my werkes were flittinge,

  802 And al my thoghtes varyinge;

  803 Al were to me y-liche good,

  804 That I knew tho; but thus hit stood.

  805 `Hit happed that I cam on a day

  806 Into a place, ther I say,

  807 Trewly, the fayrest companye

  808 Of ladies that ever man with ye

  809 Had seen togedres in oo place.

  810 Shal I clepe hit hap other grace

  811 That broght me ther? nay, but Fortune,

  812 That is to lyen ful comune,

  813 The false trayteresse, pervers,

  814 God wolde I coude clepe hir wers!

  815 For now she worcheth me ful wo,

  816 And I wol telle sone why so.

  817 `Among thise ladies thus echoon,

  818 Soth to seyn, I saw ther oon

  819 That was lyk noon of al the route;

  820 For I dar swere, withoute doute,

  821 That as the someres sonne bright

  822 Is fairer, clere, and hath more light

  823 Than any planete, is in heven,

  824 The mone, or the sterres seven,

  825 For al the worlde so had she

  826 Surmounted hem alle of beaute,

  827 Of maner and of comlinesse,

  828 Of stature and wel set gladnesse,