THE eeiEF BRITISH POETS OFTHEirAND 15™ CENTURIES SdiYed^^. A. N e ils on and K. G. T. Webster^-^^^-^^ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY STEPHEN E. WHICHER MEMORIAL BOOK COLLECTION Gift of MRS. ELIZABETH T. WHICHER UNDERGRADUATE LIBRARY Date Due ■■"-■^^« fiOO/f »i r>JH— Sd =1^^ H^i^ =iasy r^ - "^^^ =»?! B^«. i^BC^^^ESTtR > f^ . ^««.AuMb i wWiBF SEMESTER B 50K PRINTED IN U. a. A. (Of NO. S3233 PR 1203.N4T" """"''""■""'" Chief British poets of tfie fourteenth an 3 1924 013 293 562 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013293562 CHIEF BRITISH POETS OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES W^t €\)k( ^otts petite THE CHIEF AMERICAN POETS. Edited by Curtis Hidden Page, Ph.D., Professor of English, Dartmouth College. Large crown 8vo, $1.75 neti postpaid. THE CHIEF ELIZABETHAN DRAMATISTS. Ex- cluding Shakespbabe. Edited by William Allan Neilson, Ph.D., Professor of English, Harvard University. Large crown 8vo, $2.75 nd, postpaid. THE CHIEF MIDDLE ENGLISH POETS. Newly rendered and edited by Jessie L. Weston, Editor of " Ro- mance, Vision, and Satire." Large crown 8vo, $2.00 net, postpaid. THE CHIEF BRITISH POETS OF THE FOUR- TEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES. Edited with explanatory and biographical notes by William Allan Neilson, Ph.D., Professor of English, Harvard University, and K. G. T. Webster, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard University. Large crown 8vo, $2.60 net, postpaid. HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON NEW TOBK CHICAGO CHIEF BEITISH POETS OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES g»electeti l^otms EDITED WITH EXPLAITATORY ASD BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES BT W. A. NEILSON Professor of English AND K. G. T. WEBSTER Assistant Professor of English Harvard University heBittfggiOePre^ BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY @CI)e Eibetstlie l^xeee Camiirilise COPYRIGHT, I916, BY W. A. NEILSON AND K. O. i. WEBSTER ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - > -^ CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . » . A. PREFACE The aim in the present volume, as in the other issues of the series, has been, not to com- pile a mediseval anthology of choice poems and passages, but to represent fully and where possible by complete works, all the chief poets of the period covered. The selections liave been made and the apparatus famished with a view to arousing the interest and satisfy- ing the curiosity of the general reader and the student of literature rather than of lan- guage. Care has indeed been taken to provide trustworthy texts, and the book should not be without value to those seeking to extend their knowledge of Middle English and Middle Scots ; but the glosses supplied in the footnotes are full enough to make possible the enjoyment of the poems by readers without special acquaintance with the earlier stages of the language. In the case of some of the more difficult of the alliterative poems, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, The Pearl, and Piers Plowman, the amount of glossary required was so great that it seemed that our purpose would be better served by a literal , translation than by footnotes so numerous as to make continuous reading all but impos- sible. Precisely how faithful these renderings are, the reader can judge for himself by comparing the translations with the specimens of the originals printed at the beginning of the two first-named poems. No apology need be made for including a generous selection from the traditional bal- lads. Their authors, if they had authors in the strict sense, are indeed not among the " Chief Poets," nor are they all by any means to be assigned to the two centuries with which we are here concerned ; but in a series which, it is hoped, will cover the whole field of English poetry, it would be preposterous to neglect a type which is one of its glories ; and, in point of chronology, the ballads fit this volume as well as any. They belong to the folk, and the taste of the folk has little relation to the conventional periods into which literary history is divided. A notable feature of the collection is the prominence given to the Scottish poets of the period. Partly on account of the political separation of England and Scotland, partly through an exaggerated sense of the difficulty of the dialect, students of English literature have unduly neglected these writers. Yet after a few peculiarities in spelling have been noted, Barbour, for example, is as easy as Chaucer ; and in the matter of poetic quality none of Chaucer's English disciples is the equal of Henryson or Dunbar. The latter, it is true, is often mentioned if seldom read ; but it is doubtful whether there is in the whole of English literature a case of neglected genius so remarkable as that of Henryson. This book will justify itself if it does no more than make accessible and call attention to poetry of so much interest and distinction. In the choice of poets and poems to be included we have been greatly aided by many of our colleagues in the universities of the United States, — so many that only a general acknowledgment can be made of the obligations under which their generosity has placed us. For the final decisions, as well as for whatever faults in judgment and scholarship the book may contain, the editors are jointly responsible. Mr. Webster translated the Gawain and the Pearl, Mr. Neilson Piers Plowman, but each has had the opportunity to revise and criticize, so that the credit or discredit must be shared in common. W. A. N. K. G. T. W. Cambbidge, 1916. CONTENTS ROBERT MANNING OF BRUNNE Handling Sm 1 Witchcraft and Dreams 1 The Tale of the Witch and her Cow-Sucking Bag . . 2 The Tale of the Sacrilegious Carollers 3 THE PEARL 6 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 19 Fttte the Fikst 21 Ftttb the Second 26 Ftttb the Thikd 32 Fttte the Fourth 42 WILLIAM LANGLAND(?) —The Vision of William concebning Piehs the Ploughman 48 JOHN GOWER CONFEBSIO AmANTIS 79 The Tale of Florent 79 The Tale of Albinus and Rosemund 83 The Tale of Constant) ne and Silvester 85 The Tale of Rosiphelee 88 The Tale of Ceyx and Alceone 90 The Tale of Adrian and Bardus 92 GEOFFREY CHAUCER The Canterbury Tales 95 The Prologue 95 - The Knight's Tale 106 The Prioresses Tale 131 Prologue to Sir Thopas 133 Sir Thopas 134 ^ The Nonne Preestes Tale 136 The Prologue of the Pardoners Tale 143 The Pardoners Tale 145 The Tale of the Wyf of Bathe 151 The Romaunt op the Rose 156 - The Parlement op Foules 160 The Proem 160 The Story 161 Tboilus and Cbisbyde 169 CONTENTS The Legend of Good Women 184 — Prologue 18i The Legend of Cleopatra 190 The Legend of Lucretia 191 Minor Poems 195 Chancers Wordes unto Adam, his owne Scriveyn 195 The Former Age 195 Merciles Beaute: A Triple Roundel 196 Truth 196 Gentilesse 197 Lak of Stedfastnesse 197 Lenvoy de Chaucer a Scogan 197 The Compleint of Chaucer to his Empty Purse 198 THOMAS HOCCLEVE The Regement of Princes 199 Extravagance in Men's Dress , 199 Badby's Heresy 200 Woman's Superiority 201 Tributes to Chaucer and Gower 202 Roundel to Somer the Chancellor 204 Balade to mt Gracious Lord of York 204 The Complaint 205 Hoccleve's Gat Youth 206 JOHN LYDGATE The Churl and the Bird 208 —The Temple of Glas 213 New Trot 216 Btcorne and Chichevache 220 A DiETART 221 On Women's Horns 222 Ltdgatb's Mumming at Hertford . . 223 The Legend op Dan Joos 227 JOHN SKELTON Philip Sparrow 230 The Tunning of Eleanor Rumming 238 CoLEsr Clout - 241 Garland of Laurel 247 Lullaby 248 STEPHEN HAWES ■— The Pastime of Pleasure 249 The Excusation of the Auctoub 255 CONTENTS BALLADS Lady Isabel akd the Eli^Knight 256 The DotTGijAS Teagedy 256 The Twa Sistehs 257 The Cbtjel Bbotheh 258 Edward 259 Babylon; ob, the Bonnie Banks o Fobdie 260 Hind Hobn 261 King Orpeo 262 St. Stephen and Heeod 262 Judas 263 The Theee Ravens 264 The Twa Cobbies 264 King Henby 264 Kemp Owtne 265 The Laily Worm, and the Machrel of the Sea 266 Thomas Rymer and the Queen of Elfland 267 The Wee Wee Man 268 Tam Lin 268 Young Akin ob Hind Etin 270 Clebk Colvill 273 King John and the Bishop 274 Young Bicham 277 The Cheeey-Tree Caeol 278 i Sib Pateick Spence 278 King Estmbre 279 Faib Annie 283 Child Watees 284 Lady Maisey 286 Glasgeeion 288 Clerk Saunders 289 Lord Thomas and Fair AnNet 290 Love Gregor 292 Sweet William's Ghost 293 The Wife of Usher's Well . 294 Little Musgeave and Lady Baenaed - 294 Bonny Babeaba Allan 296 Lamkin 296 Young Waters 298 The Maid freed from the Gallows 298 The Gay Goss-Hawk 299 The Baiufp's Daughter op Islington 301 CONTENTS The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry 301 JoHNiE Cock 302 EoBiN Hood and Gut of Gisbobne 303 Robin Hood's Death and Burial 306 Robin Hood rescuing the Widow's Three Soxb 307 Hugh op Lincoln 309 The Battle of Otteebubn S09 Chevy Chase 311 JoHNiE Armstrong 314 Mart Hamilton 315 Captain Car 316 The Bonny Earl of Murray 318 KiNMONT Willie 318 The Bonnie House o Airlie .... 321 The Baron of Beacklet 321 Bonnie George Campbell 323 Bewick and Graham 324 The Dowy Houms o Yarrow 327 The D^mon Lover 328 OuB Goodman . 328 Get up and Bab the Door 330 The Wife wrapt in Wether's Skin 330 The Bitter Withy 331 JOHN BARBOUR The Bruce 332 Introduction 332 How Scotland learned to love Liberty 332 How the King read Ferumbras 333 The Battle of Bannockburn 334 'BLIND HARRY' The Wallace 340 The Fishing Adventure 340 Wallace and the English Queen 341 Lament for Wallace's Capture 345 The Death of Wallace 345 JAMES I OF SCOTS — The King's Quaih 347 Good Counsel 366 ROBERT HENRYSON The Testament op Cresseid 367 The Fox, the Wolf, and the Cadger 375 CONTENTS xi The Tale of the Uplandish MonsE and the BtnsGEss Mouse 380 Robin and Makin 383 The Gabment op Good Ladies 384 WILLIAM DUNBAR — The Golden Tabqe 386 The Thistle and the Rose 390 Lament eok the Makeks 392 The Dance op the Seven Deadly Sins 394 The Petition op the Ghat Horse, Old Dtjnbae 395 The Deegt op Dunbar made to King James the Fifth being in Stirling . . 396 The Ballad of Kind Kittok 397 How Dunbar wes desired to be a Friah 398 A New Year's Gift to the King 399 GAVIN DOUGLAS Translation of the ^neid 400 Prologue 400 Death of Priam 401 Morning in May 402 King Hart 406 Honour 408 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY The Dream 409 Complaynt of the Commounweill of Scotland 409 The Testament and Complaint of our Sovereign Lord's Papingo 411 Kiitt's Confession 419 The Testament of Squire Meldrum 421 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 423 INDEX 437 CHIEF BRITISH POETS OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES ROBERT MANNING OF BRUNNE WITCHCRAFT AND DREAMS {Handling Sin^ 11. 339-556) Gyf thou ever thurgh folye Dydyst ought ^ do nygromauney, Or to the devyl dedyst saoryfyse Thurgh wyehcraftys asyse,^ Or any man gaf the mede " For to reyse the devyl ^ yn dede, For to telle, or for to wrey ^ Thyng that the was don awey ; Gyf thou have do any of thys, Thou hast synned and do a-mys, 10 And thou art wurthy to be shent' Thurgh thys yche ' eommaundement. Gyf thou yn swerd, other yn bacyn, Any chylde madyst loke theryu, Or yn thumbe,^ or yn cristal, — Wycohecraft men clepyn ' hyt al. Beleve nought yn the pyys ^^ cheteryng ; Hyt ys no trouthe, but fals belevyng. Many belevyu yn the pye: Whan she comyth lowe or hye 20 Cheteryng, and hath no reste, Than sey they we shul have geste.^^ Manyon ^^ trowyn 1* on here wylys, And many tymes the pye hem gylys.^* Also ys metyng on the morwe When thou shalt go to bye or to borwe; Gyf than thy erende spede ne sette, Than wylt thou curse hym that thou mette. Hyt ys the tycement of the devyl To curse hem that thoght the no evyl. 30 Of hancel ^^ y can no skylle^* also; Hyt ys nought to beleve tharto: Me thynketh hyt ys fals every deyl, Y beleve hyt nought, ne never shal weyl." For many havyn glad hancel at the morw, And to hem or evyn comth moehyl sorw; And manyon havyn yn the day grete noy,^' And yy t or evyn cometh to hem moehyl ioye. 1 at all. 2 mode. ^ hire. * Call him up — the origin of our colloquial phrase. 5 hide. " punished. ' very. 8 One divined by the white flecks on the thumb-nail. s call. 10 magpie's. 11 doings — or possibly, a guest. 12 Many a one. i' believe. 1* deceives. i^ prognostication. 18 I know no good of it. " well. 18 annoyance. So mayst thou wyte, gyf thou gode can,w That hancel ys no beleve to man. 40 Beleve nought moche yn no dremys, For many be nat but gleteryng glemys. These clerkys seyn that hyt ys vanyte, That nought ys, ne never shal be; And ofte mayst thou fynde hyt ryght That thou hast mete ^^ upon the nyght. But therof to have moehyl affyauuce The may betyde the sunner a chaunce. On syxe maners may a man mete: Sum beyn to beleve, sum beyn to lete.'^ 50 Sum men dremyn for surfeture, That etyu or dryukyn over mesure ; And sum dreme on veyn thyng For over myehyl and grete fastyng; Aud sum beyn the fendes temptaeyoun That to the trowthe ys fals tresoun ; And sum come of over moehyl thought Of thyng that men wuld have wrought; And sum beyn Goddys pryvyte That he shewyth to warne the ; 60 And, sum come thurgh grete stody. And shewe to the apertly.^^ These syxe maners a clerk us tellyth, Seynt Gregory, that moehyl spellyth.^ The fyrst twey "* maners, we wote weyl, Beyn oure defaute every deyl. The ton ^ ys for over myohel outrage. The touther ys febylnesse of corage,^^ As yn mete, or drynk, over moohe takyng, Or yn f eblyng the body with moche fastyng. The touther foure thys clerkys wytyn, 71 For yn the byble they ben wrytyn. Gyf they ne come thurgh temptaoyun Of the fende, that ys a felun, Nevere had seyd Salamon ' That dremys men deseyve ^ manyon.' Fortho that to dremys over moohe trastys,^^ To scome hem the fende then frastys.''" Gyf they come nat also thurgh thoght. The wyse clerk hadde tolde hyt noght, 80 Ne sufBryd hyt be wrytyn yn boke That men alle day rede yn, and loke, w understand. 20 dreamt. 31 neglect. 23 openly. 23 relates. 24 two. 25 The one. 26 spirit, i^ deceive. 28 trust. 2> tries. ROBERT MANNING OF BRUNNE Thus the wyse clerk seyth, Catun, And techyth chyldryu thys lessun, ' Geve no charge to (thy) dremys, They been but as (glasyng) glemys That yn the thought (stertys &) lepys A-nyght whan thou (restys &) slepys: That you wakyng (sumtyme) thenkes, Before thy ygen hyt blenkys.' ^ 90 Gyf they ue come thurgh pryvyte That God wyl shewe me or the, losep of dremys had gyve no kepe ^ What hym was shewed yn hys slepe, That fadyr and modyr and al hys kynde, Thurgh hym shuld they wurshyp fynde. Yn the byble men rede thys In the fyrst boke of Genesys. Also hyt was shewyd pryvyly To losep that wedded oure lady, 100 That with the chyld they shulde fle To Egypt, that yche cuntre. Thys ys clepyd revelacyun. To shewe byfore what ys to doun. Gyf they com noght thurgh stodyyng, That tokene ys of selkouthe " thyng, Danyel had noght wyst byfore The dreme of Nabugodonosore. Danyel seyd un-to the kyng, "Thou thougtyst to nyght a selkouthe thyng; no What manere folk shuld they be That yn this worlde come af tyr the, And how they shulde the wurlde governe ; Yn thy thoght thou gunne hyt gerne; ^ And God shewyd hyt yn thy sygt; That dremed the the touther nyght." He tolde the profyte than every deyl; And the profete redde^ hyt weyl: Wysly he seyd, and weyl thurgh soght. Whan he hede^ toke to that the kynge thoght. And God shewyd what shuld betyde; 121 What manere folk shulde aftyr a-byde. Sethyn ther beyn dremys so many man- ere,^ Than ys doute and grete were ^ To wyte where-of dremys come. That every nyght dremyn thurgh custome ; Ther beyn so many dremys yn veyne, That no man wote no certeyn But they that beyn with God pryve. To whom ys graunted, swych thyng to see: Swych men deseyveth nat the devyl, 131 They have no grace to knowe hys evyl ; > flashes before thine eyes. ' heed. > strange. * began to yearn for it. 6 expounded. < heed. I kinds. B uncertainty. ^ Ellys may no man fynde hem stable, So ben dremys deseyvable. Gyf thou telle hem, than mayst thou erre ; And gyf tho w trow hem, that ys wel werre ; ' For thou mayst dreme of sume evyl thyng That may turn to better for thy preyyng. " Thou, leudman,!" gyf gode tent,^^ Trow noght agen the comaundment." 140 Gyf thou beleve yn wycchecraft To chaunge thyng be the devylys craft, — Swych beyn the devyl betaght,^^ With holy chyrche they ben unsaght,^' And alle tho that on hem trowe Mow drede hem self to brenne yn lowe;^* And thogh they fynde hyt sothe other whyle,^^ Hyt ys thurgh the fendes gyle. The fend f ondyth ^^ with alle hys myght To put sumwat yn here syght 150 That shal make hem swych thyng beleve And God almyghty myspay i' and greve. For ther was never womman ne man That any wycchecraft be-gan. That ever myght bryng hyt to an ende, But fals beleve that wyl hem shende. The wurdys certys beyn ryght noght, But fals beleve maketh dede y-wroght. For whan thou trowyst yn a fals thyng The devyl hyt shewyth for that trowyng. Lo here a tale of a wyeche, 161 That leved^^ no better tha(n) a bycche. THE TALE OF THE WITCH AND HER COW-SUCKING BAG There was a wyeche, and made a bagge, A bely i' of lethyr, a grete swagge,^" She sygaldryd ^^ so thys bagge bely That hyt gede ^ and soke ^^ mennys ky,'^ At evene, and at morw tyde, Yn here pasture, other ellys be syde. Long hyt gede aboute fast, Tyl hyt was parceyved at the last; Than all the godemen of the toune, Byfore the bysshop dyden here somoune ; 10 They dyden the bagge with here here, To wete ^ what she shuld answere. Hyt was shewyd byfore the bysshop, That she dyde^ to goo swych a melk slop,27 • worse. " layman. " heed. " handed over to. " unreconciled. " bum in flame. is sometimes. !■ strives. " displease. " believed. » bellows. !0 bulky object. " enchanted. « went. 23 sucked. 2< kine. s' know. " caused. " bag. THE TALE OF THE SACRILEGIOUS CAROLLERS Thnrgh wycchecraft and mysaventure, To sugke here keyn yn here pasture. The bysshop merveyled, and other mo,* How that she myght do hyt go. " Dame," seyd the bysshop, " do thy quen- tyse," And late us se how hyt shal ryse." 20 Thys wycche here eharme began to sey, The slop ros up, and gede the weye. The bysshop seyd, " thys have we seyu; Do hyt now to lygge ' ageyn," The wycche dede al at hys wylle: She made the slop agen lygge stylle. The bysshop made a clerk than wryte AI that she seyd, moehel and lyte, And alle how she made here went; ^ The bysshop tharto gaf gode entent. 30 " Than," seyde the bysshop, " now shal y, As thou hast do, do thy maystry." * The bysshop began the eharme to rede, And as she dyde, he dyde yn dede; He seyd and dede every deyl, Ryght as she dede, he dede as weyl. The sloppe lay stylle, as hyt ded wore, For hym ne ros hyt never the more. " Why," seyd he, " wyl hyt nat ryse, And y have do the same wyse, 40 And seyd the wurdys, lesse ne mo. And for my seyyng wyl hyt nat go ? " " Nay," she seyd, " why shuld hyt so ? Ye beleve nat as y do : Wulde ye beleve my wurdys as y, Hyt shulde a go, and sokuu ky." He seyd, " than f aleth* noght but belevyng " ; She seyd, "that helpeth al my thyng; And so hyt ys for oure lawe, Beleve ys more than the sawe ; ' 50 For thou mayst sey what thou wylt, But thou beleve hyt, ellys ys alle spylt; Alle that y seyd, ye beleve hyt weyl, My beleve hath do the dede every deyl." The bysshop comaundyd that she shuld noght Beleve ne wurche as she had wroght. THE TALE OF THE SACRILE- GIOUS CAROLLERS {Handling Sin, 11. 8987-9252) Karollbs,* wrastlynges, or somour games, Who-so ever haunteth any swyehe shames Tn cherohe, other yn chercheyerd, 1 others besideB. 2 cunning, s lie down, < trick. E feat. B needeth. ^ saying. a Circular dances, and the accompanying song. Of sacrylage he may be a-ferd; Or entyrludes, or syngynge, Or tabure bete,^ or other pypynge, Alle swyehe thyng forbodyn es Whyle the prest stondeth at messe. Alle swyehe, to every gode preste ys lothe. And sunner wyl he make hym wroth 10 Than he wyl that hath no wyt, Ne undyrstondeth nat holy wryt; And specyaly, at hyghe tymes, KaroUes to synge, and rede rymys, Noght yn none holy stedes,!" That myght dysturble the prestes bedes, Or gyf he were yn orysun Or any outher devocyun, Sacrylage ys alle hyt tolde,^ Thys and many other folde. jo But for to leve yn cherche to daunce, Y shal ghow telle a f ul grete chaunce, And y trow, the most that f el Ys as soth as the gospel; And fyl thys chaunce yn thys londe, Yn Ingland, as y undyrstonde; Yn a kynges tyme that hyght Edward, Fyl thys chaimce that was so hard. Hyt was upp-on a crystemesse nyght That twelve folys ^^ a karolle dyght; i^ 30 Yn wodehed,!* as hyt were yn cuntek ^ They come to a tounne men calles Colbek; The eherehe of the tounne that they to come, Ys of Seynt Magne ^' that suffred martyr- dome; Of Sent Bukcestre hyt ys also, Seynt Magnes suster, that they come to. Here names of alle, thus fonde y wryte. And as y wote, now shul ye wyte : Here lodes-man i' that made hem glew,^^ Thus ys wryte, he hyghte Gerlew; 40 Twey maydens were yn here eoveyne,^^ Mayden Merswynde, and Wybessyne; Alle these come thedyr for that enchesone ^ Of the prestes doghtyr of the tounne. The prest hyght Robert, as y kau ame;^! Agone hyght hys sone by name ; Hys doghter, that these men wulde have, Thus ys wryte, that she hyght Ave; Echoune consented to o wyl. Who shuld go Ave oute to tyl: ^^ 50 They graunted echone out to sende Bothe Wybessyne and Merswynde. These wommen gede and tolled^' here oute " beating. 10 places. n accounted. 12 fools. 1' made. " madness. 16 contumely. ^^ Magnus. 17 leader. i8 music. " company. so on account. 91 irw^aoB SQ nrtt-i^n DH ....1.: 3 4 ROBERT MANNING OF BRUNNE Wyth hem to karoUe the oherche aboute. Beune ordeyned here karollyng; Gerlew endyted what they shuld syng: Thys ys the karolle that they suiige, As telleth the latyn timge, " Equitabat Bevo per silvam frondosam, Ducebat secum Merswyndam formosam. 60 Quid stamus, cur non imus ? " ( . . . a gap in the MS.} " By the leved wode rode Bevolyne, Wyth hym he ledde feyre Merswyae. Why stonde we ? why go we noght ? " Thys ys the karolle that Grysly wioght. Thys songe sunge they yn the cherche- yerd, — Of foly were they no thyng aferd, — - Uu-to the raatynes were alle done, And the messe shuld bygynne sone. 69 The preste hym revest ^ to begynne messe, And they ne left therefore, never the lesse, But daunsed furthe as they bygan; For alle the messe they ne blan.^ The preste, that stode at the autere ' And herde here noyse and here bere,^ Fro the auter down he nam,^ And to the cherehe porohe he cam. And seyd, " On Goddes behalve, y yow forbede That ye no lenger do swyeh dede; But Cometh yn, on feyre manere, 80 Goddes servyse for to here, And doth at Crystyn mennys lawe; Karolleth no more for Crystys awe, Wurschyppeth hym with alle youre myght, That of the Vyrgyne was bore thys nyght." For alle hys byddyng, lef te they noght, But daunsed furth, as they thoght. The prest tharefore was sore a-greved; He preyd God that he on belevyd, And for Seynt Magne, that he wulde so werche — 90 Yn whos wurschyp sette was the cherehe — That swych a veniaunce ^ were on hem sent Are they oute of that stede were went, That they myght ever ryght so wende Unto that tyme twelvemonth ende: (Yn the latyne that y fonde thore, He seyth nat ' twelvemonth,' but ' ever- more.') He cursed hem there alsaume ' As they karoled on here gaume. As sone as the preste hadde so spoke, 100 Every hande yn outher so fast was loke. 1 attired. 2 ceased. 3 altar. * cries. Ma way. 6 vengeaDce. ' all together. took That no man myght with no wundyr That twelvemonthe parte hem asundyr. The preste gede yn, whan thys was done, And commaunded hys sone Agone That he shulde go swythe ^ aftyr Ave, Oute of that karolle algate ' to have. But al to late that wurde was seyd. For on hem alle was the veniaunce leyd. Agone wende weyl for to spede; no Un-to the karolle asswythe 1° he gede; Hys systyr by the arme he hente,'^ And the arrae fro the body wente. Men wundred alle, that there wore, And merveyle mowe ye here more; For sethen ^ he had the arme yn hande, The body gede furth karoland; And nother body ne the arme Bledde never blode, colde ne warme, But was as drye, with al the haunche, 120 As of a stok were ryve a braunche. Agone to hys fadyr went, And broght hym a sory present: " Loke, fadyr," he seyd, " and have hyt here, The arme of thy doghtyr dere That was myn owne syster Ave, That y wende y myght a save.^^ Thy cursyng, now sene hyt ys With veniaunce on thy n owne ilessh ; Fellyche ^^ thou cursedst, and over sone ; 130 Thou askedest veniaunce, thou hast thy bone." 15 Yow thar^' nat aske gyf there was wo With the preste and with many mo. The prest that cursed for that daunce. On some of hys fyl harde chaunce. He toke hys doghtyr arme forlorn And byryed hyt on the morn; The nexte day the arme of Ave He fonde hyt lyggyng above the grave. He byryed hyt on anouther day, 140 And eit^'' above the grave hyt lay; The thrydde tyme he byryed hyt. And eft was hyt kast oute of the pyt. The prest wulde by rye hyt no more; He dredde the veniaunce ferly 1* sore; Yn-to the cherehe he bare the arme; For drede and doute of more harme. He ordeyned hyt for to be. That every man myght with ye hyt se. These men that gede so karoUand 150 Alle that yere hand yn hand, 8 straightway. • by all means. t««b- 12 after. 13 have saved. " took. IB boon *' aiber. *- uave savea. 16 you need. " again. w forthwith. 1* Savagely, 18 wondrous. THE TALE OF THE SACRILEGIOUS CAROLLERS They never oiite of that stede gede, Ne none myght hem thenne ^ lede; There the cursyng fyrst bjgan, Yn that place a-boute they ran, That never ne f elte they no werynes — As many bodyes, for goyng, dos — Ne mete ete, ne drank drynke, Ne slepte onely a-lepy^ wynke; Nyght, ne day, they vFyst of none, i6o Whan hyt was come, whan hyt was gone; Frost ne snogh, hayle ne reyne. Of colde ne hete, f elte they no peyne ; Heere ne nayles never grewe, Ne solowed^ clothes, ne tm'ned he we; Thundyr ne lyghtnyng dyd hem no dere,^ Goddes mercy dyd hyt fro hem were ; ^ But sungge that songge that the wo wroght, " Why stonde we ? why go we noght? " What man shuld thyr be yn thys lyve, 170 That ne wulde hyt see, and thedyr dryve ? ^ The Emperoure Henry come fro Rome For to see thys hard(e) dome; Whan he hem say, he wepte sore For the myschef e that he sagh thore ; He did come wryghtes for to make Coveryng over hem for tempest sake; But that they wroght, hyt was yn veyn, For hyt come to no certeyn; For that they sette on 00 ' day, 180 On the touther downe hyt lay; Ones, twyys, thryys, thus they wrogt, And alle here makyng was for nogt; Myght no coveryng hyle * hem fro colde Tyl tyme of mercy, that Cryst hyt wolde. Tyme of grace fyl thurgh hys mygt At the twelvemonth end, on the yole ' nyght. The same oure that the prest hem banned,!" They same oure, atwynne they woned;!! That houre that he cursed hem ynne, 190 That same oure they gede atwynne: And, as yn twynkelyng of an ye, Tn-to the cherche gun they flye, And on the pavement they fyl alle downe. As they hade be dede, or fal yn a swone. Thre days, styl, they lay echone. That none steryd, other flesshe or bone, And, at the thre days ende, To lyfe Grod grauntede hem to wende. They sette hem upp, and spak apert 200 1 thence. ^ a single. ' faded. * caused them no harm. ^ turn aside. * go. ' one. s cover, protect. 8 Yule. 10 cursed. 11 apart they went. To the parysshe prest, syre Robert: "Thou art ensample and enchesun^ Of oure long confusyun; Thou maker art of oure travayle, That ys to many grete mervayle ; And thy traveyle sbalt thou sone ende, For to thy long home, sone shalt thou wende." Alle they ryse that yche tyde, But Ave; she lay dede besyde; Grete sorowe had here fadyr, here brother; Merveyle and drede had alle outher, 211 Y trow no drede of soule dede,!^ But with pyne was broght the body dede. The fyrst man was the fadyr, the prest, That deyd aftyr the doghtyr nest." Thys yche ^^ arme that was of Ave, That none myght leye yn grave, The emperoure dyd a vessel werche To do hyt yn, and hange yn the cherche. That alle men myght se hyt and knawe, 220 And thenk on the chaunce when men hyt sawe. These men that hadde go thus karolland Alle the yere, fast hand yn hand, Thogh that they were than asunder, Yyt alle the world spake of hem wnnder: That same hoppyng that they fyrst gede, That daunce gede they thurgh land and lede; 18 And as they ne myght fyrst be unbounde. So efte to-gedyr myght they never be founde, Ne myght they never come ageyn 230 To-gedyr, to 00 stede ^^ certeyn. Foure gede to the courte of Rome, And ever hoppyng aboute they nome ; i* With sundyr lepys come they thedyr, But they come never efte to-gedyr; Here clothes ne roted, ne nayles grewe Ne heere ne wax, ne solowed hewe, Ne never hadde they amendement, That we herde, at any corseynt,i* But at the vyrgyne Seynt Edyght,^" 240 There was he botened,^^ seynt Teodryght; On oure lady day, yn lenten tyde, As he slepte here toumbe besyde, There he hade hys medycyne, At seynt Edyght, the holy vyrgyne. 12 occasion. 13 no fear of her soul's being dead. I* next. 15 same. "s nations. 1^ one place. IB went. " holy saint. '" Edith. " amended. THE PEARL' Perle plesaujite ^ to prynces paye, To olanly clos in golde so clere ! Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye, Ne proued I neuer her precios pere, So rounde, so reken ia vche araye, So smal, so smofe her sydej were. Quere-so-euer I jugged gemmej gaye, I sette hyr sengeley in synglure. Alias ! I leste hyr in on erbere ; turj gresse to groujide hit fro me yot. I dewyne, for-dolked of luf-dauugere, Of fat pryuy perle w^tA-outen spot. Syfen in fat spote^ hit fro me sprange, Ofte haf I wayted, wyschande J>at wele J>at wont watj whyle deuoyde my wrange, & heuen my happe & al my hele, JJat dot} hot fryeh my hert ^ Jrange, My breste in bale bot bolne & bele. 5et Jjojt me neuer so swete a sange As sty He stounde let to me stele; For-sof e per fleten to me fele. To fenke hir color so clad in clot ! O moul, fou marrej a myry iuele, My priuy perle wytA-outen spotte ! bat spot of spysej [mo]t^ nedej sprede, per such rychej to rot is runne ; Blomej blayke & blwe " & rede fcer schynej ful sohyr agayn fe sunne; ilor & fryte may not be fede Jjer hit doun drof in moldej dunne; For vch gresse mot grow of graynej dede, No whete were ellej to wonej wonne; 1 See the notes to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight^ the excerpt from the original text, for tlie main pecu- liarities of the manuscript. 2 The italic letters, like n here, are indicated in the MS. only by a sign of contraction. 3 Each stanza in the sets of five is connected to the preceding stanza by the repetition in the iirst line of some word from the last line of the preceding stanza. * Such a word could perfectly well have its original final e in order to improve the metre. 6 Brackets about letters, as here, indicate that the letters have been supplied or emended by an editor. 6 w for single u. Of goud vche goude is ay by-gonne; So semly a sede mojt fayly not, Jjat spry[n]gande spyce) vp ne sponne Of fat precios perle wyth-outen spotte. 4 To fat spot fat I in speche expoura I eutred, in fat erber grene, In augoste in a hyj seysoun, Quea come is coruen wyth crokej kene. On huyle f er perle hit trendeled dou» Sehadowed f is wortej ful schyre & sohene- Gilofre, gyngure, & gromylyoun, & pyonys powdered ay by-twene. 5if hit watj semly on to sene, A fayr reflayr jet fro hit flot, ' er wonys fat worf yly, I wot & wene, Ty precioMS perle wyth-outen spot. Bifore fat spot my honde I spenn[e]d For care ful colde fat to me cajt; A de[r]uely dele in my hert denned, ^aj resoura sette myseluen sajt. I playned my perle fat f er watj spenned Wyth fyrte skyllej fat faste fajt; JJaj kynde of kryst me comfort kenned, My wreched wylle in wo ay wrajte. I felle upon fat floury flajt, Suche odour to my hernej schot; I slode vpou a slepyng-slajte, On fat prec[i]os perle w^tAouten spot. Fro spot my spyryt f er sprang in space. My body on balke f er bod in sweuen ; My goste is gon in godej grace, In auenture fer meruaylej meiien. I ne wyste in fis worlde quere fat hit wace, Bot I knew me keste fer klyfej cleuen; Towards a f oreste I here f e face, Where rych rokkej wer to dyscreuen. JJe lyjt of hem my5t no mon leuen, be glemande glory fat of hem glent; For wern neuer webbej fat wyjej weuen Of half so dere adub[be]mente. THE PEARL I 1. Pearl, pleasant for princes to set cleanly in clear gold, hardily I say that out of the Orient I never found its ^ precious peer. So vound, so beauteous in each array, so small, so smooth were its sides, that wheresoever I judged of gay jewels I set it singly by itself. Alasl I lost it in an arbor; ' through grass to ground it went from me. I pine, stricken ^ by love-danger, for mine own pearl without a spot. 2. Since in that spot it sprang from me, oft have I waited, wishing for that weal that was wont whilom to rid me of my woe and raise my hap and all my joy ; it doth pierce ^ through my heart and makes my breast in bale to swell and burn. Yet me thought never was there so sweet a song as stole to me in the silent hour; forsooth there floated to me many, to think of her beauty, so clad in clay. O earth, thou marrest a lovely jewel, mine own pearl without a spot ! 3. That spot must needs abound in spices where such riches is run to rot. Blooms yellow and blue and red shine there full sheer against the sun; flower and fruit may not fade ^ where it drove down in the dun mould; for every herb must grow from a seed's death; else were no wheat e'er brought to barns ; from good each good is aye begun. So seemly a seed could not fail that springing spices should not start up from that precious pearl without a spot. 4. To the spot which I tell of, in that green garden, I went in August, at the height of the season,^ when corn is cut with sickles keen. On the mound where the pearl had rolled down, these herbs so bright and fair cast their shade' — gilly-flower, 1 The pearl, as may be seen by a glance at the original on the opposite page, ia indifferently neuter and femi- nine in the poem. 2 Perhaps garden^ i.e. Anglo-French herber^ grassy place, herb garden. a Reading fwdolled instead of fordolked^ which latter might mean pierced. 4 Or " pierce my heart frequently." 6 MS. fede is doubtful. 6 Or, " on a high festival," i.e. Assumption. "> AmbiguouB passage : possibly the flowers shaded the hill; or again, the hill the flowers. ginger and gromwell, and ever peonies sprinkled between. If it was seemly to look upon, yet more pleasing was the sweet odour that floated from it. There dwells, I wot and ween, that worthy one, my precious pearl without a spot. 5. Before that spot I clasped my hands for the heavy sorrow which seized me. A doleful ' pang made a tumult in my heart, although reason reconciled me. I lamented my pearl that was enclosed there with frightened ' reasonings that fast fought. Though Christ's goodness offered me com- fort, my wretched will sank ever into grief. Such a fragrance shot to my senses that I fell upon the flowery sward, and dropped into a sleeping trance above that precious pearl without a spot. II 6. From the spot my spirit sprang into space; my body abode in a trance on the mound. My ghost by God's grace went on an adventure to a land where marvels move; I knew not where in this world it was ; but I knew that I was borne where cliffs are cloven; my face I turned toward a forest where rich rocks were to be descried; the light of them might no man believe, the gleaming glory that glinted from them ; for never were fabrics woven by men of half so fair adornment. 7. Adorned were all the sides of the downs with crystal cliffs so clear. Bright woods about them were, with boles as blue as indigo; like burnished silver the leaves unfold, trembling thick on every limb; when a gleam from the sky glides against them with a splendid shimmering they shine full bright. The gravel upon the ground ^^ was precious pearls of Orient, — the sunbeams but dark and dull in comparison with that ornament. 8. The adornment of those beauteous 8 Seeping the MS. reading, deuely, as if from Old French doet, duel^ grief. 8 Doubtful. The MS. fyrte may be — as it is trans- lated — related to A. S. fyrhtariy to frighten ; or may possibly stand for the numeral /oWt/. 10 Literally: The gravel that on the ground gan grind. 8 THE PEARL downs made my spirit all grief forget; so fresh was the savour of the fruit that it fairly restored me like food. Fowls there flew in the forest, of flaming hues, both small and great. But the oitole-string and the cithern player could not recount their splendid mirth; for when those birds beat their wings, they sang with sweet assent ; so gra- cious glee could no man get as to hear and see their adornment. 9. So was adorned in dear array all that woodland where fortune leads me forth; the beauty thereof for to relate is no man worthy. I walked aye forth in happy wise; no bank so big as to cause me fear; the far- ther into the park, the fairer gan rise the plain, the plants, the spice, the trees,' and hedges and banks, and rich meads — their steep banks like gold embroidery fine. I won to a water that ran bright by the shore. Lord, fair was its adornment ! 10. The adornment of the precious dell was radiant banks of beryl bright; sweetly sounding swept the water, with a murmur- ing voice rushing by. In the bottom there stood bright stones, that glowed and glim- mered like rays through glass, or as the streaming^ stars, when men sleep sound,' stare in the welkin in winter night; for each pebble, set there in the pool, was emerald, or sapphire, or gentle gem ; so tliat all the pool gleamed with the light, so rich was its adorn- ment. Ill 11. The adornment dear of down and dales, of wood and water and fair plains, raised bliss in me, abated my sorrows, ended my distress, destroyed my pains. Down along a stream that swiftly runs I turned in bliss. Crowded was my mind.^ The fur- ther I followed these watery vales the greater strength of joy strained my heart. As Fortune fares whereas she will, whether solace she send or sorrow, the wight to whom her will she grants * strives to have aye more and more. 12. More of weal was in that plan' than I could tell, though I had time; for earthly heart might not suffice to the tenth part of 1 Literally, " pear-tree3.'* 2 "Raining influence," as it were. 3 Uucertain; possibly " strong men." 4 Literally, " Brimful my brains." 6 Meaning not quite sure. 6 Literally, "wise." that gladness glad. Therefore I thought that Paradise was there over against the broad banks. I supposed the stream to be a division by waters made between joys.' Be- yond the brook, by slope or dale, I imagined that city* might be placed. But the water was deep, I durst not wade; and ever I longed aye more and more. 13. More and more, and yet still more I listed to see beyond the brook ; for if it was fair where I walked, much lovelier was the farther land. About me gan I to stumble and stare; to find a ford fast gan I seek; but dangers more I wis there were the far- ther I stalked by the strand; and ever it seemed to me I should not to flinch for woe where joys so precious were. Then a new matter came to hand that moved my mind aye more and more. 14. A greater marvel gan my mind to daunt. I saw beyond that merry mere a crystal clifE right brilliant; many a royal ray shot from it. At the foot thereof there sat a child, a maiden of mien full debo- naire ; gleaming white was her garment — I knew her well, I had seen her before. As glistening gold when it is cut, so shone that fair one upon the shore.' I looked upon her there at length; and the longer, I knew her more and more. 15. The more I searched her fair face, her beauteous figure scanned, such a glad- dening glory glided to me as heretofore was little wont. Desire urged me to call her, but confusion gave my heart a blow; I saw her in so strange a place ; such a shock might well amaze my heart. Then she lifted up her fair face, her visage white as plain ivory, that stung my strayed heart; and more and more the longer she gazed. IV 16. More than I desired, my dread arose; I stood full stiU,and durst not call; with open eyes and mouth full close I stood as mute as hawk in hall. I deemed that spiritual was the purport, and I dreaded ever what should befall lest she whom I saw there escaped me ere I could arrest her with my voice. But ' i.e. the stream separated two joyo'us lands. Mean- ing a bit doubtfid. 8 i.e. the Heavenly Jerusalem. » For the MS. anunder shore one is tempted to read anunder gore (garment)," under gore " being a favorite rime-tag with some of the romancers in such a connec- tion. THE PEARL that gracious and gay one without fault,^ so smooth, so small, so seemly slight, rose up in her royal array — a precious piece in pearls bedight. 17. Set pearls of royal price there might man by grace have seen when she, fresh as fleur-de-lys, down the bank quickly took her way. All glistening white was her man- tle,^ open at sides and brightly bound with the purest margery pearls, methinks, that ever I saw yet with mine eyes. The long sleeves,' I wot and I ween, were adorned and set with double pearls; her klrtle of the same bright stuff was studded round with precious pearls. 18. A studded crown yet wore that girl, of margeries and no other stone, high pin- nacled of clear white pearl, with blooming flowers wrought upon it. Her head had no other fillet, her own locks * covered her quite. Her semblant was stately as that of duke or earl; her hue more white than whalebone." As bright as cut gold shone her locks, that lay lightly unbound over her shoulders. Her deep collar did not lack em- broidery of precious pearls. 19. Set and sewed was every hem, at hands, at sides, at the openings, with white pearls and no other gem; and burnished white was her vesture. But a wondrous pearl without a flaw was set securely amidst her breast. A man's reason would be greatly bafSed ere his mind could comprehend its size; no tongue, I think, would suffice to give an adequate account of that sight, so clean and clear and pure it was — that precious pearl where it was set. 20. Clad in pearl, that precious piece be- yond the water came down the shore. From here to Greece was there never gladder man than I when she stood on the bank. She was nearer to me than aunt or niece; my joy therefore was much the more. Speech she proferred me, that dear being.' Inclin- ing low, in womanly fashion, she doffed her crown of great treasure, and greeted me 1 Perhaps to be taken literally, " without gall." Doves and such gentle things were supposed to be de- void of gall. 2 The MS. beauuiys is doubtful. 3 Literally, "laps." * The MS. lere leke is very difQeult. Here heJce (for eke), = hair also ; and here-leke = hair-locks, have been proposed. Hair lace might be suggested ; or leke might conceivably represent the Old Norse sufl&x -leikr ; here- leke being then simply hair, growth of hair. 5 i.e. ivory. 6 Literally, *' special spice." with blithe countenance. Glad was I that ever I was born, to answer that sweet one clad in pearls. V 21. " Oh pearl," quoth I, " in pearls clad, art thou my pearl that I have mourned, re- gretted by me lonely in the night ? Much longing for thee have I concealed since into the grass thou glided from me. Pensive, impaired, I suffer pain, whilst thou to a life of joy art come in the land of Paradise, un- touched by strife. What fate has borne my jewel hither, and left me in this grief and great anxiety ? Since we were torn atwain and parted I have been a joyless jeweller." 22. Then that jewel clad in gentle gems raised her face and her gray eyes, set on her crown of orient pearl, and soberly there- after gan she speak : " Sir, ye have reck- oned amiss, to say that your pearl is all lost that is enclosed in a coffer as comely as this garden gracious gay; herein to bide forever, and play, where loss nor mourning come never nigh. Here were a treasure-chest in- deed for thee if thou were a gentle jeweller. 23. " But, gentle jeweller, if thou must lose thy joy for a gem that was dear to thee, thou seemst to me bent on a mad pur- pose, and busiest thee for a slight reason. For that which thou lost was but a rose, that flowered and failed as nature de- creed. Now, through the virtue of the chest that encloses it, it has become a pearl of price. — And thou hast called thy fate a thief, that manifestly has made for thee something out of nothing. Then blamest the very cure of thy mischief. Thou art no natural jeweller." 24. A jewel to me then was this guest, and jewels were her gentle saws. "For- sooth," quoth I, " my blissful best one, my great distress thou takest all away. To be excused I make request; for 1 believed my pearl vanished. Now I have it I shall make merry and dwell with it in bright groves, and praise my Lord and all his laws, who has brought me near to this bliss. Now were I with you beyond these waves I were a joyful jeweller." 25. " Jeweller," then said that clean gem, " why jest ye men, so mad ye be ? Three words hast thou spoken at once ; and unad- vised, forsooth, were all three. Thou know- est not what in the world one doth mean. 10 THE PEARL Thy words before thy wit gan fly. Thou sayest that thou believest me to be in this dale because thou canst see me with thine eyes ; secondly thou sayest that thou thyself shalt dwelt with me right here ; the third is, to pass this fair water — that may no joy- ful jeweller. VI 26. " I hold that jeweller little to praise who believes^ well what he sees with his eye; and much to blame and uncourteous him who believes our Lord would make a lie, who loyally promised to raise your life, though fortune caused your flesh to perish. Ye set his words all awry who believe noth- ing but ye see it; and that is a point of pride which evil beseems each good man, — to believe that no tale is quite true unless his own reason can judge of it. 27. "Judge now thyself whether thou knowest how to talk — as if a man should have words with God. Thou sayst thou shalt dwell in this precinct. Methinks it be- hoves thee first to ask leave, — and even then of permission thou mightst fail. Thou wishest over this water to cross; first thou must take other counsel; thy corse must colder sink ^ in the mould, for it was undone at the grove of Paradise; our first father abused it there. Through dreary death it behoves each man to pass ere over this stream the Lord siifEer him." 28. " Doomest thou me," quoth I, " my sweet, to grief again, then I must perish. Now I have found what I lost, must I again forgo it ere ever I die ? Why must I both miss and find it ? My precious pearl causes me great pain. What serves treasure but to make man weep, when he must lose it again with sorrow ? Now reck I never how I de- cline, nor how far from my laud one banish me, when I have no part in my pearl. Ex- cept enduring grief what may men expect ? " 29. " Thou expectest naught but deep distress," then said that wight; '' why dost thou so ? For din of grief over lesser losses oft many a man overlooks the greater. Thou oughtst the better to rule thyself, and love aye God, and weal and woe, for anger gains thee not a cress. Who needs must suffer, let him not be so wild; for though thou dance as any doe, leap, and 1 Reading leues for loues of the MS. ! The MS. keue is difficult. cry thy wild remonstrances, yet when thou canst no fvirther, to or fro, thou must abide what he shall adjudge. 30. " Judge, Lord ! Ever ordain for himl ^ He will not turn a foot from the way. Thy amends amount not to a mite, though thou shouldst for sorrow be never blithe. Cease thy rebellion, and end complaint, and seek his compassion right swiftly and earnestly. Thy prayer may move his pity, that mercy shall show her power; his comfort may al- leviate thy languor, and lightly drive off thy afflictions; for marred or made, mourning and rejoicing,^ all lies in him to ordain and judge." VII 31. Then spake I to that damsel: " Let my Lord not be angry, if I rave rashly, spurning in speech. My heart was all stricken with loss, as welling water gushes out of the spring. I put myself ever in his mercy. Rebuke me not with fell words, though I go astray, my dear adored one; but help me kindly with your comfort, pit- eously thinking upon this — ye joined to- gether ' care and me, ye who once were the ground of all my bliss. 32. " My bliss and my bale both have ye been; but my sorrow was much the greater. Since thou wast removed from every dan- ger, I wist never where my pearl was gone. Now that I see it, my anguish grows less. And when we separated we were at one; God forbid we now be wroth, we meet so seldom by stock or stone. Though ye know how to speak courteously, I am but muck, and mianners * lack. But Christ's mercy, and Mary and John — these are the grounds of all my bliss. 33. " In bliss I see thee blithely set, and I a man all mournful and downcast. Ye take full little heed thereof, though I oft suffer fierce harms; but now that I am here in your presence, I would beseech without de- bate that ye would tell me in sober assent what manner of life ye lead early and late; for I am full fain that your estate has truly come to worship and weal ; the highway of all my joy it is, the ground of all my bliss." 8 Obscure lines. Possibly better, "Our Lord and Judge has ordained everything." * A difficult passage. 6 Literally, *' made accord between." 8 MS. marerez mysse^ which might be translated " a botcher's failure." THE PEARL 34. "Now may bliss betide thee, sir!" then said that one so lovely of form and face ; " and welcome be thou here, to walk and bide, for now thy speech to me is dear. Masterful mood and high pride, I promise thee, are thoroughly hated here. My Lord loves not to chide,i for meek are all who dwell near him ; and when in hia place thou shalt appear, be deeply devout in entire meekness. My Lord the Lamb loves ever such cheer; that is the ground of all my bliss. 35. " Thou sayst I lead a blissful life, and wouldst learn the degree thereof. Thou kuowest well that when thy pearl departed I was full young and tender of age ; but my Lord the Lamb through his Godhead, he took me to him in marriage, crowned me queen, in bliss to dwell for a length of days that ever shall endure. And endowed with all his heritage is his loved one; I am wholly his ; his worth, his excellence, his nobility is the root and ground of all my bliss." VIII 36. " Blissful one," said I, " can this be true ? — be not displeased if I speak error — art thou the queen of the heavens blue, whom all this world must honour ? We be- lieve on Mary, whom grace sprang from, who bore in the flower of virginity a child. Who is it could remove the crown from her imless she surpassed her in some excel- lence ? Now for her unique sweetness we call her the Phoenix of Araby, which flew peerless in its nature, like to the Queen of courtesy." 37. " Courteous Queen," then said that beautiful one, kneeling on the ground with face enfolded. "Matchless Mother and fairest Maid, blessed Beginner of every grace ! " Then rose she up and gan pause, and spake to me at that time : " Sir, many chase and capture prey there ; ^ but within this place are no supplanters; that Empress has all the heavens, and earth and hell are under her sway; yet none she will deprive of their heritage, for she is Queen of cour- tesy. 38. "The court of the kingdom of the living God has this property in its very 1 Perhaps '* loves not chiding." * Amending the MS. here to pere^ = there, in your world. The line is difficult. being : each that arrives therein is queen or king of all the realm, and yet never dispos- sesses another; but each one is fain of the others' having, and would that their * crowns were worth five times as much — if their amending were possible. But my Lady, of whom Jesus sprang, she holds full high the empire over us all ; and that displeases none of our company, for she is Queeu of cour- tesy. 39. " In courtesy, as saith St. Paul, we are all members of Jesus Christ. So head and arm and leg and trunk * belong to his body so true and good. Right so is every Christian soul a limb belonging to the Mas- ter of might. Then consider whether ^ hate or any bitterness is rife or exists among thy limbs : thy head has neither anger nor resentment if thou bear a ring on arm or finger. So fare we all with love and liking to King and Queen ' by courtesy." 40. " Courtesy," said I, " and great char- ity I believe to be among you. But — let my speech not grieve you — ' thou raisest thyself over high in heaven, to make thee queen, who wast so young. What greater honour could he achieve that had endured in the cruel world, and lived in penance his whole life long, with bodily bale to buy him bliss ? What greater worship could he attain than be crowned king by courtesy ? IX 41. " That courtesy is too free of deed if it be sooth that thou sayst. Thou didst not live two years among our people ; thou kne w- est never how God to please nor to him pray, — no, neither Pater nor Creed. And made queen on the first day ! I can not be- lieve — so God me speed — that God would turn so wrongly aside; the rank of count- ess, damsel, by my faith, it were fair for thee to hold in heaven, — or else that of a lady of less degree. But a queen ! — that is an attainment * too great." 42. " There is no limit of his goodness," then said to me that worthy wight ; " for all is truth that he appoints, and he can do 8 The companions*. * Literally, " navel " ; most translate "nail." 6 Reading wher for what of the text. 6 The Lamb and Mary. ? A line missing. 8 The word date in this set of stanzas is difficult of translation, its significance being excessively strained. 12 THE PEARL nothing but right. Aa Matthew tells in your mass, ill the truthful gospel of God Al- mighty ; in parable he gan it full readily divine, and likens it to heaven light. ' My realm,' he says, ' is like indeed to a lord that had a vineyard, I wot. The season of the year was come when to labour in the vine- yard it was high time. 43. " ' That time of year well know the hinds. The lord full early rose up to hire workmen to his vineyard, and finds there some to his purpose. Into accord they gan fall for a penny a day, and forth they go ; they twine and work and take great pains, cut and bind and make it snug. About midmorn the lord to the market goes, and idle men finds he standing there. "Why stand ye idle ? " he says to those. " Know ye not what day this is ? " 44. " ' " Ere break of day hither are we come '' ; so was all together their answer given ; ^ " We have stood here since rose the sun, and no man bids us do aught." " Go into my vineyard; do what ye can," so said the lord, and confirmed it.^ " What reason- able hire by night be run, I will pay you in thought and deed." They went into the vineyard and wrought, and all day the lord went his way, and brought new men to his vineyard. Wellnigh was passed the precious day. 45. " ' At the time of evensong, an hoxir before the sun goes down, he saw there idle men full strong, and said to them with sober voice, " Why stand ye idle all day long ? " They said their labour was nowhere sought. " Go to my vineyard, yeomen young, and work and do that which ye may." Soon the world became right dark ; the sun was down and it waxed late. To take their hire he summoned them ; the term of the day was all passed. X 46. " ' The time of day the lord perceived, called to the reve, "Man, pay the company; give them the hire that I them owe. And, further, that none may reprove me, set them all in a row and give each one alike a penny. Begin at the last that stands low, till that thou to the first attain." And then the first gan to complain, and said that they 1 The MS. reading " sozt " is difficult. 2 Tlie usual meaning of the MS. made U tozt would be, " was reluctant, made difficulties about it." had travaiUed sore: "These but for an hour exerted themselves ; it seems to us that we ought to have more." 47. " ' " More have we deserved, it seems to us, that have suffered the day's heat, than these that wrought not two hours ; and thou dost make them like to us." Then said the lord to one of those, " Friend, I will cause thee no loss; take what is thine own and go. I hired thee at a penny for the whole day ; * why beginnest thou now to complain ? Was not a penny thy covenant there ? One may not plead for more than covenant. Why shouldst thou then ask more ? " 48. " ' "Furthermore, is not my giving lawful for me, to do with mine what pleases me ? Or else thou dost lift a malicious eye because I am good and deceive none."* Thus shall I,' quoth Christ, ' apportion it : the last shall be the first that attains, and the first the last, be he never so swift ; for many are called, though few are chosen.' ^ Thus poor men ever receive their part ; though they may come late and be feeble, and though their labour ends shortly, the mercy of God is so much the more. 49. " More have I here of joy and bliss, of ladyship great and life's bloom, than all the wights in the world could win in the way of right and justice. Although I have but now begun — came into the vineyard at eventide — the Lord remembered my hire first; I was immediately paid in full. Others there were that gave more time, that toiled and sweat for long before, who yet of their hire nothing have — peradventure shall not for a year more." 50. Then further I spake and said out- right, " Methinks thy tale unreasonable. God's righteousness is ready and evermore awake, or else Holy Writ is but a fable. In the Psalter '' is a clear verse that de- clares a definite point : ' Thou rewardest each one according to his deserts, thou high King ever foreordaining.' Now if thou came to payment before him that endured the long day, then is the less in work the greater in reward; and the longer one works, the less he receives." 3 MS. aijrete, "for the whole," not perfectly clear. * It is difficult to make logic of the conjunctions in this passage. 6 The MS. Be mykez is difficult and no attempt is made to translate it. 6 Psalm 62 : 12. THE PEARL 13 XI 51. " Of more and less in God's King- dom," the gentle one said, " there is no dis- tinction. For there is each man paid aUke, whether little or much be his worth. For the gentle Chieftain is no niggard, whether he deal soft or hard. He pours his gifts like water from a spring, or floods from an exhaustless deep. Large is the franchise of the man who ever stood in awe of Him that rescues from sin ; ' no bliss is withheld ^ from him,^ for the grace of God is great enough. 52. " But now, in order to overcome me, thou declarest that I have wrongly taken my penny here. Thou sayest that I that came too late, am not worthy so great hire. Where didst thou ever know any man abide so holy in his prayer that he in some way did not at length forfeit the reward of the clear heavens ? And the older they were the of tener they did so : they left right and wrought wrong. Mercy and grace had to rescue them then, for the grace of God is great enough. 53. " But the innocent have enough of grace ; as soon as they are born, lineally by the water of baptism they descend ; then are they brought into the vineyard. Imme- diately the might of death causes their * day with darkness to decline. The gentle Lord then pays his servants that wrought no wrong ere they went thence. They did his commandment, they were within the vineyard ; why should he not allow their labour, and pay them first at the end of the time, for the grace of God is great enough ? 54. " Well known it is that all mankind first was wrought to perfect bliss. Our first father forfeited that through an apple that he bit upon. We were all damned for that meat to die in grief out of delight ; and after to wend to the heat of hell, therein to dwell without respite. But there came a remedy quickly; rich blood ran on the rood so rough, and precious water then in that extremity; the grace of God waxed great enough. 55. " Enough there waxed out of that well, blood and water from the broad wound: the blood bought us from the bale of hell ^ An extremely difficult and uncertain passage. Bee Osgood's note. 2 The meaTiing of MS. reparde is doubtful. 8 laterally, "them." i Literally, " the." and delivered us from the second death. The water that followed the glaive so grimly ground is baptism, the sooth to tell, that washes away the dreadful guilts by which Adam in death us drowned. Now is there naught in the round world between us and bliss that he has not withdrawn ; and in happy hour is bliss ^ restored, and the grace of God is great enough. XII 56. " Grace enough the man may have who sins then anew, if he repent; but with sorrow and sighing he must it crave, and bide the pain thereto annexed; but right reason, that can not err, saves evermore the innocent ; it is a doom that God never gave — that ever the guiltless should be harmed. The guilty may contrition reach and be through mercy haled to grace ; but he that never stooped to guile — that in- nocent one is safe and right. 57. " Thus I know well in this case, two men to save is reasonable and good : the righteous man shall see his face, the harm- less person shall come to him. The Psalter in a passage says it thus : ' Lord, who shall climb to thy high hill, or rest within thy holy place ?' Himself to answer he is not slow: 'Who hath done no harm with his hands, that is of heart both clean and light, there shall his step ever be established.' The innocent is aye safe by right. 58. " The righteous man also shall ap- proach that proper pile ^ who takes not his life in vain, nor flatters his neighbour with any guile. This righteous one Solomon saw plain, how kindly our King ' gan him re- ceive; by ways full straight he gan him lead, ' and showed him the realm of God awhile, as though to say ' Lo, yon lovely isle I thou canst it win if thou be wight.' But certainly, without perU, the innocent is aye safe by right. 59. " Aneut righteous men yet says one — David in the Psalter, if ever ye saw it — ' Lord, draw thy servant never into judg- ment, for none living to thee is justified.' Therefore to court when thou shalt come where all our causes shall be tried, allege thy right to be received by this same speech that I have espied. But He on the cross 6 The MS. pal, subject of "is restored," is obscure. 8 i. e. castle, edifice, the new Jerusalem, 7 Manuscript dubious hereabouts. B LiteraUy, " restrain." 14 THE PEARL that bloody died, grievously pierced through the hands, grant thee to pass, when thou art tried, by innocence, and not by right ! 60. " Whoso can read aright, let him look on the book and be advised how Jesus walked with the former people, and men brought their children to him. For hap and health that from him went, they fairly prayed him to touch their children. His dis- ciples wrongfully bade let be, and with tlieir words stayed full many. Jesus then said to them sweetly, ' Away ! Let the chil- dren to me forthwith ; for such is the heav- enly kingdom arrayed.' The innocent is aye safe by right. XIII 61. " His mild disciples then Jesus to him called, and said his kingdom could no wight win but he came thither right as a child. Otherwise should he never come therein. Harmless, true, and undefiled, without mote or speck of soiling sin — when such as these knock on the door, quickly to them shall one unpin the gate. There is the bliss that can not cease, which the jeweller sought through precious stones, and sold all his goods, both linen and wool, to buy him a pearl that was flawless. 62. "'This flawless pearl, that bought is dear, for which the jeweller gave all his goods, is like the realm of the clear heav- ens,' so said the Father of field and flood; for it is perfect, clean, and clear; and round without end, and blithe of mood, and com- mon to all that righteous were. Lo, even in the middle of my breast it stood. My Lord the Lamb, that shed his blood, he placed it there in token of peace. I rede thee forsake the frantic world and par- chase thy flawless pearl." 63. " Oh, flawless pearl, in pearls pure, that bears," said I, " the pearl of price, who formed for thee thy fair figure ? Who wrought thy weeds he was full wise. Thy beauty came never from Nature; Pygma- lion painted never thy face ; nor did Aris- totle with his learning tell the nature of these properties. Thy colour passes the fleur-de-lys; thine angel-bearing so purely courteous — tell me, bright one, what kind of office bears the pearl so flawless? " 64. "My flawless Lamb, who all re- deemed," quoth she, "my dear Destiny, chose me, unmeet, to be his mate. At a certain time that union i became fitting — when I went from your dark world. He called me to his favour: 2 'Come hitherto me, my love so sweet, for mote nor spot is none iu thee.' He gave me might and beauty too; in his blood he washed my weeds on the dais, and crowned me clean in virgin- ity, and clad me in flawless pearls." 65. " Why, flawless bride that shines so bright, that has dignities so rich and great, what manner of thing may this Lamb be, who would wed thee unto his wife ? Over all others didst thou climb so high to lead with him so stately ^ a life ? So many a comely lady ' in great suffering for Christ has lived, and thou hast all those dear ones driven out, and from that marriage all others kept — thou all alone, so stout and strong — a matchless maid and a flaw- less!" XIV 66. " Flawless," replied that lovely queen, "unblemished 1 am, without blot, and that may I properly maintain; but 'matchless queen ' then said I not. The Lamb's wives in bliss are we, a, hundred and forty thou- sand together, as in the Apocalypse it is clear; St. John saw them all in a group on the hill of Sion — that seemly spot. The Apostle saw them in spiritual dream ar- rayed for the wedding in that hilltop, the new city of Jerusalem. 67. " Of Jerusalem I will in speech ex- pound, if thou wilt know what his condition is — my Lamb, my Lord, my dear Jewel, my Joy, my Bliss, my Lover free. The prophet Isaiah of him spoke piteously — for his sweetness: 'That glorious, guilt- less One that men slew for no deed of felony. As a sheep to the slaughter then was he led; and as a lamb that the clippers take in the field, so closed he his mouth to every query, when the Jews judged him in Jerusalem.' 68. " In Jerusalem was my Lover slain, and rent on the rood by villains cruel; all our griefs full ready to bear, he took on himself our heavy cares; with buffets was his face flayed that was so fair to look upon; for sin he accounted himself as nothing — he who never had sin of his own to control. 1 Meaning doubtful. ^ jfoj-eiifcerajiy^ (iggjjjignggg „ ' Literally, " lady-like." « Literallv. '' comelv nnn under comb." > Literally, ''^comely one THE PEARL IS For us he let himself be beaten and bent, and stretched upon the cruel beam, as meek as lamb that made no plaint. For us he suffered in Jerusalem ; 69. "Jerusalem, Jordan, and Galilee, where baptized the good St. John — his words accorded with those of Isaiah. When Jesus gan toward him go, he said of him this prophecy: 'Lo, God's Lamb as true as stone, that does away the heavy sins that all this world has wrought.' Himself he Wrought never one, yet on himself he took them all. His generation who can reckon, that died for us in Jerusalem ? 70. " Thus in Jerusalem my Lover sweet twice was accounted a lamb by true record of either prophet, for his mood so meek and all his bearing. The third time is meetly described in the Apocalypse. Amidst the throne, where saints sat, the apostle John saw him clearly, reading the book with square leaves, where seven signets were set together. And at that sight each power gan quail, in hell, in earth and Jerusalem. XV 71. "This Jerusalem Lamb had never stain of other hue than wholly fair, which speck nor spot might toiich, for the white wool so rich and full.^ Therefore each soul that had never spot is to that Lamb a wor- thy wife; and, though each day a store he fetch, among us comes no other struggle nor strife, but each single one we would were five; — the more the merrier, so God me bless. In a great company our love thrives more in honour, and never less. 72. " Less of bliss can none bring to us who bear this pearl upon our breast, for they can have no stain who bear the crest of spotless pearl. Although our bodies moulder in the earth, and ye cry for sor- row without rest, we have thorough knowl- edge; by the death of One our hope is made perfect.^ The Lamb gladdens us, our care is cast aside ; he charms us all at every feast; ^ each one's bliss is full and best, and never one's honour the less. 73. "Lest thou disbelieve my seemly tale, it is written in a passage of the Apoca- lypse. ' I saw,' says John, ' the Lamb great and strong, stand on the mount of Sion, and with him maidens an hundred thousand, 1 Literally, " rank and rife." 2 Thia passage is not entirely eatiefactory. 9 Possibly," mass." and four and forty thousand more. On all their foreheads written I found the Lamb's name, his Father's also. A cry from heaven I heard then like the voice of many waters running turbulently, and like the thunder leaping in the black crags; that sound was never less. 74. " ' Nevertheless, though it was a great shout and a loud voice, a note full new I heard them play; right pleasant was it to listen to. As harpers harp on their harps, that new song they sang full clear, in echoing notes a gentle lay. Full fairly they took up the tune together, right be- fore God's chair; and the four beasts that him obey, and the elders so stately of mien, their song they sang never the less.' 75. " Nevertheless no one was ever so cunning, for all the craft that ever he knew, that of that song he could sing one note, except the band that follows the Lamb ; for they are redeemed, far removed from the earth, as new fruit due to God. And to the gentle Lamb are they appointed as being like to himself of face and hue ; for lying nor untrue tale never touched their tongue for any distress. That spotless band can never depart from the flawless Master." 76. " Nevertheless let my thoughts have place,'' said I, " my Pearl. Though I ask searching questions, it is not to tempt thy wit so keen, who to Christ's chamber art chosen. I am but muck and mire, and thou a lovely rose so rich; and thou abidesthere by this blissful bank where living pleasure can never fail. Now, oh being of simplicity compact, I would ask thee one thing ex- pressly, and though I be rude as a churl,* let my prayer avail nevertheless. XVI 77. "Nevertheless earnestly I entreat you — if ye can allow it to be done, — as thou art glorious without gall, do not deny my rueful boon. Have ye no homes in castle wall, no manor where ye may meet and dwell ? Thou tellest me of Jeru- salem, the rich and royal, where David great was dight on throne; but in these groves it cannot lie; but in Judea it is, that noble dwelling. As ye are altogether ' flaw- less, so should your dwellings be without blemish. * The MS. blose is doubtful ; possibly it is " flame.*' 6 Literally, " under moon," a rime-tag. i6 THE PEARL 78. " This unblemished band thou speakest of, of thovisands thronged so great a rout, it behoves you to have, without a doubt, a great city, — for ye are many. Such a lovely array of precious jewels, — 't were evil done that ye should dwell outside. And by these banks where I tarry I see no build- ing anywhere about. I trow ye dwell alone and live retired, to look on the glory of this gracious stream. If thou hast other dwellings stout, now direct me to that fair castle." 79. " The castle thou meanest in the land of Judea," then said to me that precious being,! n jhat is the city which the Lamb founded to suffer in sorely for man's sake — namely, the old Jerusalem; for there the old guilt was slaked. But the new Jerusalem, that came of God's sending, the apostle in the Apocalypse took for his theme. The Lamb devoid of all black spots has borne thither his fair band; and as his flock is without fleck, so is his city without sin. 80. " Two cities are to be distinguished, both called Jerusalem nevertheless — which is to signify to you naught but 'city of God,' or 'sight of peace.' ^ In the one our peace was made complete: the Lamb chose it to suffer in with pain. In the other is naught but peace to glean, that shall last for ever and aye. That is the city that we press to after our flesh is laid to rot; there glory and bliss shall ever increase for the band without a spot." 81. " Spotless maid so meek and mild," then said I to that lovely flower, " bring me to that fair dwelling, and let me see thy blissful bower." The bright one said: "That will God deny; thou may not en- ter within his hill. But of the Lamb I have obtained for thee through great favour a sight thereof. Outwardly thou may see that clean cloister, but inwardly not a foot; to step in the street thou hast no vigour, unless thou were clean without a spot. XVII 82. " If I this city shall to thee disclose, go up toward this river's head; and I abreast on this side shall follow till thou to a hill be come." Then would Ino longer 1 Lifcerally,"special apice." ^ Such etymologizing of namea ia common in the Scriptures, and especially so in saints' legendB. bide, but glided by branches with lovely leaves, till I espied the hiU, and gazed on the city as I pressed forward, revealed be- yond the brook from me, that brighter shone than the sun with its shafts. In the Apocalypse is its fashion told, as describes it the apostle John. 83. As John the apostle saw it, so saw I that city of great renown, Jerusalem, so new and royally dight, as it was lighted from the heavens down. The burg was all of burned gold bright, like gleaming glass burnished clear, with gentle gems placed underneath; with bantels^ twelve set on a base, and foundations twelve of rich work. Each tier was a different stone; as in the Apocalypse the apostle John faiiiy de- scribes this same town. 84. As John in his writ named these stones, I knew their names after his count. Jasper was the first gem called, that I on the first base descried; it gleamed green in the lowest row; sapphire held the second place; then the chalcedony without flaw in the third tier shone pale and pure; the emerald was the fourth, so green of hue; the sardonyx the fifth stone; the sixth, the ruby, as in the Apocalypse the apostle John distinguished it. 85. John added yet the chrysolite as the seventh gem in the foundation; the eighth the beryl clear and white; the twin-hued topaz the ninth inlaid; the chrysophrase the tenth is called; the gentle jacinth the eleventh; the twelfth, the fairest of all, the amethyst, purple blent with blue. The wall above the bantels was of jasper that shone like glistening glass. I knew it by his devising in the Apocalypse, the apostle John's. 86. As John devised I saw further. These twelve steps were broad and steep. The fair city stood above them right square, as long, as broad, as high; the streets of gold like sheer glass, the wall of jasper that glinted like light;'' the dwellings within were adorned with all kinds of jewelry that could be gathered together. Each side of the square stretched in this manner twelve furlongs space ere ever it ended, all squared 3 This perhaps means projecting courses of stone. The architectural details are not quite clear. • The MS. glayre may be our glare of an egg, practi- cally equivalent to varnish, gum; or glare, brightness, shining ; or the rare AS. glasr, glossed as " electrum," i.e. amber or a composition of gold and silver. THE PEARL I? in height and length and breadth, for John the apostle saw it measured. XVIII 87. Yet more I saw as John describes it, Each side of that place had three gates; so twelve in succession I espied ; the entrances covered with rieli plates, and each gate of a margery, a perfect pearl that never fades. Each in scripture displayed a name of one of Israel's children following their dates — that is to say, as their birth was. The eldest aye first thereon was put. Such a light there gleamed in all the streets they needed neither sun nor moon. 88. Of sun nor moon they had no need; for God himself was their lamplight, the Lamb their lantern, forsooth. Through him gleamed the town all bright. Through wall and house my glances went, for their subtle clearness hindered in no wise the light. The high throne there might ye behold decked with all its array, as John the apostle well describes. The high God him- self sat upon it. A river ran from out the throne, which was brighter than both the sun and moon. 89. Sun nor moon shone never so sweet as the plenteous flood from out that floor. Swiftly it swung through every street with- out filth or impurity or slime. Church was there none within the city; no chapel or temple was ever set there. The Almighty was their minster meet, the Lamb their sacriflce.i The gates were never closed, but evermore open at each street; there none enters to take his abode that bears any blemish beneath the moon. 90. The moon can gain no might therein; too spotty she is, of nature ^ too grim ; and also there is never night. Why should the moon there her compass climb, and strive to match the glorious light which shines upon that river's brink? The planets are in too poor a plight, and the very sun far too dim. About the water are trees full bright that early bear twelve fruits of life. Twelve times a year they bear full plenteously, re- new themselves at each moon. 91. So great a marvel under the moon might no fleshly heart endure, as when I gazed upon that city, so wondrous was the 1 " Sacrifice " is the object of the obscure word r£^e^i possibly meaning "to reproduce." 2 LiteraUy,''body." fashion thereof. I stood as still as dazed quail for the strangeness of that glorious ' vision, so that I felt neither rest nor toil, so was I ravished with the pure radiance. For I dare say with sure conscience, that had a man in the body endured that joy, though all clerks had him in care, his life were lost under the moon. XIX 92. Right as the great moon rises ere the day-gleam has quite gone down, so suddenly in wondrous wise I was ware of a proces- sion. The whole city of rich device was sud- denly full without any summons of such virgins, clad in the same guise, as was my blissful one in her crown; and crowned were they all in the same fashion, adorned with pearls and white weeds ; on each one's breast was bounden fair the blissful pearl with great ^ delight. 93. With great delight they glided to- gether in the golden streets that gleamed as glass; hundreds of thousands I wot there were, and all of a suit were their liveries, — hard to know who had the gladdest mien. The Lamb proudly passed before, with his seven horns of clear red gold. Like pre- cious pearls were his weeds. Toward the throne they go in company. Though they were many, no press ensued; but mild as modest maidens at mass, so passed they forth with great delight. 94. The delight that his coming inspired, too great were it to tell of. The elders, when he approached, fell prone at his feet. Legions of angels, gathered together, there cast incense of sweet smell. Then glory and glee were broached anew; and all sang for love of that fair Jewel; that sound might strike through the earth to hell, that the Vir- tues of heaven for joy gave forth. To love the Lamb in the midst of his troop I caught indeed a great delight. 95. Delight to describe the Lamb mar- vellously seized my mind. He was best, blithest, and most to prize, that ever I heard mentioned; so beauteous white were his weeds, his looks so simple, himself so cour- teous. But a wound full wide and wet showed near his heart, through the rent skin, and from his white side his blood 3 Text/rewcA, of uncertain meaning. * Reading doubtful. Possibly "without delay," a rime-tag something like boun translated "fair" in the same sentence. i8 THE PEARL sprang forth. Alas ! thought I, who com- mitted that crime? Any breast ought to have shrivelled for sorrow ere it had taken delight in such a deed. 96. The Lamb's delight none needed to doubt; that! he was hurt and had a wound, in his bearing was never apparent, so glori- ous glad were his glances. I looked among his fair troop, beholding how they were filled with life, and there I saw my little queen, that I weened had stood by me in the glade. Lord, much mirth was it she made among her mates that were so white! That sight made me think of wading over in the delight of my love-longing. XX 97. Delight drove me in eye and ear; my man's miud melted to madness; when I saw my lovely one, I would be there, though she were withdrawn beyond the water. I thought that nothing could frighten me, shake my resolution, or give me pause ; and to start into the stream should none hinder me, to swim the space, though I drowned there. But from that design I was deterred. When I was about to start astray into the stream I was recalled from that plan; it was not my Prince's pleasure. 98. It pleased him not that I so pressed overmarvellous meres in mad intent; though I was rash and rude in my haste, yet I was quickly restrained; for, right as I rushed to the bank, that very violence snatched me out of my dream. Then I wakened in that fair garden, my head laid upon the hill where my pearl fell to ground. I stretched 1 Emending the MS./JOS'to/'af. and fell into a great fright; and sighing to myself I said, "Now may all be to that Prince's pleasure." 99. Yet it pleasured me Ul to be outcast so suddenly from that fair region, from all those sights so beauteous and bright. A heavy longing struck me into a swoon, and ruefully then I began to cry : " O pearl," quoth I, " of great renown, it was dear to me, that which thou didst teach in this true vision." If it be a true and soothfast speech, that thou so roamest in garland gay, then well is me in this dungeon of grief, that thou art dear to that Prince. 100. Had I aye inclined to that Prince's favour, and yearned for no more than was given to me, and held me there in true in- tent, as the pearl prayed me that was so advanced — as sooner drawn to God's pres- ence — to more of his mysteries had I been led. But ever would man seize more of for- tune than may by right cleave to him; therefore my joy was soon taken away, and I east from the country that lasts for aye. Lord, mad they are that strive against thee, or proffer thee aught against thy pleasure. 101. To please the Prince or gain his peace is full easy for the good Christian, for I have found him both day and night, a God, a Lord, a Friend full fine. On this moimd this fortune I experienced, bowed down with pity for my pearl; and after- wards I betook it to God, in the dear joy and memory of Christ, whom, in the form of bread and wine, the priest shows us every day. May he grant us to be his lowly serv- ants, and precious pearls unto his pleasure. Amen. Amen. SYR GAWAYN AND THE GRENE KNY^T^ [FYTTE THE FIRST] I SiJiES^ fe sege & fe assaut watj sesed at Troye, J>e borj brittened & breut to brondej & askej, pe tuli fat )>e trammes of tresoun per wrojt, Wat} tried tor his tricherie, pe trewest on erthe ; Hit watj £imias f e athel, & his highe kynde, bat sifen depreeed prouinces,' & patrouraes bicome Welneje of al pe wele i« pe west iles, Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swyjie, With gret bobbaunce fat burje he biges vpon fyrst, & neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat ; Ticius (turnes) to Tuskan, & teldes bigynnes ; Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes ; & fer ouer pe French flod Felix Brutus On mony bonkkes fnl brode Bretayn he sette}, wyth Wynne ;* Where werre, & wrake, & wonder, Bi syfej hatj wont per-inne, & oft bofe blysse & blunder Ful skete hat) skyf ted synne. II Ande quen ' fis Bretayn wat) bigged bi Jjis bum ryoh, Belde bredden f er-inne, baret fat lofden, In mony turned * tyme tene fat wrojten ; Mo ferlyes on f is folde ban fallen here oft ten in any of er fat I wot, syn fat ilk tyme. Bot of alle fat here bult of Bretaygne kynges Ay wat) Arthur f e hendest, as I haf herde telle ; For-f i an aunter in erde I attle to sehawe, J>at a seUy in si)t summe men hit holden, & an outtrage awenture of Artbure) wondere), If )e wyl lysten f is laye bot on littel quile, I schal telle hit, as-tit, as I in to\m herde, with tonge ; As hit is stad & stoken. In stori stif & stronge, With lei letteres loken,* In londe so hat) ben longe. 1 The symbol ^ is the Anglo-Saxon form of ^, and la a modification of the Latin letter. It was retained by later scribes principally for the guttural gh as in Jmj/^i, for the y-sound at the beginning of a word, as in je^, and for the final z-sound, as in aske^. The spellings wai^, hatT, for was and has are peculiar. 2 f is the Anglo-Saxon symbol for (A, which lasted till the 15th ceutury, and as ?/ till later — e. g., in ye = (A€. It is the old rune " thorn." ^ ^ and v, originally the same symbol, are both written u, * These " bobs " especially, and the rhyming 4-line " wheel " at the end of the stanzas, are often almost mean- ingless, and difl&cult to translate. ^ The qu is the Northern way of writing Anglo-Saxon hu\ our wh. B Such " conceited," "precious " or far-fetched terms and tags are characteristic of the later alliterative verse. SYR GAWAYN AND THE GRENE KNY^T in bis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masae, \Vitk mony luflyoh lorde, ledej of }>e best, Rekenly of Jje rounde table alle po rich brefcr, With rycb reuel oryjt, & rechles raerpes; Tper tourneyed tulkes bi-tymej f ul mony, Justed ful JoUl^ }>yse gyntyle knijtes, SyJ'en kayred to fe court, caroles to make. For fer fe fest watj ilycbe ful fiften dayes With alle fe mete & ]>e mirfe fiat men coufe a-vyse; Such glaumande gle glorious to here, Dere dyn vp-on day, daunsyng on nyjtes, Al watj hap upon heje in halle5 & chambrej, With lordej & ladies, as leuest him fojt; With all fe wele of fe wol-lde J>ay woned }>er samen, fe most kyd knyjtes vnder krystes seluen, & fe louelokkest ladies Jiat euer lif haden, & he fe oomlokest kyrag fiat fie court haldes; For al watj ])is fayre folk in her first age, on sille; le hapnest vnder heuen, Kyng hyjest mon of wylle. Hit were now gret nye to neuen So hardy a here on hille. IV Wyle nw ^er watj so jep fat Mt wat nwe cunnnen, ^at day doubble on pe dece watj J;e douth serued. Fro fe kyng watj cummen -with knjtes in to J;e halle, be chauntre of ]>e chapel cheued to an ende; Loude crye watj fer kest of clerkej & ofier, Nowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte; & syfen riche forth runnen to reche honde-selle, Jejed jeres jiftes on hij, jelde hem bi bond, Debated busyly aboute fio giftes; Ladies lajed ful loude, f o fay lost haden, & he fat wan watj not worth, fat may je wel trawe. Alle fis mirfe fay maden to fe mete tyme; When fay had waschen, worf yly fay wenten to sete, be best burne ay abof, as hit best semed; Whene Guenore ful gay, grayf ed in f e myddes, Dressed on f e dere des, dubbed al aboute, Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer Of tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites in-noghe, ■^at were enbrawded & beten wyth fe best gejnmes, at myjt be preued of prys wyth penyes to buy, in daye; 6 comlokest to disorye, er glent •with yjen gray; A. semloker fat euer he syje, Soth mojt no mon say. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT FYTTE THE FIRST 1. After the siege and the assault had ceased at Troy, the city been destroyed and burned to brands and ashes, the warrior who wrought there the trains of treason was tried for his treachery, the truest on earth.i This was Aeneas the noble; he and his high kindred afterwards conquered provinces, and became patrons of well nigh all the wealth in the West Isles. As soon as rich Romulus turns him to Rome, with great pride he at once builds that city, and names it with his own name, which it now has; Ticius turns to Tuscany and founds dwellings; Longobard raises homes in Loin- bardy ; and, far over the French flood, Felix Brutus establishes Britain joyfully on many broad banks, where war and waste and wonders by turns have since dwelt, and many a swift interchange of bliss and woe. 2. And when this Britain was founded by this great hero, bold men loving strife bred therein, and many a time they wrought destruction. More strange things have hap- pened in this land since these days than in any other that I know; but of all the Brit- ish kings that built here, Arthur was ever the most courteous, as I have heard tell. Therefore, I mean to tell of an adventure in the world, which some count strange and extraordinary even among the wonders of Arthur. If ye will listen to this lay but a little while, I will tell it forthright as I heard it told in town, as it is set down in story that cannot be changed, long written in the land in true words. 3. This King lay royally at Camelot at Christmas tide with many fine lords, the best of men, all the rich brethren of the Bound Table, with right rich revel and careless mirth. There full many heroes 1 Construction clear, though sense odd. Antenor and Aeneas were the traitors who in the mediaeval story of Troy handed over the city to the Greeks. Antenor re- mained unpopular, but Aeneas suffered no loss of repu- tation. See Lydgate's Troy Book in the publications of the Early English Text Soc, Bk. lY, 1. 4539 f. tourneyed betimes, jousted full gaily; then returned these gentle knights to the court to make carols.^ For there the feast was held full fifteen days alike with all the meat and the mirth that men could de- vise. Such a merry tumult, glorious to hear ; joyful din by day, dancing at night. All was high joy in halls and chambers with lords and ladies as pleased them best. With all the weal in the world they dwelt there together, the most famous knights save only Christ, the loveliest ladies that ever had life, and he, the comeliest of kings, who holds the court. For all this fair company were in their prime in the hall, the happiest troop under heaven with the proudest of kings. Truly it would be hard to name any- where so brave a band. 4. When New Year was fresh and but newly come, the court was served double on the dais. As soon as the king with his knights was come into the hall, the chanting in the chapel came to an end; loud was the cry there of clerks and others. Noel was cele- brated anew, shouted full often; and after- wards the great ones ran about to take handsel;^ called aloud for New Year's gifts, paid them out briskly, busily dis- cussed the gifts; ladies laughed full loud, though they had lost; and he that won was not wroth, that may ye well trow. All this mirth they made till the meat time. When they had washed, worthily they went to their seats, the best man ever above, as it best behoved. Queen Guinevere full beau- teous was set in the midst, placed on the rich dais adorned all about. Fine silk at the sides, a canopy over her of precious cloth of Toulouse, and tapestries of Tars,* that were embroidered and set with the best gems that money could buy. Truly no man could say that he ever beheld a comelier lady than she, with her dancing gray eyes. 6. But Arthur would not eat till all were z Dancing and singing in a ring. 3 New Tear's gifts of good omen. < Oriental iigured stuff. 22 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT served. He was so merry in his mirth, and somewhat childlike in his manner; his life pleased him well; he loved little either to lie long or to sit long, so busied him his young blood and his wild brain. And an- other custom moved him also, that he through chivalry had taken up; he would never eat upon such a dear day before he was told an uncouth tale of some adventur- ous thing, of some great marvel that he could believe, of ancient heroes, of arms, or of other adventures; or unless some person demanded of him a sure knight to join with him in jousting, to incur peril, to risk life against lite, trusting each in the other, leav- ing the victory to fortune. This was the king's custom whenever he held court at each goodly feast among his free company in the hall. And so with undaunted face he strides stoutly to his seat on that New Year, making great mirth with everybody. 6. Thus the great king stands waiting be- fore the high table, talking of trifles full courteously. The good Gawain was placed there beside Guinevere, and Agravain of the Hard Hand sat on the other side, both of them the king's sister's sons and full sure knights. Bishop Baldwin at the top begins the table, and Ywain, Urien's son, ate by himself. These were placed on the dais and honorably served, and after them many a good man at the side tables. Then the first course came in with blare of trumpets, which were hung with many a bright ban- ner. A new noise of kettle-drums with the noble pipes, wild and stirring melodies wak- ened the echoes; that many a heart heaved full high at their tones. Dainties of precious meats followed, foison of fresh viands, and on so many dishes that it was difficult to find place before the people to set on the cloth the silverthat held the several courses. Each man as he himself preferred partook without hesitation. Every two ^ had twelve dishes between them, good beer and bright wine both. 7. Now will I tell you no more of their service, for everybody must well under- stand that there was no lack of opportunity for the people to take their food.^ Another 1 It waa extremely sumptuous having only two at a mess ; i. e. only two sharing the same cup and platter. 2 It seems to make somewhat better sense if we trans- pose, as has here been done, lines 132 and 133 ; other- wise this passage means that a second course came in heralded by new music. noise full new suddenly drew nigh, for scarcely had the music ceased a moment, and the first course been properly served in the court, than there burst in at the hall door an awesome being, in height one of the tallest men in the world; from the neck to the waist so square and so thick was he, and his loins and his limbs so long and so great, that half giant I believed him to have been, or, at any rate, the largest of men, and withal the handsomest in spite of his bulk, that ever rode; for though his back and breast were so vast, yet his belly and waist were properly slim ; and all his form accord- ing, full fairly shaped. At the hue of his noble face men wondered; he carried him- self in hostile fashion and was entirely green. 8. All green was this man and his cloth- ing; a straight coat sat tiglit to his sides; a fair mantle above, adorned within; the lin- ing showed, with costly trimming of shining white fur; and such his hood also, that was caught back from his locks and lay on his shoulders, the hem well stretched ; ^ hose of the same green, that clung to his calf; and clean spurs under, of bright gold upon silk bands richly barred,and shoes ■* on his shanks as the hero rides. And all his vesture ver- ily was clean verdure, both the bars of his belt, and the other beauteous stones that were set in fine array about himself and his saddle, worked on silk. It would be too difficult to tell the half of the trifles that were embroidered there, with birds and flies, with gay gauds of green, — the gold ever in the middle; the pendants of the poitrel, the proud crupper, the bits, — and all the metal was enamelled; the stirrups that he stood on were coloured the same, and his saddle bow likewise, and his fine reins ^ that glimmered and glinted all of green stones. The horse that he rode on was of the same colour too, a green horse, great and thick, a steed full stiff to guide, m gay em- broidered bridle, and one right dear to his master. 9. This hero was splendidly dressed in green; and the hair of his head matched that of his horse ;° fair flowing locks enfolded his shoulders ; a beard as big as a bush hung ' Translation doubtful. ' Word doubtful. » Our "reins" is a mere Btop-gap. The MS. has the puzzling sturtes. • Translating hors twete of the MS. as " horse's suite*" SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 23 over his breast; and it, together with his splendid hair that reached from his head, was trimmed evenly all round above his elbows, so that half his arms were caught thereunder in the manner of a king's hood,^ that covers his neck. The mane of that great horse was much like it, very curly and combed, with knots full many folded in with gold wire about the fair green, — always one knot of the hair, another of gold. The tail and the forelock were twined in the same way, and both bound with a band of bright green, set with full precious stones the whole length of the dock, and then tied up with a thong in a tight knot; where rang many bells full bright of burnished gold. Such a steed in the world, such a hero as rides him, was never beheld in that hall be- fore that time. His glances were like bright lightning, so said all that saw him. It seemed as if no man could endure under his blows. I 10. He had neither helm nor hauberk, nor gorget, armour nor breastplate, nor shaft nor shield to guard or to smite ; but in his one hand he had a holly twig, that is greenest when groves are bare, and an axe in his other, a huge and prodigious one, a weapon merciless almost beyond descrip- tion; the head had the vast length of an ell- yard, the blade all of green steel and of beaten gold; the bit^ brightly burnished, with a broad edge, as well shaped for cut- ting as sharp razors. The stern warrior gripped it by ' the steel of its stout staff, which was wound with iron to the end of the wood and all engraven with green in beauteous work. A lace was lapped about it, that was fastened at the head, and tied up often along the helve, with many pre- cious tassels attached on rich embroidered buttons of the bright green. This hero turns him in and enters the hall, riding straight to the high dais, fearless of mischief. He greeted never a one, but looked loftily about, and the first word that he uttered was: "Where is the governor of this com- pany ? Gladly I would see that hero and speak with him.'' He cast his eye on the knights and rode 1 The word capados here translated " hood " is rare. It might conceivably mean " camail," a protec- tion of mail for the neck and part of the head, that hung down from or under the helm. 2 " Bit " is still uBed for the cutting edge of an axe. a Kot in the MS. fiercely up and down, stopped and gan pon- der who was there the most renowned. 11. All gazed fixedly on the man, for everybody marvelled what it might mean, that a knight and a horse could have such a colour: as green grown as the grass, and greener, it seemed; shining brighter than green enamel on gold. All were amazed who stood there, and stalked nearer to him, with all the wonder in the world what he would do; for many marvels had they seen, but such never before. Therefore for phantom and faery the folk there deemed it; and for that reason many a noble warrior was slow to answer, and all were astonished at his voice and sat stone still in a deep silence through the rich hall. Their voices ^ sank as though they had suddenly fallen asleep. I deem, however, that it was not all for fear, but somewhat for courtesy. But now let bim to whom all defer undertake the wight. 12. Then Arthur before the high dais beheld that adventure, and saluted the stranger properly, for never was he afraid, and said, "Sir, welcome indeed to this place. I am called Arthur, the head of this hostel. Light courteously down and tarry, I pray thee; and whatso thy will is we shall wit after." " Nay, so help me he that sits on high," quoth the hero. " To dwell any time in this house was not my errand ; but because the fame of this people is lifted up so high, and thy town and thy men are held the best, the stoutest in steel gear on steeds to ride, the wightest and the worthiest of the world's kind, and proved opponents in other proper sports; and here courtesy is known, as I have heard tell, — it is this that has enticed me hither certainly at this time. You may be sure by this branch that I bear here that I pass in peace and seek no quarrel; for if I had set out with a company in fighting fash- ion, I have a hauberk at home and a helm both, a shield and a sharp spear shining bright, and other weapons to wield, I ween well also; but since I wished no war, my weeds are softer. Now if thou be as bold as all men tell, thou wilt grant me graciously the game that I ask." Arthur knew how to answer, and said: " Sir courteous knight, if it is battle that thou cravest, thou shalt not fail of a fight here." * PoBBibly "faces" or "looks." 24 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 13. " Nay, I demand no fight; in faith I tell thee there are but beardless children about on this bench. If I were hasped in arms on a high steed there is no man here to match me, their might is so weak. There- fore I crave in this court a Christmas game, for it is Yule and New Year, and here are many gallants. If there be a man in this house who holds himself so hardy, is so bold in his blood, so rash in his head, that he dares stiffly strike one stroke for an- other, I shall give him as my gift this rich gisarm, this axe, that is heavy enough, to handle as he likes; and I shall abide the first blow as bare as I sit. If any warrior be wight enough to try what I propose, let him leap lightly to me and take this weapon — I quit-claim it forever, let him keep it as his own — and I shall stand him a stroke firmly on this floor. At another time, by our Lady, thou wilt grant me the boon of deal- ing him another blow; I will give him re- spite of a twelvemontb and a day. Now bie, and let us see quickly if any herein dare say aught." 14. If he had astonished them at first, stiller were then all the retainers in hall, the high and the low. The warrior on his steed settled himself in his saddle, and fiercely his red eyes he reeled about ; bent his thick brows, shining green ; and waved hia beard, awaiting whoso would rise. When none would answer him he coughed aloud, stretched himself haughtily and began to speak; "What! Is this Arthur's house," said the hero then, " that is famous through so many realms ? Where is now your pride and your conquests, your fierceness, and your wrath and your great words ? Now is the revel and the renown of the Round Table overcome by the word of a single man; for all tremble for dread without a blow shown." With this he laughed so loud that the lord grieved ; the blood shot for shame into his fair face. He waxed as wroth as the wind; and so did all that were there. The king so keen of mood then stood near that proud man. 15. " Sir," said he, " by heaven thy asking is foolish; and as thou hast demanded folly, it behooves thee to find it. I know no man that is aghast of thy great words. Give me now thy gisarm, for God's sake, and I will grant thy boon that thou hast bidden." Quickly he leaped to him and caught at his hand ; and the other alights fiercely on foot. Now Arthur has his axe, and grips the helve; he whirls it sternly about as if he meant to strike with it. The bold stran- ger stood upright before him, higher than any in the house by a head and more; with stern cheer he stood there, stroked his beard, and with cool countenance drew down bis coat, no more afraid or dismayed for Arthur's great strokes than if some one had brought him a drink of wine upon the bench. Gawain, that sat by the queen, turned to the king: " I beseech now with all courtesy that this affair might be mine." 16. " Would ye, worthy lord," quoth Gawain to the king, " bid me step from this bench and stand by you there, — that I without rudeness might leave this table, and that my liege lady liked it not ill — I would come to your help before your rich court; for methinks it is obviously unseemly that such an asking is made so much of in your hall, even though ye yourself be will- ing to take it upon yon, while so many bold ones sit about yon on the bench ; than whom, I ween, none under heaven are higher of spirit, nor more mighty on the field where strife is reared. I am the weakest, I know, and feeblest of wit; and to tell the truth there would be the least loss in ray life. I am only to praise forasmuch as ye are my micle; no other nobility than your blood know I in my body. And since this adven- ture is so foolish, it belongs not to you; I have asked it of you first; give it to me. Let this great court decide ^ if 1 have not spoken well." The heroes took counsel together and they all gave the same advice, — to free the crowned king and give the game to Gawain. 17. Then the king commanded Gawain to rise from the table; and he right quickly stood up and made himself ready, kneeled down before the king and took the weapon; and Arthur lovingly left it to him, lifted up his hand and gave him God's blessing, and gladly bade him be hardy both of heart and of hand. "Take care, cousin," quoth the king, "that thou give him a cut; and if thou handle him properly, I readily believe 1 This word is supplied. Perhaps " speak " would be more conservative. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 25 that thou shalt endure the blow which he shall give after." Gawain goes to the man with gisarm in hand; and he boldly awaits him, shrinking never a whit. Then speaks to Sir Gawain the knight in the green; " Rehearse we our agreement before we go farther. First I conjure thee, hero, how thou art called, that thou tell me it truly, so that I may believe it." " In good faith," quoth the knight, "Gawain am I called, who give you this buffet, whatever befalls after; and at this time twelvemonth I am to take from thee another with whatever weapon thou wilt, and from no wight else alive." The other answers again, " Sir Gawain, so thrive I as I am heartily glad that thou shalt give this blow." 18. " By Gog," quoth the green knight, "Sir Gawain, it delights me that I am to get at thy fist what I have requested here; and thou hast readily and truly rehearsed the whole of the covenant that I asked of the king, save that thou shalt assure me, sir, by thy troth, that thou wilt seek me thyself wheresoever thou thinkest I may be found upon the earth, and fetch for thy- self such wages as thou dealest me today before this rich company." " Where should I seek thee ? " quoth Gawain. "Where is thy place? I know never where thou livest, by him that wrought me; nor do I know thee, knight, thy court, nor thy name. But tell me truly the way and how thou art called, and I will nse all my wit to win my way thither, — and that I swear thee, for a sooth, and by my sure troth." " New Year will suffice for that ; no more is needed now," quoth the man in green to Gawain the courteous. " To tell the truth, after I have received thy tap, and thou hast smitten me well, I shall promptly inform thee of my house and my home and mine own name. Then thou mayest inquire about my journey and hold promise ; and if I speak no speech, then thou speedest the better, for thou mayest linger at ease in thy land and seek no further. Take now thy grim tool to thee and let us see how thou knockest." " Gladly, sir, for sooth," quoth Gawain as he strokes his axe. 19. The green knight on the ground pre- pared himself properly. With the head a little bowed he disclosed the flesh. His long, lovely locks he laid over his crown, and let the naked nape of his neck show for the blow. Gawain gripped his axe and gathered it on high; the left foot he set before on the ground, and let the axe light smartly down on the naked flesh,^ so that the sharp edge severed the giant's bones, and shrank through the clear flesh ° and sheared it in twain, till the edge of the brown steel bit into the ground. The fair head fell from the neck to the earth, and many pushed it vrith their feet where it rolled forth. The blood burst from the body and glistened on the green. Yet never faltered nor fell the hero for all that; but stoutly he started up with firm steps, and fiercely he rushed forth where the heroes stood, caught his lovely head, and lifted it up straightway. Then he turned to his steed, seized the bri- dle, stepped into the steel bow and strode aloft, holding the head in his hand by the hair; and as soberly the man sat in his sad- dle as if no mishap had ailed him, though he was headless on the spot. He turned his trunk about — that ugly body that bled. Many a one of them thought that he had lost his reason. 20. For he held the head straight up in his hand; turned the face toward the highest on the dais ; and it lifted up the eyelids and looked straight out, and spoke thus much with its mouth, as ye may now hear : — " Look Gawain, that thou be ready to go as thou hast promised, and seek loyally, hero, till thou find me ; as thou hast prom- ised in this hall in the hearing of these knights. To the green chapel go thou, I charge thee, to receive such a blow as thou hast dealt. Thou deservest to be promptly paid on New Year's morn.' As the knight of the green chapel many men know me ; therefore, if thou strivest to find me, thou shalt never fail. And so come, or it be- hooves thee to be called recreant." With a wild rush he turned the reins, and flew out at the hall door — his head in his hand — so that the fire of the flint flew from the foal's hoofs. To what country he vanished knew none there;' no more than they wist whence he was come. The king and Gawain roared with laughter at that 1 Some such word has to be supplied after naked. 2 " Grease " in the original. 3 Morris's punctuation of this passage has been altered. 26 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT green man; but this adventure was reck- oned a marvel among men. 21. Though the courteous king wondered in his heart, he let no semblance be seen, but said aloud to the comely queen with courteous speech, " Dear dame, today be never dismayed ; well becoming are such tricks at Christmas, in lack of entertain- ment, to laugh and sing about among these pleasant carols of knights and ladies. Never- theless I may well go to my meat, for I can not deny that I have seen a marvel." He glanced at Sir Gawain and said cheerfully, "Now, sir, hang up thine axe; it has hewn enough." And it was put above the dais to hang on the tapestry where all men might marvel at it, and by it avouch the wonder- ful happening. Then they turned to the board, these heroes together — • the king and the good knight — and the keen men served them double of all dainties, as was most fitting; with all manner of meat, and min- strelsy both. They spent that day in joy until it came to an end. Now take care. Sir Gawain, that thou blench not for the pain to prosecute this adventure that thou hast taken on hand. FYTTE THE SECOND 1. This hansel of adventures had Arthur at the beginning, in the young year, since he yearned to hear boasting. Although there was little news when they went to their seats, now they are provided with stern work,i their hands quite full. Gawain was glad to begin those games in the hall; but it would not be surprising if the end were heavy; for though men be merry in mind when they have much drink, yet a year runs full swiftly, and yields never the same ; the beginning full seldom matches the end. And so this Yule went by, and the year after it, each season in turn following the other. After Christmas came the crabbed Lent, that tries the flesh with fish and more simple food. But then the weather of the world quarrels with winter, and though the cold still clings, the clouds lift; copiously de- scends the rain in warm showers, and falls upon the fair earth. Flowers show there; green are the garments both of fields and of groves; birds hurry to build, and lustily 1 Morris's punctuation of this passage has been changed. they sing for the solace of the soft summer, that follows thereafter. Blossoms swell into bloom in rows rich and rank; and lovely notes are heard in the beauteous wood. 2. After the season of summer with the soft winds, vihen Zephyrus blows on seeds and herbs, happy is the plant that waxes then, when the dank dew drops from the leaves, to await the blissful glance of the bright sun. But then harvest hastens and hardens it soon: warns it to wax full ripe against the winter. He drives with drought the dust to rise, — from the face of the earth to fly full high. The wild wind of the wel- kin wrestles with the sun. The leaves fall from the bough and light on the ground. The grass becomes all gray that erst was green. Then all ripes and rots that which formerly flourished ; and thus runs the year in yesterdays many; and winter returns again without asking any man,^ till the Michelmas moon has come in wintry wise. Then thinks Gawain full soon of his anxious voyage. 3. Yet till Allhallows day with Arthur he lingers ; and Arthur made a feast on that festival for the hero's sake, with great and gay revel of the Round Table. Knights full courteous and comely ladies all for love of that man were in sorrow; but nevertheless they spoke only of mirth; and many a joy- less one there made jests for his gentle sake. After meat he mournfully addresses his uncle, and speaks of his passage, and openly he says — " Now, liege lord of my life, leave I ask of you. Ye know the cost of this case; I do not care to tell you even a trifle of its dangers; 5 but I am ready to start for the fray no later than tomorrow morn, to seek the man in the green, as God will guide me." Then the best of the castle gathered to- gether, Ywain and Eree, and others full many. Sir Dodinel de Sauvage, the Duke of Clarence, Lancelot and Lyonel and Luoan the Good, Sir Bors and Sir Bedever, big men both, and many other proud ones, with Mador de la Port. All this company of the court came nearer to the king, to counsel the knight, with care at their hearts. There was much deep grief felt in the hall that so worthy a one as Gawain should go on that errand, to endure a sorry dint and * Passage a bit vague. • Morris's ponctuation altered. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 27 deal none himself with his brand. But the knight ever made good cheer, and said, " Why should I swerve from stern and strange destiny ? What can a man do but try?" 4. He lingered there all that day, and on the morn made ready. Early he asked for his arms, and they were all brought. First a carpet of Toulouse was stretched over the floor, and much was the gilt gear that gleamed upon it. The brave man stepped thereon and handled the steel, clad in a doublet of costly Tars, and afterwards a well wrought hood, closed on top and bound within with a glistening white fur. Then they put the sabatons^ upon the hero's feet, lapped his legs in steel with fair greaves, to which were attached well polished poleynes^ fastened about his knees with knots of gold. Fine cuisses then, that well enclosed his thick, brawny thighs, they attached with thongs. Next the decorated burnie ^ of bright steel rings upon precious stuS encased the hero, and well burnished braces upon his two arms, with elbow-pieces goodly and gay and gloves of plate, and all the goodly gear that might avail him at that time, with rich coat armour, gold spurs well fastened, and a sure brand girt about his side by a silken sash. 5. When he was hasped in arms his har- ness was rich; the least latchet or loop gleamed with gold. So, harnessed as he was, he heard his mass, offered and adored at the high altar. Then he came to the king and his court ; courteously took his leave of lords and ladies; and they kissed him, and convoyed him, entrusting him to Christ. By that time was Gringolet ready, and girt with a saddle that gleamed full gaily with many gold fringes; everywhere nailed anew, prepared for that emergency. The bridle, barred about, was bound with bright gold; the decoration of the breastplate and of the fine housings, the crupper and caparison, accorded with the saddle-bow, and all was adorned with rich red gold nails, that glit- tered and gleamed like the gleam of the sun. Then he took the helm and quickly kissed it. It was stoutly stapled and stuffed within; it was high on his head, hasped behind, with a light urison'' over the ventail,* embroid- ered and bound with the best gems on a 1 steel shoes. * scarf. 6 visor. 2 knee pieces. b coat of mail. broad silken border; and birds on the seams like painted popinjays ^ preening themselves here and there; turtle-doves and true-loves^ thickly interlaced. As many birds there were as had been in town for seven winters. The circlet that surroimded his crown was even more precious — a device of gleaming diamonds. 6. Then they showed him the shield, that was of sheer gules, with the pentangle painted in pure gold. He took it by the baldric and cast it about his neck; and it became the hero passing fair. And why the pentangle pertains to that noble prince I mean to tell you, though it should delay me. It is a sign that Solomon set formerly as a token of truth, by its own right, for it is a figure that holds five points, and each line overlaps and locks in another; and throughout it is endless; and the English call it everywhere, as I hear, the endless knot. Therefore it suits this knight and his clear arms, forever faithful in five things, and in each of them five ways. Gawain was known for good and as refined gold, devoid of every villainy, adorned with virtues. Therefore, the new * pentangle he bore on shield and coat, as the man most true of speech and the knight gentlest of behaviour. 7. First, he was found faultless in his five wits ; and again the hero failed never in his five fingers; and all his affiance in this world was in the five wounds that Christ received on the cross, as the creed tells ; and where- soever this man was hard bestead in the mel^e his pious thought was iu this above all other things — to take all his strength from the five joys that the courteous Queen of Heaven had of her child. For this cause the knight had her image comely painted in the greater half of his shield, that when he looked down thereupon, his courage never abated. The fifth five that I find that the hero used, were generosity and fellowship above all things, his purity and his cour- tesy that never swerved, and pity that passes all qualities. These very five were more surely set upon that warrior than upon any other. Now all these ^ were established fivefold in this knight, and each one was fastened in another that had no end, and they were fastened on five points that never failed, nor met anywhere, nor sundered parrots. > Should it be now t 7 true lover's knots, 9 These five larger virtues. 28 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT either, but finished always without end at each corner, wherever the game began or concluded. Therefore on his fair shield this knot was painted royally with red gold upon red gules. That is the true pentangle as the people properly call it. Now was the gay Gawain armed. He caught up his lance right there, and with a good-day he went for evermore. 8. He spurred his steed with the spurs and sprang on his way so swiftly that the stone struck out fire after him. All who saw the gentle man sighed in heart, and the heroes said all together to each other in their love for that comely knight, " By Christ, it is a shame that thou, hero, must be lost, who art so noble of life. In faith it is not easy to find his match upon the earth. To have acted more warily would have been better counsel; and to have made yon dear one a duke; it would well become him to be a brilliant leader of people here. This would have been better than to have him utterly destroyed, given over ^ to an elvish man for mere boasting pride. Who ever knew any king to take such counsel as to suffer knights to be so triokedf or a Christmas game." ]Vfuch warm water welled from eyes when that seemly sire departed from the dwellings that day. He made no stop, but wightly went his way; many a tiresome path he rode, as I heard the book tell. 9. Now rides this hero, Sir Gawain, through the realm of Logres in God's be- half, though to him it seemed no play. Oft alone companionless he lodged at night in places where he found not before him the fare that he liked. No company had he but his foal by friths and downs, nor nobody but God to talk with by the way; till that he approached nigh unto North Wales. He kept all the isles of Anglesey on the left side, and fared over the fords by the fore- lands, over at the Holy Head, till he again took land in the wilderness of Wirrel. There dwelt but few that loved either God or man with good heart. And ever as he fared he asked of men that he met if the}' had heard any talk of a green knight of the green chapel in any spot thereabout, and all nicked him with nay, that never in their life saw they any man of such green hue. The knight took strange roads by many a rough bank. His cheer changed full oft ere he saw that chapel. 1 The meaning of the rerb is doubtful. 10. Many a clifE he overclimbed in strange countries; far sundered from his friends, lonely he rode. At each ford or water where the hero passed it were strange if he found not a foe before him, and that so foul and so fell that it behooved him to fight. So many marvels in the mountains there the man found that it were too tedious to tell of the tenth part. Sometimes he warred with serpents, and with wolves also, some- times with savages that dwelt in the cliffs; both with bulls and bears, and boars some- times ; and giants that assailed him from the high fell. Had he not been doughty and stern, and served God, doubtless he had been dead and slain full oft. But the warfare tried him not so much but that the winter was worse, when the cold clear water shed from the clouds, and froze ere it might fall to the barren earth. Near slain with the sleet he slept in his iron more nights than enough on naked rocks, where clattering from the crest the cold burn ran, and hung high over his head in hard icicles. Thus in peril and pain and plights full hard through the country wanders this knight all alone till Christmas Eve. At that tide to Mary he made his moan that she might direct his riding and lead bim to some dwelling. 11. Merrily on the morn he rides by a mount into a forest full deep, that was strangely wild. High hills were on each side, and woods beneath of hoar oaks full huge, a hundred together. The hazel and the hawthorn were twined all together, covered everywhere with rough ragged moss, with many unblithe birds upon bare twigs that piteously piped there for pain of the cold. The knight upon Gringolet rides all alone under the boughs, through many a moss and mire, mourning for his trials, lest he should never survive to see the service of that Sire who on that very night was bom of a lady to quell our pain. And therefore sighing he said : " I beseech thee. Lord, and Mary, that is mildest mother so dear, for some harbour where I might properly hear mass and thy matins tomorrow. Meekly I ask it, and thereto earnestly I pray my pater and ave and creed." He rode in his prayer and lamented for his misdeeds. Oft-times he blessed himself, and said, " Christ's cross speed me." 12. The hero had not crossed himself more than thrice ere he was aware in the SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 29 wood of a dwelling on a hill, above a clear- iug, on a mount, hidden under the boughs of many a huge tree about the ditches; a castle the comeliest that ever knight owned, set on a prairie, a park all about, with its beautiful palace, pinnacled fuU thick, and surrounded with many a tree for more than two miles. The hero gazed at the castle on that one side as it shimmered and shone through the fair oaks. Then he humbly doffed his helm and devoutly he thanked Jesus and St. Julian — who are both gentle — who courteously had directed him and barkened to his cry. "Now bon hostel," quoth the man, "I beseech you yet ! " Then he spurs Gringolet with his gilt heels, and he full fortunately takes the way to the chief road, that soon brought the hero to the bridge- end in haste. The bridge was securely lifted, the gates looked fast ; the walls were well arrayed ; no wind blast did it fear. 13. The hero that sat on his horse, abode on the bank of the deep double ditch that stretched to the place. The wall sank in the water wondrous deep, and again a full huge height it towered aloft, of hard hewn stone up to the top courses, corbelled under the battlement in the best manner ; and above fine watch-towers ranged along, with many good loop-holes that showed full clean. A better barbican that hero neverlooked upon. And farther within he beheld the high hall, with towers set full thickly about, and fair and wondrous high filioles with carved tops cunningly devised. Chalk-white chimneys enough he saw that gleamed full white on the battlements. So many painted pinnacles were set everywhere, built so thick among the crenellations of the castle, that it verily appeared cut out of paper. Fair enough it seemed to the noble knight on his horse if he could only attain the shelter within, to harbour in that hostel, while the holiday lasted. He called, and soon there appeared on the walla right pleasant porter who took his message and greeted the knight errant. 14. " Good sir," quoth Gawain, " would you go my errand to the high lord of this house to crave harbour? " " Yea, by Peter," quoth the porter; " and truly I trow that ye are welcome, sir, to dwell while you like." Then the man went again quickly, and a crowd of folk with him, to receive the knight. They let down the great draw and eagerly poured out, and kneeled down on their knees upon the cold earth to welcome the hero as it seemed to them proper. They opened up wide the broad gate for him and he raised them courteously, and rode over the bridge. Several attendants held his saddle while he alighted, and afterwards good men enough stabled his steed. Then knights and squires came down to bring this hero joyfully into the hall. When he lifted up his helm people enough hurried to take it at his hand, in order to serve the courte- ous one ; his sword and his shield they took too. Then he greeted full courteously the knights each one ; and many a proud man pressed there to honour that prince. All hasped in his high weeds, they led him to the hall, where a fair fire burned fiercely upon the hearth. Then the lord of the people came from his chamber to meet courteously the man on the floor. He said, " Ye are welcome to wield as you like what is here ; all is your own to have at your will and commandment." " Gramercy," quoth Gawain. " Christ reward you for it." Like glad heroes either folded the other in his arms. 15. Gawain looked on the man who greeted him so goodly, and thought it a bold hero that owned the castle, a huge warrior for the nonce, and of great age. Broad and bright was his beard, and all beaver-hued. Firm-gaited was he on his stalwart limbs; with a face as fierce as fire, and a free speech ; and to the hero he seemed well suited in- deed to govern a nation of good people. The lord turned to a chamber and promptly commanded to give Gawain a retinue to serve him in lowly wise; and there were ready at his bidding men enough, who brought him to a bright bower where the bedding was curtains of pure silk with clear gold hems, and covertures right curi- ous with comely borders, adorned above with bright fur. Curtains running on ropes, red gold rings, tapestries of Toulouse and Tars hung on the wall, and under foot on the floor of the same pattern. There with mirthful speeches the hero was despoiled of his bumie and of his bright weeds. Quickly men brought him rich robes that he might pick and choose the best for his change. As soon as he took one and was wrapped therein, that sat upon him seemlywith sailing skirts, the hero by his visage verily seemed to well 3° SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT nigh every man in looks glowing and lovely in all his limbs; it seemed to them that Christ never made a comelier knight. Wher- ever in the world he were, it seemed as if he might be a prince without peer in the field where fell men fight. 16. A chair before the chimney/ where charcoal burned, was prepared for Sir Ga- wain richly with cloths and cushions, upon counterpanes that were both fine. And then a beauteous mantle was cast on the man, of a brown fabric richly embroidered, and fairly furred within with the best skins, all of ermine; the hood of the same. And he sat on that settle in seemly rich attire, and warmed him thoroughly; and then his cheer mended. Soon a table was raised up on trestles full fair, and set with a clean cloth that showed clear white, napkins, salt-cel- lar, and silver spoons. The hero washed when he would and went to his meat. Men served him seemly enough, — double fold as was proper — with pottages various and suitable, seasoned in the best manner; and many kinds of fish, some baked in bread, some broiled on the coals, some boiled, some in sauces savoured with spices; and always discourse so pleasant that it pleased the warrior. Full freely and often the hero called it a feast right courteously, when all the retainers together praised him as cour- teous.^ " Do this penance now, and soon things will be better ! " Right mirthful was he for the wine that went to his head. 17. Then they questioned and inquired sparingly in skilful queries put to the prince himself, till he courteously acknowledged that he was of the court which noble Arthur holds alone, who is the rich, royal king of the Round Table; and that it was Gawain himself that sits in the house, by chance come for that Christmas. When the lord had learned that he had that hero, he laughed aloud, so dear it seemed to him; and all the men in the castle made much joy at appearing promptly in the presence of him who contains in his own person all 1 In the old meaning of fireplace, fire-back, or grate. 2 Possibly the host, and not Gawain, is the subject of this sentence, which then might be translated : " Full freely and oft the host called it a feast (i.e. made the feaster welcome) right courteously, when all the retain- ers praised him (Gawain or the host?) as courteous." In the next two sentences the host is pretty certainly the subject. With this interpretation cf. Macheih, in, 4, 33 : " The feast is sold that is not often vouch'd, while 't is a^makiug, 't is given with welcome." worth and prowess and gracious traits, and is ever praised; above all the men in the world his renown is the greatest. Each warrior said full softly to his companion — " Now shall we see courteous turns of be- haviour, and the blameless forms of noble talking; what profit there is in speech may we learn without asking since we have taken that fine father of nurture. God has indeed given us his grace, who grants us to have such a guest as Gawain, on account of whose birth men sit and sing for joy. This hero will now teach us what distinguished man- ners are ; I think that those who hear him will learn how to make love." 18. When the dinner was done and the dear ones risen, the time was nigh arrived at the night. Chaplains took their way to the chapels, and rang full loudly, as they should, to the melodious evensongof the high time. The lord turns thither, and the lady also. Into a comely closet daintily she enters. Gawain joyfully proceeds, and goes thither straightway. The lord takes him by the mantle and leads him to his seat, recognizes him openly and calls him by his name, and says he is the welcomest wight in the world. And Gawain thanked him thoroughly and either embraced the other, and they sat so- berly together during the service. Then the lady desired to look on the knight, and came from her closet with many fair maidens. But she was fairer than all the others in flesh and face, in skin and form, in com- plexion and demeanour — more beautiful than Guinevere, it seemed to the hero. He walked through the chancel to greet that gracious one. Another lady led her by the left hand, that was older than she ; an ancient lady it seemed, and one highly honoured by the knights about her; but unlike to look on were the ladies, for if the younger was fair, yellow was the other. Rich red on the one bloomed everywhere ; rough wrinkled cheeks rolled on the other. The kerchiefs of the one broidered vrith many clear pearls, openly displayed her breast and her bright throat, which shone clearer than snow that falls on the hills. The other covered her neck with a gorget, that wrapped her black chin in milk-white pleats. Her forehead was completely enveloped in silken folds, adorned and tricked^ with small ornaments; 8 The preciscj but not the general, meaning of the two participles is uncertain. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 31 and naught was bare of that lady but the black brows, the two eyes, the nose, and the naked lips ; and those were ugly to behold and oddly bleared. A gracious lady in the land one might call her forsooth ! Her body was short and thick, her hips round ^ and broad. More pleasant to look on was the being she led. 19. When Gawain looked on that beau- teous one who gazed graciously, he took leave of the lord, and went toward them. The elder he saluted, bowing full low; the lovelier he took a little in his arms; he kissed her comely, and knightly he greeted her. They welcomed him, and he quickly asked to be their servant if it pleased them. They took him between them and led him conversing to the fireplace in the parlour; and straightway they called for spices, which men speeded to bring them unspar- ingly, and the pleasant wine therewith each time. The lord leaped merrily up full often, and saw to it that the mirth never faltered. Gaily he snatched off his hood and hung it on a spear, and exhorted them to win it as a prize — he to have it ^ who could make the most mirth that Christmas tide. " And I shall try, by my faith, with the help of my friends ^ to compete with the best, ere I lose my apparel." Thus with laughing mien the lord makes merry in order to glad Sir Gawain with games in the hall that night. When it came time, the king commanded lights ; Sir Gawain took his leave and went to his bed. 20. On the morn when as every man knows God was born to die for us, joy waxes in every dwelling in the world for his sake. So it did there on that day, with many dainties at meats and meal.s, right quaint dishes, and brave men on the dais dressed in their best. The old ancient wife sits the highest, the courteous lord placed by her, as I trow ; Gawain and the gay lady together just in the middle, as the courses^ properly come; and afterwards the rest throughout all the hall, as it seemed best to them, each man in his degree was prop- erly served. There was meat, there was 1 The meaning of bay is doubtful. 2 These four words supplied. 3 This phrase may go with "lose," thus aggravating the johe. * This word {messe) can refer to the courses (the food), or to the "mess" (the two persons eating to- gether, i.e. using the same goblet, platter, etc.). mirth, there was much joy, that it were arduous for me to tell thereof, though to note it I took pains belike.* But yet I know that Gawain and the lovely lady took com- fort in each other's company, in the choice play of their sharp wits, and the pure cour- tesy of their modest talk ; their disport sur- passed indeed that of any royal game. Trumps and drums came playing loudly; each man minded his own business, and they two minded theirs. 21. Much delight was taken there that day, and the second; and the third'followed as pleasantly. The joy of St. John's day was gentle to hear of ; and it was the last of the festival, the people considered. There were guests to go upon the grey morn; therefore wondrous late they sat up and drank the wine, danced full gayly with sweet carols. At the last, when it was late, they took their leave, each good man to wend on his way. Gawain gave his host good day; but the good man takes him, and leads him to his own chamber, by the fire- place; and there he draws him aside and properly thanks him for the great worship that he had granted him in honouring his house on that high tide, in embelhshing his castle with his good cheer. " Indeed, sir, while I live I shall be the better that Gawain has been my guest at God's own feast." " Gramercy, sir," quoth Gawain, " in good faith the merit is yours; all the honour is your own, — the high King reward you; and I am your man to work your behest in high and in low as I am bound by right." The lord eagerly strives to hold the knight longer; but Gawain answers him that he can in no wise. 22. Then the hero asked of him full fairly what extraordinary deed had driven him at that dear time from the king's court, to go all alone so boldly, ere the holidays were wholly over. "For sooth, sir,'' quoth the hero, "ye say but the truth; a high errand and a hasty had me from these dwellings; for I am summoned to such a, place as I know not in the world whitherward to wend to find it. I would not for all the land in Logres fail to reach it on New Year's morn — so our Lord help me. Therefore, sir, E The clause literally translated is insignificant ; we expect something like *' and yet I should fail for aU my pains." 32 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT this request I require of you here, that ye tell me truly if ever ye heard tale of the green chapel, where in the world it stands, aud of the knight green in colour that keeps it. There was established by statute an agreement between us that I should meet that man at that landmark if I could but survive. And of that same New Year there now lacks but little, and by God's Son I would gladlier look on that person — if God would let me — thau wield any posses- sion in the world. Therefore, indeed — by your good will — it behooves me to wend; I have now at my disposal barely three days; and I were as fain fall dead as fail of mine errand." Then laughing quoth the lord, "Now it behooves thee to stay ; for I shall direct you to that spot by the time's end — the green chapel upon the ground. Grieve you no more; for ye shall be in your bed, sir, at thine ease some days yet, and set out ou the first of the year and come to that place at mid-morn, to do what you like. Stay till New Year's day; and rise and go then. One shall set you on your way; it is not two miles hence." 23. Then was Gawaiu full glad, and merrily he laughed; " Now I thank you es- pecially for this above all other things ; now that my quest is achieved, I shall dwell at your will, and do whatever else ye de- cide." Then the sire seized him and set him be- side him, and let the ladies be fetched to please them the better. Fair entertainment they had quietly among themselves; the lord in his jovial, friendly demeanor be- haved as a man out of ^ his wits that knew not what he did. Then he spake to the knight, crying loud, " Ye have agreed to do the deed that I bid. Will ye hold this best here at once ? " " Yea, sir, forsooth," said the true hero, " while I stay in your castle I shall be obe- dient to your best." " Since ye have travelled from afar," quoth the warrior, " and then have sat late with me, ye are not well nourished, I know, either with sustenance or with sleep. Ye shall linger in your loft and lie at your ease tomorrow till mass time; and go to meat when ye will with my wife, who shall sit 1 Wolde in the text is translated as a corruption of some sucli word as " was laclung," or "wandered." with you and comfort you with her com- pany till I return home; and I shall rise early and go himting." Gawain grants all this, bowing courteously. 24. "Yet further," quoth the hero, "let us make an agreement. Whatsoever I win in the wood, it shall be yours; and whatsoever fortune ye achieve, exchange with me there- for. Sweet sir, swap we so, swear truly, whichever one of us gets the worse or the better." " By God," quoth Gawain the good, " I consent thereto; and whatever game you like, agreeable it seems to me." " On this beverage just brought the bar- gain is made," said the lord of that people; aud both laughed. Then they drank and played and amused ^ themselves, these lords and ladies, so long as it pleased them; and then with polite demeanour and many fair gestures, they stood up and lingered a while, and talked quietly, kissed full comely, and took their leave. With many a gay servant and gleam- ing torches each hero was brought to his bed full softly at the last. Yet before they went to bed they oft rehearsed the cove- nants. The old lord of that people knew well how to keep up a jest. FYTTE THE THIRD 1. Full early before the day the folk arose; the guests that would go called their grooms, and these hastened to saddle the horses, arrange their gear, and truss their mails. The great ones arrayed themselves to ride, leaped up lightly and caught their bridles, each wight on his way where it well pleased him. The dear lord of the land was not the last; arrayed for the riding, with retainers full many, he ate a sop ' hastily after he had heard mass, and took his way quickly with his bugle to the field. By the time that any daylight gleamed upon earth, he with his heroes were mounted on their high horses. Then these hunters that understood it, coupled their hounds, unclosed the ken- nel doors and called them thereout, blew blithely on bugles three simple calls. At this the brachets ^ bayed and made a wild noise, and the hunters chastised and turned 2 Word doubtful. ' Took a light repast. i Hounds that hunt by scent. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 33 back those that wandered off, — a hundred hunters of the best there were, as I have heard tell. To their stations the trackers went; hunters cast off the couples ; and then arose for the good blasts great uproar in that forest. 2. At the first noise of the quest the game quaked; the deer moved down into the dale, dazed for dread; hurried to the height; but quickly they were hindered by the beaters, who cried stoutly. They let the harts with the high heads go their way, the wild bucks also with their broad palms,i for the generous lord had forbidden that there should any man meddle with the male deer in the close season. But the hinds were held back with "Hay!" and "Ho!" and the does diiven with great din to the deep glades. There might one see as they ran the flight of arrows; at each turn under the boughs out flew a shaft, that savagely bit on the brown hide with full broad heads. How they leaped and bled and died by the banks ! And ever the hounds with a rush eagerly followed them; hunters with shrill horn hastened after with such a resound- ing cry as if cliffs had cracked. What game escaped the men who shot was all run down and torn at the stands. The deer^ were pestered at the heights, and worried at the waters; the people were so alert at the low stations, and the greyhounds so great, that got them quickly and pulled them down as fast as a man could see. The lord, shouting for joy, shot and alighted full oft, and passed the day thus with joy till the dark night. 3. So this lord sports by the eaves of the linden wood, and Gawain the good man lies in his gay bed; reposes till the day light gleams on the walls, under the beautiful coverlets, curtained about. And as he fell into a doze, faintly he heard a little din at the door, then distinctly;' and he heaved up his head out of the clothes, caught up a corner of his curtain a little, and watched warUy in that direction to see what it might be. It was the lady, loveliest to behold, who drew the door to after her right slyly and quietly, and turned toward the bed. The hero grew bashful and laid himself down cunningly and pretended that he slept. And she stepped quietly, and stole to his bed, 1 The flat, broad part of the horn. 2 Subject supplied. 3 Meaning not quite siue. cast up the curtain, and crept within, and seated herself full softly on the bedside, and stayed there surprisingly long, to see when he should awake. The man lay pre- tending a full great while, bothered in his conscience what this affair might mean or amount to. Marvellous it seemed to him. But yet he said to himself, " More seemly would it be to find out by asking what she would." Then he waked, and stretched, and turned to her ; unlocked his eyelids, and made believe he was amazed, and crossed himself with his hand, to be the safer for his prayer. With chin and cheek full sweet, of mingled white and red, right lovely she looked, with her small laughing lips. 4. " Good morrow, Sir Gawain ! " said that fair lady. " Ye are a careless sleeper when one can enter thus. Now ye are cer- tainly taken; unless we can make a truce I shall bind you in yonr bed, ye may be sure of that ! " All laughing the lady shot those jests. " Good morrow, fair one," quoth Gawain the blithe. "I shall be at your disposal, and that pleases me well, for I yield me out- right and pray for grace, — and that is the best course, I judge, for I am in straits." And thus he returned the jests with many a blithe laugh. " But would ye, lovely lady, grant me leave, free * your prisoner and bid him rise, I would leave this bed and dress myself better. Then I could talk with you in more comfort." " Nay, forsooth, fair sir," said that sweet one, "ye shall not rise from your bed; I shall manage you better. I shall tie you up securely,* and afterwards talk with my knight that I have caught; for I ween well, ye are indeed Sir Gawain, whom all the world worships whereso ye ride. Your honour, your courtesy, is heartily praised, by lords, by ladies, by all alive; and now ye are here, forsooth, and we all alone. My lord and his people are gone far away; the other men in their beds, and my maidens also; the door shut and closed with a strong hasp; and since I have in this house him whom all like, I shall make good use of my time while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my person, to do whatever you wish; I am per- force, and must remain, your servant." * Meaning doubtful. G A mere guess : the line appears to be literally " I shall cover you here the other half also." 34 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 6. "In good faith," quoth Gawain, "a great privilege it seems to me — though I be not now he that ye speak of. To reach such reverence as ye rehearse here, I am a man unworthy, I know well. By God, I should be glad — if it seemed good to you — to do what I might in speech or in serv- ice to enhance your worship ; ^ — it were a pure joy." " In good faith. Sir Gawain," quoth the gay lady, " if I should speak ill of the fame and the prowess that pleases all others, or esteem it light, it would show but small discernment.'' But there are ladies enough who were liefer have this courteous one in their power — as I have thee here, — to dally dearly with your dainty words, to comfort themselves and dispel their cares, — than much of the treasure and gold that they have. But I praise the Lord who rules the skies that through his grace I have wholly in my hand that which all desire." Great cheer she that was so fair of face made him; the knight with discreet speeches answered her every proposal. 6. "Madame," quoth the merry man, " Mary reward you, for in good faith I have found your generosity noble. People judge a person's deeds largely from the ac- counts of others;" but the praise that they accord my deserts is but idle. It is simply your own nobility, who know nothing but good." "By Mary," quoth the gracious one, " methinks it is otherwise ; for were I worth all the store of women alive, and all the wealth of the world were in my hands, and I should bargain and choose to get me a lord, then for the good traits that I have found in the knight here, of beauty and graciousness and gay seeming, and from what I have heard before and hold in this case to be true, there should no hero in the world be chosen before you." "Indeed, worthy one," quoth the hero, "ye might* have chosen much better; but I am proud of the estimation that ye put upon me; and as your devoted servant I hold you my sovereign, and your knight I become; and Christ pay you for it." Thus they spoke of various things till past the midmorn; and ever the lady be- 1 The passage is none too clear. i The last clause is obscure in the text. ■ The passage is obscure. ' " might" supplied' haved as if she loved him much. But the hero fared with caution and made courteous pretences. " Though I were the fairest of women," mused the lady, " little love would he show, because of the danger that he seeks without reproach — the blow that may slay hi'u, but must needs be undergone." The lady then asked leave, and he granted her full soon. 7. Then she gave him good day, and of a sudden laughed; and as she stood there she astonished him with right sharp words: "Now may he that speeds each speech, pay you for this entertainment; but that ye are Gawain, it goes not in my mind." * " Wherefore ? " quoth the hero; and eagerly he asks, afraid lest he had failed in the performance of his design.^ But the lady blessed him and spake in this wise: " A man as good as Gawain is properly held — and courtesy is closed so entirely in him — • could not easily have lingered so long with a lady but he had on some trifling excuse or other' courteously craved a kiss." Then said Gawain, " Indeed, be it as you like; I shall kiss at your commandment as becomes a knight, and fear' lest he dis- please you; so urge that plea no more." She comes nearer at that and takes him in her arms; stoops graciously down and kisses the man. They courteously entrust each other to Christ. She goes forth at the door without more ado, and he prepares to rise, and hurries amain ; calls tu his cham- berlain, chooses his weeds, steps forth blithely to mass when he is ready; and then he goes to his meat, behaving always cour- teously, and makes merry all day till the bright moon rises. Never was a hero fairer entertained by two such worthy dames, the older and the younger. Much disport they make together. 8. And ever the lord of the land is bound on his sport, to hunt in holts and heath at barren hinds. Such a sum of does and of other deer he slew there by the time the sun was low, that it were a marvel to esti- mate. Then eagerly they all flocked to- gether at the last; and quickly of the slain deer they made a quarry. The leaders B The negative is supplied. 6 Possibly, "in some form of courtesy." » Literally, " By some touch of some trifle at some tale's end." ' " Fear" is an emendation by Morris ; the clause is obscure. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 35 hastened thereto with men enough; gath- ered the greatest of grease/ and proceeded properly to undo ^ them as the occasion de- mands. Some that were there tried them at the assay ' and found two fingers of fat on the leanest of all. Afterwards they slit the slot,* seized the arber,'' cut it free with a sharp knife, and tied it ^ up. Next they cut down along the four limbs and rent offi the hide ; then they opened the belly, took out the paunch, cutting eagerly, and laid aside the knot.' They began at the throat again and skilfully divided tlie weasand from the windpipe and threw out the guts. Then they cut out the shoulders with their sharp knives, and pulled them through by a little hole, so as to have whole sides. Next they divided the breast, and cut it in two; and once more they began at the throat, split the beast quickly right up to the crotch, took out the advancers,' and immediately severed all the fillets by the ribs, and took them off properly along the backbone even to the haunch, — all of which hung to- gether. Then they heaved it up whole and cut it off there; and that they took for the numbles,' as it is rightly called. At the fork of the thighs they cut the flaps behind ; hastily they hewed the carcass in two, and severed it along the backbone. 9. Both the head and the neck they hewed off then, and afterwHids they sundered the sides swiftly from the chine, and the corbie's fee^" they cast in a green tree. Then they pierced either thick side through by the rib, and hung them each by the hocks of the haunches — each man for his fee, as it befell him to have it. Upon a skin of a fair beast they fed their hounds with the liver and the lights, the leather of the paunches, and bread bathed in blood mingled thereamong. Loudly they blew the prize, and bayed their hounds; then they started to carry home their meat, blowing full stoutly many loud notes. By the 1 The correct hunting term for " the fattest." 2 Cut up. 3 Probably at the side of the neck, or on the brisket. * Probably at the hollow of the breast bone. ^ The gullet probably. 6 The sehyre is presumably the " arber " ; though in 1. 2256 it appears to be the skin of the neck or nape. ' i.e. the entrails, with the gullet knotted to prevent the iilth from escaping. 8 This titbit is sometimes called a part of the num- bles. 9 A choice cut j hence, capriciously, our humble-pie. w A bit of the offal for the crows. time daylight was done the band had all arrived at the comely castle, where the knight is quietly waiting in comfort beside a bright tire. When the lord arrived and Gawain met him, there was joy enough. 10. Then the lord commanded to gather in the hall all the household, and both the ladies to come down with their maids. Be- fore all the folk on the floor he bade men fetch his venison before him; and all in merry sport he called Gawain, told him the number of the choice beasts, and showed him the fat meatcut from ^' the ribs; "How like you this play ? Have I won the prize ? Have I properly earned thanks by my woodcraft ? " "Yes, indeed," quoth the other hero; "here is the fairest store that I saw this seven year in the season of winter." "And all I give you, Gawain," quoth the host, then ; " for by our plighted cov- enant you can claim it as your own." " That is true," replied the hero, " and I say to you the same; I too have won this worthy thing within doors ; and I am sure that with quite as good will it belongs to you." He throws his arms about his fair neck and kisses him as courteously as he knew how. " Take you there my merchan- dise; I have won no more; though I should give it up willingly even if it were greater." "It is good," quoth the good man; "gramercy therefor. Perchance it might be better if you would tell me where you won this same favour by your own ^ wit.'' "That was not the agreement," said he; "ask me no more, for ye have got all that belongs to you, be sure of that." They laughed and made merry in low tones; then they went quickly to supper with new dainties enough. 11. And afterwards as they sat by a fire- place in a chamber, servants poured to them oft the choice wine; and again in their jesting they agreed to make the same bargain on the morning that they made be- fore, — whatsoever chance betide to ex- change their winnings at night when they met, whatsoever new they win. They made this agreement before all the court, and the beverage was brought forth merrily at that time.'' Then at length they politely took leave; and everybody hurried to bed. " Literally "upon." 12 Possessive uncertain. 13 A drink ratifies the agreement — as before. 36 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT "When the cock had crowed and cackled but thrice, the lord had leaped from his bed; likewise his followers each one, so that the meat and the mass were promptly despatched, and the troop ready for the chase in the wood ere any day sprang. With hunters and horns they passed through the plains, and uncoupled the racing hounds among the thorns. 12. Soon they heard the cry of the dogs by a marsh side. The huntsman encouraged the hounds that first caught the scent, hurled sharp words at them with a great noise. The hounds that heard it hastened thither quickly, and fell immediately to the scent, forty at once. Then there rose such a resounding cry of gathered hounds that the rooks about rang. The hunters cheered them with horn and with mouth; then all together they swung in a troop between a pool in that wood and a wild crag. On a hill, beside a cliff at the side of the bog, where the rough rock was rudely fallen, they fared to the finding, and the hunters after them. The men surrounded both the rock and the hill, because they knew well that he was within them, — the beast that the bloodhounds were proclaiming there. Then they beat on the bushes and bade him rise up, and he savagely rushed out athwart the men, the most formidable of swine. Long since had he left the herd on account of his age, for he was a huge beast, the greatest of boars. His grinders when he grunted grieved many, for at his first burst he thrust three to the earth, and sped hastily forth at great speed without respite. And they hallooed " High ! " full loudly, and cried " Hay, hay ! " With horns to mouth lustily they blew the recheat.' Many were the merry cries of men and of hounds that hastened after this boar with hue and cry to kill him. Full oft he bides at bay, and maims the pack in the meMe. He hurts many of the hounds and griev- ously they howl and yell. 13. The hunters pushed forward then to shoot at him, aimed at him with their ar- rows and hit him often. But the shafts that struck on his shields,^ give way at the pith, and the barbs would not bite on his brawn though the shaven shafts shivered in pieces; the head hopped out again wheresoever it 1 A call for collecting the hounds. z The tough skin of the flanks. hit. But when the dints of their keen strokes scared him, then mad for destruc- tion he rushed on the men, did them sore hurt where he hurled forth, and many a one grew wary thereat and gave back a little. But the lord on a light horse hurries after him, blowing his bugle like a bold hero. He winds the recheat as he rides through thick groves, following this wild swine till the sun declined. Thus they drive on the day with such doings while our lovely hero lies comfortably in his bed at home in clothes full rich of hue. The lady did not forget; she came to greet him; full early she was by him to change his mind. 14. She comes to the curtain and peeps at the knight. Sir Gawain at once welcomes her worthily, and she returns his greeting right promptly, seats herself softly by his side, laughs openly, and with a lovely look addresses these words to him ; " Sir, if ye be Gawain, it seems to nie a very strange thing that a man of such quality should not follow the conventions of good society; and should after making acquaintance with a person cast him utterly from his mind. Thou hast already forgotten what I taught you yesterday in the best language that I knew." "What is that? " quoth the hero. "For- sooth I know not. If what ye say be true, I am to blame." " Yet I taught you about kissing," re- plied the fair lady; "wherever a counte- nance is known, quickly to claim a kiss; that becomes every knight who practices courtesy." " Cease such speech, my dear lady," said the ready man. " I durst not claim it lest I should be denied. If I proposed and were refused, I should certainly be wrong in proffering." " By my faith," quoth the lovely dame, " ye cannot be refused. Ye are strong enough to compel it by strength if ye pleased, supposing any were so ill-bred as to deny you." "Yea, by God," said Gawain, "your speech is good; but violence is considered discourteous among my people, as is any gift that is not given with a good will. I am at your command to kiss when ye like. Ye may begin when ye please, and leave off whenever it likes you." The lady stoops down and gracefully SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 37 kisses his face. They converse long of the fears and joys of love. 15. " I should like to know from you, sir," said the peerless lady, " if it vexes you not, — what might be the reason that so young and so gallant person as ye now are, one so courteous and so knightly as ye are known everywhere to be, have never spoken ofloveA For in relating the pains of true knights, the chief thing praised in all of chivalry is the royal sport of love, — and the science of arms: it is the title, token, and text of their works; how heroes for theis true love adventured their lives, en- dured for their sweethearts doleful hours, and afterwards avenged themselves by their valour; dispersed their care, and brought bliss to bower, with plenteous rewards for themselves. And ye are the most renowned knight of your time; your fame and your worship walks everywhere, — and now I have sat by you here two separate times, yet have I never heard from your head a single word that pertained at all to love, less or more. And ye, that are so courte- ous and so distinguished in your vows, ought willingly to show and teach to a young thing some tokens of the art of true love. Why are ye so rude who are so praised? Is it that ye deem me too dull to hearken to your dalliance ? For shame ! I came hither all alone to sit and learn from you some accomplishment: do teach me part of your skill while my lord is from home." 16. "In good faith," quoth Gawain, " God reward you ! Great is the entertain- ment, and huge the pleasure to me, that so worthy a one as ye should come hither, and take pains with so poor a man, and play with your knight in any wise; it delights me. But to take upon myself the task of expounding true love, of touching upon the themes of that text, and tales of arms be- fore you, who I wot well have more knowl- edge of that sort by the half than I or a hundred such have, or ever shall have so long as I live, — that were a manifold folly by my troth, dear one. But I would work your will with all my might, highly be- holden to you as I am; and I wish ever- more to be your servant, so God save me." Thus the fair lady besought him, and 1 The words in italics are rashly supplied by the translator. For several lines here the construction is unclear. tried him oft, for to have won him to wrong, — whatever it was she purposed ; but he defended himself so fairly that no fault appeared, nor any evil on either side ; they knew nought but joy. They laughed and played a long time, till at last she kissed him, took her leave fairly, and went her way. 17. Then the hero bestirred himself and rose to the mass; and afterwards their din- ner was dight and splendidly served. The hero sported with the ladies all day, but the lord raced over the land full oft, fol- lowing his uncouth swine, that rushed along the banks and bit in sunder the backs of his best brachets.'' There he abode at hjs bay till bowmen broke it, and maugre his head made him move forth. Many fell arrows there flew when the folk gathered about, but yet at times he made the stoutest to start; till at the last he was so weary he could no more run; but with the haste that he might he won to a hole in a cleft by a rock, where the burn runs. He got the bank at his back and began to scrape ; the ugly froth foamed from the corners of his month, and he whet his white tusks. It was not pleasant for all the bold hunters that stood about him to approach him even remotely; and to go nigh him durst none for fear of harm. He had hurt so many before, that all seemed then full loath to be more torn with the tusks of that savage and crazed beast. 18. When the knight came himself, rein- ing his steed, and saw him bide at the bay near his men, he lighted nimbly down, left his courser, pulled out a bright brand and boldly strode forth, and hurried fast through the stream where the fell one abode. The wild creature was ware of the wight with weapon in hand, and heaved on high his hairs; so fiercely he snorted that many feared for their lord lest to him befell the worse. The swine rushed directly upon the hero, so that man and boar were both in a heap in the wildest of the water; but the boar had the worse, for the man marked him well as they first met and skil- fully set his point exactly in the slot,' pierced him up to the hilt so that his heart split, and he gave way squealing and went quickly down the water. A hundred hounds seized him and fiercely bit on him. Men i hounds. 3 The proper piercing spot in the chest. 38 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT brought him to land and the dogs finished him.^ 19. There was blowing of the prize '■' on many a loud born, high halloing aloft by mighty hunters; brachets bayed the beast as the masters bade who were the chief huntsmen of that swift chase. Then a wight that was wise in woodcraft begins skilfully to unlace ^ this boar. First he liews off its head and sets it on high; and afterwards splits him all down his rough back, and takes out the bowels and singes them on the coals; then with bread mingled with these, he rewards his hounds. Afterwards he cuts the brawn in fine broad shields, and has out the hastlets * in the proper man- ner. And now they bind the halves all whole together, and afterwards stoutly hang them on a stiff staff. Now with this same swine they take their way home. The boar's head was borne before the warrior who slew him at the stream through the force of his own strong hand. It seemed long to him until he saw Sir Gawain in the hall; then he called, and Gawain came promptly to take his fees there. 20. The lord jested ^ full loudly, and merrily he laughed when he saw Sir Ga- wain; with pleasure he spoke. The good ladies were called and the household gath- ered. He showed them the shields and told them the tale of the girth ^ and length of the wild swine; and also of his viciousness in the wood where he fled. That other knight full comely commended his deeds, and praised it as a great bag that he had made ; for such a brawn of a beast, the bold man said, nor such sides of a swine, saw he never before. Then they handled the huge head; the courteous man praised it and made much of it to honour the lord. "Now Gawain," quoth the good man, " this game is your own, by fine and fast foreword, truly ye know." "It is sooth," quoth the hero; "and as truely all my getting I shall give you in turn, by my troth." He took the warrior about the neck and courteously kissed him, and another time he served him the same. 1 Present and past tenfie are oddly mixed in this Btanza, as often in the poem. This time they have been normalized. z The horn-blowing for the game's death. s cut up. ■* cutlets. 6 Two words not clear. 6 Translating /arfire*5e as "largeness.*' "Now we are even,'' quoth the warrior, " tonight of all the covenants that we knit by law since I came hither." Said the lord, " By St. Giles, ye are the best that I know ! Ye will be rich in a short time, if ye drive such chaflfer ! " 21. Then they raised tables aloft on trestles, and cast cloths upon them. The clear light then appeared along the walls, as men set and distributed waxen torches all about the hall. Much mirth and glee rose up therein, about the fire on the hearth, and in various wise at the supper and after. Many noble songs they sang, as Christmas carols and new dance tunes, with all the mannerly mirth that a man can tell of. And ever our lovely knight sat beside the lady. Such seemly cheer she made to the hero, sought with such sly stolen' glances to please the stalwart one, that the wight was all amazed, and wroth with himself. But he would not on account of his breeding re- prove her, but responded in all courtesy, howsoever outrageous she might be. When they had played in the hall as long as their will lasted, the lord called to bedwards, and to the room with a fireplace they passed. 22. And there they drank and talked, and the lord proposed again to make the same arrangement for New Year's Eve. But the knight craved leave to depart on the morn, for it was nigh at the term that he must keep. The lord hindered him from that, persuaded him to linger, and said, "As I am true man, I pledge my troth thou shalt reach the green chapel to do thy tasks, sir, by New Year's light, long be- fore prime. Therefore lie in thy loft and take thine ease; and I shall hunt in this holt and keep the covenant — change mer- chandise with thee when I return hither; for I have tried thee twice, and faithful I find thee; now, 'third time, best time.' 8 Think on the morrow. Make we merry while we may, and be joyful; for a man can catch trouble whensoever he likes." This was readily granted and Gawain stayed. Drink was quickly brought to them, and to bed they went with lights. Sir Ga- wain lay and slept full still and soft all night; the lord, mindful of his hunting, was dight full early. ' A guess for stollen. 8 The line is not clear ; literally, perhaps, " third tune, throw best." SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 39 23. After mass he and his men took a morsel. Merry was the morning. He asks for his mount, and all the sportsmen who should accompany him on horse were ready monnted on their steeds before the hall gates. Won- drous fair was the field, for the frost still lingered. The sun rose in a rack of ruddy red, and drove all the clouds from the wel- kin. The hunters uncoupled by a holt side, and the rooks in the forest rang for the noise of their horns. Some dogs fell on a scent where the fox had loitered; followed it oft obliquely ^ through the cunning of their wiles. A kennet^ cried upon it; the himts- man encouraged him, and his fellows hast- ened after, panting thickly. They ran forth in a rabble on Reynard's very track, and he hurried before them. Soon they found him; and when they actually saw him they chased him fast, baying him full fiercely with a huge noise. And he trants^ and turns through many a rough grove; doubles and hearkens by hedges full often. At the last by a, little ditch he leaps over a spinny, and steals out full stUly by a rough rand.^ Half escaped from the wood he turns with wiles from the hounds; but then he arrived, ere he knew it, at a chosen stand, where in an instant three stout hunters in gray threatened him at once. He blenched again quickly, and bravely started off; with all the woe in the world, he turned away to the wood. 24. Then was it a pure joy to listen to the hounds, when all the gathered mute^ got view of him. The cry they set on his head at the sight was as if all the resounding cliffs had cliittered down in a heap. Here lie was halloed when the hunters met him, loudly cried upon with noisy calls; there he was threatened and often called thief; and ever the ticklers were at his tail so that he could not tarry. Oft he was run at when he raked out, and oft he reeled in again, so wily was Reynard. And ever he led the bespattered lord and his troop in this manner among the hills, now in them, now over, now under, while the courteous knight at home slept wholesomely within the comely curtains on the cold morn. But the lady for love cared not to sleep nor to give up the purpose that bode in her heart; but up she rose quickly and took her 1 Word obscure. 2 araall hound. ' twists. * Unploughed stri? by woodside. 6 pack. way thither in a gay mantle meetly reach- ing to the earth, and furred full fine with skins of the best. No ornaments of gold on her head; but only the bright stones set about her tressour ^ in clusters of twenty. With her fair face and her lovely throat all naked, her breast bare before and be- hind too, she comes within the chamber door and closes it after her, throws up a window and calls on the wight, and smartly thus stirred him with her fair cheery words. " Ah man, how can you sleep, this morning is so clear ! " Though he was drowsing deep, yet could he hear her. 25. In the dreary depths of a dream the noble was sunk, like a man suffering from many sad thoughts, how destiny should dight him'' his weird at the green chapel that day when he met the man, and had to abide his buffet without more debate. But when he had fairly recovered his wits, he emerged from his dreams and answered with haste. The lovely lady came laughing sweetly, stooped over his fair face and courteously kissed him. He welcomed her worthily with choice cheer. To see her so glorious, and so gaily attired, so faultless of feature, and so lovely of colour, warmed his heart with welling joy. With smooth and gracious smiling they straightway waxed mirthful. All was bliss and good cheer that passed between them. They ex- changed goodly words; much happiness they felt, and great was the peril between them, unless Mary thought of her knight. 26. For that beauteous princess con- strained him so sorely, and the danger pressed him so nigh, that of necessity it behooved him either accept her love or rudely refuse it. He thought much of his courtesy, lest he should prove a clown; and more on his villainy if he should do sin, and be traitor to the hero who owned the castle. " God shield ! " quoth the warrior, " that shall not befall ! " With a little love-dalli- ance he laid aside all the pointed speeches that sprang from her mouth. Quoth the lady to the hero: "Ye deserve blame if ye love not her who is so near you, — of all creatures in the world most wounded in heart; — unless indeed ye have a sweetheart, a dearer being, that pleases you better, and ye have plighted faith so fi headdress, caul. ' Words in italics supplied by Morris. 40 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT firmly to that gentle one that ye care not to loosen it. — Verily now that is what 1 believe, and I pray you that you tell me truly; for all the loves in the world deny not the truth with guile." "By St. John!" said the knight, and courteously he smiled, " I have none, and none will I have." 27. " That is the worst of all ! " quoth the lady. " I am answered indeed, to my sorrow. Kiss me now comely and I shall go hence. I can only mourn in the world as a maid that loved much." Sighing she stooped down and kissed him seemly; and then she severed from him, and said as she stood, " Now, dear, at this de- parting do me this comfort; give me some- what of thy gift, thy glove if it might be, that I may think on thee, sir, to lessen my mourning." "Now in truth," quoth that man, "I would I had here for thy love, the dearest thing that I wield; for truly ye have right oft in reason deserved a greater reward than I could reckon. But to exchange with you love-tokens, that would profit but little. It is not for your honor to have at this time a glove of Gawain's gift for a keepsake; and I am here on an errand in lauds un- couth, and have no men with mails full of precious things for remembrances at this moment ; and that mislikes me, lady. But every man must act according to his cir- cumstances, and none should take it ill or repine." "Now, courteous and honourable one," quoth that lovesome lady, " though I shall have nothing of yours, yet shall ye have of mine." 28, She reached him a rich ring of red gold work with a gleaming stone standing aloft, that shed blushing beams like the bright sun; know ye well it was worth wealth full huge. But the man refused it, and readily he said: "I desire no great gifts, my gay one, at this time. I have naught to give you, and naught will I take." She offered it him full pressingly, and he refused her offer, and swore swiftly on his sooth that he would not take it. And she sorrowed that he refused, and said thereafter, " If ye refuse my ring, since it seems too rich, and ye would not be so highly beholden to me, I shall give you my girdle, that will enrich you less." She lightly caught a lace that went about her sides, knit upon her kirtle under the bright mantle. It was adorned with green silk, and ornamented with gold, broidered all around, decked with fringes ;^ and that she offered to the hero, and gaily besought that, though it were unworthy, he would take it. And he denied that he would in any wise take either gold or present ere God sent him grace to achieve the chance that he had chosen there. " And therefore, I pray you, be not displeased, and give over your attempt; for I intend never to consent. I am dearly beholden to you because of your entertainment; and ever in hot and in cold I will be your true servant." 29. " Now refuse ye this silk," said the lady then, " because it is simple in itself, as it certainly seems to be ? Lo 1 little it is, and less it is worth; but whoso knew the virtues that are knit therein, he would es- teem it at a greater price peradventure ; for whatsoever man is girt with this green lace, while he has it fittingly wrapped about him, there is no warrior under heaven than can wound him ; for he could not be slain by any device in the world." Then the knight paused, and it came to his heart that it would be a jewel for the peril that awaited him when he arrived at the chapel to undergo his ordeal. Could he manage to be unslain, that were a noble de- vice. Then he indulged her entreaties and suffered her to speak ; and she pressed the belt on him and offered it to him^ eagerly. And he accepted it, and she gave it him with a good will , and besought him for her sake never to discover it, but to conceal it loy- ally from her lord. The man agreed that never person should know it indeed but they twain. Full oft he thanked her, right glad in heart and thought. By that she had kissed the stout knight three times. 30. Then she takes her leave and leaves him there, for more entertainment she could not get from that man. When she was gone Sir Gawain bestirs himself, rises and dresses in noble array. He lays up the love-lace the lady had given him, hides it full cleverly where he can find it again. Then promptly he takes his way to the chapel ; quietly ap- proaches to the priest and prays him there 1 Reading /rj/ra(7ei for MS. ft/ngres ; or we may keep the text and translate, "wrought, embroidered, by fingers." SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 41 that he would elevate his life, and teach him better how his soul should be saved when he should go hence. Then he shrives him cleanly and shows his misdeeds, both the more and the less, beseeches mercy, and begs for absolution. And the priest assoUs him thoroughly and set him as clean as if doomsday had been due on the morrow. And afterwards Gawain makes more mirth among the fair ladies that day with comely carols and all kinds of joy than ever he did before, till the dark night. Everyone had pleasure of him there, and said indeed that he had never been so merry since he came hither. 31. Now let him linger in that place, where may love betide him. The lord is still in the field leading his men. He has overtaken this fox that he followed so long, as he sprinted over a spiniiy to spy the ras- cal, where he heard the hounds that has- tened fast after him. Reynard came run- ning through a rough grove, and all the rabble in a rout right at his heels. The man was ware of the game, and warily abode; pulled out his bright brand and struck at the beast; and he dodged from the sharp weapon and would have turned ; but a dog seized him ere he could, and right before the horse's feet they all fell on him and worried this wily one with a great noise. The lord lighted quickly, and caught him forthwith; pulled him full hastily out of the dogs' mouths, and holding him high over his head, halloed fast; and there many fierce hounds bayed him. Hunters hied them thith- er with horns full many, ever blowing the recheat'- till they saw the hero. As soon as his noble company was come, all that bare bugle blew at once, and all the others that had no horns halloed. It was the merri- est mute^ that ever men heard — the rich riot that there was raised for Reynard's soul. They rewarded the hounds there, stroked them and rubbed their heads; and afterwards they took Reynard and turned off his coat. 32. And then they hastened home, for it was nigh night, blowing full stoutly in their great horns. The lord alighted at last at his dear home, found fire on the floor, and the hero beside it, Sir Gawain the good, that glad was withal among the ladies; in 1 The note that recallB all the dogs. 2 HoiBQ of the whole band. their love he had much joy. He wore a mantle of blue that reached to the earth; his surcoat, that was softly furred, became him well; and his hood of the same hung on his shoulder. Trimmed all about with fine fur were both. He met this good man in the middle of the floor, and all joyfully he greeted him, and goodly he said : " Now I shall fulfill our covenant, that we have just made, where no drink was spared." Then he embraces the knight and kisses him thrice with as much gusto and as sober- ly as he could give them. " By Christ ! " quoth the other knight, " ye get much bliss in the profits of this business — if ye drive good bargains ! " " Of the bargain, no matter," quoth curt- ly that other, " so long as the debts that 1 owed are properly paid." " Mary ! " quoth the other man, " my offering is the worse, for I have hunted all this day, and naught have I got but this foul fox-fell; the fiend have the good ones! And that is full poor to pay for such fine things as ye have given me liere, three such rare kisses." "It is enough," quoth Sir Gawain; "I thank you, by the rood." And as they stood there the lord told him how the fox was slain. 33. With mirth and minstrelsy, with meats at their wUl, they made as merry as any men could. With laughing of ladies, with merry jests, Gawain and the good man were both as glad as if the court were mad, or else drunk. Both the man and his retinue made many jokes till the season arrived when they must sever; the men had to go to their beds at last. Then humbly this gentle man takes his leave of the lord first; and fairly he thanks him. " For such a joy- ous sojourn as I have had here, for the honor you have shown me at this high feast, the high king reward you ! I can only give you myself to be one of your men, if that pleases you. For I must needs, as ye know, proceed, tomorrow, if ye will grant me some man to show, as you promised, the way to the green chapel, as God wUl suffer me to take on New Year's day the doom of my fate." " In good faith," quoth the good man, " with a good will ! All that ever I prom- ised you, I will perform." Therewith he assigns a servant to set him in the way, and 42 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT conduct him by the downs, that he should without hesitation travel through the forest and fare at the best in the woods. The lord thanked Gawain for the worship he had been willing to show him. Then the knight took his leave of the beautiful ladies. 34. With care aud with kissing he speaks to them, and many earnest thanks he presses upon them. And they returned him the same again promptly; they entrusted him to Christ with sighings full sad. After- wards he graciously departs from the house- hold ; each man that he met he thanked him for his service aud his solace, aud the vari- ous pains with which they had been busy to serve him. And each man was as sad to sever from him there as if they had ever dwelt worthily with that hero. Then with people and with light he was led to his chamber and blithely brought to bed to be at his rest. Whether he slept soundly I dare not say, for he had much to think of on the morrow if he would. Let him lie there; he was near what he sought. If ye will be still a while I shall tell you how they fared. FYTTE THE FOURTH 1. Now nighs the New Year, and the night passes. The day drives on to the dark, as God bids ; but outside wild storms wak- ened in the world; clouds cast the cold keenly to the earth; with discomfort enough to the naked, the snow from the north flew sharply, and nipped the game. The bluster- ing wind blew from the heights, and drove each dale full of great drifts. The man who lay iu his bed heard it right well; though he locks his lids, full little he sleeps. By each cook that crew he knew well the hour. Promptly he leaped up ere the day sprang, for there was the light of a. lamp that gleamed in his chamber. He called to his chamberlain, who quickly answered him, and bade him bring his burnie and saddle his horse. The chamberlain gets up and fetches him his weeds, and arrays Sir Gawain in proper fashion. First he dressed him in his clothes to keep out the cold, and then he put on the rest of his harness, that had been well kept, both mail and plate, and brightly polished. The rings of his rich burnie had been rocked from the rust,'^ and all was fresh as at first; and Gawain was 1 That is, in a, barrel of sand. fain to give thanks for it. The attendant had wiped each piece well and often. Then the noblest man betwixt here and Greece bade his steed be brought. 2. Meanwhile, he threw upon himself his finest weeds ; his surcoat with its cogni- sance of excellent work, virtuous stones set upon velvet, all wrought about and bound with embroidered seams, and fairly fjirred within with rare skins. Yet left he not the lace, the lady's gift, — that forgot not Gawain for his own good. When he had belted his brand upon his broad haunches, he dressed his love-token double about him, the knight swathed sweetly about his waist the girdle of green silk, which became him well, upon the royal red cloth that was fair to see. But this hero wore not the girdle for its wealth, for pride of the pendants, though they were polished, and though the glitter- ing gold gleamed on the ends; but to save himself when it behoved him to suffer, to await his doom without resistance, with no brand or knife to defend him. By this the good man is ready and goes out quickly. Full often he thanks the distinguished com- pany. 3. Gringolet the huge and strong was ready, who had been kept skilfully in the safest manner. The proud horse in his splendid condition longed for spurring. The hero approached him, noticed his coat, and said soberly, and by his sooth swore — " Here, in this castle, is a company that are mindful of courtesy. The man who main- tains them, joy may he have; the dear lady, love betide her in this life, since they for charity cherish a guest and uphold honor in their hand. May the Being reward them who holds the heaven on high — and also you all. And if I might live any longer in the world I should give you some reward if I could." Then he stepped into stirrup and strode aloft. His servant offered him his shield; he put it on his shoulder. He spurred Gringolet with his gilt heels, and the steed jumped on the stone; no longer he stood still, but pranced. Gawain's servant, who bore his lance and helm, was by then on the horse. "This castle I entrust to Christ; may he give it aye good chance ! " 4. The bridge was let down, and the broad gates nnbarred and borne open on both sides. The hero crossed himself quickly and passed the boards, praised the porter, who SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 43 knelt before him giving good day and pray- ing God that he save Gawain. And so he went on his way with his one man that should teach hiiu how to find that dismal place where he should receive the rueful blow. They rode by banks where boughs are bare; they climbed by cliflls where the cold clings; the sky was upheld, but it was ugly beneath; mist hung on the moor and melted on the mount; each hill had a hat, a huge mist-cloak. Brooks boiled and broke from the banks about, shattering sheer on their shores where they showered down. Dreary was the way, where they should travel by the wood, till soon came the sea^ son when the sun rises at that time. They were on a hill full high, the white snow about them, when the man that rode beside him bade his master abide. 5. "I have brought you hither, sir, at this time; and now ye are not far from that famous spot that ye have asked and in- quired so specially after. But I shall say to you forsooth, since I know you, and ye are a man that I love well, if ye would work by my wit ye should be the better for it. The place that ye press to is held full perilous. There dwells in that waste a wight the worst upon earth; for he is stiff and stern and loves to strike; and greater he is than any man in the world, and his body bigger than the four best that are in Arthur's house, and bigger than Hector or any other. He maintains that adventure at the green chapel. There passes by that place none so proud in arms but he dins him to death with dint of his hand. For he is a man with- out measure and uses no mercy; for be it churl or chaplain that rides by the chapel, monk or mass-priest, or any man else, he likes as well to kill him as to go alive him- self. Therefore I tell ye as truly as ye sit in the saddle, come ye there ye shall be killed — trust me well — though ye had twenty lives to spend. He has dwelt here full long and caused much strife in the land. Against his sore dints ye cannot de- fend yourself. 6. " Therefore, good Sir Gawain, let the fellow alone, and go away some other road, for God's sake. Repair to some other coun- try, where Christ may speed you; and I shall hie me home again, and promise you further — which I will swear by God and all his good saints, so help me God and the halidom and oaths enough — that I will loyally conceal you, and never tell tale that ever ye fled for any man that I know of." "Gramercy," quoth Gawain. And sternly he added. " Well worth thee, man, who wishes my good; and I well believe thou wouldst loyally conceal me. But if thou kept promise never so faithfully, and I gave up here, sought for fear to fly as you ad- vise, I were a knight coward ; I could not be excused. But I will go to the chapel what- ever chance may fall, and talk with that same man the tale that I like, be it good or evil, as it pleases fate to have it. Though he be a stern champion to cope witli, and armed with a club, full well can God man- age to save his servants." 7. " Mary ! " quoth that other man, " now thou sayest as much as that thou wUt take >ipon thyself thine own destruction; if it pleases thee to lose thy life, I shall not let nor hinder thee. Have here thy helm on thyhead, thy spear in thy hand; and ride down this same lane by yon rock-side till thou be brought to the bottom of the rugged valley; then look a little up the grassy slope on thy left hand, and thou shalt see in that ravine the chapel itself, and the burly man on the field who keeps it. Now farewell in Gorl's name, Gawain the noble, for all the gold in the world I would not go with thee nor bear thee fellowship through this wood a foot further." At that the man turned his bridle in the wood, hit the horse with the heels as hard as he could; leaped over the land, and left the knight there all alone. " By God's self," quoth Gawain, " I will neither grieve nor groan. To God's will I am full obedient, and to him I have en- trusted myself." 8. Then he spurs Gringolet and follows the path ; pushes in by a hollow beside a thicket; rides through the rough slope right to the dale; and then he looked about him, and wild it seemed to him. He saw no sign of dwelling anywhere around, but on both sides high steep banks, and rough hunched crags with projecting stones; the shadows of the cliffs seemed to him terrible. Then he paused and held back his horse, and oft changed his cheer while seeking the chapel. He saw none such on any side, and strange it seemed to him. But soon, a little dis- tance off on a grassy spot he descried a 44 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT mound as it were, a smooth hill by the bank of the stream near a ford of tlie flood that ran there. The burn bubbled there as if it were boiling. The knight urges his steed, and comes to the hill; lights nimbly down, and ties the rein and his rich bridle to a tree by a rough branch; then be turns to the hill and walks about it, debating with himself what it might be. It bad a hole at the end and on either side, and was over- grown with grass in clumps everywhere, and was all hollow within — nothing but an old cave or a crevice of an old crag. He could not understand it at all. " Alas, Lord," quoth the gentle knight, " can this be the green chapel ? Here about midnight the devil might tell his matins." 9. " Now," quoth Gawain, " it certainly is mysterious here; this oratory is ugly, over- grown with herbs. Well it beseems the wight clad in green here to do his devotions in the devil's wise. Now I feel in my five wits it is the fiend that has made this bar- gain with me, to destroy me here. This is a chapel of mischance; may ill fortune be- tide it ! It is the cursedest kirk that ever I came in ! " With high helm on his head, his lance in his hand, he strides up to the rock of the rude dwelling. Then be heard from that high hill, in a rough cave, on a bank beyond the brook, a marvellously savage noise. Lo, the cliff clattered as though it would split, as if one were grinding a scythe on a grind- stone. It whirred and screeched like water at a mill ; it rushed and rang that it was ruth to hear. "By God," quoth Gawain then, "that gear, I fancy, is being prepared to give me a good reception. Yet though I must lose my life, fear shall never make me change colour." 10. Then the knight called full high: " Who dwells in this place to keep covenant with me ? For now the good Gawain is passing right here. If any wight wishes ought, let him come hither fast, now or never, to fulfill his need ! " " Abide ! " quoth one on the bank over his head. " Thou shalt have in all haste that which I promised thee once." Yet he kept on with that noise sharply for a while, turning and whetting, ere he would come down. And then he crossed by a crag and came from a hole, whirling out of a dark place with a fell weapon — a Danish axe new dight, to give the blow with. It had fast to the helve a great head, sharp- ened on the stone. Four feet long was the weapon — no less, by that lace that gleamed full bright. And the man in the green was arrayed as before — both his skin and his limbs, locks, and beard; save that on foot he strides fairly on the earth. He set the steel shaft to the stone and stalked beside it. When he came to the water, where he did not wish to wade, he hopped over on his axe, and fiercely advanced, with sav- age ferocity pacing the broad snow-covered glade. Sir Gawain met the knight and bowed to him, not at all low. The other said, " Now, sweet sir, in a covenant a man can trust thee." 11. " Gawain," quoth the green warrior, " may God preserve thee. Indeed thou art welcome, hero, to my place; and thou hast timed thy travel as a true man should. And thou knowest the covenants made between us ; at this time twelve mouth, thou tookest what fell to thee, — and I at this New Year was to repay you handsomely. And now we are in this valley entirely alone; here are no men to part us, however we may behave. Have thy helm off thy head, and have here thy pay. Make no more debate than I of- fered thee then, when thou whipped off my head at one blow." "Nay," quoth Gawain, "by God that lent me life, I shall grudge thee not a whit whatever misfortune falls. But arrange thee for thy one stroke, and I shall stand still and binder thee not the least from doing the work as you like." He bent the neck and bowed down, show- ing the flesh all bare ; and behaved as if he cared not. For no dread would he flinch. 12. Then the man in the green got ready quickly, gathered up his grim tool to smite Gawain. With all the might in his body he bare it aloft, and aimed a savage blow as though he wished to kill him. Had it driven down as earnestly as he feinted, the ever doughty one would have been dead of his dint. But Gawain glanced to oue side on the gisarm as it came gliding down to slay him there in the glade, and shrank a little with the shoulders from the sharp iron. The other warrior with a quick motion withheld the bright weapon, and then he reproved the prince with many proud words. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 4S "Thou art not Gawain," said the man, " who is held so good, who never flinched for any array by hill nor by vale ; and now thou fleest for fear before thou feelest any harm. Such cowardice I never heard of that knight. I neither winced nor fled, sir, when thou didst strike, nor tried any tricks in King Arthur's house. My head flew to my foot, and yet I never budged ; and thou, ere any harm taken, art fearful in heart. Wherefore the better man I ought to be called for it." "I flinched once," quoth Gawain, "and will do so no more. Yet if my head should fall on the stones, I cannot restore it. 13. "But make ready, sir, by thy faith, and bring me to the point. Deal to me my destiny, and do it promptly; for I shall stand thee a stroke, and not start again till thine axe has hit me — have here my troth." " Have at thee then ! " quoth the other, and heaves it aloft, and aims as savagely as if he were mad. He strikes at him mightily, but touches the man not; for he withheld his hand cleverly ere it could hurt. Gawain awaits it properly and flinches with no member, but stands still as a stone, or a stump that is twisted into the rocky ground with a hundred roots. Then merrily spoke the man in the green: " So, now thou hast thy heart whole it be- hoves me to hit. Now keep back the fine hood that Arthur gave thee, and see if thou canst keep thy neck whole from this stroke." Said Gawainin great anger: " Why, thrash on, thou wild man ! Thou threatenest too long. I guess that thine own heart is timid ! " "Forsooth," quoth the other warrior, " thou speakest so fiercely that I will not delay thine errand a bit longer." Then he takes his stride to strike and knits both brow and lip. No wonder Gawain mislikes it and gives up all thought of escape. 14. Lightly he lifts his axe and lets the edge come down fairly on the bare neck. Yet though he smote rudely, it hurt him but little; only cut him on one side so that it severed the skin. The sharp bit reached the flesh through the fair fat, so that the bright blood shot over his shoulders to the earth. And when the hero saw the blood glint on the snow, he leaped forth more than a spear's length, eagerly seized his helm, oast it on his head, threw his shoulders under his fair shield, pulled out a bright sword and fiercely spoke. Never in this woi-ld since he was born of his mother was he half so blithe. " Cease, sir, of thy blow ! Offer me no more. I have without strife taken a stroke in this place ; and if thou givest me more, I shall promptly repay and yield quickly again, trust thou that! Only one stroke falls to me here. The covenant which we made in Arthur's halls provided just that; and therefore, courteous sir, now hold ! " 15. The warrior turned from him and rested on his axe. He set the shaft on the ground, leaned on the head, and beheld how the doughty hero stood his ground grimly, fully armed and devoid of fear. In his heart it pleased him. Then with a great voice, and a huge laugh, he spoke merrily to the hero : " Bold sir, in this place be not so savage. Nobody has here unmannerly mishandled thee, nor done but according to covenant made at the king's court. I prom- ised thee a stroke and thou hast it; hold thee well paid. I release thee of the rem- nant, of all other rights. If I had been skil- ful peradventure 1 could have given you a worse buffet. First I menaced you merrily with a pure feint, and gave thee no blow; which was but justice, considering the cov- enant which we made on the first night, and which thou held with me trustily; for truly all the gain thou gave me as a good man should. The second feint this morning, sir, I proffered thee, because thou didst kiss my fair wife and didst hand the kisses over to me ; for these two occasions I gave thee here but two bare feints without harm. A true man truly restores; such an one need dread no harm. At the third time thou didst fail; and so take thee that tap. 16. " For it is my weed that thou wear- est, that same woven girdle. Mine own wife gave it thee, I know well, forsooth. Now know I well thy kisses, and thy vir- tues also. And as for the wooing of my wife, I managed it myself. I sent her to try thee, and truly it seems to me thou art the most faultless hero that ever went on foot. As a. pearl is of greater price than white peas, so is Gawain, in good faith, compared with other gay knights. But in this case, sir, you lacked a little, and loy- alty failed you. But that was for no amor- ous work, nor wooing either, but because ye loved yoiir life, — the less I blame you." 46 SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT That other brave man stood a great while in a study; so stricken was he for grief that he groaned within. All the blood of his breast rushed to his face; and he shrank for shame when the warrior talked. This was the first word that the man spoke — "Cursed be cowardice and covetousuess both ! In you is villainy and vice, that destroy virtue." Then he caught at the knot and loosed the fastening ; fiercely reached the belt to the warrior himself. "Lo! there is the decep- tion, foul may it fall ! For fear of thy knock cowardice tanght me to make a truce with covetousness, to forsake my natnre, which is generosity and loyalty, that belong to knights. Now am I faulty and false, and a coward have ever been. From treachery and untruth ever come sorrow and care. Here I confess to you, knight, that my con- duct is all faulty. Let me but please you now, and after I shall beware." 17. Then the other laughed and said courteouslj': " I hold it quite remedied, the harm that I had. Thou hast made a clean confession, acknowledging all thy misdeeds, and hast received the penance openly from the point of my edge. I hold thee quit of that plight, and purified as clean as iJE thou hadst never forfeited since thou was first born. And I give thee, sir, the girdle that is gold hemmed. Since it is green, as is my gown, Sir Gawain, ye may think upon this same adventure where thou goest forth among great princes; and this shall be a genuine token among chivalrous knights of the adventure of the green chapel, and ye shall come again this New Year to my dwelling, and we shall revel the remnant of this rich feast full well." The lord pressed the invitation and said, " With my wife, who was your great enemy, I think we shall reconcile yon." 18. " Nay, forsootli," quoth the hero; and seizing his helm, he took it off quickly and thanked the warrior. " I have had a good visit, bliss betide you; and may He pay you well who directs all mercies. Com- mend me to that courteous one, your comely mate; both the one and the other, my hon- oured ladies, who have thus with their craft quaintly beguiled their knight. But it is no wonder that a fool should rave, and through wiles of women be won to sorrow. For so was Adam beguiled by one, and Solomon by many, indeed ; and Samson also, Delilah dealt him his weird; and David thereafter was deceived by Bethsheba, who suffered much sorrow. Since these men were plagued by their wiles, it were a huge gain to love them well and believe them not — if a person but could ; for these men were of old the best, and the most fortu- nate, excellent above all others under the heavens; and all they were beguiled by women whom they had to do with.i If I be now deceived, meseems I might be ex- cused. 19. " But your girdle," quoth Gawain, " God reward you for it ! That will I keep with good will; not for the precious gold, nor the samite nor the silk, nor the wide pendants, for its wealth nor for its beauty nor for its fine work; but in sign of my fault I shall behold it oft; when I ride in renown I sliall lament to myself the fault and the deceit of the crabbed flesh, how tender it is to catch stains of filth; and thus when pride shall prick me for prowess of arms, a look on this love-lace shall mod- erate my heart. But one thing I would pray you — may it displease you not — since ye are lord of the land yonder where I have stayed worshipfuUy with you — may the Being who upholds the heaven and sits on high repay you for it ! — how name ye your right name ? and then no more." " That shall I tell thee truly," quoth the other then. " Bernlak de Hautdesert I am called in this land through the might of Morgen la Fay, who dwells in my house. She has acquired deep learning, hard-won skill, many of the masteries of Merlin ; — for she has at times dealt in rare magic with that renowned clerk, who knows all yonr knights at home. Morgan the Goddess is therefore her name; no person is so haughty but she can tame him. 20. " She sent me in this wise to your rich hall to assay its pride and try if it were true that circulates about the great renown of the Round Table. She prepared for me this wonder to take away your wits, to have grieved Guinevere and caused her to die through fright of that same man, that ghostly speaker with his head in his hand before the high table. That is she, the ancient lady at home. She is even thine aunt, Arthur's half-sister, the daughter of 1 This passage is none too clear. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT 47 that Duchess of Tintagel upon whom dear Uther afterwards begot Arthur, that is now king. Therefore, I beg you, sir, to come to thine aunt; make merry in my house ; my people love thee, and I like thee as well, sir, by my faith as I do any man under God for thy great truth." But he answered him nay, he would in no wise. They embraced and kissed, each entrusted other to the Prince of Paradise, and they parted right there iu the cold. Ga- wain on horse full fair rides boldly to the king's court, and the knight all in green whithersoever he would. 21. Wild ways in the world Gawain now rides on Gringolet, he who had got the boon of his life. Oft he harboured in houses, and oft without; and many an adventure in vale he had, and won oft; but that I care not at this time to mention in my tale. The hurt was whole that he had got in his neck; and he bare the glistening belt about him, crossed obliquely like a baldric, the lace fastened under his left arm with a knot, in token that he was taken in a fault. And thus he comes to the court, the knight all sound. There wakened joy in that dwelling when the great ones knew that good Gawain had come; joyous it seemed to them. The king kisses the knight, and the queen also; and afterwards many a sure knight, who sought to embrace him and asked him of his jour- ney. And wondrously he tells it, confess- ing all the trials that he had, the adventure of the chapel, the behavior of the knight, the love of the lady — and, at the last, the lace. He showed them the nick in his neck that he caught at the lord's hands for his unloyalty. He grieved when he had to tell it; he groaned for sorrow, and the blood rushed to his face for shame when he de- clared it. 22. " Lo ! lord," quoth the hero, as he handled the lace, " this that I bear in my neck is the badge of this blame. This is the evil and the loss that I have got from the cowardice and covetousness that I showed there. This is the token of untruth that I am taken in, and I must needs wear it while I may last; for none may hide his shame without mishap, for where it once is in- curred, depart will it never." The king and all the court comfort the knight. They laugh loud at his tale, and loTingly agree that the lords and ladies that belong to the Table, each knight of the brotherhood, should have a baldric, an oblique band about him of a, bright green, and wear that for the sake of the hero. And that emblem was accorded the renown of the Round Table, and he was ever after honoured that had it. As it is told in the best book of romance, thus in Arthur's day this adventure betid, which the Brutus books bear witness of. After Brutus the bold hero first came hither, when the siege and the assault had ceased at Troy, many adventures of this sort happened. Now may He that bore the crown of thorns bring us to his bliss. AMEN. HONY SOIT QUI MAL PENCE. WILLIAM LANGLAND(?) THE VISION OF WILLIAM CON- CERNING PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN version a Prologue In a summer season, when soft was the sun, I clad me in rough clothing, a shepherd as I were; In habit of a hermit, unholy of works, Went I wide in this world, wonders to hear. But on a May morning on Malvern Hills To me befell a marvel, a fairy thing me- thought. I was weary of wandering and went me to rest Under a broad bank by a burn side;. And as I lay and leaned and looked on the waters, I slumbered in a sleep, it sounded so pleas- ant. 10 Then did I dream a marvellous dream. That I was in a wilderness, wist I not where ; And as I beheld into the east, on high to the sun, 1 saw a tower on a hill-top, splendidly fash- ioned ; A deep dale beneath, a dungeon therein, With a deep ditch and dark, and dreadful to see. A fair field full of folk found I there between, Of all manner of men, the mean and the rich. Working and wandering, as the world re- quireth. Some put them to the plow, and played full seldom, 20 In plowing and sowing produced they full hardly What many of these wasters m gluttony destroy. And some gave themselves to pride, ap- pareled them accordingly. In fashion of clothing strangely disguised. To prayer and to penance put themselves many. For love of our Lord lived they full hard, In hope to have the bliss of heaven's king- dom. As anchorites and hermits that hold them- selves in cells, Covet not in the country to gad all about, With luxui'ious living their body to please. And some chose trade, to prosper the better, 31 As it seems to our sight that such men should; And some mirth to make, as minstrels can, And get gold with their glee, guiltless, I trow. But jesters and buffoons, Judas's chil- dren. Found for themselves fantasies and of themselves fools made. Yet have their wits at command, to Tfork if they will. What Paul preached of them I dare not prove here; Qui loquitur turpiloquium,'^ he is Lucifer's servant. Askers and beggars fast about flitted, 40 Till their bags and their bellies brimful were crammed; Feigned for their food, fought at the ale- house ; In gluttony, God wot, go they to bed And rise up with ribaldry, these bullying beggar-knaves; Sleep and sloth follow them ever. Pilgrims and palmers pledge themselves together To seek the shrine of St. James and saints at Rome; Went forth in their way with many wise tales. And had leave to lie all their life after. Hermits in a band with hooked staves 50 Went to Walsingham, and their wenches after. 1 1 He who speaketh baseness. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 49 Great lubbers and long, that loath were to work, Clothed themselves in capes to be known for brethren, And some dressed as hermits their ease to have. I fonnd there friars, all the four orders, Preaching to the people for profit of their bellies, Interpreting the gospel as they well please. For covetousness of capes construes it ill; For many of these masters may clothe themselves at will. For money and their merchandise meet oft together. 60 Since Charity hath turned trader, and shriven chiefly lords, Many wonders have befallen in these few years. Unless Holy Church now be better held together The most mischief on earth will mount up fast. There preached a pardoner, as he a priest were. And brought up a bull with bishop's seals, And said he himself would absolve them all From breach of fasting and broken vows. The laymen liked him well, believed his speech. And came up kneeling and kissed his bull ; 70 He banged them with his brevet,' and bleared their eyes. And purchased with his parchment rings and brooches. Thus ye give your gold gluttony to help. And grant it to rascals that run after lechery. Were the bishop holy and worth both his ears, They should not be so brazen to deceive so the people. Yet it is not against the bishop that the knave preacheth; But the parish priest and pardoner share the silver That the poor parishioners should have but for them. Parsons and parish priests complain to their bishops 80 That their parish hath been poor since the pestilence^ time, I Letter of indulgence, ' Probably the great plague of 134S-1319. And ask leave and licence at London to dwell To sing there for simony,' for silver is sweet. There hang about a hundred in hoods of silk, Sergeants, it seems, to serve at the bar; Plead at the law for pence and for pounds, Not for love of our Lord unloose their lips once. Thou mightest better measure the mist on Malvern hills Than get a mum of their mouth tiU money be shown. I saw there bishops bold and bachelors of divinity * 90 Become clerks of account, the king to serve; Archdeacons and deacons, that dignity have To preach to the people and poor men to feed. Have leapt to London, by leave of their bishops. To be clerks of the King's Bench, to the country's hurt. Barons and burgesses, and husbandmen also, I saw in that assembly, as ye shall hear hereafter. Bakers, butchers, and brewers many. Woollen weavers, and weavers of linen. Tailors, tanners, and fullers also, 100 Masons, miners, and many other crafts. Ditchers and delvers, that do their work ill. And drive forth the long day with " Dieu vous sauve, dame Emma."^ Cooks and their boys cry " Hot pies, hot ! Good geese and pigs, go dine, go dine ! " Taverners to them told the same tale With good wine of Gascony and wine of Alsace, Of Rhine and of Kochelle, the roast to di- gest. All this I saw sleeping, and seven times more. PASSUS I What this mountain meaneth, and this dark dale. And this fair field full of folk, fairly I shall you show. ' Getting money singing anniversary masaes for the dead. * " God save you, dame Emma " — apparently a popu- lar Bong. so WILLIAM LANGLAND A lady lovely in face, in linen clothed, Came down from the cliff, and called me gently, And said, " Son, sleepest thou ? Seest thou these people All how busy they be about vanity ? The most part of the people that pass now on earth, If they have honour in this world, they care for nothing better; Of other heaven than here they have no regard." I was afraid of her face, though she fair were, lo And said, " Pardon, madame, what does this mean ? " " This tower and this hUl," quoth she, " Truth is therein. And would that ye wrought as his word teacheth. For he is Father of faith, that formed you all Both with skin and with face, and gave you five senses For to worship him therewith, while ye be here, And because he commanded the earth to serve you each one With woollen, with linen, with livelihood at need. In moderate manner, to put you at ease. And commanded of his courtesy in common three things, 20 Their names are needful and to name them I propose By rule and by reason, to rehearse them as follows: The one clothing is, from chill you to save. And the second meat at meals, against dis- comfort of thyself; And drink when thou art dry, but do it not out of reason So that thou be the worse when thou work shouldest. Dread delightful drink, and thou shalt do the better: 32 Moderation is medicine, though you crave much. All is not good for the soul that pleaseth the body, Kor all food to the body that is dear to the soul. Believe not thy body, for a liar him teach- eth (That is, the wicked world) thee to be- tray. For the fiend and thy flesh follow together And injure thy soul — set it in thy heart; And that thou shouldest beware, I teach thee the better." 40 "Ah, madame, merd," quoth I, "thy words please me well. But the money on this earth, that men so fast hold, Tell roe to whom that treasure belongeth.'' " Go to the Gospel," quoth she, " that God speaks himself. When the people asked him about a penny in the temple. If they should honor therewith Caesar their king. And he asked of them of whom spake the lettering, And whom the image was like that thereon stood. ' Caesar,' they said, ' we see well, each one.' Reddite ergo quae sunt Caesaris Caesari et quae sunt Dei Deo.^ ' Then render,' quoth Christ, ' what to Cae- sar belongeth, 50 And what is God's to God, or else ye do ill.' For Right Reason should rule you all, And Common Sense be warden, our wealth to guard. And tower of our treasure to give it you at need; For husbandry and he hold well together." Then I asked her fairly, for [the sake of] him that made her, " That dungeon in that deep vale, that dreadful is to see. What may it mean, madame, I thee be- seech," "That is the Castle of Care," quoth she; " whoso Cometh therein May curse that he was born to body or to soul. 60 Therein dwelleth a wight that Wrong is called. Father of falseness, — he founded it him- self. Adam and Eve he egged on to do ill; Counselled Cain to kill his brother; Judas he cheated with the Jews' silver, And on an elder tree hanged him after. He is a hinderer of love, and lieth to all those 1 Matthew, xxii, 20. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN SI That trust in their treasure, wherein is no truth." Then had I wonder in my wits what wo- man it might be That such wise words of Holy Writ me showed ; 70 And I greeted her in the High Name, ere she thence went, What she might be indeed that taught me so fairly. "Holy Church I am," quoth she, "thou oughtest to know me, I received thee first, and thy faith taught thee. Thou broughtest me pledges my bidding to do. And loyally to love me, while thy life lasted." Then kneeled I on my knees and cried to her for grace. And prayed her piteously to pray for our sins. And eke to teach me kindly on Christ to believe. That I might work the will of Him that made me a man. 8a "Show me no treasure, but tell me this same: How I may save my soul, thou that holy art held." " When all treasure is tested, truth is the best; I appeal to ' God is Love ' to judge the truth. It is as precious a jewel as dear God him- self. For whoso is true of his tongue, and telleth naught else, Doth his work with truth, and doth no man ill; He is accounted of the Gospel, on earth and above. And also likened to our Lord, by Saint Luke's words. Clerks that know it should teach it about, 90 For Christians and non-Christians, each claims it for himself. Kings and knights should conduct them- selves reasonably, And rightly roam the realms about, And take trespassers and tie them fast Till truth had determined the trespass to the end. For David, in his days, he dubbed knights, Made them swear on their swoid to serve truth ever, That is plainly the profession that per- taineth to knights, And not to fast one Friday in five score years. But to hold with men and women that seek the truth, 100 And leave off for no love nor grasping of gifts; And he that oversteps that point is apostate of the order. For Christ, king of kings, knighted ten. Cherubim and Seraphim, seven such and another,^ And gave them mastery and might, in his majesty. And over his army made them archangels, And taught them through the Trinity truth to know, And to be obedient to his bidding, he bade them naught else. Lucifer with legions learned it in heaven. He was loveliest to see, after our Lord, uo Till he broke obedience through boast of himself. Then fell he with his fellows, and fiends they became. Out of heaven into hell hobbled fast, Some into the air, and some to the earth, and some into hell deep; But Lucifer lieth lowest of them all ; For pride that he put ou, his pain hath no end. And all that work wrong, wend they shall, After their death day, and with that devil dwell. But they that work that word that Holy Writ teacheth, And end, as I said before, in profitable works, 120 May be sure that their souls shall to heaven. Where Truth is in Trinity and crowneth them all. For I say certainly, in view of the texts, When all treasure is tried, Truth is the best. Teach it to the ignorant, for the lettered know it. That Truth is a treasure, the finest on earth." " Yet have I no natural knowledge," quoth I, " thou must teach nie better, By what power in my body it beginneth, and where." " Thou dotest, dolt," quoth she, " dull are thy wits. 1 B C. A reads an al ihefov^r ordres. S2 WILLIAM LANGLAND It is a natural knowledge that tells thee in the heart 130 For to love thy lord liefer than thyself; No deadly sin to do, die though thou shouldest. This, I trow, is Truth ! Whoso can teach thee better See that thou suffer him to say it, and then teach it further ! For thus teacheth us His Word — work thou thereafter — That Love is the liefest thing that our Lord asketh, And eke the plant of peace. Preach it to thy harp Where thou art merry at thy meat, when men bid thee sing; For from the heart's own wisdom spriugeth the song. That belongs to the Father that formed us all, 140 He looked on us with love, and let His Son die Meekly for our misdeeds, to amend us all. And yet wished He no woe to them that wrought Him that pain, But meekly with mouth mercy He be- sought. To have pity on that people that tortured Him to death. Here thou mightest see example, in Him- self alone. How He was mighty and meek, that mercy did grant To them that hanged him high, and his heart pierced. Therefore I recommend the rich to have ruth on the poor, Though ye be mighty at law, be meek in your works. 150 Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, reme- cietur vobis.^ For the same measure that ye mete, amiss or otherwise, Ye shall be weighed therewith, when ye wend hence. For though ye be true of tongue, and hon- estly win, And eke as chaste as a child that in church weepeth, Unless ye live truly and also love the poor, And such good as God sent truly share, Ye have no more merit in mass nor in hours 1 Matthew, vii, 2. Than Mawkin of her maidenhood that no man desireth. For James the gentle bound it in his book, That faith without works is feebler than nothing, 160 And dead as a doornail unless the deed follow. Chastity without charity — know thou in truth — Is as useless as a. lamp that no light is in. Many chaplains are chaste, who charity have none; No men than they are harder when they are advanced; Unkind to their kin and to all Christians; They devour their own alms and demand ever more. Such chastity without charity will be claimed ^ in hell. Curates that should keep themselves clean in their bodies. They are cumbered with care and cannot escape it, 170 So hard are they with avarice clamped to- gether ; That is no truth of the Trinity, but treach- ery of hell. And a teaching of laymen more grudgingly to give. For these are words written in the evangel. Date et dabitur vobis; ^ for I deal to you all Your grace and your good hap, your wealth to win. And therewith acknowledge me naturally for what I send you. This is the lock of Love that letteth out my grace To comfort the careworn, cumbered with sin. Love is the liefest thing that our Lord asketh, iSo And eke the straight way that goeth into heaven. Therefore I say as I said before, in view of these texts. When all treasures are tried, Truth is the best. Now have I told thee what Truth is, that no treasure is better, I may no longer linger; now our Lord keep thee ! " * B chained. 3 Give and it shall be given unto you, iwAe, vi, 38. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 53 PASSUS 11 Yet kneeled I on my knees, and cried to her for grace, And said, " Mercy, madame, for the love of Mary of heaven. That bore the blessed babe, that bought us on the cross. Teach me the natural skill to know the False." " Look on the left hand," quoth she, " and see where he standeth. Both False and Flattery, and all his whole following I " I looked on the left side, as the lady me taught; Then was I ware of a woman, wonderfully clothed. Trimmed with fur, the richest upon earth. Crowned with a crown, the king hath no better. lo All her five fingers were furnished with rings Of the preciousest jewelry that prince ever wore. In red scarlet she rode, ribboned with gold. There is no queen more gorgeous that on earth quick is and alive. " What is this woman," quoth I, "thus wonderfully attired ? " " That is Meed,i the maiden," quoth she, "that hath me marred oft, And lied about my lore to lords about. In the Pope's palace she is as privy as myself; And so should she not be, for Wrong was her sire. Out of Wrong she sprang to misfortune of many. 20 I ought to be higher than she, for I am better born. Tomorrow is the marriage made of Meed and False ; Flattery, with fair speech, hath brought them together. And Guile hath persuaded her to grant all his will. And all is by Liar's leading that they live together. Tomorrow is the marriage made, true as I tell thee. That thou might'st know, if thou wilt, what they all are 1 Meed is properly reward; but the si^ification here Tariea from legitimate payment to gross bribery. It is often best translated by "graft." That belong to that lordship, the great and the small. Know them there if thou canst, and keep thee from them all. If thou desirest to dwell with Truth in his bliss; 30 Learn His law that is so loyal, and then teach it further. I may no longer linger, to our Lord I com- mend thee. And become a good man, spite of greed, I advise." When she was gone from me, I looked and beheld All this rich retinue that reigned with False Were bid to the bridal on both of the sides. Sir Simony is sent for, to seal the charters That False or Flattery at any price had got. And dower Meed therewith, in marriage for ever. But there was neither hall nor house that might harbour the people 40 That each field was not full of folk all about. In midst of a mountain, at the hour of mid-morning Was pitched a pavilion, a proud one for the nonce; And ten thousand of tents spread out be- sides. For knights from the country and strangers about, For assizers, for summoners, for sellers, for buyers. For ignorant, for learned, for laborers in villages. And for the flattering friars, all the four orders. All to witness well what the deed desired. In what manner Meed in marriage was en- dowed; 50 To be fastened with False, the fee was levied. Then Flattery fetched her forth, and to False gave her On condition that False shall sustain her forever. She to be obedient and ready his bidding to fulfil. In bed and at board, obedient and courte- ous. And as Sir Simony shall say, to follow his will. 54 WILLIAM LANGLAND Now Simony and Civil Law stand forth both, Unfolding the dowry that Falseness made, And thus began these men and bellowed full loud: " This know and witness, all that dwell on earth, 60 That I, Flattery, endow False with that maiden Meed, To be present in pride, for poor or for rich,^ With the Earldom of Envy ever to last. With all the Lordship [of Lechery] ^ in length and in breadth; With the Kingdom of Covetousness I crown them together. With the Isle of Usury and Avarice the false, Gluttony and great oaths I give them to- gether, With all delights and lusts the devil to serve, With all the service of Sloth I endow them together; To have and to hold, and all their heirs after, 70 With the appurtenances of purgatory, into the pains of hell: Yielding for this thing, at the year's end, Their souls to Satan, to send into pain, There to dwell with Wrong, while God is in heaven." In witness of which thing Wrong was the first. Pierce the pardoner, a Pauline doctor, Bett the beadle of Buckinghamshire, Randolph the reeve of the Rutland district, Taborers and tumblers and tapsters many, Mund the miller and many more besides. In the date of the devil' the deed was sealed, 81 In sight of Sir Simony and by notaries' signets. Then tormented was Theology when he this tale heard. And said to Civil Law, " Sorrow on thy head Such a wedding to make to render Truth wroth ; And ere this wedding be wrought, woe thee betide ! For Meed is a wealthy one, a maiden with goods; IB To J)e prynces inprtfde and pouerte to despise. 2 B C. s Presumably, in parody of Anno Domini. God grant us to give her where Truth will assign ! And thou hast given her to a trickster, God give thee sorrow ! The text telleth not so, Truth knows the sooth: 90 Dignus est operarius mercede sua ; * ' Worthy is the workman his hire to have; ' And thou hast bestowed her on False, fie on thy law ! For lechers and liars lightly thou trustest, Simony and thyself injure Holy Church; Ye shall abide it both, by God that me made. At one year's end when ye reckon shall; He and these notaries annoy the people. For well ye know, deceivers, unless your wits fail, That False is a schemer, a shirker of work. And a bastard born of Beelzebub's kin. loo And Meed is a jewelled one, a maiden of gentry, She might kiss the king for cousin, if she would. Work by wisdom and then by wit. Lead her to London, where law is handled. See if legally it be allowed that they lie to- gether. And if the justice will adjudge her to be joined with False. Yet beware of the wedding, for wise is Truth, For Conscience is of his council, and know- eth you each one; And if he find such defect that ye with False hold It shall oppress your souls sorely at last. no To this Civil Law assented, but Simony would not Till he had silver for his advice and his seal. Then fetched Flattery forth florins enough, And bade Guile go and give gold about. And especially to these notaries that they have no lack; And fee False Witness with florins enough. For he can master Meed and make her do his will; For where falseness is often found, there faith faUeth. When the gold was given, great were the thanks To False and to Flattery, for their fair gifts. „o * Luke^ X, 7. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 55 Many came to comfort False against care, And swore on holy relics, " Cease shall we never Ere Meed be thy wedded wife, through wisdom of us all. For we have so mastered Meed with our smooth words That she agrees to go with a good will To London to look S the law will Judge you jointly to be joined for ever." Then was False fain, and Flattery blithe. And had all men called from the country about To array them ready, both burgesses and sheriffs, 130 To wend with them to Westminster, to witness the deed. Then hunted they for horses to carry them thither; But Flattery fetched forth foals of the best, And set Meed on the back of a sheriff newly shod, And False on a juror that softly trotted, (For Falseness against the faith jurors seduceth. Through cumbering of covetousness, to climb over truth. That the faith is down trodden and falsely defamed, And Falseness is become a lord, and lives as he likes): Flattery on a fair speech, full finely at- tired; 140 For fair speech without faith is brother to Falseness ; And thus jurors are summoned to serve the false. And fair speech for Flattery who many deceives. Then notaries who had no horses, annoyed they were That Simony and Civil Law should go on foot. Then said Civil Law, and swore by the rood, That summoners should be saddled and serve them each one; " And have provisors appareled, in palfrey wise, Sir Simony himself shall sit on their backs. And all deans and sub-deans as prancers prepare 150 For they shall bear bishops and bring them to rest. The people of the Paulines, for pleas in the consistory, Shall serve myself, who Civil Law am called; Put a cart saddle on our commissary, our cart he shall draw. And fetch our victuals from the fornicators ; And make of Liar a long cart, to draw all these others. Story-tellers and frauds that on foot re- main." Now False and Flattery fare forth to- gether, And Meed in the midst, and all the crowd after. Leisure I lack to tell the train that follows them, 160 Of as many manners of men as on earth live. But Guile was leader and guided them all. Soothness saw them well and said but little. But pricked on his palfrey, and passed them all, And came to the king's court, and Con- science told. And Conscience to the king repeated it again. " Now, by Christ," quoth the king, " if I might catch False or Flattery, or any of his fellows, I would be wreaked on these wretches that work so ill. And have them hanged by the neck, and all that maintain them; 170 No man on earth shall bail out * the least of them, But right as the law decides, let it fall on them all. And command the constable, that came at the first. To attack the traitors, in spite of any bribe ; I order you to fetter False fast, in spite of any kind of gifts, And to cut off Guile's head, let him go no further; And bring Meed to me, in spite of them all. To Simony and Civil Law I send a warning That Holy Church for them is harmed for ever. And if ye catch Liar, let him not escape 180 Being set on the pillory, in spite of any prayer; I bid thee watch for them well, let none of them escape." Dread at the door stood, and the din heard, 1 B C. tneynprise. A meynteTie, 56 WILLIAM LANGLAND And quickly went he to warn the False, And bade him flee fast, and his fellows too. Then False for fear fled to the friars, And Guile took to flight, in fear of death; But merchants met him, and made him abide, Besought him in their shops to sell their ware. Apparelled him as a 'prentice, the people to serve. igo Lightly Liar leapt away thence. Lurked through lanes, lugged about by many. He was nowhere welcome, spite of his many tales. But hunted out everywhere, and ordered to pack. Pardoners had pity, and took him indoors, Washed him and wrung [his clothes], aud wound him in clouts. And sent him on Sundays with seals to churches, And for pence gave pardon, pounds at a time. This learned the leeches, and letters to him sent. To dwell with them, diagnoses to make. 200 Grocers spake with him to look after their wares. For he had skill in their craft, and knew many gums. Minstrels and messengers met with him once. And held him back half a year and eleven weeks. Friars, with fair speeches, fetched him thence; That visitors might know him not, kept him like a friar; But he hath leave to leap out, as often as he liketh, And is welcome when he will, and dwells with them oft. And all fled for fear and flew into cor- ners ; Save Meed the maiden, no man dared abide; 2,0 But, truly to tell, she trembled for fear. And wept, too, and wrung her hands, when she was arrested. PASSUS III Now is Meed the maiden taken, and no more of them all, By beadles and bailiffs, brought to the king. The king called a clerk, I know not his name. To take Meed the maiden, and make her at ease. " I shall try her myself, and truly inquire What man in this world would be dearest to her. And if she work by my wit, and my will follow, I shall forgive her the guilt, so help me God 1 " Courteously the clerk then, as the king commanded. Took the maiden by the middle, and brought her to the chamber. 10 There was mirth and minstrelsy to please Meed withal. Those that dwell at Westminster worship her all. Gently, with joy, the Justice soon Repaired to the chamber where the lady was. Comforted her kindly, and made her good cheer, And said, " Mourn thou not, Meed, nor be thou sorrowful. For we will guide the king and thy way For all the craft of Conscience, and scheme, as I trow. That thou shalt have both mi<;ht and mas- tery, and do what thou likest With the king and the commons, and the court too." 20 Mildly then Meed thanked them all For their great goodness, and gave them each one Goblets of pure gold, and pieces of silver. Kings with rubies, and riches enough, The least of their company a mutton^ of gold. Then took they their leave, these lordings, of Meed. With that there came clerks to comfort the same: " We bid thee be blithe, for we be thine own To work thy will, while our life lasteth." Courteously then she promised them the same, 30 To love them loyally and make them lords, And in consistory at court to tell their names. ' A gold coin. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 57 " No ignorance shall hinder them, the most ignorant that I love, From being advanced ; for I am known Where learned clerks are left in the lurch." Then came there a confessor, caped like a friar; To Meed the maiden full meekly he bowed. And said full softly, as if it were in shrift, "Though learned and lay had all by thee lain. And though False had followed thee these fifteen winters, 40 I shall absolve thee myself, for a load of wheat. And also be thy bawd, and bear well thy errand Among clerks and knights, to bring down Conscience." Then Meed, for her misdeeds, to that man kneeled. And shrove her of her sins, shamefully, I trow. She told liim a tale, and gave him a noble — To be her bedesman, and her bawd after. Then he absolved her soon, and next to her said, " We have a window a-making, will cost us full dear ; If thou wouldst glaze the gable, and grave therein thy name, 50 Secure should thy soul be to dwell in heaven." " Knew I that," quoth the woman, " there is neither window nor altar, That I would n't make or mend, and my name write thereon. That each man should say, I should be sis- ter of your house." But God to all good folk such graving forbids. And saith, Nesciat sinistra quid faciat dex- tra : ^ ' Let not thy left hand, late nor early. Be aware what thy right hand works or be- stows.' But share it so secretly that pride be not seen Neither in sight nor in soul; for God him- self knoweth Who is courteous or kind, covetous or the contrary. 60 Therefore, I teach you, lords, such writing to leave, 1 Matthew, yi, 3. The writing in windows of your good deeds. Or calling to God's people, when ye give your doles; Peradventure you have your hire for it here. For our Saviour it saith, and himself preacheth, A men dico vobis, receperunt mercedem suam j ^ ' Here verily they have received their re- ward forthwith.' Mayors and masters, and ye that are go- betweens 'Twixt the king and the commons, to guard the laws, To punish on pillories, or on cucking-stools, Brewers, bakers, butchers, and cooks, 70 For these are the men on earth that most harm work To the poor people that buy in small par- cels. They pilfer from the people privily and oft. And grow rich through retailing, and buy themselves rents With what the poor people should put iu their bellies. For if they acted honestly, they would not build so high, Nor buy burgh holdings, be ye certain. But Meed the maiden the mayor she be- sought From all such sellers silver to take. Or presents, not in pence, as cups of sil- ver, 80 Rings with rubies, the retailer to favor. " For my love," quoth the lady, " love them well, each one. And suffer them to sell somewhat beyond reason." But Solomon the sage, a sermon he made. To amend mayors and men that guard the law. And told them this theme that I shall tell now: Ignis devorabit tdbemacula eorum qui li- benter accipiunt munera.^ Among these lettered* men this Latin meaneth That fire shall fall and burn at the last The houses and the homes of them that de- sire For to have gifts in youth or in eld. 90 2 Matthew, yi, 2. 8 Fire shall consume the tabemacleB of bribery, Job, * A lewede. S8 WILLIAM LANGLAND Now be ye ware, if ye will, ye masters of the law, For the truth shall be sought of your souls, so help me God! The toleratiou that ye grant such wrongs to work. While the chance is in your choice, choose ye the best. The king came from council, and called for Meed, And sent off quickly servants to fetch her, And brought her to the presence, with bliss and with joy; With mirth and with minstrelsy they pleased her each one. Courteously the king commenceth to tell. To Meed the maiden speaketh those words: " Unwisely, I wis, wrought hast thou oft; loi But worse wroughtest thou never than when thou False took. But I forgive thee this guilt, and grant thee my grace; Henceforth to thy deathday do so no more. 1 have a knight called Conscience, come lately from far. If he wish thee to wife, wilt thou him have ? " " Yea, lord," quoth that lady, " Lord for- bid I should other ! Unless I bow to your bidding, hang me at once ! " Then was Conscience called to come and appear Before the king and his council, clerks and others. no Kneeling, Conscience to the king made obeisance, To know what his will was, and what he would do. " Wilt thou wed this woman," quoth the king, " if I will assent ? She is fain of thy fellowship, and would be thy mate." " Nay," quoth Conscience to the king, "Christ forbid it me! Ere I wed such a wife, woe me betide! She_ is frail of her flesh, fickle of her tongue. She maketh men misdo many score times ; Trusting to her treasure, find sorrow full many. To wives and widows wantonness she teacheth; 120 Learneth them lechery that love her gifts; Our father Adam ^ she brought down with fair promise; Poisoned popes, and impaireth Holy Church. There is no better bawd, by Him that me made! Between heaven and hell, in earth though men sought. She is wanton in her wishes, tale-bearing with her tongue, Common as the cart-road to knaves and to all; To priests, to minstrels, to lepers in hedges. Jurors and summoners, such men her praise; Sheriffs of shires were lost but for her. 130 She causeth men to lose their land, and their lives after. And letteth prisoners go, and payeth for them oft. She giveth the jailer gold and groats to- gether. To unfetter the false, to flee where they like. She taketh the true by the top, and tieth him fast. And for hate hangeth him that harm did never. They that are curst in consistory count it not at a rush, For she gives capes to the commissary, and coats to the clerks; She is absolved as soon as herself it pleas- eth. She may as much do in space of one month As your secret seal in seven score days. 141 She is privy with the pope, as provisors know ; Sir Simony and she put seals on the bulls; She blesseth the bishops, though ignorant they be. Prebendaries, parsons, priests, she main- taineth. To keep lemans and concubines all their life days. And bring forth children against the laws forbidding it. Where she stands well with the king, woe to the realm! For she is favorable to False who tramples Truth oft. Barons and burgesses she brings into servi- tude, ISO She bribes with her jewels, our justices she ruins. 1 So Vernon MS. All others read Your father: i.e. Edward II. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 59 She lieth against the law, and hindereth it so hard That faith may make no headway, her florins go so thick. She leadeth the law as she liketh, and love- days maketh, Bewilderment for a poor man, though he plead ever. Law is so lordly and loath to make au end Without presents or pence, it pleaseth full few. Learning and covetousness she coupleth together. This is the life of the lady, our Lord give her sorrow! And all that maintain her, mischance them betide ! i6o For the poor may have no power to com- plain though they suffer. Such a master is Meed among men of goods." Then mourned Meed, and made her moan to the king To have space to speak, hoping to succeed. Then the king granted her grace with a good will: " Excuse thyself if thou canst, I can say no more; For Conscience hath accused thee, to dis- miss thee for ever." " Nay, lord," quoth that lady, " believe him the worse When ye know verily where the wrong lieth. Where mischief is great, lord. Meed may help, 170 And thou knowest. Conscience, I came not to chide Nor to defame thy person with a proud heart. Well thou wittest. Conscience, unless thou wilt lie. Thou hast hung on my neck eleven times, And also grasped ray gold, and given it where thou likedst. Why thou art wroth now, seems to me a wonder. For yet I can, as before, honor thee with gifts. And maintain thy manhood, more than thou knowest. And thou hast foully defamed me, before the king here. For never killed I a king, nor counselled thereto; 180 Nor did I ever as thou thinkest,i I appeal to the king. In Normandy was he not annoyed for my sake; But thou thyself, in truth, didst shame him there, Creptest into a cabin, to keep thy nails from cold, Thoughtest that winter would have lasted ever. And dreadedst to have been dead for a dim cloud. And hastedst homeward for thy belly- himger. Without pity, pillager, poor men thou rob- bedest, And bore their brass on thy back to Calais to sell. There I stayed with my lord, his life to save, 190 Made him mirth full much, to leave off mourning. Clapped them on the backs, their hearts to embolden. Made them leap for hope to have me at demand: Had I been marshal of his men, by Mary of heaven ! I durst have laid my life, and no less bet, He 'd have been lord of that land, in length and in breadth; And also king of that kith, his kin to help; The least bairn of his blood a baron's peer. Truly, thou Conscience, thou didst counsel him thence, To leave that lordship for a little silver, 200 That is the richest realm that the rain falls upon ! It becometh a king who keepeth a realm To give meed to men that meekly him serve ; To aliens, to all men, to honor them with gifts. Meed maketh him beloved and held to be a man. Emperors and earls, and all manner of lords. Through gifts get young men to run and to ride. The pope and his prelates presents receive. And give men meed to maintain their laws. Servants for their service — ye see well the truth — 210 Get meed from their masters as they may agree. 1 A dtul ; B demest. 6o WILLIAM LANGLAND Beggars for tbeir prayers beg men for meed, Minstrels for their mirth ask for meed. The king gives meed to his men to make peace in the land; Men that teach children ^ meed from them crave. Priests that preach to the people to be good Ask meed and mass-pence and their meat too. All kinds of craftsmen crave meed for their 'prentices ; Meed and merchandise must needs go to- gether. There may no wight, as I ween, without meed live." 220 " Now," quoth the king to Conscience, " by Christ, as methinks. Meed is worthy much mastery to have!" " Nay," quoth Conscience to the king, and kneeled to the ground; " There be two kinds of meed, my lord, by thy leave. The one good God of His grace giveth, in His bliss. To them that work well while they are here. The prophet preached it, and put in the Psalter, Qui pecuniam suam non dedit ad usuram, etc.^ Take no meed, my lord, from men that are true; Love them, believe them, for our Lord of heaven's love. God's meed and His mercy therewith thou mayst win. 230 But there is a meed without measure that desireth mastery. To maintain misdoers meed do they take; And thereof saith the Psalter in the end of the Psalms, In quorum manibm iniquitates sunt ; dextra eorum repleta est muneribus ■ ' That their right hand is heaped full of gifts. And they that grasp their gifts, so help me God! They shall abide it bitterly, or the Book lieth. 1 B. A knoweth devices. 2 He that putteth not out his money to usuiy . . . shall never be moved. FRalms^ xv, 5. 8 In vrhoRe hands is mischief, and their right hand 1b full of bribes. Psalms, xxvi, 10. Priests and parsons, that pleasure desire And take meed and money for masses that they sing, Shall have reward in this world, as Mat- thew hath granted : Amen dico vobis, receperunt mercedem suam.* What laborers and low folk get from their masters 240 Is no manner of meed, but moderate hire. In merchandise is no meed, I may it well avow; It is a permutation, one penny for another. But didst thou never read Kings,^ thou re- creant Meed, Why vengeance fell on Saul and his chil- dren ? God sent to say, by Samuel's mouth. That Agag and Amalek, and all his people after, Should die for a deed that his ancestors had done. Against Israel, and Aaron, and Moses his brother. Samuel said to Saul, 'God sendeth thee commandment 250 To be obedient and ready his bidding to do: " Wend thither with thy host women to kill, Children and churls, chop them to death; Look thou kill the king, covet not his goods For millions of money; murder them each one. Men and beasts, burn them all to ashes." ' And because he killed not the king, as Christ himself commanded, Coveted fair cattle, and killed not his beasts. But brought with him the beasts, as the Bible telleth, God sent to say that Saul should die, 260 And all his seed for that sin shamefully end. Such a mischief Meed made the king to have, That God hated him ever, and his heirs after. The conclusion of this clause care I not to show. In case it should annoy me; an end will I make: And even as Agag had it, to some will it happen; ^ Verily I say unto you, they have received their re- ward, Matthew, vi, 2. 6 1 Samuel, xv. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 6i Samuel will slay him, and Saul will be blamed, David shall be diademed and daunt them all, And one Christian king keep us each one. Conscience knoweth this, for common sense me taught 270 That Reason shall reign, and realms govern; Meed shall no more be master on earth. But Love and Lowness and Loyalty to- gether. And on him that trespasseth against Truth, or doth against his will. Loyalty shall execute the law, or he shall lose his life. Shall no sergeant for that service wear a silk hood, Nor any striped robe with rich fur. Meed, from the misdoers, maketh men so rich That Law is become a lord, and Loyalty is poor. Unkindness is commander, and Kindness is banished. 280 But Common Sense shall come yet, and Conscience together, And make of Law a laborer, such Love shall arise." PASSUS IV " Cease," said the king, " I suffer you no more. Ye shall be reconciled in truth, and serve me both. Kiss her," quoth the king, " Conscience, I command." "Nay, by Christ," quoth Conscience, "I take my leave rather ! Unless Reason advise me thereto, first will I die ! " "And I command thee," quoth the king to Conscience then, " That thou haste thee to ride, and Reason thou fetch : Command him that he come, my counsel to hear. For he shall rule my realm, and advise me the best About Meed and others, and what man shall wed her; 10 And take care, Conscience, so help me Christ ! How thou leadest my people, learned and " I am pleased with that promise," said the fellow then. And rode right to Reason, and whispered in his ear, Said as the king sent, and then took his leave. " I shall array me to ride," quoth Reason, " rest thee awhile," — And called Cato his servant, courteous of speech — " Set my saddle upon SufEer-till-I-see-my- time. And look thou girth him well with very maiiy girths; Hang on him a heavy bridle to bear his head low; 20 Yet will he make many a neigh, ere he come there." Then Conscience on his steed rideth forth fast, And Reason with him rideth, hurrying hard, But on a wain Witty and Wisdom together Followed them fast, for they had to do In Exchequer and Chancery, to be dis- charged of things ; And rode fast, for Reason must advise them how best To save themselves from shame and from harm. But Conscience came first to court by a mile, And ran forward with Reason, right to the king. 30 Courteously the king then came to Rea- son, Between himself and his son set him on the bench, And consulted a great while wisely to- gether. Then Peace came to parliament, put up petition, How that Wrong against his will his wife had taken. And how he ravished Rose, Reynald's love. And Margaret of her maidenhood, for all she could do. " Both my geese and my pigs his fellows fetched away; I dare not for dread of them fight nor chide. He borrowed of me Bayard, and brought him again never, 40 Nor any farthing for him, for aught that I could plead. He maintaineth his men to murder mine own, Forestalleth me at fairs, brawleth at my bargainings, 62 WILLIAM LANGLAND Breaketh in my barn-door, and beareth away my wheat, And giveth me but a tally for ten quarter of oats. And yet he beat me besides, and lieth by my maiden; I am not so hardy to look him in the face." The king knew he said sooth, for Conscience him told. Wrong was a-feared then, and Wisdom sought To make his peace with pence, and prof- fered forth money, 50 And said, " Had I love from the king, little would I reck Though Peace and his power complained on me ever." Wisdom went then, and so did Wit, Because Wrong had done so wicked a deed. And warned Wrong then, with such a wise tale : — "Whoso worketh wilfully maketh wrath oft: I say it about thyself, tliou shalt it soon find. Unless Meed make it right, thy ill-luck is on thee. For both thy life and thy land lie in the king's grace." Wrong then to Wisdom wept for help, 60 Him for his handy-dandy 1 readily he paid. Then Wisdom and Wit went together And took Meed with them, mercy to win. Peace put forth his head, showed his bloody poll : " Without guilt, God wot, got I this harm." Conscience and the king knew the truth. Knew well that Wrong was a wicked one ever. But Wisdom and Wit were zealous and eager To overcome the king with money if they might. The king swore then, by Christ, and by his crown both, 70 That Wrong for his works should woe suffer. And commanded a constable to cast him in irons : " IJe shall not these seven years see his feet once." " God wot," quoth Wisdom, "that were not the best; If he amends make, let him give surety; To be a pledge for his bale,'^ and buy him boot,^ 1 Probably, corrupt influence. s Injury, harm done. ' Redress. And amend his misdeed, and be always the better." Wit accorded herewith and said to him the same; " It is better that Boot should bring down Bale Than that Bale be beaten and Boot be ne'er the better." 80 Then Meed humbled herself and mercy be- sought. And proffered Peace a present all of pure red gold: " Have this from me," quoth she, " to amend thy harm with. For I will wager for Wrong, he will do so no more." Peace then pitifully prayed the king To have mercy on that man, that harmed him oft; " Because he hath pledged me amends, as Wisdom him taught, I forgive him that guilt, with a good-will; So that ye assent thereto, I can no more say. For Meed hath made me amends, I may no more ask." 90 "Nay," quoth the king then, "so God give me bliss ! Wrong wendeth not so away, till I wot more; Leapt he so lightly away, laugh he would And again be the bolder to beat my serv- ants; Unless Reason have ruth on him, he re- maineth in the stocks As long as I live, unless more love change it." Then some advised Reason to have ruth of that rascal. And to counsel the king and Conscience both; That Meed might be surety. Reason they besought. " Advise me not," quoth Reason, " ruth to have, 100 Till lords and ladies all love truth, Till Peronelle's fur be put in her box, Till over-cherished children be chastened with rods. Till the holiness of ribalds be held [com- mon] as a hind ; Till clerks and knights be courteous with their mouths And hate to do their ribaldry, and use it no more; PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 63 Till priests their preaching prove in them- selves, And do it in deed, to draw us to God; Till Saint James be sought where I shall ordain, And no man go to Galieia, unless he go for ever; no And no Rome-rnnners for robbers abroad Bear over sea silver that beareth the king's stamp. Neither groats nor gold graven with the king's crown. Upon forfeit of that fee, whoever finds it at Dover, Unless it be a merchant or his men, or mes- senger with letters. Or provisors or priests that popes advance. " And yet," quoth Reason, " by the rood, I shall no ruth have. While Meed hath any mastery to plead in this hall ; But I may show you examples, I say it of myself. For I say it for my soul's sake, if it so were 120 That I were king with crown, to keep a realm, ShoulJ never Wrong in this world, that I might know of, Be unpunished by my power, on peril of my soul ! Nor get grace through gift, so help me God ! Nor for meed get mercy, unless meekness cause it. For Nullum Malum, the man, met with Im- punitum, And bade Nullum Bonum be irremuneratumA Let thy clerk, sir king, construe this in English; And if thou workest it wisely I wager both my ears That Law shall be a laborer and cart dung a-field, 130 And Love shall lead thy land, as it dearly pleaseth thee." Clerks that were confessors got together in couples For to construe this clause, and explain it after. When Reason to these men rehearsed these words, Was none in that courtroom, great or small, That held not Reason a master there, and Meed a great wretch. 1 No evil unpuniahed ; no good unrewarded. Love made light of Meed, and laughed her to scorn. And said it so loud that Soothness it heard : " Whoso wisheth her to wife, for wealth of her goods, Unless he be picked for a cuckold, cut ofE both mine ears I " 140 Was neither Wisdom then, nor Witty his fellow, That could utter a word, to gainsay Reason; But stared in a brown study and stood as beasts. The king accorded, by Christ, to Reason's cunning, And repeated what Reason had rightly shown : " But it is hard, by mine head, to bring it hereto, All my lieges to lead in this level way." " By Him that was stretched on the rood," quoth Reason to the king, " Unless I rule thus thy realm, rend out my ribs ! If it be so that obedience be at my com- mand." 150 " I assent," quoth the king, " by Saint Mary, my lady, When my council is come, of clerks and of earls. But readily. Reason, thou ridest not hence, For as long as I live, let thee go will I not." "I am ready," quoth Reason, "to remain with thee ever; So that Conscience be our counsellor, care I for no better." " I grant gladly," quoth the king, " God forbid he fail us. And as long as I Uve, live we together." PASSUS V The king and his knights to the church went To hear matins and mass, and to the meat after. Then waked I from my winking, I was wo- ful withal That I had not heavier slept and seen more. Ere I a furlong had fared, a faintness me seized. That further might I not a-f oot, for default of sleep. I sat softly adown, and said my creed. And so I babbled on my beads that it brought me asleep. Then saw I much more than I before told, 64 WILLIAM LANGLAND For I saw the field full of folk that I before showed, lo And Conscience with a cross came to preach. He prayed the people to have pity on themselves, And proved that these pestilences were for pure sin. And this southwestern wind on a Saturday at even Was clearly for pride, and for no cause else, Peartrees and plumtrees were dashed to the ground. In ensample to men that we should do the better. Beeches and broad oaks were blown to the earth. And turned the tail upward in token of dread That deadly sin ere Doomsday should de- stroy them all. 20 On this matter I might mumble full long. But I say as I saw, so help me God ! How Conscience with a cross commenced to preach. He bade wasters go work at what they best could, And win what they wasted with some sort of craft. He prayed Peronelle her fur-trimming to leave. And keep it in her coffer for capital at need. Thomas he taught to take two staves. And fetch home Felice from the cucking- stool. He warned Wat his wife was to blame, 30 That her head-dress was worth a mark and his hood worth a groat. He charged merchants to chasten their children. Let them lack no respect, while they are young. He prayed priests and prelates together. What they preach to the people to prove it in themselves — *' And live as ye teach us, we will love you the better." And then he advised the orders their rule to obey — " Lest the king and his council abridge your supplies. And be steward in your stead, till ye be better ordered. And ye that seek St. James, and saints at Kome, 40 FilAe Lust Seek me Saint Truth, for He can save you all; Qui cumpatre etfilio, fare you well ! " Then ran Repentance and rehearsed this theme. And made William to weep water with his eyes. Pernel Proud-heart flung herself on the ground, And lay long ere she looked up, and to Our Lady cried. And promised to Him who all of us made She would unsew her smock, and wear in- stead a hair shirt To tame her flesh with, that frail was to sin: "Shall never light heart seize me, but I shall hold me down 50 And endure to be slandered as I never did before. And now I can put on meekness, and mercy beseech Of all of whom I have had envy in my heart." Lecher said " Alas ! " and to Our Lady cried To win for him mercy for his misdeeds, Between God himself and his poor soul, Provided that he should on Saturday, for seven years, Drink but with the duck and dine but once. EnvT •^''^7' ^'*'' heavy heart, asketh after shrift. And greatly his guiltiness beginneth to show. 60 Pale as a pellet, in a palsy he seemed. Clothed iu a coarse cloth, I could him not describe ; A kirtle and a short cloak, a knife by his side; Of a friar's frock were the fronts of his sleeves. As a leek that had lain long in the sun So looked he with lean cheeks; foully he frowned. His body was swollen; for wrath he bit his lips. Wrathfully he clenched his fist, he thought to avenge himself With works or with words, when he saw his time. "Venom, or varnish, or vinegar, I trow, 70 Boils in my belly, or grows there, I ween. Many a daycould I not do as a man ought, Such wind in my belly welleth ere I dine. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 6S I have a neighbor nigh me, I have annoyed him oft, Blamed him behind his back, to bring him in disgrace, Injured him by my power, punished him full oft. Belied him to lords, to make him lose silver, Turned his friends to foes, with my false tongue ; His grace and his good luck grieve me full sore. Between him and his household I have made wrath; 80 Both his life and his limb were lost through my tongue. When I met in the market him I most hate, I hailed him as courteously as if I were his friend. He is doughtier than I, 1 dare do him no harm. But had I mastery and might, I had mur- dered him for ever ! When 1 come to the church, and kneel be- fore the rood, And should pray for the people, as the priest teacheth us. Then I cry upon my knees that Christ give them sorrow That have borne away my bowl and my broad sheet. From the altar I turn mine eye and be- hold 90 How Henry hath a new coat, and his wife another; Then I wish it were mine, and all the web with it. At his losing I laugh, in my heart I like it; But at his winning I weep, and bewail the occasion. I deem that men do ill, yet I do much worse. For I would that every wight in this world were my servant. And whoso hath more than I, maketh my heart angry. Thus I live loveless, like an ill-tempered dog. That all my breast swelleth with the bit- terness of my gall; No sugar is sweet enough to assuage it at all, 100 Nor no remedy drive it from my heart; If shrift then should sweep it out, a great wonder it were." " Yes, surely," quoth Repentance, and ad- vised him to good, " Sorrow for their sins saveth full many." " I am sorry," quoth Envy, " I am seldom other, And that maketh me so mad, for I may not avenge me." Then came Covetousness, I Oovotousness ^^^j^ ^^^ describe him. So hungry and so hollow Sir Harvey looked. He was beetle-browed with two bleared eyes. And like a leathern purse flapped his cheeks ; In a torn tabard of twelve winters' age; m Unless a louse could leap, I can not believe That she could wander on that walk, it was so threadbare. " I have been covetous," quoth this Caitiff, " I admit it here ; For some time I served Sim at ' The Oak ' And was his pledged apprentice, his profit to watch. First I learned to lie, in a lesson or two. And wickedly to weigh was my second les- son. To Winchester and to Weyhill I went to the fair With many kinds of merchandise, as my master bade; 120 But had not the grace of guile gone among my ware. It had been unsold these seven year, so help me God ! Then I betook me to the drapers, my grammar to learn. To draw the list ' along, to make it seem longer. Among these rich striped cloths learned I a lesson, Pierced them with a pack-needle, and pleated them together, Put them in a press, and fastened them therein Till ten yards or twelve were drawn out to thirteen. And my wife at Westminster, that woollen cloth made, Spake to the spinners to spin it soft. 130 The pound that she weighed by, weighed a quarter more Than my balance did, when I weighed true. I bought her barley, she brewed it to sell ; Penny-ale and white perry, she poured it together, 1 The edge of the cloth, in measuring. 66 WILLIAM LANGLAND For laborers and low folk, that work for their living. The best in the bed-chamber lay by the wall, Whoso tasted thereof bought it ever after, A gallon for a groat, God wot, no less When it came in cups. Such tricks I used. Kose the retaUer is her right name; 140 She hath been a huckster these eleven win- ters. But I swear now soothly that soon will I quit. And never wickedly weigh, nor false trade practise, But wend to Walsingham, and my wife also. And pray the Rood of Bromholm to bring me out of debt." Gluttony Now beginneth the Glutton to go to the shrift. And wanders churchwards, his shrift to tell. Then Bet the brewster bade him good mor- row, And then she asked him whither he would go. 149 " To holy church," quoth he, " to hear mass. Since I shall be shriven, and sin no more." "I have good ale, gossip," quoth she; " Glutton, what say you ? " " Hast aught in thy purse," quoth he, " any hot spices ? " " Yea, Glutton, gossip," quoth she, " God wot, full good; I have pepper and peony-seeds, and a pound of garlick, A farthing worth of fennel-seed, for these fasting days." Then goeth Glutton in, and great oaths after; Cis the shoemaker's wife sat on the bench, Wat the ward of the warren, and his wife both, Tomkin the tinker and twain of his serv- ants ; 160 Hick the hackney-man, and Hogg the needle seller, Clarice of Cock's-Lane, and the clerk of the church. Sir Piers of Prie-Dieu, and Pernel of Flan- ders, Dawe the ditcher, and a dozen others. A fiddler, a rat-catcher, a scavenger of Cheapside, A rope-maker, a riding-boy, and Bose the dish-maker, Godfrey of Garliokshire, and Griffin the Welshman, And of tradesmen a band, early in the morning Stand Glutton, with good-will, a treat in good ale. Then Clement the cobbler cast off his cloak, 170 And at " the new fair " made offer to bar- ter it; And Hick the ostler flung his hood after, And bade Bett the butcher act on his be- half. Then were chapmen chosen, the articles to value ; Whoso had the hood should have something to boot. They rose up rapidly, and whispered to- gether. And appraised the penny-worths, and parted them by themselves; There were oaths a-plenty, whoso might hear them. They could not, in conscience, accord to- gether, Till Kobin the rope-maker was chosen to arise, 180 And named for an umpire, to avoid all de- bate. For he should appraise the pennyworths, as seemed good to him. Then Hick the ostler had the cloak. On condition that Clement should have his cup filled, And have Hick the ostler's hood, and hold him well served; And he that first repented should straight arise And greet Sir Glutton with a gallon of ale. There was laughing and cheating! and " Let go the cup ! " Bargains and beverages began to arise. And they sat so till evensong, and sang some while, 190 Till Glutton had gulped down a gallon and a gill. He had no strength to stand, till he his staff had; Then 'gan he to go like a gleeman's bitch. Sometimes to the side, sometimes to the rear, Like a man laying lines to catch birds with. * A lotering ; B louryng ; C lakeryng. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 67 When he drew to the door, then his eyes grew dim, 200 He stumbled at the threshold, and threw to the ground. Clement the cobbler caught Glutton by the middle, And to lift him up he laid him on his knees; And Glutton was a great churl, and grim in the lifting. And coughed up a caudle in Clement's lap, That the hungriest hound in Hertfordshire Durst not lap that loathsomeness, so un- lovely it smaeketh; So that, with all the woe in the world, his wife and his wench Bore him home to his bed, and brought him therein. And after all this surfeit, u, sickness he had, 210 That he slept Saturday and Sunday, till sun went to rest. Then he waked from his winking, and wiped his eyes; The first word that he spake was, " Where is the cup ? " His wife warned him then, of wickedness and sin. Then was he ashamed, that wretch, and scratched his ears, And 'gan to cry grievously, and great dole to make For his wicked life, that he had lived. " For hunger or for thirst, I make my vow. Shall never fish on Friday digest in my maw, Till Abstinence, my aunt, have given me leave ; 220 And yet I have hated her all my life-time." Sloth for sorrow fell down swoon- Slotli "ig. Till Vigilate, the watcher, fetched water to his eyes. Let it flow on his face, and fast to him cried. And said, "Beware of despair, that will thee betray. ' I am sorry for my sins,' say to thyself, And beat thyself on the breast, and pray God for grace. For there is no guilt so great that His mercy is not more." Then Sloth sat up and sighed sore. And made a vow before God, for his foul sloth, 230 " There shall be no Sunday this seven year (save sickness it cause) That I shall not bring myself ere day to the dear church. And hear matins and mass, as I a monk were. No ale after meat shall withhold me thence, Till I have heard evensong, I promise by the rood. And ^ yet I shall yield again — if I have so much — All that I wickedly won, since 1 had wit. And though I lack a livelihood I will not stop Till each man shall have his own, ere I hence wend: And with the residue and the remnant, by the rood of Chester, 240 I shall seek Saint Truth, ere I see Rome! " Robert the robber, on Reddite ^ he looked. And because there was not wherewith, he wept full sore. But yet the sinful wretch said to himself: " Christ, that upon Calvary on the cross died'st. Though Dismas ^ my brother besought grace of thee. And thou hadst mercy on that man for me- mento^ sake. Thy will be done upon me, as I have well deserved To have hell for ever if no hope there were. So rue on me, Robert, that no counsel have, 250 Nor ever ween to win by any craft that I know. But, for thy much mercy, mitigation I be- seech; Damn me not on Doomsday because I did so ill." But what befell this felon, I cannot well show. But well I know he wept hard, water with his eyes. And acknowledged his guilt to Christ again thereafter. That the pikestaff of Penitence he should polish anew. And leap with it o'er the land, all his life- time, 1 LI. 236-259, dealing with the restitution of stolen goods, appear in C in connection with Avarice. The at- taching of them to Sloth in A and B seems to point to some confusion in the text. Note that in A the sin of Wrath is omitted. 2 Make restitution, Somajis^ xiii, 7. ' The name given to the penitent thief in the apoc- ryphal Gospel of Nicodemus. * Remember me, lAike^ xxiii, 42. 68 WILLIAM LANGLAND For he hath lain by Latro,^ Lucifer's brother. A thousand of men then throng together, Weeping and wailing for their wicked deeds, 261 Crying up to Christ, and to His clean Mother, To give grace to seek Saint Truth, God grant they so might ! PASSUS VI Now ride these folk, and walk on foot To seek that saint in strange lands. But there were few men so wise that knew the way thither. But they bustled forth like beasts, over valleys and hills, For while they went after their own will, they went all amiss; Till it was late and long, when they a man met, Apparelled as a palmer, in pilgrim's weeds. He bore a staff boimd round with a broad list 2 In woodbine wise twisted around. A bag and a bowl he bore by his side; 10 A hundred vials on his hat were set. Signs of Sinai and shells of Galicia; Many a cross on his cloak, and the keys of Rome, And the vernicle in front, that men should him know. And see by his signs whom he had sought.^ These folk asked him fairly from whence he came. "From Sinai," he said, "and from the Sepulchre; From Bethlehem and Babylon, I have been in both; In India and in Assisi, and in many other places. Ye may see by my signs that sit on my hat 20 That I have walked full wide, in wet and in dry. And sought good saints for my soul's health." "Knowest thou a holy one men call Saint Truth ? Canst thou show us the way to where he dwelleth ? " 1 The word used in Luhe of the crucified thieves. 2 Edge of cloth. 8 The references here are to the badges showing the shrines a pilgrim had visited : the vial or ampulla for Thomas of Canterbury; the scallop shell for St. James of Compostella in Cralicia ; the cross for Palestine ; the keys and the handkerchief of St. Veronica for Rome. " Sinai " refers to the shrine of St. Catharine there. "Nay, so God gladden me," said the man then, " Saw I never palmer, with pikestaff nor with scrip, Such a saint seek, save now in this place." " Peter! " quoth a Plowman, and put forth his head, " I know him as naturally as a scholar doth his books; Clean Conscience and Wit showed me to his place, 30 And pledged me then to serve him for ever. Both in sowing and in setting, while I work might, I have been his fellow these fifteen winters ; Have both sowed his seed and tended his beasts. And also eared for his corn and carried it to house. Ditched and delved, and done what he or- dered. Within and without watched his interests; Among these people is no laborer whom he loves more. For though I say it myself, my service him pleases. I have my hire of him well, and sometimes more ; 40 He is the promptest payer that poor men have; He withholds from no kind his hire that he hath it not at even. He is as lowly as a lamb, lovely of speech; And if ye will wit where he dwelleth I will show you the way home to his place." " Yea, dear Piers," said these palmers, and proffered him hire. " Nay, by the peril of my soul," quoth Piers, and began to swear, " I would not finger a farthing, for St. Thomas's shrine ! Truth would love me the less for a great while after ! But, ye that wend to him, this is the way thither: 50 Ye must go through Meekness, both man and wife. Till ye come to Conscience, that Christ may know the truth That ye love him dearer than the life in your hearts, And then your neighbors next in no wise injure Otherwise than thou wouldest that men should do to thee. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 69 So bend your way by a brook, Be-obedi- ent-iii-speech, Forth till ye find a ford Hoiior-your-fathers; Wade in that water, wash yourselves well there, And ye shall leap the lightlier all your life- time. Soon shalt thou then see Swear-not-but- thou-have-need — 60 And-specially-not - in-vain - take- the-name- of-God-Almighty. Then will ye come by a croft, but go ye not therein, The croft called Covet-not-men's-cattle- nor-their-wives- Nor - none - of - their - servants - that - they - might-be-hurt; See thou break no bough there, unless it be thine own. Two stocks there stand, but stay thou not there. They are called Slay-not, Nor-steal-uot; strike forth by them both ; Leave them on thy left hand, look thou not after them, And hold well thy holy-day ever till even. Then shalt thou turn aside at a brook. Bear- no-false-witness, 70 It is furnished within with florins, and with many oaths; See thou pluck no plant there, for peril of thy soul. Then shalt thou see Say-sooth, so-it-is-to- be-done- And-look-that-thon-lie-not - f or-any-man's - bidding. Then shall thou come to a court, clear as the sun. The moat isofMerey,surronndingthe manor. And all the walls are of Wit to hold Will outside ; The battlements are of Christendom, man- kind to save, Buttressed ^ with the Belief wherethrough we must be saved. All the houses are roofed, hall and cham- bers, 80 With no lead but Love-as-brethren-of-one- mother. The tower wherein is Truth is set above the sun, He may do with the daystar whatever he pleaseth. 1 Lit., surmounted with wooden boardings, as in mediaeval fortifications. Death dare not do anything that he for- biddeth. Grace is called the gate-guard, a good man in truth. His man is called Amend-thou, for many men know him; Tell him this as a token, for truth knows the sooth: ' I performed the penance that the priest en- joined me; I am sorry for my sins, and so shall I ever be When I think thereon, though I were a pope.' 90 Bid Amend-thou humble himself to his mas- ter once. To lift up the wicket gate that the way shut When Adam and Eve ate their bane;^ For he hath the key of the catch, though the king sleep. And if Grace thee grant to go in in this wise. Thou shalt see Truth himself sit in thy heart. Then look that thou love Him well, and His law hold; But be well aware of Wrath, that wicked wretch, For he hath envy of Him that in thine heart sitteth. And putteth forth Pride to praise thy- seii. 100 Boldness in thy good deeds blindeth thine eyes; And so art thou driven out and the door closed. Locked and fastened to keep thee there- out. Haply a hundred year ere thou again en- ter. Thus mayst thou lose His love by thinking well of thyself. But get it again by Grace and by no gift else. And there are seven sisters that serve Truth ever. And are porters at posterns that to the place belong. The first is called Abstinence, and Humility the second. Charity and Chastity are two full choice maidens, no Patience and Peace many people help, 2 B apples unrosted. 70 WILLIAM LANGLAND Largess the lady leadeth in full many. But whoso is sib to these sisters, so help me God! Is wonderfully welcome and fairly re- ceived. And, but ye be sib to some of these seven, It is full hard, by my head, any of you all To get entrance at that gate unless greater be the grace." " By Christ," quoth a cut-purse, " I have no kin there ! " "Nor I," quoth an ape-warden, "for aught that I know ! " "Certain," quoth a waferaeller, "knew I this for truth, 120 I should go no foot further, for any friar's preaching." "Yes," quoth Piers the Plowman, and preached for their good, " Mercy is a maiden there and hath might over all ; She is sib to all sinful men and her son also ; And through the help of these two (no other hope have thou,) Thou mightest get grace there, so thou go betimes." PASSUS VII " This would be a wicked way, unless one had a guide Who might follow us each step, that there we may come." Quoth Perkin the plowman, " B3' Peter the apostle, I have a half-acre to plow, by the high- way; Were it well plowed, then with you would I wend, And show you the right way, till ye found truth." "That would be a long delay," quoth a lady in a veil; " What shall we women work at the while? " " Some shall sew sacks, that the wheat spill not. And ye wives that have wool, work on it fast, 10 Spin it speedily, spare not your fingers. Unless it be a holy day, or else a holy eve. Look out your linen, and labor thereon fast; The needy and the naked, take heed how they lie. And cast on them clothes against the cold, for so Truth willeth; For I shall grartt them livelihood, unless the laud fail, As long as I live, for our Lord of Heaven's love. And ye, lovely ladies, with your long fin- gers. That have silk and sendal,' sew when you have time Chasubles for chaplains, and churches to honor; 20 And all manner of men that by meat live Help him to work well that your food win- neth." " By Christ," quoth a knight then, " thou knowest us best ! Save one time truly, thus taught was I never ! But teach me," quoth the knight; "if I can plow, I will help thee to labor while my life lasteth." "By Saint Peter," quoth Piers, "since thou profferest so humbly I shall work and sweat and sow for us both. And also labor for thy love all my lifetime, On condition that thou keep Holy Church and myself 30 From wasters and wicked men that would us destroy. And go thou and hunt hardily hares and foxes, Bears and bucks that break men's hedges. And fetch thee home falcons fowls to kill; For they come into my croft and crop my wheat." Full courteously the knight conceived these words; " By my power. Piers, I plight thee my troth. To fulfill the bargain, while I may stand ! " " But yet one point," quoth Piers, " I shall pray thee no more; Look thou trouble no tenant, unless Truth will assent: 40 And if poor men proffer you presents or gifts, Take them not ; peradventure you may them not deserve ; For thou shalt give them back again at one year's end. In a place of sore peril that purgatory is called. And beat thou not thy bondman, the better thou shalt speed, ^ A thin silken stuff. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 71 (Aud be thyself true of tongue, and lying tales hate;) Unless it be wisdom or wit thy workmen to chastise. Revel not with ribalds, hear not their tales, And especially at meat such men eschew, For they are the devil's Tale-Tellers, I let thee understand." 50 " I assent, by Saint James," said the knight then, " To work by thy word, while my life en- dureth." "And I shall apparel me," quoth Perkin, "in pilgrim's wise. And wend with you the right way, till ye Truth find." He east on his clothes, clouted and mended, His garters and his cuffs, to keep his nails from cold; He hung a basket on his back, in stead of a scrip; A bushel of bread-corn he bringeth therein : "For I will sow it myself, and then with you wend. For whoso helpeth me to plow, or do any sort of labor, 60 He shall have, by our Lord, the more hire in harvest. And shall make merry with the corn, who- ever begrudgeth. And all kinds of craftsmen that can live with Truth, I shall find them their food, if they faith- fully live. Save Jack the juggler, and Janet of the stews, And Robert the ribald, for bis filthy words. Truth taught it me once, and bade me tell it further, Deleantur de libro^ I should not deal with them. Holy Church is bound from them no tithe to take; Et cum justis non scribantur ^ They have escaped by good luck ; ' may God amend them ! " 70 Dame Work-when-there-is-time is the name of Piers's wife; His daughter is called Do-right-so-or-thy- mother-will-beat-thee ; 1 " Let them be Btricken out from the book [of the living]," Psalms, Ixix, 28. 8 " And let them not be written with the juBt." Jtid. 8 A Thei ben a-scaped good thrift His son is called Suffer-tby-sovereigns-to- have-their-will- And-judge- them -not, - for-if-thou-do-thou- shalt-dearly-pay-for-it. " May God be with all, for so his word teacheth ; For now I am old and gray, and have of my own. To penance and to pilgrimage I will pass with these others. Therefore I will, ere I wend, write my testament. In Dei nomine, amen. I make it myself. He shall have my soul that best hath de- served it, 80 And defend it from the fiend, for so I believe. Till I come to my account, as my creed me telleth. To have release and remission on that rental I expect. The church shall have my corpse, and keep my bones; For of my corn and capital she oraveth the tenth. I paid her promptly, to save my soul from peril. She is bound, I hope, to bear me in mind, And remember me in her memory among all Christians. My wife shall have what I won with truth, and no more. And divide with my friends and my dear children; 90 For though I die this day my debts are cleared ; I bare home what I borrowed ere I to bed went: And with the re.sidue and the remnant, by the rood of Chester ! I will worship therewith Truth in my life. And be his pilgrim at the plow, for poor men's sake. My plough-foot ^ shall be my pikestaff and push at the roots. And help my coulter to carve and close the furrows." Now have Piers and the pilgrims to the plow gone. To plow this half-acre help him full many. Ditchers and delvers dug up the ridges ; ^ 100 Therewith was Perkin pleased, and praised them gladly. * A plouh-pote (pote= plouh-fote, plough-foot. e Left unplowed. : pusher). B plow~/oie; C 72 WILLIAM LANGLAND Other workmen there were that wrought full many, Each man in his manner made himself work; And sum, to please Perkin, picked up the weeds. At high prime '■ Perkin let the plough stand. While he himself oversaw who had best wrought ; He should be hired thereafter, when har- vest-time came. Then sat some, and sang at the ale, And helped him to plow with "Hey, trolly- lolly ! " " Now, by the Prince of Paradise," quoth Piers then in wrath, no " Unless ye rise the sooner and haste ye to work, Shall no grain that here groweth gladden you at need, And though ye die for lack of it, the devil take him that cares ! " Then were the rogues afraid and feigned themselves blind. Some laid their legs across as such scoun- drels can, And complained to Piers, with such piteous words : " For we have no limbs to labor with, our Lord we thank for it; But we pray for you. Piers, and for your plow too, That God of his grace our grain multiply, And reward you for your alms that ye give us here ! 120 For we may neither work nor sweat, such sickness us aileth." " If it be truth that ye say," quoth Piers, " soon I shall spy it ! Ye be wasters, I wot, and Truth knows the sooth ! I am his old servant, and ought him to warn What wasters in the world his workmen destroy. Ye eat what they should eat that plough for us all; But Truth shall teach you his team to drive. Both to sow and to set, and save his pro- duce. Scare crows from his corn, and keep his beasts, Or ye shall eat barley bread, and of the brook drink. 130 I Nine o'clock Id the morDing. But if they be blind or broken-shanked, or bedridden lie. They shall have as good as I, so help me God, Till God of his grace cause them to arise. Anchorites and hermits that keep to their cells Shall have of my alms, all the whUe I live, Enough each day at noon, but no more till tomorrow. Lest the fiend and their flesh should defile their souls; Once at noon is enough for him that no work doeth. He abides in better state that tastes not too often." Then wasters arose, and would have fought ; 140 To Piers the Plowman one proffered his glove, A Breton, a braggart, boasted himself also, And bade him go hang with his plow, bald- headed wretch ! " For we will have of thy flour, willy nilly, And take of thy meat when that us pleaseth, And make us merry therewith, spite of thy face ! " Then Piers Plowman complained to the knight, To guard him as agreed from cursed wretches. From wasters that lie in wait winners to rob. Courteously the knight, as his nature was, 150 Warned wasters and taught them to do better ; " Or ye shall pay dearly by the law, by the order that I bear ! " " I was not wont to work," quoth the waster, " I will not begin now! " And recked little of the law, and less of the knight, And counted Piers worth a pea, and his plow too. And menaced him and his men, when they should next meet. " Now by the peril of my soul," quoth Piers the Plowman, "I shall punish you all for your proud words!" And whooped after Hunger then, that heard him at once : " Wreak me on these wasters," quoth Piers, " that this world rob 1 " 160 PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 73 Hunger in haste seized waster by the maw, And wrung him so by the belly that both his eyes watered, And buffeted the Breton on both his cheeks; He looked like a lantern all his life after. He so beat the boys he nigh burst their ribs. Had not Piers with a pease-loaf prayed him to cease; And with a bag ^ of beans beat them both. And hit Hunger therewith between his lips. And he bled inwards a bowlful of gruel ; Had not the physician first forbidden him water 170 To moisten the barley-bread and the ground beans. They had been dead by this day, and buried all warm. Then rogues for fear flew to bams, And laid on with flails, from morn till even. So that Hunger was not hardy enough even to look up For a potful of pease that Piers had made. A band of hermits seized hold of spades, And delved in dirt and dung to drive Hun- ger out. Blind and bedridden were cured a thou- sand, That lie as blind and as broken-legged 180 Upon a warm Sunday by the highway; Hunger killed them with a hot cake. Lame men's limbs were rendered lithe that time, And they became herds, to keep Piers's beasts. And prayed, for charity, with Piers to dwell, All for craving of his corn, to cast out Hunger. Piers was proud thereof, and put them in office, And gave them meat and money, as they might deserve. Then had Piers pity, and prayed Hunger to wend Home to his own hearth," and hold himself there forever. 190 " And yet I pray thee," quoth Piers, " ere thou pass hence. With vagabonds and beggars what is best to do? I wot well, when thou art gone, they will work full ill; ■ A bat. ' A hurde, earth ; B erde; C eriAe. It is misfortune maketh them to be now so meek, And for lack of food thus fast do they work ; And they are my blood brethren, for God bought us all. Truth taught me once to love them each one. And help them in all things, according as they need. Yet would I know if thou knewest what were the best, And how I might master them, and make them work." 200 "Hear now," quoth Hunger, "and hold it for wisdom. Bold beggars and rascals that may earn their meal by work. With hound-bread and horse-bread hold up their hearts, And cheat them with bones ^ against swell- ing of their bellies; And if the fellows grumble, bid them go work. And they shall sup the sweeter when they have it deserved. And if thou find any fellow that fortune hath harmed With fire or with false folk, try such to know; Comfort them with thy means, for Christ of heaven's love. Love them and lend to them, so the law of nature wills. 210 And all manner of men, that thou mayest spy, That are needy, or naked, and nought have to spend. With meat or with money make them fare the better, With word or with work while thou art here. Make friends with such, for so Saint Mat- thew teacheth. Facile vobis amicos de mammona iniquitatis." ^ "I would not grieve God," quoth Piers, " for all the gold on ground ; Might I do as thou sayest without sin ? " said Piers then. " Yea, I promise thee," quoth Hunger, " or else the Bible lieth; Go to Genesis the giant, the engenderer of us alle; ' A bamme hem with bones ; B abate him with benes ; C Or-bane hem with benes. * Make for yourselves friends of the mammon of un- righteousness, Z/uket xTi, 9. 74 WILLIAM LANGLAND ' In sweat and swiuk thou shalt earn thy meat,^ 220 And labor for thy livelihood,' for so our lord ordered. And Sapience said the same, I saw it in the Bible. ' Piger propter frigus,^ no field he till, He shall crave and beg, and no man abate his hunger.' Matthew of the man's face ^ uttereth these words, ' The unprofitable servant had a talent, and because he would not use it He had ill-will of his master evermore after ' ; Auferte ab illo unam, et date illi, etc.,* He took from him his talent, for he would not work. And gave it in haste to him that had ten before ; And afterwards he thus said, his servants it heard, 230 ' He that hath shall have, to help where need is, And he that hath not, nought shall have, nor no man help him; And he that hopeth to have, from him it shall be taken away.' For Common Sense would that each man should work, By teaching or by tillage, or travailing with hands. Active life or contemplative; Christ would so also. For so saith the Psalter, in the psalm be- ginning, ' Blessed is everyone,' Labores manum tuarum quia manducabis, etcfi To him that gets his food here, with travail- ing in truth, God gives his blessing, for his livelihood that laboreth." " Yet I pray thee," quoth Piers, "for char- ity, if thou knowest 240 Any leaf of leechcraft, let me learn it, my dear. For some of my servants are sick at times, 1 Genesis, iii, 19. * The slothful Bhall not plow by reason of the winter, Proverbs, xx, 4. > '* An allusion to a common representation of the evangelists which likens Matthew to a Tnan, Mark to a lion, Luke to a hull, and John to an eagle" Skeat. * Take ye away the talent from him, and give to him, etc. Matthew, xxv, 28, » For thou shalt eat the labor of thine ImaiB, Psalms, cxxviii, 2. Work not for a week, so aoheth their belly." " I wot well," quoth Hunger, " what sick- ness aileth them; They have eaten in excess, that maketh them groan oft. But I command thee," quoth Hunger, " if health thou desirest. That on no day thou drink till thou hast had some dinner; Eat not, I command thee, till Hunger take thee And send thee some of his sauce, the better to savor; Keep some till supper-time, and sit not too long, 2S0 Arise up ere appetite have eaten his fill. Let not Sir Surfeit sit at thy board; Love him not, for he is a lecher, and lewd of tongue, And after many meats his maw is a-longing. And if thou diet thyself thus, I dare bet both mine ears That Physic shall his furred hood for his food sell, And eke his Calabrian " cloak with buttons of gold. And be fain, by my faith, his physio to leave, And learn to labor on the land, lest liveli- hood fail. There are more liars than leeches, our Lord them amend! 260 They do men to death by their drink, ere destiny would." " By Saint Paul," quoth Piers, " these be profitable words! This is a, lovely lesson; our Lord reward thee for it ! Away now when thou wilt; be it well with thee ever! " " I promise thee," quoth Hunger, " hence will I not wend Ere I have dined this day, and drunk too." " I have no penny," quoth Piers, " pullets to buy. Neither geese nor pigs, but two green' cheeses. And a little curds and cream, and un- leavened cake, And a loaf of beans and bran, baked for my children. 270 And I say, by my soul, I have no salt bacon, Nor any cook-boys, by Christ, eoUops to make. Trimmed with grey Calabrian fur. ? Fresli made. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 75 But I have onions and parsley, and many cabbages, And eke a cow and a calf, and a eart-mare To draw a-field my dung, while the drought lasteth. By these means must I live till Lammas time; By that time I hope to have harvest in my croft ; Then may I prepare thee dinner as thou dearly likest it." All the poor people pease-cods fetched. Beans baked into bread they brought in their laps, 280 Little onions their chief meat, and ripe cherries many, And proffered Piers this present, to please his hunger with. Hunger ate this in haste, and asked after more. Then these folk for fear fetched him many Onions and pease, for they him would please ; After these were eaten, he must take his leave Till it was near to harvest, when new corn came to market. Then were these folk fain, and fed Hunger eagerly With good ale and gluttony, and caused him to sleep. And then would not the waster work, but wandered about, 290 Nor any beggar eat bread that had beans in it. But coeket and clearmatin,' and of clean wheat ; Nor any halfpenny ale in any wise drink. But of the best and the brownest that brew- ers sell. Laborers that have no land to live by, but only their hands, Deign not to dine today on yesterday's vegetables. No penny-ale may please them, nor a piece of bacon, Unless it were fresh flesh, or else fried flsh. Hot and very hot, lest they chill their stomachs. Unless he be hired at a high price, he will surely chide, 300 Call curses on the time that he was made a workman, And curse the king hard, and all his council after 1 Kinds of fine bread. For enforcing such laws as chastise la- borers. But while Hunger was master here there would none chide Nor strive against the statutes, so stern they looked. I warn you all, workmen, win while ye may; Himger hitherward again hieth him in haste. He will awake with high-waters " the wasters all; Ere five years are fulfilled, such famine shall arise. Through floods and foul weather fruits shall fail ; 310 And so aaith Saturn, and sendeth us warning. PAssus vm Truth heard tell hereof, and to Piers sent To take his team, and till the earth; And purchased him a pardon a poena et a culpa,^ For him and for his hetrs, for evermore after. And bade him stay at home, and plow his leas, , And all that ever helped him, to plow or to sow. Or any kind of task that might Piers help, Part in that pardon the Pope hath granted. Kings and knights that guard Holy Church, And rightfully rule the realm and the people, 10 Have pardon through Purgatory to pass full soon, With patriarchs in Paradise to play there- after. Bishops that bless, and both the laws* know, Look on the one law and teach men the other, And bear them both on their backs, as their banner showeth. And preach to their parsons the peril of sin, How their scabbed sheep shall their wool save, Have pardon with the Apostles when they pass hence, And at the Day of Doom with them on dais sit. Merchants, in the margin, had many years' remission, 20 * Floods. 3 From punishment and guilt. • Duty to God and duty to man. 76 WILLIAM LANGLAND But not a poena et a culpa would the Pope them grant. Because they hold not their holy-day as Holy Church teaeheth. And because they swore by their souls — " so help them God ! " — Against their clean conscience, their goods to sell. But under his secret seal Truth sent a letter, And bade them buy boldly what they liked best. And then sell it again, and save the win- ning, And make maison-dieux ^ therewith, the sick to help. And wicked customs vigorously amend; Build again bridges that broken were, 30 Help to marry maidens or make them nuns ; Poor widows that would not be wives again. Find such their food, for love of God of heaven ; Let scholars to school, or to some other craft, Assist 2 religion, and endow it better; " And I shall send you myself Saint Michael, my angel, That no devil shall harm you, when you shall die. And hinder me from sending your souls safe into heaven. And before the face of my father prepare your seats. Usury and avarice and oaths I forbid, 40 That no guile go with you, but the grace of truth." Then were merchants merry, they wept for joy, And give Will for his writing woolen clothes ; Because he copied thus their clause, they gave him great thanks. Men of law had least, for they are loath To plead for mean men, unless they get money; So saith the Psalter and Sapience also. Super innocentes munera non accipiunt. A regibus et principibus erit merces eorum.' From princes and prelates their pension should come. And from the poor people no pennyworth should they take. ' Hospitals. 2 A Bute; B C Eeleue, 3 Psalms^ XV, 9. But he that spendeth his speech, and speaketh for the poor man, 50 Who is innocent and needy, and no man hath harmed. That comforteth him in misfortune, oovet- eth not his goods. But, for our Lord's love, law for him showeth. No devil, at his death-day, shall harm him a mite, That he be not secure and safe; and so saith the Psalter. Quifacit haec, non movehitur in eternum.* But to buy water, or wind, or wit (the third thing). Holy Writ would never grant, God knows the truth! These three as thralls have grown among us all. To wax or to wane, whichever God liketh. His pardon in purgatory is petty, I trow, 60 Who any pay from poor men for pleading receiveth. Ye lawmakers and lawyers, ye know whether I lie; Since ye see that it is so, serve at your best. Living laborers, that live by their hands, That truly give and truly pay their tithes And live in love and in law for their lowly hearts. Had the same absolution that sent was to Piers. Askers and beggars are not in the bull, Unless the suggestion be sound that causes them to beg. For he that beggeth or asketh, unless he have need, 70 He is false as the fiend, and def raudeth the And also beguileth the giver, all against his will. They live not in love, nor any law keep; They wed no women that they have to do with; But as wild beasts wickedly work together. And bring forth bairns that bastards are held. Either their backs or their bones they break in their youth. And go begging with their children ever- more after. There are more misshapen among them, whoso takes heed, 'He that doeth these things shall never be moved, Psalrtis^ XV, 5. PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN 77 Than of all other mea that in the world wander. 80 They that live their life thus may loath the time That ever they were created men, when they shall hence fare. But old men and hoary, that helpless are in strength, And women with child, that cannot work. The blind and bedridden, witli broken limbs, That take sickness meekly, like lepers and others, Have as full pardon as the Plowman him- self; For love of their humble hearts our Lord hath them granted Their penance and their purgatory to have here upon earth. " Piers," quoth a priest then, " thy par- don must I read, 90 For I will construe every clause, and know it in English." And Piers, at his prayer, the pardon un- foldeth, And I, behind them both, beheld all the bull. In two lines it lay, and not a letter more, And was written right thus, in witness of truth : Et qui bona egerunt, ibunt in viam eternam; Qui vera mala, in ignem eternum.^ "Peter! " quoth the priest then, "I can no pardon find, But ' Do well and have well, and God shall have thy soul; And do evil and have evil, hope thou none other But that after thy death-day to hell shalt thou wend! ' " And Piers, for pure vexation, pulled it asunder, 100 And then he said to them these seemly sayings: " Si ambulavero in medio umbrae Tnortis, non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum en.^ I shall cease from my sowing," said Piers, " and work not so hard. Nor about my livelihood so busy be more! In prayer and in penance my plowing shall be hereafter, 1 And those who did good shalt go into eternal life ; but who did evil, into eternal fire. Ci. Matthew, xxv, 46. z Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me, Psalms, xxiii, 4. And lower where I laughed, ere my life fail. The prophet his bread ate in penance and weeping; As the Psalter says to us, so did many others ; Who loveth God loyally, his livelihood is plentiful: Fuerunl mihi lacrimae meae panes, die ac nocte.^ And, unless Luke lies, he teacheth us an- other. That too busy we should not be, here upon earth, no While we dwell in this world, to make glad the belly. Ne soliciti sitis,* he saith in his gospel, And showeth it by example our souls to guide. The fowls in the firmament, who feedeth them in winter ? When the frost f reezeth, food they require ; They have no granary to go to, yet God gives them all." " What ? " quoth the priest to Perkin, "by Peter! as methinketh, Thou art lettered a little; who taught thee to read ? " "Abstinence the abbess mine ABC me taught. And Conscience came after and showed me better." 120 "Were thou a priest,'' quoth he, "thou mightest preach when thou couldst; ' Quoniam literaturam non cognovi,' ^ might be thy theme!" "Levrd losel! " quoth he, "little lookest thou on the Bible, Solomon's sayings seldom thou beholdest; ' Sling away these scorners,' he saith, ' with their vile scolding. For with them readily I care not to rest; ' EJice derisores etjurgia cum eis, ne crescant."^ The priest and Perkin then disputed to- gether. And through their words I awoke, and waited about. And saw the sun in the south just at that time. 129 Meatless and moneyless on Malvern hills. Musing on this dream, a mile length I went. 3 My tears have been my meat day and night, Psalms, xlii, 3. ^ Be not anxious, etc., Matthew, vi, 25. 6 For I have known no learning, Psalms, liii, 15 (Vulgate). 8 Proverbs, ixii, 10 (translated in previous lines). 78 WILLIAM LANGLAND Many a time this dream has made me to study For love of Piers the Plowman, full pen- sive in my heart; For it I saw sleeping, if such a thing might be. But Cato eonstrueth it nay, and the canon- lawyers too, And say themselves, " Somnia ne cures." ' But as for the Bible, bear witness how Daniel divined the dreams of a king. Whom Nebuchadnezzar ^ these clerks name. Daniel said, " Sir King, thy dream means That strange knights shall come thy king- dom to claim; 141 Among lower lords thy land shall be di- vided." As Daniel divined, it fell out indeed after, The king lost his lordship, and lesser men it had. And Joseph dreamed dreams, full mar- velous also. How the sun and the moon and eleven stars Pell before his feet and saluted him all. " Beau fils," q\iot\i his father, " for famine we shall, I myself and my sons, seek thee in need." It fell out as the father said, in Pharaoh's time, 150 Where Joseph was justice, Egypt to keep. All this maketh me on dreams to think Many a time at midnight, when men should sleep. On Piers the plowman, and what sort of pardon he had, And how the priest impugned it, all by pure reason. And divined that Do-well surpassed an in- dulgence, Bienals and trienals ' and bishops' letters. Do-well on doomsday is worthily praised. He surpasseth all the pardons of St. Peter's church. Now hath the Pope power pardon to grant. The people without penance to pass into joy. 161 1 Take no heed of dreams, DionysiuB Cato, Distich^ ii, 31. 2 Really Belshazzar, as Skeat showe. Daniel, v, 28. 8 Masses for the dead said for two and three years. This is a part of our belief as learned men teach us, Quodcunque ligaveris super terram, erit ligatum et in coelis.* And so believe I loyally (our Lord forbid I should other) That pardon and penance and prayers do save Souls that have sinned seven times deadly. But to trust to trienals truly methinketh Is not so secure for the soul, certes, as Do- well. Therefore I counsel you men that are rich on earth, Trusting by your treasure trienals to have, Be ye none the bolder to break the ten com- mandments. 170 And especially ye mayors, and ye master judges. That have the wealth of this world, and for wise men are held, To purchase pardon and the Pope's bulls. At the dreadful day of doom, when the dead shall arise And come all before Christ, and accounts yield How thou leddest thy life, and his law kept- est. What thou didst day by day, the doom will rehearse ; A pouchf ul of pardon there, with provincial letters. Though thou be found in fraternity among the four orders, And have indulgence doubled, unless Do- well thee help,. 180 I would not give for thy pardon one pie-heel ! Therefore I counsel all Christians to cry Christ mercy. And Mary his mother to be their intercessor. That God give us grace, ere we go hence, Such works to work, while we are here. That after our death-day, Do-well rehearse, At the day of doom, that we did as he us told. Bxplicit hie Visio Willelmi de Petro de Ploughman. * What things soever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, Matthew, xviii, 18. JOHN GOWER THE TALE OF FLORENT' {Confessio Amantis, bk. 1, I. 1407) Ther was whilom be daies olde A worthi knyht, and as men tolde He was nevoeu to themperour And of his court a courteour: Wiiies he was, Florent he hihte ; He was a man that moohel myhte;^ Of armes he was desirous, Chivalerous and amorous; And for the fame of worldes speche, Strange aventures f orto seehe, 10 He rod the Marches al aboute. And fell a time, as he was oute, Fortune, which may every thred Tobreke and knette of mannes sped,' Sohop,^ as this knyht rod in a pas,^ That he be strengthe take was. And to a castell thei him ladde, Wher that he fewe frendes hadde : For so it fell that ilke stounde That he hath with a dedly wounde jo Feihtende * his oghne hondes slain Branchus, which to the Capitain Was sone and heir, wherof ben wrothe The fader and the moder bothe. That knyht Branchus was of his bond The worthieste of al his lond. And fain thei wolden do vengance Upon Florent; bot remembrance That thei toke of his worthinesse Of knyhthod and of gentilesse, 30 And how he stod of cousinage To themperour, made hem assuage, And dorsten noght slen him for fere : In gret desputeisoun thei were Among hemself, what was the bests. Ther was a lady, the slyheste Of alle that men knewe tho, So old sche myhte unethes go,^ 1 On the versions of this fine old story see G. H. May- nadier's Wife of Bathes Tale in the Grimm Library^ London, 1901. 2 who could perform much. s Break asunder and restore again of man^s luck, * Brought it about. i> at a walk. 8 "We should supply " with." ' scarcely walk. And was g^antdame unto the dede : ^ And sche with that began to rede, 40 And seide how sche wol bringe him inne. That sche schal him to dethe winue Al only of his oghne grant, Thurgh strengthe of verray covenant Withoute blame of eny wiht. Anon sche seude for this kniht, And of hire sone sche alleide' The deth, and thus to him sche seide : ' Florent, how so thou be to wyte i" Of Branchus deth, men schal respite 50 As now to take vengement, Be so thou stonde in juggement Upon certein condieioun. That thou unto a questioun Which I schal axe schalt ansuere ; And over this thou schalt ek swere, That if thou of the sothe faile, Ther schal non other thing availe, That thou ne schalt thi deth receive. And for men schal the noght deceive, 60 That thou tberof myht ben advised. Thou schalt have day and tyme assised And leve saiifly forto wende. Be so that at thi daies ende Thou come ayein with thin avys.' This knyht, which worthi was and wys, This lady preith that he may wite. And have it under scales write, What questioun it acholde be For which he schal in that degree 70 Stonde of his lif in jeupartie. With that sche feigneth compaignie," And seith: ' Florent, on love it hongeth Al that to myn axinge longeth: What alle wommen most desire This wole I axe, and in thempire Wher as thou hast most knowlechinge Tak conseil upon this axinge.' Florent this thing hath undertake, The day was set, the time take, 80 Under his seal he wrot his oth, In such a wise and forth he goth 8 So old that she was grandam to persons already alleged. 10 punish. 11 friendliness. 8o JOHN GOWER Home to his ernes ^ court ayein; To whom his aventure pleiu He tolde, of that him is befalle. And upon that thei weren alle The wiseste of the lend asent,^ Bot natheles of on assent Thei myhte noght acorde plat, On seide this, an othre that. 90 After the disposicioun Of naturel oomplexioun ' To som womman it is plesanoe, That to an other is grevance; Bot such a thing in special, Which to hem alle in general Is most plesant, and most desired Above alle othre and most conspired. Such thing conne thei noght finds Be constellacion ne kinde: 100 And thus Florent withoute cvire Mot stonde upon his aventure, And is al schape unto the lere,^ As in defalte of his answere. This knyht hath levere forto dye Than breke his trowthe and forto lye In place ther as he was swore. And schapth him gon ayein therfore. Whan time cam he tok his leve. That lengere wolde he noght beleve, no And preith his em he be noght wroth. For that is a point of his oth, He seith, that noman sohal him wreke, Thogh afterward men hiere speke That he par aventure deie. And thus he wente forth his weie Alone as knyht aventurous, And in his thoght was curious To wite what was best to do: And as he rod al one so, 120 And cam nyh ther he wolde be, In a forest under a tre He syh wher sat a creature, A lothly womman nysch figure, That forto speke of fleisch and bon So foul yit syh he nevere non. This knyht behield hir redely, And as he wolde have passed by, Sche cleped him and bad abide; And he his horse heved aside, 130 Tho torueth, and to hire he rod, And there he hoveth ^ and abod. To wite what sche wolde mene. And sche began him to bemene. 1 uncle'8. Ger. Oheim, 8 dtapositioD, 6 delays. 2 sent for. ' prepared for the loss. And seide: 'Florent be thi name, Thou hast on honde such a game. That bot thou be the betre avised, Thi deth is scbapen and devised, That al the world ne mai the save, Bot if that thou my conseil have.' 140 Florent, whan he this tale herde, Unto this olde wyht answerde And of hir conseil he hir preide. And sche ayein to him thus seide: ' Florent, if I for the so schape, That thou thurgh me thi deth ascape And take worschipe of thi dede. What schal I have to my mede ? ' ' What thing,' quod he, ' that thou wolt axe.' ' I bidde nevere a betre taxe,' ^ 150 Quod sche; 'bot ferst, er thou be sped, Thou sohalt me leve such a wedd, ' That I wol have thi trowthe in honde That thou schalt be myn housebonde.' ' Nay,' seith Florent, ' that may noght be.' ' Ryd thanne forth thi wey,' quod sche, ' And if thou go withoute red. Thou schalt be sekerliehe ded.' Florent behihte hire good ynowh Of lond, of rente, of park, of plowh, 160 Bot al that compteth sche at noght. Tho fell this knyht in mochel thoght; Now goth he forth, now comth ayein. He wot noght what is best to sein. And thoghte, as he rode to and fro, That chese he mot on of the tuo — Or forto take hire to his wif Or elles forto lese his lif. And thanne he caste his avantage. That sche was of so gret an age, 170 That sche mai live bot a while. And thoghte put hire in an ile, Wher that noman hire scholde knowe. Til sche with deth were overthrows. And thus this yonge lusti knyht Unto this olde lothly wiht Tho seide: ' If that non other chance Mai make my deliverance, Bot only thilke same speche 179 Which, as thou seist, thou schalt me teche. Have hier myn hond, I schal thee wedde.' And thus his trowthe he leith to wedde. With that sche frounceth' up the browe: ' This covenant I wol allowe,' Sche seith : ' if eny other thing Bot that thou hast of my techyng B I ask no better engagement. ' pledge. Cf. wedlock^ i.e. pledged state. 6 wrinkles. THE TALE OF FLORENT 81 Fro deth thi body mai respite, I woll thee of tbi trowthe acquite, And elles be non other weie. Now herkue me what I schal seie. i Whau thou art come into the place, Wher now thei maken gret mauace And upon thi eomynge abyde, Thei wole anon the same tide Oppose ' thee of thin answere. I wot thou wolt notliing forbere Of that thou wenest be thi beste, And if thou mylit so flnde reste, Wei is, for thanne is ther nomore. And elles this schal be my lore, s That thou schalt seie, upon this molde That alle womraen lievest wolde Be sovereiu of mannes love: For what womman is so above, Sche hath, as who seith, al hire wille; And elles may sche noght f ulfiUe What thing hir were lievest have. With this answere thou schalt save Thiself, and other wise noght. And whan thou hast thin ende wroght, : Come hier ayein, thou schalt me flude, And let nothing out of thi minde.' He goth him forth with lievy chiere, As he that not in what manere He mai this worldes joie atteigne: For if he deie, he hath a peine. And if he live, he mot him binde To such on which of alle kinde Of womraen is thunsemlieste : Thus wot lie noght what is the beste: s Bot be him lief or be him loth, Unto the castell forth he goth His full answere for to yive, Or forto deie or forto live. Forth with his eonseil cam the lord, The thinges stoden of record, He sende up for the lady soue, And forth sche cam, that olde mone.^ In presence of the remenant The strengthe of al the covenant 2 Tho was reherced openly. And to Florent sche bad forthi That he schal tellen his avis. As he that woot what is the pris. Florent seith al that evere he couthe, Bot such word cam ther non to mowthe. That he for yifte or for beheste Mihte euy wise his deth areste. And thus he tarieth longe and late, Til that this lady bad algate ' 2 That he schal for the dom final Yive his answere in special Of that sche hadde him ferst opposed: And thanne he hath trewly supposed That he him may of nothing yelpe,* Bot if .so be tho wordes helpe Whiche as the womman hath him tawht; Wherof he hath an hope cawht That he schal ben excused so. And tolde out plein his wille tho. 250 And whan that this matrone herde The manere how this knyht ansuerde, Sche seide: 'Ha treson, wo thee be, That hast thus told the privite Which alle wommen most desire I I wolde that thou were afire.' Bot natheles in such a plit Florent of his answere is quit. And tho began his sorwe newe, For he mot gon, or ben untrewe, 260 To hire which his trowthe hadde. Bot he, which alle schame dradde, Goth forth in stede of his penance. And takth the fortune of his chance. As he that was with trowthe affaited.* This olde wyht him hath awaited In place wher as he hire lefte: Florent his wof ull heved ° uplefte And syh this vecke' wher sche sat, Which was the lothlieste what ' 270 That evere man caste on his y he : Hire nase bass,' hire browes hyhe, Hire yhen sniale and depe set. Hire chekes ben with teres wet, And rivelen ^^ as an emty skyu Hangende donn unto the chin; Hire lippes schrunken ben for age, Ther was no grace in the visage, Hir front was nargh,^^ hir lockes hore, Sche loketh forth as doth a More.^^ 280 Hire necke is schort, hir schuldres eourbe,i' That myhte a mannes lust destourbe, Hire body gret and nothing smal, And schortly to desorive hire al, Sche hath no lith " withoute a lak; Bot lich unto the wollesak Sche proferth hire unto this knyht, And bad him, as he hath behyht. So as sche hath ben his warant, That he hire holde covenant, 290 And be the bridel sche him seseth. Bot Godd wot how that sche him pleseth > Interrogate. 3 in any case. < boast, speak. « prepared. ' head. 'hag. thing. ! flat. 10 wrinkle. " low. " Moor. bowed. " limb. 82 JOHN GOWER Of suche wordes as sche spekth: Him thenkth welnyh his herte brekth For sorwe that he may noght fle, Bot if he wolde untrewe be. Loke, how a sek man for his hele Takth baldemoine ^ with canele,^ And with the mirre takth the sucre, Ryht upon such a mauer lucre ' 300 Staiit Florent, as in this diete: He drinkth the bitre with the swete, He medleth sorwe with likynge, And liveth, as who seith,* deyinge; His youths schal be east aweie Upon such on which as the weie ^ Is old and lothly overal. Bot nede he mot that nede schal:" He wolde algate his trowthe holds, As every knyht therto is holde, 310 What happ so evere him is befalle: Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle, Yet to thonour of wommanhiede Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede; So that for pure gentilesse, As he hire couthe best adresce, In ragges, as sche was totore,' He set hire on his hors tofore And forth he takth his weie softe; No wonder thogh he siketh ' ofte. 320 Bot as an oule " fleth be nyhte Out of alle othre briddes syhte, Riht so this knyht on daies brode In clos him hield, and schop his rode On nyhtes time, til the tyde That he cam there he wolde abide; And prively withoiite noise He briiigth this foule grete coise ^^ To his castell in such a wise That noman myhte hire schappe avise, 330 Til sche into the chambre cam: Wher he his prive conseil nam Of suche men as he most troste, And tolde hem that he nedes moste This beste wedde to his wif, For elles hadde he lost his lif . The prive wommen were asent,"i That scholden ben of his assent: Hire ragges thei anon of drawe, And, as it was that tiuie la we, 340 She hadde bath, sche hadde reste. And was arraied to the beste. Bot with no craft of combes brode Thei myhte hire hore looks schode,'^ 1 gentian. 2 cinnamon. 3 compensation. * so to speak. 6 road, common way. 8 he mast needs wlio needs must. ' all torn. s siglieth. » owl. 10 monster ? "sent for. w part. 1 And sche ne wolde noght be sohore i' For no conseil, and thei therfore. With such atyr as tho was used, Ordeiuen that it was excused, And hid so crafteliche aboute. That noman myhte sen hem cute. 350 Bot when sche was fulliche arraied And hire atyr was al assaied, Tho was sche foulere on to se: Bot yit it may non other be, Thei were wedded in the nyht; So wo begon was nevere knyht As he was thanne of mariage. And sche began to pleie and rage, As who seith, I am wel ynowh ; Bot he therof nothing ne lowh," 360 For sche tok thanne chiere on honde And clepeth him hire housebonde. And seith, ' My lord, go we to bedde, For I to that entente wedde, That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:' And profreth him with that to kisse, As sche a lusti lady were. His body myhte wel be there, Bot as of thoght and of memoire His herte was in purgatoire. 370 Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine He myhte make non essoine,!^ That he ne mot algates plie ^° To gon to bedde of compaignie: And whan thei were abed naked, Withoute slep he was awaked; He torneth on that other side. For that he wolde hise yhen hyde Fro lokynge on that foule wyht. The chambre was al full of lyht, 380 The courtins were of cendal " thinne ; This newe bryd which lay withinne, Thogh it be noght with his acord. In armes sche beclipte hire lord. And preide, as he was torned fro, He wolde him torne ayeinward tho; ' For now,' sche seith, ' we ben both on.' And he lay still as eny ston, Bot evere in on 1* sche spak and preide, And bad him thenke on that he seide, 390 Whan that he tok hire be the bond. He herde and understod the bond, How he was set to his penance, And as it were a man in trance He torneth him al sodeinly, And syh a lady lay him by Of eyhtetiene wynter age. 13 shorn. n laughed. " silk. IB continuously. IS submit. TALE OF ALBINUS AND ROSEMUND 83 Which was the faireste of visage That evere in al this world he syh : And as he wolde have take liire nyh, 400 Sche put hire hand and be his leve, Besoghte him that he wolde leve, And seith that for to wynne or lese He mot on of tuo thinges chese, Wher 1 he wol have hire such on nyht, Or elles upon daies lyht, For he schal noght have bothe tuo. And he began to sorwe tbo, In many a wise and caste his thoght, Bot for al that yit cowthe he noght 410 Devise himself which was the beste. And sche, that wolde his hertes reste, Preith that he sholde chese algate, Til ate laste longe and late He seide: 'O ye, my lyves hele, Sey what you list in my querele, I not what ansuere I shal yive: Bot evere whil that I may live, I wol that ye be my maistresse, For I can noght miselve gesse 420 Which is the beste unto my chois. Thus grante I yow myn hole vois, Ches for ous bothen, I you preie; And what as evere that ye seie, Riht as ye wole so wol I.' ' Mi lord,' sche seide, ' grant merci. For of this word that ye now sein, That ye have mad me soverein, Mi destine is overpassed, That never hieraf ter schal be lassed ^ 430 Mi beaute, which that I now have, Til I be take into my grave; Bot nyht and day as I am now 1 schal alwey be such to yow. The kinges dowhter of Cizile " I am, and fell bot siththe ^ awhile, As I was with my fader late. That my stepmoder for an hate. Which toward me sche hath begonne, Forschop ^ me, til I hadde wonue 4^0 The love and sovereinete Of what knyht that in his degre Alle othre passeth of good name: And, as men sein, ye ben the same, The dede proeveth it is so; Thus am I yours evermo.' Tho was plesance and joye ynowh, Echon with other pleide and lowh; Thei live longe and wel thei ferde, And clerkes that his chance herde 450 1 whether. 2 leaaened. ^ transformed. I Sicily. * since. Thei writen it in evidence. To teche how that obedience Mai wel fortune a man to love And sette him in his lust above, As it befell unto this knyht. TALE OF ALBINUS AND ROSEMUND 8 {Confessio Amantis^ bk. i, 1. 2459) Op hem that we Lombars ' now calle Albinus was the ferste of alle Which bar corone of Lombardie, And was of gret chivalerie In werre ayein diverse kinges. So fell amonges othre thinges. That he that time a werre hadde With Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde, And was a myhti kyng also: Bot natheles it fell him so, 10 Albinus slowh him in the feld, Tlier halp him nowther swerd ne scheld, That he ne smot his bed of thanne, Wherof he tok awey the panne,^ Of which he seide he wolde make A cnppe for Gurmoundes sake. To kepe and drawe into memoire Of his bataille the victoire. And thus whan he the feld hath wonne. The lond anon was overronne 20 And sesed in his oghne hond, Wher he Gurniondes dowhter fond, Which Maide Rosemounde hihte, And was in every mannes sihte A fair, a freissh, a lusti on. His herte fell to hire anon. And snoh a love on hire he caste, That he hire weddeth ate laste; And after that long time in reste With hire he diielte, and to the beste 30 Thei love ech other wonder wel. Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel, Venus, whan thei be most above, In al the hoteste of here love, Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felle In the manere as I schal telle. This king, which stod in al his welthe Of pes, of worschipe and of helthe. And felte him on no side grieved. As he that hath his world acliieved, 40 s Oower has much enlarged upon his probable source, the twelfth century Pantheon of Godfrey of Viterbo. ^ Lombards. a skull. 84 JOHN GOWER Tho thoghte be wolde a feste make; And that was for his wyves sake, That sohe the lordes ate feste, That were obeissant to his heste, Mai ktiowe; and so forth tberupon He let ordeine, and sende anon Be lettres and be messagiers. And warnede alle hise officiers That every thing- be wel arraied: The grete stiedes were assaied 50 For joustiuge and for tornement, And many a perled garnement Embroudred was ayeiu the dai. The lordes in here beste arrai Be comen ate time set; On jousteth wel, an other bet,i And otlierwhile thei torneie, And thus the! casten care aweie And token liistes upon hoiide. And after, thou solialt uiiderstonde, 60 To mete into the kiiiges balle Thei come, as thei be beden alle: And whan thei were set and served, Thanne after, as it was deserved. To hem that wortbi kuyhtes were, So as thei seten biere and there. The pris was yove ^ and spoken cute Among the heraldz al aboute. And thus benethe and ek above Al was of arnies and of love, 70 Wherof abouten ate hordes Men hadde manye sondri wordes. That of the merthe wliich thei made The king himself began to glade Withinne his herte and tok a pride. And sih ^ the euppe stonde aside. Which mad was of Gurmoundes bed, As ye have herd, whan he was ded. And was with gold and riehe stones Beset and bounde for the nones, 80 And stod upon a fot on heihte Of burned gold, and with gret sleihte Of werknianschipe it was begrave Of such werk as it scholde have, And was policed ^ ek so clene That no signe of the skulle is seue, Bot as it were a gripes ey.^ The king bad here his cuppe awey. Which stod tofore him on the bord. And fette thilke.^ Upon his word 90 This skulle is fet and wyn therinne, Wherof he bad his wif beginne: ' Drink with thi fader. Dame,' he seide. * hotter. ^ given. 6 griffin's or vulture's egg. 8 saw. ^ polislied. s fetch that other. And sche to his biddings obeide. And tok the skulle, and what hire liste Sche drank, as sche which nothing wiste What cuppe it was: and thanne al cute The kyng in audience aboute Hath told it was hire fader ' skulle, So that the lordes knowe schuUe 100 Of bis bataUle a soth witnesse. And made avant thurgh what prouesse He hath his wyves love wonne. Which of the skulle hath so begonne. Tho was ther mochel pride alofte, Thei speken alle; and sche was softe, Thenkende on thilke unkynde ^ pride, Of that hire lord so nyh hire side Avanteth him that he hath slain And piked out hire fader brain, no And of the skulle had mad a cuppe. Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe, And tho sche hath seknesse feigned. And goth to chambre and hath oompleigned Unto a maide which sche triste,^ So that non other wyht it wiste. This mayde Glodeside is hote,^° To whom this lady hath beboteii Of ladischipe al that sche can. To vengen hire upon this man, 120 Which dede hire drinke in such a plit ^ Among hem alle for despit Of hire and of hire fader bothe; Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe, Sche seith, that sche sehal noght be glad, Til that sche se him so bestad Tliat he nomore make avant. And thus thei felle in covenant, That thei acorden ate laste. With suche wiles as thei caste 130 That thei wol gete of here acord Som orped^^ knyht to sle this lord: And with this sleihte thei beginne. How thei Helmege myhten winne. Which was the kinges boteler,i* A prnnd, a lusti baoheler. And Glodeside he loveth bote. And sche, to make him more assote," Hire love granteth, and be nyhte Thei schape how thei togedre myhte 140 Abedde meete: and don it was Ibis same nyht; and in this cas The qwene hirself the nyht secounde Wente in hire stede, and there bath founde A chambre derk withoute liht, ' The old possessive form. ^ unnatural. 9 trusted. 10 called. 11 promised. IS manuer. u valiant. H butler. IB doting. THE TALE OF CONSTANTINE AND SILVESTER 85 And goth to bedde to this knyht. And he, to kepe his observance, To love doth his obeissance, And weueth it be Glodeside; And sche thanne after lay aside, 150 And axeth him what he hath do, And who sche was sche tolde him tho, And seide: ' Helmege, I am thi qwene Now sohal thi love wel be sene Of that thou hast thi wille wroght: Or it schal sore ben aboght. Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie. And if thou wolt be such a weie Do my plesance and holde it stille, For evere I schal beu at thi wille, 160 Bothe I and al myn heritage.' Anon the wj'lde loves rage, In which nouian him can governe. Hath mad him that he can noght werne,* Bot fell al hoi to hire assent: And thus the whiel is al miswent, The which fortune hatli upon honde; For how that evere it after stonde, Thei schope among hem such a wyle. The king was ded withinne a whyle. 170 So slihly cam it noght aboute That tliei ne ben discoevered oute. So that it tboglite hem for the beste To fle, for there was no reste: And thus the tresor of the king Thei trusse ^ and mochel other thing, And with a eertein felaschipe Thei fledde and wente awey be schipe, And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne. Til that thei come to Kavenne, 180 Wlier thei the Dukes helpe soghte. And he, so as thei him besoghte, A place granteth forto duelle; Bot after, whan he herde telle Of the manere how thei have do. This Dnk let schape for hem so, That of a puison which thei drunke Thei haflden that thei have beswunke.' And al this made avant* of Pride: Good is therfore a man to hide 190 His oghne pris, for if he speke, He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke.'' In armes lith non avantance To him which thenkth his name avance And be renomed of his dede: And also who that thenkth to spede Of love, he mai him noght avaunte; For what man thilke vice haunte, 1 refuse. 2 pack up. * boast. G lose his reward. ' labored for, earned. His pourpos schal fulofte faile. In armes he that wol travaile Or elles loves grace atteigne, His lose ^ tunge he mot restreigne. Which berth of his honour the keie.' THE TALE OF CONSTANTINE AND SILVESTER {Con/gssio Amantis, bk. 11, 1. 31S7) Among the bokes of Latin' I flnde write of Constantin The worthi Emperour of Rome, Suclie infortunes to him come. Whan he was in his lusti age. The lepre ' cawhte in his visage And so forth overal aboute. That he ne mihte ryden oute: So lefte he bothe schield and spere, As he that mihte him noght bestere, 10 And hield him in his chambre clos. Thurgh al the world the fame aros, The grete clerkes ben asent And come at his comandenient To trete upon this lordes hele.'" So longe thai togedre dele, That thei upon this medicine Apointen hem, and determine That in the maner as it stod Thei wolde him bathe in ehildes blod 20 Withinne sevene wynter age: For, as thei sein, that scholde assuage The lepre and al the violence, Which that thei knewe of accidence And noght be weie of kinde^' is falle. And therto thei acorden alle As for final conclusioun. And tolden here opinioun To themperour: and he anon His conseil tok, and therupon 30 With lettres and with scales oute Thei sende in every lond aboute The yonge children forto seche, Whos blod, thei seiden, schal be leche For themperoures maladie. Ther was ynowh to wepe and crie Among the modres, whan thei herde Hou wofully this cause ferde, Bot natheles thei moten bowe ; And thus wommen ther come ynowhe 40 8 loose. ' key. 8 These could be lives of Saint Silvester. See Macaulay's note, "leprosy. 10 liealtli. 1^ by mere chance, and not in the reasonable course of nature. 86 JOHN GOWER AVith children soukende on the tete. Tho was tber manye teres lete; Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe, The wommen and the children bothe Into the paleis forth he broght With many a sory hertes thoght Of hem wliiche of here bodi bore The children hadde, and so forlore Withinne a while scholden se. The modres wepe iu here degre, 50 And manye of hem aswoune falle, The yonge babes criden alle: This noyse aros, tlie lord it herde, And loked out, and liow it ferde He sih, and as who seith 1 abreide^ Out of his slep, and thus he seide: 'O thou divine pourveance, Which every man in the balance Of kinde hast formed to be liche, The povere is bore as is the riche 60 And deieth in the same wise; Upon the fol, upon the wise Siknesse and hele entrecomnne;^ Mai non eschuie that fortune Which kinde hath in hire la we set; Hire strengthe and beaute beu beset To every man aliehe fre, That sche preferreth no degre As in the disposicioun Of bodili complexioun: 70 And ek of sonle resonable The povere child is bore als able To vertu as the kinges soue; For every man his oghne wone^ After the lust of his assay The vice or vertu chese may. Thus stonden alle men franchised, Bot in astat thei ben divised; To some worscbipe and richesse, To some poverte and distresse, 80 On lordeth and an other serveth ; Bot yit as every man deserveth The world yifth noght his yiftes hiere. Bot certes he hath gret matiere To ben of good condicioun, Which hath in his subjeccioun The men that ben of his semblance.' And ek he tok a remembrance Howe be that made lawe of kinde Wolde every man to lawe binde, 90 And bad a man, such as he wolde Toward himself, riht snch he scholde Toward an other don also. And thus this worthi lord as tho 1 aa it were. ' started. 3 intermix. * cilBtom. Sette in balance his oghne astat And with himself stod in debat, And thoghte hou that it was noght good To se so mochel mannes blod Be spilt for cause of him alone. He sib also the grete mone, 100 Of that the modres were uuglade, And of the wo the children made, Wherof that al his herte tendreth, And such pite withinne engendreth, That him was levere forto chese His oghne bodi forto lese, Than se so gret a moerdre wroght Upon the blod which gulteth noght.^ Thus for the pite which he tok Alle othre leches he forsok, no And put him out of aventure Al only into Goddes cure; And seith, ' Who that woU maister be, He mot be servant to pite.' So ferforth he was overcome With charite, that he hath nome " His conseil and hise officers, And bad unto hise tresorers That thei his tresour al aboute Departe among that povere route 120 Of wommen and of children bothe, Wherof thei mihte hem fede and clothe And saufli tornen hom ayein Withoute lost of eny greiii. Thurgh charite thus he despendeth His good, wherof that he amendeth The povere poeple, and contrevaileth The harm, that he hem so travaileth; And thus the woful nyhtes sorwe To joie is torned on themorwe; 130 Al was thonkinge, al was blessinge, Which erst was wepinge and cursinge; Thes wommen gon hom glade ynowh, Echon for joie on other lowh,' And preiden for this lordes hele, Whicli hath relessed tlie querele. And hath his oghne will forsake In charite for Goddes sake. Bot now hierafter thou schalt hiere What God hath wroght in this matiere, 140 As he which doth al equite. To him that wroghte charite He was ayeinward ^ charitous. And to pite he was pitous: For it was nevere knowe yit That charite goth unaquit. The nyht, whan he was leid to slepe. The hibe God, which wolde him kepe, ' is not guilty, • taken. » laughed. « iu return. THE TALE OF CONSTANTINE AND SILVESTER 87 Seint Peter and seiiit Poul him sende, Be whom he wolde his lepie amende. 150 Thei tuo to him slepeude appiere Fro God, and seide in this iiianere: ' O Constantin, for thou hast served Pite, thou hast pite deserved : Forthi thou schalt such pite have That God thurgh pite woU thee save. So schalt thou double hele finde, Ferst for thi bodiliohe kinde, And for thi wofull soule also, Thou schalt ben hoi of botbe tuo. 160 And for thou schalt thee noght despeire, Thi lepre schal nomore empeire ^ Til thou wolt sende therupon Uuto the Mont of Celion, Wher that Silvestre and his clergie Togedre duelle in compaignie For drede of thee, which many day Hast ben a fo to Cristes lay,^ And hast destruid to moebel schame The prechours of his holy name. 170 Bot now thou hast somdiel appesed Thi God, and with good dede plesed, That thou thi pite hast bewared ' Upon the blod which thou hast spared. Forthi to thi salvacion Thou schalt have enformacioun, Such as Silvestre schal the teche : The nedeth of non other leche.' This Emperour, which al this herde, ' Grant merci, lordes,' he ansuerde, 180 ' I wol do so as ye me seie. Bot of o thing I wolde preie: What schal 1 telle unto Silvestre Or of youre name or of youre estre ? ' * And thei him tolden what thei hihte, And forth withal out of his sihte Thei passen up into the hevene. And he awok out of his swevene,* And clepeth, and men come anon: He tolde his drem, and therupon 190 In such a wise as he hem telleth The mont wher that Silvestre duelleth Thei have in alle haste soght. And founde he was and with hem broght To themperour, which to him tolde His swevene and elles that he wolde. And whan Silvestre hath herd the king, He was riht joiful of this thing, And him began with al his wit To tecjien upon holi writ 200 Ferst how mankinde was forlore. 1 grow woree. 4 abode. 2 faith. 3 showed. 6 dream. And how the hihe God therfore His Sone sende from above, Which bore was for mannes love, And after of his oghne chois He tok his deth upon the crois; And how in grave he was beloke,^ And how that he hath helle broke. And tok hem out that were him lieve;^ And forto make ous full believe 210 That he was verrai Goddes Sone, Ayein the kinde of mannes woue ' Fro dethe he ros the thridde day, And whaime he wolde, as he wel may. He styh ^ up to his fader evene With fleissh and blod into the hevene; And riht so in the same forme In fleissh and blod he schal reforme. Whan time comth, the qwike and dede At thilke vvof ul dai of drede, 220 Where every man schal take his dom, Als wel the maister as the grom. The mihti kinges retenue That dai may stonde of no value With worldes strengthe to defende; For every man mot thanne entende To stonde upon his oghne dedes And leve all othre mennes nedes. That dai mai no consail availe, The pledour and the plee schal fails, 230 The sentence of that ilke day Mai non appell sette in delay; Ther mai no gold the jugge plie,^" That he ne schal the sothe trie And setten every man upriht, Als wel the plowman as the kniht: The lewed man, the grete clerk Schal stonde upon his oghne werk. And such as he is founde tho, Such schal he be for evermo. 240 Ther mai no peine be relessed, Ther mai no joie ben encressed, Bot endeles, as thei have do. He schal receive on of the tuo. And thus Silvestre with his sawe The ground of al the newe lawe With gret devoeion he precheth, Fro point to point and pleinly techeth Unto this hethen Emperour; And seith, the hihe oreatour 250 Hath underfonge i^ his charite. Of that he wroghte such pite. Whan he the children hadde on honde. Thus whan this lord hath understonde B shut up. * ascended. ' dear to him. ID bend, move. 8 custom. 11 receired. 88 JOHN GOWER Of al this thing how that it ferde, Unto Silvestre he thanne ansuerde, With al his hole herte and seith That he is redi to the feith. And so the vessel which for blod Was mad, Silvestre, ther it stod, 260 With clene water of the welle In alle haste he let do felle, And sette Constantin therinne Al naked up unto the chinne. And in the while it was begunne, A liht, as thogh it were a sunne. Fro hevene into the place com Wher that he tok his Christendom ;i And evere among the holi tales Lich as thei weren fisshes skales 270 Ther fellen from him now and eft, ^ Til that ther was nothing belef t Of al his grete maladie. For he that wolde him purefie, The hihe God hath mad him clene, So that ther lefte nothing sene; He hath him clensed bothe tuo, The bodi and the soule also. Tho knew this Emperour in dede That Cristes feith was forto drede, 280 And sende' anon hise lettres oute And let do crien al aboute. Up peine of deth that noman weyve * That he baptesme ne receive : After his moder qweene Heleine He sende, and so betwen hem tweine Thei treten, that the cite all Was cristned, and sohe forth withall. This Emperour, which hele hath founde, Withinne Rome anon let founde 290 Tuo cherches, whiche he dede make For Peter and for Ponies sake, Of whom he hadde avisioun; And yaf therto possessioun Of lordschipe and of worldes good. Bot how so that his will was good Toward the Pope and his franchise, Yit liath it proved other wise, To se the worchinge of the dede: For in cronique this I rede; 300 Anon as he hath mad the yifte, A vols was herd on hih the lifte,* Of which al Rome was adrad. And seith : ' To day is venym sohad In holi cherche of temporal, Which medleth with the spirital.' And hou it stant of that degree 1 Chrfstian baptism. 3 hesitate. ' again. ' 8ky. Yit mai a man the sothe se: God mai amende it, whan he wile, I can ther to non other skile.' THE TALE OF ROSIPHELEE« (Confessio Amantis, bk. IV, 1. 1245) Of Armenye, I rede thus, Ther was a king, which Herupus Was bote,' and he a lusti maide To dowliter hadde, and as man saide Hire name was Rosiphelee; Which tho was of gret renomee, For sche was bothe wys and fair And scholde ben hire fader hair.' Bot sche hadde o defalte of slowthe Towardes love, and that was rowthe;' 10 For so wel cowde nomaii seie. Which mihte sette hire in the weie Of loves occupaeioun Thuigh non ymaginacion; That scole wolde sche noght knowe. And thus sohe was on of the slowe As of such hertes besiuesse, Til whanne Venus the goddesse, Whicli loves court hath forto reule, Hath broght hire into betre reule, 20 Forth with Cnpide and with his miht: For thei merveille how such a wiht, Which tho was in hir lusti age, Desireth nother mariage Ne yit the love of paramours. Which evere hath be the comun couis Amonges hem that lusti were. So was it schewed after there: For he that hihe hertes loweth With fyri dartes whiche he throweth, 30 Cupide, which of love is godd. In chastisinge hath mad a rodd To dryve awei hir wantounesse ; ^^ So that withinne a while, I gesse, Sche hadde on such a chance sporned,^^ That al hire mod was overtorned, Which feist sche hadde of slow manere: For thus it fell, as thou schalt hiere. Whan come was the monthe of Mali, Sche wolde walke upon a dai, 40 And that was er the sonne ariste;^^ Of wommen bot a fewe it vriste, 6 reason. 6 For other versions of this widespread story, see Romania, Jan., 1900, an article on the " Purgatory of Cruel Beauties," by W. A. Neilson, 7 called. 8 father's heir. 8 a pity. 10 iu&ul>ordination. n stumbled. 12 gun's rising, THE TALE OF ROSIPHELEE 89 And forth sehe wente prively Unto the park was faste by, Al softe walkende on the gras, Til sche cam ther the latmde was, Thurgh which ther ran a gret rivere. It thoghte ^ hir fair, and seide, ' Here I wole abide under the schawe ': ^ And bad liire woramen to withdrawe, 50 And ther sche stod al one stille, To thenke what was in hir wille. Sehe sih the swote floures springe, Sche herde glade foules singe, Sche sih the bestes in her kinde. The buck, the do, the hert, the hinde, The madle^ go with the femele; And so began ther a querele Betwen love and hir oghne herte, Fro which sche couthe noght asterte. 60 And as sche caste hire yhe aboute, Sche svh clad in o suite a route Of ladis, wher thei comen ryde Along under the wodes syde: On faire amblende hors thei sete. That were al whyte, fatte and grete, And everichon thei ride on side.* The sadles were of such a pride, With perle and gold so wel begon,' So riche syh sche nevere non ; 70 In kertles and in copes ^ riche Thei weren clothed, alle liche. Departed evene of whyt and blew; With alle lustes that sche knew Thei were enbrouded overal. Here bodies weren long and smal. The beaute faye ' upon here face Non erthly thing it may desface; Corones on here bed thei beere, As ech of hem a qweeiie weere, 80 That al the gold of Cresus halle The leste ooronel of alle Ne mihte have boght after the worth: Thus come thei ridende forth. The kinges dowhter, which this syh, For pure abaissht ' drowh hire adryh ' And hield hire clos under the bowh, And let hem passen stille ynowh; For as hire thoghte in hire avis. To hem that were of such a pris 90 Sehe was noght worthi axen there Fro when they come or what thei were: Bot levere than this worldes good Sche wolde have wist hou that it stod, 1 Beemed. ^ leafy shade. > male. * eide-Baddle, probably. b decorated. ^ mantles. ' fairy. Many MSB. read /aire. s for very difBdenoe. 'aside. And putte hire hed alitel oute; And as sche lokede hire aboute, Sche syh comende under the linde ^^ A womman up an hors behinde. The hors on which sche rod was blak, Al lene and galled on the back, 100 And haltede, as he were eucluyed,^* Whereof the womman was annuied; ^ Thus was the hors in sori plit, Bot for al that a sterre whit Aniiddes in the front he hadde. Hir sadel ek was wonder badde, In wliicli the wof uU womman sat, And natbeles ther was with that A riche bridel for the nones Of gold and preciouse stones. no Hire cote was somdiel totore; ^ Aboute hir middel twenty score Of horse haltres and wel mo Ther hyngen ate time tho. Thus whan sche cam the ladi nyh, Than tok sche betre hiede and syh This womman fair was of visage, Freyssh, lusti, yong and of tendre age; And so this ladi, ther sche stod, Bethoghte hire wel and nnderstod 120 That this, which com ridende tho, Tidinges couthe telle of tho Which as sche sih tofore ryde. And putte hir forth and preide abide. And seide, ' Ha, suster, let me hiere. What ben thei, that now riden hiere. And ben so richeliche arraied ? ' This womman, which com so esmaied,!* Ansuerde with ful softe speche. And seith, ' Ma dame, I schal you teche. 130 These ar of tho that whilom were Servantz to love, and trowthe beere, Ther as thei hadde here herte set. Fare wel, for I mai noght be let:'^ Ma dame, I go in mi servise. So moste I haste in alle wise; Forthi, ma dame, yif me leve, I mai noght longe with yon leve.' ' Ha, goode soster, yit I preie. Tell uie whi ye ben so beseie ^^ 140 And with these haltres thus begon.' " ' Ma dame, whilom I was on That to mi fader hadde a king; Bot I was slow, and for no thing Me liste noght to love obeie, And that I now ful sore abeie.^' 10 linden. " had a nail in his foot. w distressed, la somewhat torn. h dismayed. 15 delayed. " arrayed. 1' furnished. is pay for. 9° JOHN GOWER For I whilom no love hadde, Min hors is now so fieble and badde, And al totore is myn arai, And every year this freisshe Mail 150 These lusti ladis ryde aboute, And I mot nedes suie ^ here route In this manere as ye now se, And trusse here haltres forth with me, And am hot as here horse knave. Non other office I ne have, Hem thenkth I am woithi nomore, For I was slow in loves lore, Whau I was able foito lere, And wolde noght the tales hiere 160 Of hem that couthen love teohe.' ' Now tell me thanne, I you beseche, Wherof that riche bi-idel serveth.' With tliat hire ehere awei sche swerveth,^ And gan to wepe, and thus sche tolde: ' This bridel, which ye nou beholde So riche upon myn horse hed, — Ma dame, afore, er I was ded, Whan I was in mi lusti lif, Ther fel into myn herte a strif 170 Of love, which me overcom. So that therafter hiede I nom ' And thoghte I wolde love a kniht: That laste wel a fourtenyht. For it no lengere mihte laste, So nyh my lif was ate laste. Bot now, alias, to late war That I ne hadde him loved ar: ^ For deth cam so in haste bime,* Er I therto hadde eny time, 180 That it ne mihte ben achieved. Bot for al that I am relieved. Of that mi will was good therto, That love soffreth it be so That I schal swiche a bridel were. Now have ye herd al myn ansuere: To Godd, ma dame, I you betake. And warneth alle for mi sake, Of love that thei ben noght ydel, And bidd hem thenke upon mi brydel.' 190 And with that word al sodienly Sche passeth, as it were a sky,' Al clene out of this ladi sihte: And tho for fere hire herte afflihte,' And seide to hirself, ' Helas ! I am riht in tlie same cas. Bot if I live after this day, I schal amende it, if 1 may.' And thus homward this lady wente. 1 follow. < sooner. 2 tarns her face away. 6 by me. ^ cloud. 3 took. 7 was afflicted. And changede al hire ferste entente Withinne hire herte, and gan to swere That sche none haltres wolde bere. THE TALE OF CEYX AND ALCE0NE8 (Confessio Amantis, bk. iv, 1. 2917) Ml sone, and for thou tellest so, A man mai finde of time ago That many a swevene ' hath be certein, Al be it so that som men seiu That swevenes ben of no credence. Bot forto sehewe in evidence That thei fulofte sothe thinges Betokene, I thenke in my wrytinges To telle a tale therupon. Which fell be olde dales gon. 10 This finde I write in poesie: Ceix the king of Trocinie Hadde Alceone to his wif, Which as hire oghne hertes lif Him loveth; and he hadde also A brother, which was cleped tho Dedalion, and he per cas Fro kinde of man forschape was Into a goshauk of likenesse; Wherof the king gret hevynesse 20 Hath take, and thoghte in his corage To gon upon a pelrinage Into a strange regioun, Wher he hath his devociorai To don his sacriflee and preie, If that he mihte in eny weie Toward the goddes finde grace His brother hele ^^ to pourohaee, So that he mihte be reformed Of that he hadde be transformed. 30 To this pourpos and to this ende This king was redy forto weude, As he which wolde go be schipe; And forto don him felaschipe His wif unto the see him broghte, With al hire herte and him besoghte, That he the time hire wolde sein. Whan that he thoghte come ayein: 'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo nionthe day.' And thus in al the haste he may 40 He tok liis leve, and forth he seileth Wepende, and sche hirself beweileth, 8 Gower'a source is Ovid's Metamorphoses^ XI, 266 f. Compare Gbaucer's version in the Book of the Duchess, 1. 02 f . ' dream. " health, well-being. THE TALE OF CEYX AND ALCEONE 91 And tonieth bom, ther sche cam fro. Bot whan the monthes were ago, The whiohe he sette of his eomynge, And that sche herde no tydmge, Ther was no care foito seche : Wherof the goddes to beseche Tho sche began in many wise, And to Juno hire saciiflse so Above alle othre most sche dede. And for hir lord sche hath so bede ^ To wite and kuowe hou that he ferde, That Juno the goddesse hire herde Anon and upon this matiere Sohe bad Yris hir messagere To Slepes hous that sche schal wende, And bidde him that he make an ende Be swevene and schewen al the cas Unto this ladi, hou it was. 60 This Yris, fro the hihe stage Which undertake hatli the message, Hire reyny cope " dede upon. The which was wonderli begon With colours of diverse hewe. An hundred mo than men it kuewe ; The hevene lich unto a bowe Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe, The god of slep wher that sche fond. And that was in a strange lond, 70 Which marcheth ^ upon Chymerie : For ther, as seith the poesie, The god of slep hath mad his hous. Which of entaille^ is merveilous. Under an hell ^ ther is a cave. Which of the Sonne mai noght have. So that noman mai knowe ariht The point betwen the dai and nyht : Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke, Ther is no dore, which mai charke,^ 80 Wherof an yhe scholde unschette, So that inward ther is no lette. And forto speke of that withoute, Ther stant no gret tree nyh aboute Wher on ther myhte orowe or pie Alihte, forto clepe or crie : Ther is no cok to crowe day, Ne beste non which noise ' may The hell ; bot al aboute round Ther is growende upon the gronnd 90 Popi, which berth the sed of slep. With othere herbes suche an hep. A stille water for the nones Rennende upon the smale stones, Which hihte of Lethes the rivere, 1 prayed. 2 rainy cloak. 3 borders. A fashion. & Kentish for hiU. ^ creak. ^ disturb. Under that hell in such manere Ther is, which yifth gret appetit To slope. And thug full of delit Slep hath his hous ; and of his couche Withinne his chambre if I schal touche, 100 Of hebenus ' that slepi tree The hordes al aboute be. And for he scholde slepe softe, Upon a fethrebed alofte He lith with many a pilwe of doun : The chambre is strewed up and doun With swevenes many thouseudfold. Thus cam Yris into this hold, And to the bedd, which is al blak, Sche goth, and tlier with Slep sche spak, 1 10 And in the wise as sche was bede The message of Juno sche dede. Fulofte hir wordes sohe reherceth, Er sche his slepi eres perceth ; With moehel wo bot ate laste His slombrende yhen ' he upcaste And seide hir that it schal be do. Wherof among a thousend tho, Withinne his hous that slepi were, In special he dies out there 120 Thre, whiche scholden do this dede : The f erste of hem, so as I rede. Was Morpheiis, the whos nature Is forto take the iigure Of what persone that him liketh, Wherof that he fulofte entriketh '" The lif '1 which slepe schal be nyhte ; And Ithecus that other hihte. Which hath the vois of every soim, The chiere and the condicioun 130 Of every lif, what so it is : The thridde suiende ^ after this Is Panthasas, which may transforme Of every thing the rihte forme, And change it in an other kiude. Upon hem thre, so as I finde. Of swevenes stant al thappareuce, Which otherwhile is evidence And otherwhile bot a jape.^^ Bot natheles it is so schape, 140 That Morpheus be nyht al one Appiereth until Alceone In likenesse of hir housbonde Al naked ded upon the stronde. And hou he dreynte " in special These othre tuo it schewen al. The tempeste of the blake cloude. The wode 1* see, the wyndes loude, eyes. 10 deceives. " person. 13 trick. 1* drowned. ^^ raging. 12 following. 92 JOHN GOWER AI this sche mette,^ and sih him dyen ; Wherof that sche began to crien, 150 Slepende abedde ther sche lay. And with that noise of hire affray Hir wommen sterten up aboute, Whiche of here ladi were in doute, And axen hire hou that sche ferde ; And sche, riht as sche syh and herde, Hir swevene hath told hem eveiydel. And thei it halsen ^ alle wel And sein it is a tokne of goode ; But til sche wiste hou that it stode, 160 Sche hath no confort in hire herte Upon tlie morwe, and up sche sterte, And to the see, where that sche mette The bodi lay, withoute lette Sche drowh; and whan that sche cam nyh, Stark ded, hise armes sprad, sche syh Hire lord flietende upon the wawe.' Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe. And sche, which tok of deth no kepe. Anon forth lepte into the depe, 170 And wolde have cawht him in hire arm. This infortune of double harm The goddes fro the hevene above Behielde, and for the trowthe of love, Which in thia worthi ladi stcid, Thei have upon the salte flod Hire dreinte * lord and hire also Fro deth to lyve torned so. That thei ben schapen into briddes Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes. 180 And whan sche sih hire lord livende In liknesse of a bridd swimmende, And sche was of the same sort, So as sche mihte do desport, Upon the joie which sche hadde Hire wynges bothe abroad sche spradde, And him,, so as sche mai suffise, Beclipte ^ and keste in such a wise, As sche was whilom wont to do : Hire wynges for hire armes tuo 190 Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe Hire harde bile, and so fulofte Sche fondeth ^ in hire briddes forme, If that sche mihte hirself conforme To do the plesance of a wif, As sche dede in that other lif : For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore,' Hir will stod as it was tofore. And serveth him so as sche mai. Wherof into this ilke day 200 Togedre upon the see thei wone,' 1 drpamed. 2 interpret. ^ embraced. ^ tries. 8 wave. I lost. * drowned. ' dwell. Wher many a dowhter and a sone Tliei bringen forth of briddes kinde ; And for men scholden take in mynde This Alceoun the trewe queene, Hire briddes yit, as it is seene, Of Alceoun " the name here. THE TALE OF ADRIAN AND BARDUSi" (Confessio Amantis, bk. v, 1. 4937) To speke of an unkinde ^i man, I finde hou whilom Adrian, Of Rome which a gret lord was, Upon a day as he per cas ^^ To wode in his huntinge wente, It hapneth at a soudein wente, ^' After his chace as he poursuieth, Tlmrgh happ, the which nomau eschuieth, He fell unwar into a pet," Wher that it mihte noght be let. 10 The pet was dep and he fell lowe, That of his men non niylite knowe Wher he beoam, for non was nyh. Which of his fall the meschief syh. And thus al one ther he lay Clepende ^^ and criende al the day For socour and deliverance, Til ayein eve it fell per chance, A while er it began to nylite, A povere man, which Bardus hihte, jo Cam forth walkende with his asse, And hadde gadred him a tasse ^^ Of grene stickes and of dreie To selle, who that wolde hem beie, As he which hadde no liflode,'' Bot whanne he myhte such a lode To toune with his asse carie. And as it fell him forto tarie That ilke time nyh the pet. And hath the trusse faste knet, 30 He herde a vois, which cride dimme, And he his ere to the brimme Hath leid, and herde it was a man, Which seide, 'Ha, help hier Adrian, And I wol yiven half mi good.' The povere man this understod, As he that wolde gladly winne. And to this lord which was withinne He spak and seide, ' If I thee save, What sikernesse ^* schal I have 40 6 Halcyon, 'o Gower's source maybe the 5pceui«m S/wZ/OT-uTn of Nigel Wireker(fl. 1190). " unnatural. 12 by chance. '3 turn. 1* Kentish for ^i7. ib calliug. 16 bundle. 1' livelihood. i^ security. THE TALE OF ADRIAN AND BARDUS 93 Of covenant, that afterward Thou wolt me yive such reward As thou behihtest nou tofore ? ' The other hath his othes swore By hevene and be the goddes alle, If that it myghte so befalle That he out of the pet him broghte, Of all the goodes whiche he oghte ^ He sohal have evene halvendel. This Bardus seide he wolde wel ; 50 And with this word his asse anon He let uutrusse, and therupou Doun gotli the corde into the pet, To which he hath at ende knet A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde That Adrian him scliolde holde. Bot it was tho per chance falle. Into that pet was also falle An ape, which at thilke throwe, Whan that the corde cam doun lowe, 60 Al sodeinli therto he skipte And it in bothe liise armes clipte.^ And Bardus with his asse anon Him hath updrawe, and he is gon. But whan he sih it was an ape, He wende al hadde ben a jape ' Of faierie, and soce him dradde : ^ And Adrian eftsone gradde ^ For help, and cride and preide faste, And he eftsone his corde caste ; 70 Bot whan it cam unto the grounde, A gret serpent it hath bewouiide, The which Bardus anon up drouh. And thanne him thoglite wel ynouh It was fantosme, bot yit he herde The Tois, and he therto ausnerde, ' What wiht art thou in Goddes name ? ' ' I am,' quod Adrian, ' the same, Whos good thou schalt have evene half.' Quod Bardus, ' Thanne a Goddes half 80 The thridde time assaie I schal ' : And caste his corde forth withal Into the pet, and whan it cam To him, this lord of Rome it nam, And therupon him hath adresced. And with his hand fulofte blessed, And thanne he bad to Bardus hale. And he, which understod his tale, Betwen him and his asse al softe Hath drawe and set him up alofte 90 Withouten harm al esely. He seith noght ones ' Grant merci,' ' 1 owned. 2 caught. ' trick. 4 he feared ; lit., it dreaded him (dat.). 6 cried agaiu. ^ much thauks. Bot strauhte ' him forth to the cite, And let this povere Bardus be. And natheles this simple man His covenant, so as he can, Hath axed; and that other seide, If so be that he him umbreide ^ Of oght that hath be speke or do, It schal ben venged on him so. That him were betre to be ded. And he can tho non other red,^ But on his asse ayein he caste His trusse, and heith homward faste: And whan that he cam horn to bedde. He tolde his wif hou that he spedde. Bot finaly to speke oght more Unto this lord he dradde him sore, So that a word ne dorste he sein : And thus upon the morwe ayein. In the manere as I recorde. Forth with his asse and with his corde To gadre wode, as he dede er. He goth ; and whan that he cam ner Unto the place where he wolde. He hath his ape anon beholde, Which hadde gadred al aboute Of stickes hiere and there a route,^" And leide hem redy to his bond, Wherof he made his trosse and bond. Fro dai to dai and iu this wise This ape profreth his servise. So that he hadde of wode ynouh. Upon a time and as he drouh Toward the wode, he sih besyde The grete gastli serpent glyde, Til that sche cam iu his presence, And in hir kiude a reverence Sche hath him do, and forth withal A ston mor briht than a cristall ) Out of hir mouth tofore his weie Sche let douu falle, and wente aweie, For that he schal noght ben adrad. Tho was this povere Bardus glad, Thonkende God, and to the ston He goth and takth it up anon. And hath gret wonder in his wit Hou that the beste him hath aqnit, Wher that the mannes sone hath failed. For whom he hadde most travailed. i Bot al he putte in Goddes bond. And torneth bom, and what he fond Unto his wif he hath it schewed ; And thei, that wern bothe lewed,!^ Acorden that he scholde it selle. ' lit. stretched, i.e. hurried. 8 reproached. 9 counsel. i" quantity. ii ignorant. 94 JOHN GOWER And he no lengere wolde duelle, Bot forth anon upon the tale The stoii he profreth to the sale; And riht as he himself it sette, The jiieler auon forth fette 150 The gold and made his paiement, Therof was no delaiement. Thus whan this ston was boght and sold, Homward with joie manyfold This Bardus goth ; and whan he cam Home to his hoiis aud tliat he nam His gold out of his purs, withina He fond his ston also therinne, Wherof for joie his lierte pleide, Unto his wif and thus he seide, 160 ' Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi ston ! ' His wif hath wonder therupon, And axeth him hou that mai be. ' Nou be mi trouthe I not,' 1 quod he, ' Bot I dar swere upon a bok, That to my marohant I it tok,'' And he it hadde whan I wente: So knowe I noght to what entente It is nou hier, hot it be grace. Forthi tomorwe in other place 170 I wole it fonde ' forto selle, And if it wol noght with hira duelle, Bot crepe into mi purs ayein. Than dar I saufly ■• swere and sein. It is the vertu of the ston.' The morwe cam, and he is gon To seche aboute iu other stede His ston to selle, and he so dede, Aud lefte it with his chapman there. Bot whan that he cam elleswhere, 180 In presence of his wif at liom. Out of his purs and that he nom' His gold, he fond his ston withal: And thus it fell him overal,^ Where he it solde in sondri place, 1 know not. * safely. ' try. B everywhere. Such was the fortune aud the grace. Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd. That it nys ate laste kidd:' This fame goth aboute Rome So ferforth, that the wordes come 190 To themperour Justinian; And he let sende for the man, And axede him hou that it was. And Bardus tolde him al the cas, Hou that the worm and ek the beste, Althogh tliei maden no beheste,^ His travail haddeu wel aquit; Bot he which hadde a mannes wit, And made his covenant be mouthe And swor therto al that he couthe 200 To parte and yiven half his good, Hath nou foryete hou that it stod, As he which wol no trouthe holde. This Emperour al that he tolde Hath herd, and thUke unkindenesse He seide he wolde himself redresse. And thus in court of juggement This Adrian was thanne assent. And the querele in audience Declared was in the presence 210 Of themperour and many mo; Wherof was mochel speche tho And gret wondringe among the press. Bot ate laste natheles For the partie which hath pleigned The lawe hath diemed ^ and ordeigned Be hem that were avised wel. That he schal have the halvendel i" Thnrghout of Adrianes good. And thus of thilke unkinde blod 220 Stant the memoire into this day, Wherof that every wysmau may Ensamplen him, and take in mynde What schame it is to ben unkinde; Ayein the which reson debateth, And every creature it hateth. 7 known. b promise. ^ deemed. 10 hall. GEOFFREY CHAUCER THE CANTERBURY TALES THE PROLOGUE Here biginneth the Book of the Tales of Caunierbury Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote ' The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote, And bathed every veyne in swich ^ lieour, Of which vertu engeudred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge Sonne Hath in the Ram his lialfe cours y-roune,' And smale fowles maken melodye, That slepen al the night with open ye, lo (So priketh hem nature in hir eorages^); Than longen folk to goon on pUgrimages And palmers for to seken straunge strondes To feme halwes, eouthe ' in sondry londea; And specially, from every shires ende Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, The holy blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke. Bifel that, in that seson on a day, In Soiithwerk at the Tabard as I lay 20 Kedy to wenden on my pilgrimage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At night was come in-to that hostelrye Wei nyne and twenty in a companye. Of sondry folk, by aventure y-falle In felawshipe, and pilgrims were theyalle. That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde. The chamhres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste.^ And shortly, whan tlie sonne was to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon, 31 That I was of hir felawshipe anon. And made forward ' erly for to ryse. To take our wey ther as I yow devyse. _ _ . 2 such. 3 In the first half of April the sun is in the second half of the Zodiacal sign of the Ram. * dispositions. ^ distant saints, renowned. 6 made as comfortable as possible. ' agreement. But natheles, whyl I have tyme and space, Er that I ferther in this tale pace. Me thinketh it acordauiit to resoun. To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, And whiche they weren, and of what degree ; 40 And eek in what array that they were inne: And at a knight than wol I first biginne. A Knight ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first bigan To ryden out, he loved ehivalrye, Trouthe and honour, f redom and eurteisye. Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre. And thereto hadde he riden (no man ferre *) As wel in Cristendom as hethenesse, And ever honoured for his wortbinesse. 50 At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne ; Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne' Aboven alle naciouns in Priioe." In Lettow ^' hadde he reysed ^^ and in Euce, No Cristen man so ofte of his degree. Ill Gernade "^ at the sege eek badde he be Of Algezir,'^ and riden in Belmarye.'° At Lyeys was he, and at Satalye,^^ Whan they were wonne; and in the Crete See" At many a noble arniee '' hadde he be. 60 At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene, And foughten for our feith at Tramissene ^ In listes thryes, and ay slayn his fo. This ilke ^ worthy knight had been also ' farther. ^ had the honor of sitting at the head of the table. 10 Prussia. n Lithuania. 12 made a campaign, 13 Grenada. 1* Algeciras near Gape Trafalgar, taken by Alfonso of Castile in 1344. 15 Benmarin and Tremeyen, districts in the north of Africa where the Christians and Moors fought. IB Ayas and Adalia on the south coa^t of Asia Minor. 1' Mediterranean. 18 expedition; aryve in one MS., which Skeat pre- fers. 19 same. 96 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Somtyme with the lord of Palatye,^ Ageyu ^ another hetheu in Turkye : And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys.' And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meke as is a mayde. He never yet no vileinye ue sayde 70 III al his lyf, un-to no mauer wight. He was a verray pariit gentil knight. But for to tellen yow of his array, His hors ^ were gode, but he was uat gay. Of fustian ' he wered a gipoun ^ Al bismotered with his habergeoun," For he was late y-come from his viage, And wente for to doou his pilgrimage. With him ther was his sone, a yong Sqoyer, A lovyere, and a lusty baoheler,^ 80 With lokkes cruUe, as they were leyd in presse.' Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of eveue 1° lengthe. And wonderly deliver,^' and greet of strengthe. And he had been somtyme in chivaehye,'^ In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picard.ye, And born him wel, as of so litel space, In hope to stonden in his lady ^' grace. Embrouded was he, as it were a mede Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and rede. 90 Singinge he was, or floytinge,^^ al the day; He was as fresh as is the month of May. Short was his goune, with sieves Jonge and wyde. Wel coude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde. He coude soiiges make and wel eiidyte,!^ Juste and eek daunce, and wel purtreye and wryte. So bote he lovede, that by nightertale ^^ He sleep namore than dooth a nightingale. Curteys he was, lowly, and servisable. And carf " biforu his fader at the table. 100 A Yeman ^' hadde he, and servaunts namo At that tyme, for him liste ryde so; And he was clad in cote and hood of grene ; A sheef of pecok-arwes brighte and kene 1 Palatia, in Aaia Minor or in the Sea of Marmora, 3 against. ^ reputation. 4 N.B. the plural — a long-stem neuter noun in Anglo- Saxon. (Cf. yeer inl. 82.) 6 coarse cloth. " doublet. 7 stained by the Iron rings of his coat-of-mail. 8 aspirant for knighthood. B curly, as. if from curling-tongs or some such ma- chine. 10 medium. 11 active. 12 cavalry expeditions. 13 lady's — an old feminine genitive. i* piping. it> compose both words and music of songs. 10 niglit-time. i? carved. ib Yeoman. Under his belt he bar ful thriftily; (Wel coude he dresse his takel yemanly: His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe), And in his hand he bar a mighty bowe. A not-heedi'' hadde he, witli a broun visage. Of wode-craft wel coude he al the usage, no Upon his arm he bar a gay bracerj^" And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, And on that other syde a gay daggere, Harneised''' wel, and sharp as point of spere; A Cristofre ^^ on his brest of silver shene.^s An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene; A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse. Ther was also a Noniie, a Prioresse, That of hir smyling was ful simple and coy;2'i Hir gretteste 00th was but by seynt Loy;^ 120 And she was eleped madame Eglentyne. Ful wel she song the service divyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely; And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly,™ After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,^' For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe. At mete wel y-taught was she with-alle; She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe. W^el coude she earie a morsel, and wel kepe, 13a That no drope ne fiUe up-on hir brest. In curteisye was set ful muohe hir lest.^' Hir over lippe wyped she so clene. That in hir coppe was no ferthing ^ sene Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. Ful semely after hir mete she raughte,™ And sikerly '^ she was of greet disport,*^ And ful plesaunt, and amiable of port, And peyned hir to countrefete chere Of court, and been estatlich^^ of raanere, 140 And to ben holdeu digne*^ of reverence. But, for to speken of hir conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous, She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a moms Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houudes had she, that she fedde 19 cropped pate. 20 po protect the forearm from the bowstring. " Adorned. za Image of St. Christopher. 2a fair. a* ahy. 2G On this favorite saint see the article by J. L. Lowes in the Romanic Review, v, 368. 28 elegantly. ^7 A convent near London. 28 pleas- ure. 2" smallest trace. 3" reached. 81 verily. 82 was a good-natured person. 88 digQi^efj, 8* worthy* THE CANTERBURY TALES 97 With rosted flesh, or milk and wastel- breed.i But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men ^ smoot it with a yerde smerte : ' And al was conscience and tendre herte. Ful semely hir wimpel pinched* was; 151 Hir nose tretys;*" hir eyen greye as glas; Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed; But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; It was almost a spanne brood, I tro we ; For, hardily,^ she was nat undergrowe. Ful fetis ' was hir cloke, as I was war. Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar A peire ' of bedes, gauded ^ al with grene ; And ther-ou heng a broche of gold ful shene, 160 On which ther was first write a crowned A, And after. Amor vincit omnia. Another NoNNB with hir hadde she, That was hir ohapeleyne, and Pkeestbs THREE. A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistry e,!" An out-rydere,^^ that lovede venerye; A manly man, to been an abbot able. Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable : And, whan he rood, men mlghte his brydel here Ginglen in a whistling wind as clere, 170 And eek as loude as dooth the chapel- belle. Ther as this lord was keper of the celle,^ The reule of seint Maure or of seint Beneit,^' By-cause that it was old and som-del streit, — " This ilke monk leet olde thinges pace. And held after the newe world the space. He yaf nat of that text a pulled ^^ hen, That seith, that hunters been nat holy men; Ne that a monk, whan he is cloisterlees,!^ Is lykned til a fish that is waterlees; 180 This is to seyn, a monk out of his eloistre. But thilke text held he nat worth an oistre ; 1 a fine sort of bread — almost cake. ^ one. ^ vnth a stick smartly. * pleated. 6 well shaped. 8 cer- tainly. 7 elegant. 8 string. " After every ten corals of her rosary was a green bead. ^'^ a preeminent one. 11 one that had to oversee the manors belonging to his convent. 12 subordinate convent. 13 St. Maur and St. Benedict are two of the founders of the great, strict Benedictine order in the sixth century. " strict. ^^ plucked. ^^ recehdees ia most MSS. And I seyde, his opinioun was good. What sholde he studie, and make himselven woodji' Upon a book in eloistre alwey to poure. Or swinken ^^ with his handes, and laboure. As Austin bit^'? How shal the world be served ? Lat Austin have his swiuk to him reserved. Therfore he was a pricasour™ aright; Grehoundes he hadde, as swifte as fowel in flight; 190 Of priking ^i and of hunting for the hare Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. I seigh his sieves purfiled ^^ at the bond With grys,^' and that the fyneste of a lond; And, for to festne his hood under his chin. He hadde of gold y-wroght a curious pin: A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled,^* that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he had been anoint. He was a lord ful fat and in good point ; ^ 200 His eyen stepe,^^ and rolliuge in his heed, That stemed as a forneys of a leed;^ His botes souple, his hors in greet estat. Now certeinly he was a fair prelat; He was nat pale as a for-pyned ''^ goost. A fat swan loved he best of any roost. His palfrey was as broun as is a berye. A Fkeee ther was, a wantown and a merye, A limitour,^^ a ful solempne ™ man. jjr' In alle the ordres f oure ^' is noon that ^an '^210 So muche of daliaunce and fair langage. He hadde maad ful many a mariage Of yonge wommen, at his owne cost. Un-to his ordre he was a noble post.*' Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns ** over-al in his contree, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun: For he had power of confessioun, As seyde him-self, more than a curat, For of his ordre he was licentiat. jzo Ful sweetly herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolncioun; " crazy. m work. " St. Augustine bids. 20 enthusiastic rider. 21 riding, lit. " spurring." 2^ adorned. 23 fur. 24 bald. 26 stout, en bon point. 26 bright, protruding. 27 His head steamed like the vat of a distilling appa- ratus ; or, his eyes shone like the fire under a cauldron, 28 tormented. 28 one hcensed to beg in a limited district. 30 important. 81 Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, and Austin Friars. 32 knows. 33 pillar, 3a rich farmers. 98 GEOFFREY CHAUCER He was an esy man to yeve penaunce Ther as he wiste to han ^ a good pitaunce ; For unto a povre ordre for to yive Is signe that a man is wel y-shrive. For if he yaf , he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a raau was repentaunt. For many a man so hard is of his herte, He may nat wepe al-thogh him sore smerte. 23° Therfore, in stede of weping and preyeres, Men moot ^ yeve silver to the povre freres. His tipet was ay farsed * ful of knyves And piniies, for to yeven faire wyves. And certeinly he hadde a mery note; Wel coude he singe and pleyen on a rote.'' Of yeddinges* he bar utterly the prys. His nekke whyt was as the flour-de-lys; Ther-to he strong was as a champioun. He knew the tavernes wel in every toun, 240 And everich hostiler and tappestere,^ Bet than a lazar or a beggestere ; ' For un-to swich a worthy man as he Acorded nat, as by his facultee,' To have with seke lazars aqueyntaunce. It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce For to delen with no swich poraille,^ But al with riehe and sellers of vitaille. And over-al ther as '" profit sholde aryse Curteys he was, and lowly of servyse. 250 Ther nas no man no-wher so vertuous. He was the beste beggere in his hous; " For thpgh a widwe hadde noght a sho,'^ So plesaunt was his ' In principio,' ^' Yet wolde he have a ferthing, er he wente. His pnrchas was welbettre than his rente.'^ And rage ^^ he coude, as it were right a whelpe.^' In love-dayes" ther coude he muchel helpe. For there he was nat lyk a cloisterer.i^ With a thredbar cope, as is a povre scoler, 260 But he was lyk a maister or a pope. Of double worsted was his semi-cope,^' 1 knew he should have. 2 One should. 3 stufFed. * fiddle. ^ In songs. ^ bar-maid. ' Better than he did any leper or beggar-woman. 8 It was not suitable, considering his profession. 8 poor trash. i" And everywhere that. Ji One MS. inserts here : And yaf a certeyn f erme for the graunt ; Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt; 12 shoe. 13 John, i, 1, a favorite phrase with friars. 14 What he begged (puTchas) was more than his regular income {rent). 15 behave violently, wantonly. " young dog. 17 arbitration days. ^ reoluse. ^ ^ort cape. That rounded as a belle out of the presse.^" Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse, To make his English swete up-on his tonge; And in his harping, whan that he had souge, His eyen twinkled in his heed aright, As doon the sterres in the frosty night. This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd. A Marchant was ther with a forked herd, 270 In mottelee,'^' and bye on horse he sat, Up-on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat; His botes clasped faire and fetisly. His resons he spak ful solempnely, Souninge ^^ alway th'encrees of his win- ning. He wolde the see were kept for any thing Bitwise Middel burgh and Orewelle.^' Wel coude he in eschamige sheeldes selle.24 This worthy man ful wel bis wit bisette;^ Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, 280 So estatly was he of his governaunce. With his bargaynes, and with his chevi- saunce.''^ For sothe he was a worthy man with-alle, But sooth to seyn, I noot ^' how men him calle. A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also, That un-to logik hadde longe y-go. As lene was his hors as is a rake, And he nas nat right fat, I undertake ; But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly. Ful thredbar was his overestcourtepy; 2' 290 For he had geten him yet no benefyce, Ne was so worldly for to have ofEyce. For him was lever ^^ have at his beddes heed Twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed, Of Aristotle and his philosophye. Than robes riehe, or fithele,'" or gay sau- trye.^i But al be that he was a philosophre. Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; ^ But al that he mighte of his freendes hente,'' On bokes and on leminge he it spente, 300 20 It had been kept on a form, or clothes-press. 21 a mixed stuff. 22 Relating to. 23 He wanted the sea-route between these ports kept guarded and open at any expense. 24 sell money at exchange — very likely an illegal business. 25 employed. 26 shifts for raising money. 2' know not. 28 outermost cloak. 28 he would rather. 30 fiddle. 31 psaltery, dulcimer. 32 The alchemists, who pretended to change baser metals to gold, were also termed philosophers. 83 get. THE CANTERBURY TALES 99 And bisily gan for the soules preye Of hem thatyaf him wher-with to scoleye.^ Of studie took he most cure '^ and most hede. Noght o word spak he more than was nede, And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence. Souninge in ^ moral vertu was his speohe, And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche. A Sergeant of the Lawe, war and wys, That often hadde been at the parvys,^ 310 Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. Discreet he was, and of greet reverence: He semed swich, his wordes weren so wyse. Jiistyce he was ful often in assyse, By patente, and by pleyn commissioun; For his science, and for his heigh renoun Of fees and robes hadde he many con. So greet a purchasour ^ was no-wher noon. Al was fee simple to him in effect," His purchasing mighte nat been infect.' 320 No-wher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was. In termes hadde he caas and domes alle,' That from the tyme of king William were falle. Therto he eoude endyte, and make a thing,' Thereoude no wight pinche at his wryting; And every statut coude he pleyu by rote. He rood but hoomly iu a medlee cote^" Girt with a ceint i' of silk, with barres ^^ smale; Of his array telle I no lenger tale. 330 A FrakKeleyn was in his companye; Whyt was his herd, as is the dayesye. Of his complexioun ^' he was sangwyn. Wei loved he by the morwe " a sop in wyn.^^ To liven in delyt was ever his wone,^" For he was Epicurus owne sone, That heeld opinioun, that pleyn delyt Was verraily felicitee parfyt. An housholdere, and that a greet, was he; Seint Julian " he was in his contree. 340 1 study. 2 care. 3 Tending toward. * the porch of St. Paul's, a lawyers' haunt. B possibly, conveyancer. 8 Apparently — "He could get about, bring to naught, all restrictions ou land." ? invalidated. a He could cite cases precisely. 9 compose and write out a deed, etc. w coat of divers colors. 11 girdle. 12 transverse metal bands on the girdle. 13 temperament, as well as coloring. 1* in the morning. is wine with cake or bread in it. u custom. 17 Patron saint of hospitality. His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon;i' Abettre envyned^^ man was no-wher noon. With-oute bake mete^" was never his hous, Of fish and flesh, and that so plentevous It snewed^i in his hous of mete and drinke, Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke. After the sondry sesons of the yeer, So chaunged he his mete and his soper. Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe,^ And many a breem and many a, luce in stewe.^ 350 Wo ^* was his cook, but-if ^^ his sauce were Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere. His table dormant ^^ in his halle alway Stood redy covered al the longe day. At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire; Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire. An anlas ^' and a gipser 2' al of silk Heng at his girdel, whyt as morne milk. A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour;*' Was no-wher such a worthy vavasour.'" 360 An Haberdassher and a Carpenter, A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapicer,'! Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree ^'^ Of a solempne and greet fraternitee.'^ Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked^* was; Hir knyves were y-chaped ^ noght with bras. But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel. Wei semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, To sitten in a ycldhalle *" on a days. 370 Everich, for the wisdom that he can. Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel ^' hadde they y-nogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certein were they to blame. It is ful fair to been y-clept 'ma dame,' And goon to vigilyes ** al bifore, And have a mantel royalliche y-bore. A Cook they hadde vrith hem for the nones. To boille the chiknes with the marybones. And poudre-marchant tart,'' and galiu- gale.*" 381 Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. " uniform in quality. " with a better wine-cellar. 20 meat pies. 21 snowed. 22 captivity. 2a figh- poud. 24 Woeful. 25 unless. 28 a permanent dtning-table — not boards on trestles. 27 dagger. 28 pouch. 29 accountant, treasurer. ^ landholder, squire. 31 weaver, dyer, and upholsterer. 32 dis- tinctive dress. 33 guild. 34 trimmed. 35 mounted. 3« guildhall. 37 property 38 the eves of festivals 32 tart flavoring-powder. « a spice. GEOFFREY CHAUCER He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux,i and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thouglite me, That on his shine a mormal ^ hadde he. For blankmanger,^ that made he with the beste. A Shipman was ther, woning fer by weste: ^ For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe. He rood up-on a rouucy,^ as he eouthe,^ 390 In a gowne of falding ' to the knee. A daggere hanging on a laas ^ hadde he Aboute his nekke under his arm adoun. The bote somer had maad his hewe al broun; And, certeinly, he was a good felawe. Ful many a draughte of wyn had he y-drawe From Burdeux-ward,' whyl that the chap- man sleep. Of nyce conscience took he no keep. If that he faught, and hadde the hyer bond, By water be sente hem boom to every lend,"" 400 But of his craft to rekene wel bis tydes, His stremes and his daungers him bisydes,!^ His herberwe ^^ and bis moae, his lode- menage ,1^ Ther nas noon swich from HuUe to Cart- age. Hardy he was, and wys to undertake; With many a tempest hadde his herd been shake. He knew wel alle the bavenes, as they were, From Gootlond ^^ to the cape of Finistere, And every cryke in Britayne and in Spayne; 409 His barge y-cleped was the Maudelayne. With us ther was a Doctour of Phisyk, In al this world ne was ther noon him lyk To speke of phisik and of surgerye; For he was grounded in astronomye. He kepte his paeient a ful greet del In houres, by his magik naturel.'^ 1 stewB. a sore. 3 blanc-mauge, i.e. minced, spiced chicken. * dwelling in the west of England. 6 an awkward nag. ^ as best he knew how. ? coarse woollen. 8 line. ^ stolen drinks out of the casks he was bringing from Bordeaux. 10 threw them over- board. 11 near him. 12 harbor. i3 pilotage. n The island Gottland. 15 By astrology he took advantage of those conjunc- tions of the stars which best suited his patient. Wel coude he fortunen the ascendent Of bis images ^^ for bis paeient. He knew the cause of everich maladye, Were it of hoot or cold, or moiste, or drye,'' 420 And where engendred, and of what hu- mour; He was a verrey parfit practisour. The cause y-knowe, and of bis harm the rote. Anon he yaf the seke man his bote.i^ Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries, To sende him drogges and his letuaries,^' For ech of hem made other for to winue; Hir frendschipe nas nat newe to biginne. Wel knew he th'olde Eseulapius, And Deiscorides, and eek Kufus, 430 Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galien; Serapion, Razis, and Avicen; Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn; Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyu.^" Of his diete mesurable was he, For it was of no superfluitee, But of greet norissing and digestible. His studie was but litel on the Bible. In sangwin and in pers ^^ he clad was al, Lyned with taffata and with sendal, ^ 440 And yet he was but esy of dispeuee;^ He kepte that he wan in pestilence. For gold in phisik is a cordial,^* Therfore he lovede gold in special. A good Wyf was ther of bisyde Bathe, But she was som-del ^ deef, and that was scathe.^^ Of clooth-making she hadde swiche an haunt,^' She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt. In al the parisshe wyf ne was ther noon That to tb' offriug bifore hir sholde goon; 450 And if ther dide, certeyn, so wrooth was she, That she was out of alle charitee. Hir covercbiefs ful fyne were of ground ;^^ I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound That on a Sonday were upon hir heed. Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, 18 He made his talismans just when the stars were most propitious. An ascendant is the degree of the zodiac at which a star rises above the eastern horizon. 17 The four qualities of the body. 18 remedy. 19 electuary, syrup. 20 All great medical authorities, the last two being Englishmen, and Bernard a Scot. 21 blood-red and sky-blue. 22 thin silk. " a small spender. 21 Tincture of gold was used to strengthen the heart. 25 somewliat. 20 a ahame. 27 knack. 28 weave. THE CANTERBURY TALES 101 Ful streite y-teyd, and shoos ful moiste and newe. Bold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe. She was a worthy womman al hir lyve, Housbondes at chirohe-dore ^ she hadde fyve, _ 460 Withouteu other companye in youths; But therof nedeth nat to speke as nouthe.^ And thryes hadde she been at Jerusalem ; She hadde passed many a straunge streeni; At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne, In Galice at seint Jame,* and at Coloigue. She coude muohe of wandring by the weye : Gat-tothed * was she, soothly for to seye. Up-on an amblere * esily she sat, Y-wimpled * wel, and on hir heed an hat 470 As brood as is a bokeler or a targe; A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large. And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. In felawschip wel coude she laughe and carpe.' Of remedyes of love she knew perchaunce. For she coude of that art the olde daunce.^ A good man was ther of religioun, And was a povre Persoun ' of a toun ; But riche he was of holy thoght and werk. He was also a lerned man, a clerk, 480 That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; His parisshens ^^ devoutly wolde he teche. Benigne he was, and wonder diligent. And in adversitee ful pacient; And swich he was y-preved ofte sythes. Fullooth were him to cursenforhis tythes. But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, Un-to his povre parisshens aboute Of his offring, and eek of his substaunoe. He conde in litel thing ban siiffisaunce. 490 Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer a- sonder. But he ne lafte nat, for reyn ne thonder, In siknes nor in meschief, to visyte The f erreste in his parisshe, muche and lyte, Up-on his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte; Out of the gospel i' he tho wordes caughte; And this figure he added eek ther-to, That if gold ruste, what shal iren do ? 500 1 The ceremony was at the door. 2 just now. 3 Compostella in Spain. * With gaps between her teeth ; or else goat-toothed, i.e. lascivious. 6 ambling nag. ^ With a pleated hood. ? joke. 8 tricks. " Parson. m parish- ioners. 11 Matthew, v, 19. For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, No wonder is a lewed man to ruste; And shame it is, if a preest take keep,^ A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep. Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive. By his clennesse, how that his sheep shold live. He sette nat his benefice to byre, And leet his sheep enoombred in the myre. And ran to London, un-to seynt Poules, To seken him a chaunterie for soules,^* 510 Or with a bretherhed to been withholds ; ^* But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde, So that the wolf ne made it nat miscarie; He was a shepherde and no mercenarie. And though he holy were, and vertuous. He was to simple man nat despitous, Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne,!^ But in his teching discreet and benigne. To drawen folk to heven by fairnesse By good ensample, was his bisinesss: 520 But it were any persone obstinat, What-so he wsre, of heigh or lowe estat, Him wolds he snibben^^ sharply for the nones. A bettre preest, I trowe that nowher noon is. Hs wayted after no pomps and reverence, Ne maksd him a spyced conscience. But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve. He taughte, and first he folwed it him- selve. With him ther was a Plowman, was his brother, That hadds y-lad of dong ful many a, fother,^' 530 A trewe swinker i^ and a good was he, Livinge in pees and parfit charitee. God loved he best with al his hole herte At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte,!^ And thanne his neighebour right as him- selve. He wolds thresshe, and ther-to dyke and delve. For Cristes sake, for every povre wight, Withouten byre, if it lay in his might, 12 heed. 13 At St. Paul's were thirty-five chantries, where fifty-four priests said masses for the repose of souls. 1* to be a guild chaplain. is haughty. le snub. 1^ load. 18 worker, i^ though he had good fortune or bad. GEOFFREY CHAUCER His tythes payed he f ul faire and wel, Bothe of his propre swink and his catel.' In a tabard ^ he rood upon a mere. 541 Ther was also a Reve and a Millere, A Somnour ■' and a Pardoner ' also, A Mauuciple,^ and my-self; ther were namo. The Miller was a stout carl, for the nones, Ful big he was of braun, and eek of bones ; That proved wel ' for over-al tlier he cam, At wrastling he wolde have alwey the ram.' He was short-sholdred,^ brood, a thikke knarre,' Ther nas na dore that he nolde heve of harre,'" 550 Or breke it, at a renning, with his heed. His herd as any sowe or fox was reed. And ther-to brood, as though it were a spade. Up-on the cop ^^ right of his nose he hade A werte, and ther-on stood a tuft of heres, Reed as the bristles of a sowe's eres; His nose-thirles ^^ blake were and wyde. A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde; His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys. He was a janglere '^ and a goliardeys,^^ 560 And that was most of sinne and har- lotryes.'^ Wel coude he stelen corn, and toUen thryes ; ^ And yet he hadde a thombe of gold,^' pardee. A whyte cote and a blew hood wered he. A baggepype wel ooude he blowe and sowne. And ther-with-al he broghte us out of towne. A gentil Maunciple was ther of a tem- ple, is Of which achatonrs ^^ mighte take exemple For to be wyse in bying of vitaille For whether that he payde, or took by taille.^o 570 1 by working himself and by giving of his property. 2 peasants' sleeveless coat. 3 A summoner cited culprits before the ecclesiastical court. * A pardoner hawked indulgences. 6 steward, caterer. ^ was certainly bo. ' the prize. 8 short in the upper arm. « chunk of a man. 10 hinge., 11 tip. 12 nostrils. is chatterer. i* teller of inde- cent stories. is wicked pranks. lo take triple toll. 17 Probably because it was expert in judging the fineness of his flour. The phrase was proverbial. 18 college of lawyers. i9 purchasers. 20 on credit, i.e. by tally. Algate ^1 he wayted so in his achat,''^ That he was ay biforn and in good stat. Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace, That swioh a lewed mannes wit shal pace The wisdom of an heep of lerned men ? Of maistres hadde he mo than thryes ten, That were of lawe expert and curious; Of which ther were a doseyn in that hous Worthy to been stiwardes of rente and lond Of any lord that is in Engelond, 580 To make him live by his propre good, In honour dettelees, but he were wood,^^ Or live as scarsly as him list desire; And able for to helpen al a shire In any cas that mighte f alle or happe ; And yit this maunciple sette hir aller cappe.2^ The Reve was a sclendre colerik man. His herd was shave as ny as ever he can. His heer was by his eres round y-shorn. 589 His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn.^ Ful longe were his legges, and ful leue, Y-lyk a staf , ther was no calf y-sene. Wel coude he kepe a gerner and a binne; Ther was noon auditour coude ou him winiie.^^ Wel wiste he, by the droghte, and by the reyn, The yelding of his seed, and of his greyn. His lordes sheep, his ueet,^' his dayerye, His swyn, hia hors, his stoor,^ and his pul- trye, _ Was hoolly in this reves governing, And by his oovenaunt yaf the rekening, 600 Sin that his lord was twenty yeer of age; Ther coude no man bringe him in arrear- age.2» Ther nas baillif, ne herde,™ ne other hyne,si That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyue;** They were adrad of him, as of the deeth. His woning ^ was ful fair up-on an heeth, With grene trees shadwed was his place. He coude bettre than his lord purchace. Ful riche he was astored prively, His lord wel coude he plesen subtilly, 610 21 At any rate. =2 purchase. 23 unless he was crazy. 24 fooled them all , " aller " is an old genitive plural, A. S. ealra. 25 Hia hair was cut short across the front, like a priest's. " get the better of him. 2' cattle. 2b form stock. 22 catch him in arrears. 80 herdsman. 81 farm servant. 8a trickery. as dwelling. THE CANTERBURY TALES 103 To yeve and leiie him of his owne good, And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. In youthe he lerned hadde a. good mis- ter,! He was wel good wrighte, a carpenter. This reve sat iip-ou a ful good stot,^ That was al pomely grey,^ and highte Scot. A long surcote of pers up-on he hade, And by his syde he bar a rusty blade. Of Nortlifolk was tliis reve, of which I telle, Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle. 620 Tukked he was, as is a frere, aboute. And ever he rood the hindreste of our route. A SoMNODR was ther with us in that place. That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face. For sawcefleem ^ he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe ; With scalled ^ browes Make, and piled " herd ; Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quik-silver, litarge,' ne brimatoon, Boras, ceruce,* ne oille of tartre noon, 630 Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte, That him mighte helpen of his whelkes whyte, Nor of the knobbes sittuige on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, onyons, and eek lekes. And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood. Than wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood, And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn. Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or three. That he had lerned out of some decree ; 640 No wonder is, he herde it al the day ; And eek ye knowen wel, how that a jay Can clepen ' Watte,' ^ as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope,!" Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay ' Questio quid iuris,' '^ wolde he crye. He was a geutil harlot ^ and a kinde ; 1 trade. 2 cob. s dapple gray. « pimpled. 6 Bcabby. 8 thin. ' ointment prepared from protoxide of lead. 8 white-lead. 9 i.e. Walter. Jays were called Wat as parrots are called Polly, and it was a mediseval joke to teach them to say " Wat shrew," cursing themselves. 10 teet. 11 " What 's the law here ? " 12 rogue. A bettre felawe sholde men noght finde. He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn, A good felawe to have his concubyu 650 A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fuUe: Ful prively a finch eek coiide he pulle.^^ And if he fond o-wher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be. 'Purs is the erchedeknes helle,' seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede; Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede — For curs wol slee, right as assoilliiig sav- eth — 66i And also war him of a significavit.^* In daunger ^^ hadde he at his owne gyse The yonge girles '* of the diocyse. And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set up-ou his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake,i' A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake. With him ther rood a gentil Pardoner Of Rouncival,!* his freend and his com- peer, 670 That streight was comeu fro the court of Kome. Ful loude he song, ' Com hider, love, to me.' This somnour bar to him a stif burdoun,!' Was never tronipe of half so greet a soim. This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex. But smothe it heng, as dooth a strike ^^ of flex; By ounces ^^ henge his lokkes thet he hadde, And ther-with he his shuldres over- spradde; But thinne it lay, by colpons ^ oon and oou; 2^ But hood, for jolitee, ne wered he noon, 680 For it was trussed up in his walet. Him thoughte, '* he rood al of the newe jet,2s Dischevele, save his cappe, he rood al bare. Swiche glaringe eyen hadde he as an hare. A verniole ^^ hadde he sowed on his cappe. His walet lay biforn him in his lappe, 13 fleece a gull. " A writ of excommunication. 15 Within his power. 16 youth of either sex. " Sign of an ale-house. is The name of a hospital in Charing. i» bass. 20 hank. 21 small portions. 22 shreds. 2a here and there. 24 it seemed to him. 26 the latest fashion. 28 Miniature of St. Veronica's handkerchief with the face of Christ— a token of his haying been at Rome. 104 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Bret-ful 1 of pardoun come from Rome al hoot. A voys be hadde as small as hath a goofc. No herd hadde he, never sholde have, As smothe it was as it were late y-shave ; 690 1 trowe he were a gelding or a mare. But of his craft, fro Berwik into Ware, Ne was ther swich another pardoner. For in his male ^ he hadde a pilwe-beer,' Which that he seyde was our lady veyl: He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl That seynt Peter hadde, whan that he wente Up-on the see, til Jesn Crist him hente. He hadde a croys of latonn,^ ful of stones. And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. 700 But with thise relikes, whan that he fond A povre person dwelling up-on lond, Up-on a day he gat him more moneye Than that the person gat in moiithes tweye. And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes. He made the person and the peple his apes. But trewely to tellen, atte laste He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste. Wei coude he rede a lessoun or a storie, But alderbest'' he song an offertorie; 710 For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe. He moste ^ preche, and wel affyle ' his tonge. To winne silver, as he ful wel coude; Therefore he song so meriely and loude. Now have I told you shortly, in a clause, Th'estat, th'array, the nombre, and eek the cause Why that assembled was this corapanye In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye, That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle. But now is tyme to yow for to telle 720 How that we baren us that ilke night. Whan we were in that liostelrye alight. And after wol I telle of our viage, And al the remenaunt of our pilgrimage. But first I pray yow, of your curteisye, That ye n'arette * it nat my vileinye, Thogh that I pleynly speke in this ma- tere. To telle yow hir wordes and hir ohere; Ne thogh I speke hir wordes properly. For this ye knowen al-so wel as I, 730 1 Brim-full. 2 mail, wallet. 3 pillowslip. * a metal corapounded chiefly of copper and zinc. 6 best of all. 8 might. ' polish. ^ reckon. Who-so shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce, as ny as ever he can, Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche and large;' Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thing, or finde wordes newe. He may nat spare, al-thogh he were his brother; He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak him-self ful brode in holy writ, And wel ye woot, no vileinye is it. 740 Eek Plato seith,!" who-so that can him rede. The wordes mote be cosin to the dede. Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree '^ Here in this tale, as that they sholde stonde ; My wit is short, ye may wel understonde. Greet ehere made our hoste us eve- richon. And to the soper sette us anon; And served us with vitaille at the beste. Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste.^2 750 A semely man our hoste was with-alle For to han been a marshal in an halle; A large man he was with eyen stepe,i' A fairer burgeys is ther noon in Chepe:^^ Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel y-taught, And of manhod him lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a mery man, And after soper pleyen he bigan. And spak of mirthe araonges othere thinges, Whan that we hadde maad our reken- inges; 760 And seyde thus ; ' Now, lordinges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome hertelv: For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh this yeer so mery a companye At ones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght. ' Ye goon to Cannterbury ; God j'ow spede, The blisful martir quyte yowyour mede. 770 And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen^^ and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon; 8 freely. I" Boethius, bk. HI, prose 12 ; Plato's Timaeus, 29 B. 11 in order of precedence. 12 we were disposed — leste is Kentish dialect. 1! prominent. " Cheapside. " tell stories. THE CANTERBURY TALES i°5 And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst,^ and doon yow som confort. And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, Now for to stonden at my jugement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye, 780 Now, by my fader ^ soule, that is deed. But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. Hold up your hond, withouteu more speche.' Our connseil was nat longe for to seche; ' Us thoughts it was noght worth to make it wys,'' And graunted him withouten more avys. And bad him seye his verdit, as him leste. ' Lordinges,' quod he, ' now herkneth for the beste; But tak it not, I prey yow, in desdeyn; This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyu, 790 That ech of yow, to shorte with your weye, In this viage, shal telle tales tweye. To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And hom-ward he shal tellen othere two,^ Of aventiires that whylorn ban bifalle. And which of yow that bereth him best of alle. That is to seyn, that telleth in this cas Tales of best sentence and most solas,' Shal have a soper at our aller cost ' Here in this place, sitting by this post, 800 Whan that we come agayu fro Caunter- bury. And for to make yow the more mery, I wol my-selven gladly with yow ryde, Right at myn owne cost, and be your gyde. And who-so wol my jngement withseye Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. And if ye voucbe-sauf that it be so, Tel me anon, with-outen wordes mo,^ And I wol erly shape ^ me therfore.' This thing was graunted, and our othes swore 810 With f ul glad herte, and preyden him also That he wold vouehe-sanf for to do so. And that he wolde been our governour, And of our tales juge and reportour, And sette a soper at a certeyn prys; And we wold reuled been at his devys, 1 before. 2 Genitive — A.S. faeder. 8 we were soon agreed. * it seemed to us not worth wliile to make a fuss. B Some would throw out these two lines. 8 of the best sentiments, and the most entertaining. ' at the cost of all of us; our and aller are genitive plurals — A.S. ure eallra. 8 more. — A.S. ma ; Shakespeare, mot. B make my arrangements. In heigh and lowe ;"> and thus, by oon as- sent. We been acorded to his jugement. And ther-up-on the wyn was fet ^^ anon ; We dronken, and to reste wente echon, 820 With-outen any lenger taryinge. A-morwe, whan that day bigau to springe, Up roos our host, and was our aller cok,'^ And gadrede us togidre, alle in a flok, And forth we riden, a litel more than pas,'^ Un-to the watering of seint Thomas." And there our host bigan his hors areste, And seyde; 'Lordinges, herkneth, if yow leste. Ye woot your forward, ^^ and I it yow re- corde. If even-song and morwe-song acorde,^* 830 Lat see now who shal telle the firste tale. As ever mote I drinke wyn or ale, Who-so be rebel to my jngement Shal paye for al that by the weye is spent. Now draweth cut,^'' er that we ferrer twinne;" He which that hath the shortest shal bi- ginne. Sire knight,' quod he, ' my maister and my lord, Now draweth ^^ cut, for that is myn acord. Cometh 1^ neer,' quod he, ' my lady prior- esse; And ye, sir clerk, lat be your shamfast- nesse, 840 Ne studieth^^ noght; ley hond to, every man.' Anon to drawen every wight bigan. And shortly for to tellen, as it was. Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,^" The sothe is this, the cut fil to the knight. Of which ful blythe and glad was every wight; And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun. By forward and by composicioun,''! As ye ban herd; what nedeth wordes mo? And whan this gode man saugh it was so, 850 As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his forward by his free assent, He seyde: ' Sin I shal beginne the game. What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name! 10 wholly. " fetched. 12 tiie cock who waked us all. 13 faster than a walk. i* A watering-place for horses two miles out. 16 agreement. 18 If you sing the same tune now that you did last night. IT lots. " draw farther from town. " Polite imperative plurals. zo by hap, or fate, or chance. 21 promise and agreement. io6 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Now lat us ryde, aud herkueth what I seye.' And with that word we riden forth our weye ; 856 And he bigan with right a mery ehere His tale anon, and seyde in this manere. THE KNIGHT'S TALE Jamque domos J>airias, Scithice post aspera geniis PreliOf laurigero, etc, [Statius, Theb. XII, 519-] 1 Whylom, as olde stories tellen us, Ther was a duk that highte Theseus; Of Athenes he was lord and goveriiour, And in his tyme swich a couquerour That gretter was ther noon under the Sonne. Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne; What with his wisdom and his chivalrye, He conquered al the regne ^ of Femenye, That whylom was y-oleped Scithia; And weddede the quene Ipolita, 10 And broghte hir hoom with him in his con- tree With muchel glorie and greet solempnitee. And eek hir yoiige suster Emelye. And thus with victorie and with melodye Lete I this noble duk to Athenes ryde, And al his boost in armes him bisyde. And certes, if it nere to long to here, I wolde ban told yow fully the manere How wonnen was the regne of Femenye By Theseus, and by his chivalrye; 20 And of the grete bataille for the nones ^ Bitwixen Athenes and Amazones; And how asseged was Ipolita, The faire, haidy quene of Scithia; And of the feste that was at his weddinge, And of the tempest at his hoom-cominge ; But al that thing I moot ^ as now forbere. I have, God woot, a large field to ere,^ Aud wayke been the oxen in my plough. The remenant of the tale is long y-nough. 30 I wol nat letten * eek noon of this route ; Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute. And lat see now who shal the soper winne; And ther I lefte, I wol ageyn biginne. This duk, of whom I make mencioun, When he was come almost unto the toun, In al his wele " and in his moste pryde. He was war, as he caste his eye asyde, 1 The KnighVs Tale is a free adaptation of Boccac- cio's Teseide, a much longer poem. Both are based after a fashion on the Thebaiad of the late Roman poet, Statins. 2 realm. * for the nonce — a colorless phrase. 4 must. 6 plough. B hinder. ' weal, well-being. Wher that ther kneled in the bye weye A compaiiye of ladies, tweye and tweye, 40 Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; But swich a cry and swich a wo they make. That in this world nis creature livings That herde swich another weymentinge ; ^ And of this cry they nolde never stenten,' Til they the reynes of his brydel heuten.!" ' What folk ben ye, that at myn hoom- cominge Perturben so my feste with cryinge ? ' Quod Theseus. ' Have ye so greet envye Of myu honour, that thus compleyne and crye ? 50 Or who hath yow misboden,ii or ofEended ? And telleth me if it may been amended; And why that ye ben clothed thus in blak ? ' The eldest lady of hem alle spak. When she hadde swowned with a deedly chere. That it was routhe for to seen and here, And seyde : ' Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven Victorie, and as a conquerour to liven, Noght greveth us your glorie and your honour; But we bisekeu mercy and socour. 60 Have mercy on our wo and our distresse. Soiu drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentilesse, Up-on us wrecched wommen lat thou falle. For certes, lord, ther nis noon of us alle That she nath been a duchesse or a quene; Now be we caitif s, as it is wel sene : Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel, That noon estat assureth to be weel. Aud certes, lord, t'abyden your presence, Here in the temple of the goddesse Cle- mence 70 We han ben waytinge al this fourtenight; Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy might. I wrecche, which that wepe and waille thus. Was whylom wyf to king Capaneus, That starf at Thebes, cursed be that day ! And alle we, that been in this array. And maken al this lamentacioun. We losten alle our housbondes at that toun, Whyl that the sege ther-aboute lay. And yet now th'olde Creon, weylaway 1 80 The lord is now of Thebes the oitee, Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee, 8 lament. " stint, stop. 10 seized. n injured. THE CANTERBURY TALES 107 He, for despyt, and for his tirannye, To do the dede bodyes vileinye, Of alle our lordes, whiche that ben slawe,^ Hath all the bodyes on an beep y-drawe, And wol nat suffren hem, by noou assent, Neither to been y-buried nor y-brent,^ But maketh houndes ete hem in despyt.' And with that word, with-outen more respyt, 90 They Alien gruf,* and cryden piteously, ' Have on us wreeched wommen som mercy. And lat our sorwe sinken in thyn heite.' This gentil duk douu from his courser sterte With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke. Him thoughte that his herte wolde breke. Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so mat,^ That whylom weren of so greet estat. And in his armes he hem alle up hente. And hem couforteth in f ul good entente ; 100 And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knight, He wolde doon so ferforthly his might Up-on the tyraunt Creon hem to wreke. That al the peple of Greee sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus y-served. As he that hadde his deeth ful wel de- served. And right anoon, with-outen more abood. His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood To Thebes-ward, and al his host bisyde; No neer Athenes wolde he go ne ryde, no Ne take his ese fully half a day. But onward on his wey that night he lay; And sente anoon Ipolita the queue, And Emelye hir yonge suster shene,^ Un-to the toun of Athenes to dwell; And forth he rit,^ ther nis namore to telle. The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe. So shyneth in his whyte baner large. That alle the f eeldes gliteren up and doun ; And by his baner boru is his penoun ' 120 Of gold ful riche, in which ther was y- bete 8 The Minotaur, which that he slough in Crete. Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour, And in his host of chivalrye the flour, Til that he cam to Thebes, and alighte Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoghte fighte. 1 slain. 2 burned. « grovelinp, prone. * over- come. 5 fair. 6 rideth. ' The pennon is triangular or swallow-tailed, the banner square, b embroidered. But shortly for to speken of this thing. With Creon, which that was of Thebes king, He faught, and slough him manly as a knight In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flight; 130 And by assaut he wan the citee after, And rente adoun bothe wal, and sparre, and rafter ; And to the ladyes he restoreth agayn The bones of hir housbondes that were slayn, To doon obsequies as was tho the gyse. But it were al to long for to devyse The grete clamour and the waymentinge That the ladyes made at the breniiinge Of the bodyes, and the grete honour That Theseus, the noble conquerour, 140 Doth to the ladyes, whan they from him wente ; But shortly for to telle is myn entente. Whan that this worthy duk, this Theseus, Hath Creon slayn, and wonne Thebes thus, Stille in that feelde he took al night his reste. And dide with al the oontree as him leste.' To ransake in the tas ^^ of bodyes dede, Hem for to strepe of barneys and of wede. The pilours '^ diden bisinesse and cure,'^ After the bataille and disconfiture. 150 And so bif el, that in the tas they founde, Thnrgh-girt ^^ with many a grevous blody wounde, Two yonge knightes ligging by and by,i^ Bothe in oou armes,^^ wroght ful richely, Of whiche two, Arcita hight that oon. And that other knight hight Palamon. Nat fully quike, ne fully dede they were, But by hir cote-armures, and by hir gere. The heraudes knewe hem best in special. As they that weren of the blood royal 160 Of Thebes, and of sustren two y-born. Out of the tas the pilours ban hem torn, And ban hem earied softe un-to the tente Of Theseus, and he ful son hem sente To Athenes, to dwellen in prisoun Perpetuelly, he nolde no raunsoun. And whan this worthy duk hath thus y- don. He took his host, and boom he rood anon list, pleased (impersonal). " heap. 11 pillagers. 12 care. la pierced. 1* lying close together. " bearing the same coat-of-arms. io8 GEOFFREY CHAUCER With laurer crowned as a conquerour; And there he liveth, in joye and in hon- our, 170 Terme of his lyf ; what nedeth wordes mo? And in a tour, in angwish and in wo, Dwellen this Palamoun and eek Areite, For evermore, ther may no gold hem quyte. This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, Til it fil ones, in a morwe of May, Tliat Emelye, that fairer was to sene Than is the lilie upon his stalke grene. And fressher than the May with floures newe — For with the rose colour stroof hir hewe, 180 I noot^ which was the fairer of hem two — Er it were day, as was hir wone ^ to do, She was arisen, and al redy dight; For May wol have no slogardye a-night. The sesoun priketh every gentil herte. And maketh him out of his sleep to sterte, And seith, ' Arys, and do thyn observ- aunce.' This maked Emelye have remembraunee To doon honour to May, and for to ryse. Y-clotlied was she fresh, for to devyse; 190 Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse, Bihinde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse. And in the gardin, at the sonne up-riste,^ She walketh up and doun, and as hir liste She gadereth floures, party whyte and rede, To make a sotil gerland for hir hede, And as an aungel hevenly she song. The grete tour, that was so thikke and strong. Which of the castel was the chief don- geoun, (Ther-as the knightes weren in prisoun, 200 Of whiche I tolde yow, and tellen shal) Was evene joynant to the gardin-wal Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyinge. Bright was the sonne, and cleer that mor- weninge, And Palamoii, this woful prisoner. As was his wone, by leve of his gayler. Was risen, and romed in a chambre on heigh. In which he al the noble citee seigh,^ And eek the gardin, f ul of braunehes grene, Ther-as this fresshe Emelye the shene 210 Was in hir walk, and romed up and doun. This sorweful prisoner, this Palamoun, Goth in the chambre, roming to and fro. And to him-self compleyning of his wo; 1 know not. ^ wont. s uprising. i saw. That he was born, ful ofte he seyde, 'alas 1 ' And so bifel, by aventure or cas. That thurgh a window, thikke of many a barre Of yren greet, and square as any sparre, He caste his eye upon Emelya, And ther-with-al he bleynte,^ and cryde * a I 220 As though he stongen were un-to the herte. And with that cry Areite anon up-sterte. And seyde, ' Cosin niyn, what eyleth thee, That art so pale and deedly on to see ? Why crydestow ? Who hath thee doon offence ? For Goddes love, tak al in pacienoe Our prisoun, for it may non other be; Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee. Some wikke aspect or disposicioun Of Saturne, by snm constellacioun, 230 Hath yeven us this, al-though we hadde it sworn ; ^ So stood the heveu whan that we were born ; We moste endure it: this is the short and pleyn.' This Palamon answerde, and seyde ageyn, ' Cosyn, for sothe, of this opinioun Thou hast a veyn imaginaciouu. This prison caused me nat for to crye. But I was hurt right now thurgh-out myn ye In-to myn herte, that wol my bane be. The fairnesse of that lady that I see 240 Yond in the gardin romen to and fro. Is cause of al my crying and my wo. I noot wher' she be womman or goddesse; But Venus is It, soothly, as I gesse.' And ther-with-al on knees domi he fll. And seyde: 'Venus, if it be thy wil Yow in this gardin thus to transfigure Bifore me, sorweful wrecche creature, Out of this prisoun help that we may scapen. And if so be my destinee be shapen 250 By eterne word to dyen in prisoun. Of our linage have som compassioun. That is so lowe y-broght by tirannye.' And with that word Areite gan espye Wher-as this lady romed to and fro. And with that sighte hir beautee hurte him so. That, if that Palamon was wounded sore, Areite is hurte as niuohe as he, or more. And with a sigh he seyde pitously: ' The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly 260 6 blenched. " sworn the contrary, ? whether. THE CANTERBURY TALES log Of hir that rometh in the yonder place ; And, but I have hir mercy and hir grace, That I may seen hir atte leeste weye, I nam but deed ; ther nis namore to seye.' This Palamon, wliau he tho wordes herde, Dispitously ' he loked, and auswerde: ' Whether seistow this in ernest or in pley?' ' Nay,' quod Arcite, ' in ernest, by my fey! God help me so, me list ful yvele pleye.' This Palamon gan kuitte his browes tweye: 270 ' It nere,' quod he, ' to thee no greet hon- our For to be fals, ne for to be traytour To me, that am thy cosin and thy brother ^ Y-sworn ful depe, and ech of us til other, That never, for to dyeu in the peyne,^ Til that the deeth departe shal us tweyne, Neither of us in love to hindren other, Ne in non other cas, my leve ^ brotlier; But that thou sholdest trewely forthren me In every cas, and I shal forthren thee. 280 This was thyn ooth, and myn also, certeyn; I wot right wel, thou darst it nat withseyn. Thus artow of my counseil, out of doute. And now thou woldest falsly been aboute To love my lady, whom I love and serve, And ever shal, til that myn herte sterve.^ Now cartes, fals Arcite, thou shalt nat so. I loved hir first, and tolde thee my wo As to my counseil, and my brother sworn To forthre me, as I have told biforn. 290 For which thou art y-bounden as a knight To helpen me, if it lay in thy might. Or elles artow fals, I dar wel seyn.' This Arcite ful proudly spak ageyn, ' Thou shalt,' quod he, ' be rather fals than I; But thou art fals, I telle thee utterly; For par amour '' I loved hir first er thow. What wiltow seyn ? Thou wistest nat yet now Whether she be a woniman or goddesse ! Thyn is affeccioun of holinesse, 300 And myn is love, as to a creature; For which I tolde thee myn aventnre As to my cosin, and my brother sworn. I pose,"^ that thou lovedest hir biforn; Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe. That " who shal yeve a lover any lawe ? " 1 Savagely. ^ sworn brother in arms. ^ though we should die by torture. * dear, lief. 6 die. 6 in the way of a lover. ^ put the case. Love is a greter lawe, by my pan,* Than may be yeve to any erthly man. And therefore positif lawe and swich decree Is broke al-day for love, in ech degree. 310 A man moot nedes love, maugree * his heed. He may nat fleen it, thogh he sholde be deed, Al be she mayde, or widwe, or elles wyf. And eek it is nat lykly, al thy lyf, To stonden in hir grace ; namore shal I ; For wel thou woost thy-selven, verraily. That thou and I be dampned to prisoun Perpetuelly; us gayneth^" no raunsoun. We stry ve as dide the houndes for the boon. They foughte al day, and yet hir part was noon; 320 Ther cam a kyte, whyl that they were wrothe. And bar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe. And therefore, at the kinges court, my brother, Ech man for him-self, ther is non other. Love if thee list; for I love and ay shal; And soothly, leve brother, this is al. Here in this prisoun mote we endure, And everich of us take his aventure.' Greet was the stryf and long bitwixe hem tweye. If that I hadde leyser for to seye; 330 But to th 'effect. It happed on a day, (To telle it yow as shortly as I may) A worthy duk that highte Perotheus, That felawe was un-to duk Theseus Siu thilke day that they were children lyte," Was come to Athenes, his felawe to visyte, And for to pleye, as he was wont to do. For in this world he loved no man so : And he loved him as tendrely ageyn. So wel they loved, as olde bokes seyn, 340 That whan that oou was deed, sothly to telle. His felawe wente and soghte him doun in helle; But of that story list me nat to wryte. Duk Perotheus loved wel Arcite, And hadde him knowe at Thebes yeer by yere; And fynally, at requeste and preyere Of Perotheus, with-oute any raimsoun, Duk Theseus him leet out of prisoun, Freely to goon, wher that him liste over-al, In swich a gyse, as I you tellen shal. 350 B skull, head. " profits. 9 maagre, in spite of. 11 little. GEOFFREY CHAUCER This was the forward, pleynly for t'en- dyte, Bitwixeii Theseus and him Arcite: That if so were that Arcite were y-founde Ever iu his lyf, by day or night or stounde ^ In any contree of this Theseus, And he were caught, it was aeorded thus. That with a swerd he sholde lese his heed; Ther nas non other remedye ne reed,^ But taketh his leve, and homward he him spedde ; Let him be war, his nekke lyth to wedde ! ' How greet a sorwe suifreth now Arcite ! The deeth he feleth thurgh his herte smyte ; 362 He wepeth, wayleth, cryeth pitously; To sleen him-self he wayteth prively. He seyde, ' Alias that day that I was born! Now is my prison worse than biforn; Now is me shape eternally to dwelle Nnght in purgatorie, but in helle. Alias! that ever knew I Perotheus! For elles hadde I dwelled with Theseus 370 Y-fetered in his prisoun ever-mo. Than hadde I been in blisse, and nat in wo. Only the sighte of hir, whom that I serve, Though that I never hir grace may deserve, Wolde han snffised right y-nough for me. O dere oosin Palamoii,' quod he, ' Thyn is the victorie of this aventnre, Ful blisfully in prison maistow dure; ' In prison? Certes nay, but in paradys! Wei hath fortune y-turned thee the dys,' That hast the sighte of hir, and 1 th'ab- sence, 381 For possible is, sin thou hast hir presence, And art a knight, a worthy and an able. That by som cas, sin fortune is chaunge- able. Thou mayst to thy desyr som-tyme atteyne. But I, that am exyled, and bareyne Of alle grace, and in so greet despeir, That ther nis erthe, water, fyr, ne eir, Ne creature, that of hem maked is. That may me helpe or doon confort in this: 390 Wei oughte I sterve in wanhope " and dis- tresse; Farwel my lyf, my lust, and my gladnessel Alias, why pleynen folk so in commune Of purveyaunce of God, or of fortune. That yeveth hem ful ofte in many a gyse Wei bettre than they can hem-self devyse ? I hour. 2 help. 4 mayest thou endure. ^ dice. ' in pledge. B despair. Som man desyreth for to han richesse, That cause is of his mordre ' or greet sik- nesse. And som man wolde out of his prison fayn, That in his hous is of his meynee ' slayu. Infinite harmes been in this matere; 401 We witeu nat what thing we prey en here. We faren as he that dronke is as a mous; A dronke man wot wel he hath an hous. But he noot which the righte wey is thider; And to a dronke man the wey is slider.' And certes, in this world so faren we ; We sekeu faste after felicitee, But we goon wrong full often, trewely. Thus may we seyen alle, and namely i" I 410 That wende '^ and hadde a greet opinioun, That, if I mighte escapen from prisoun, Thau hadde I been in joye and perflt hele,i2 Ther now I am exyled fro my wele. Sin that I may nat seen yow, Emelye, I nam but deed; ther nis no remedye.' Up-on that other syde Palamon, Whan that he wiste Arcite was agon, Swich sorwe he maketh, that the grete tour Resouneth of his youling and clamour. 420 The pure ^' fettres on his shines grete Weren of his bittre salte teres wete. ' Alias! ' quod he, ' Arcita, cosin myn, Of al our stryf, God woot, the fruyt is thyn. Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy large, And of my wo thou yevest litel charge. Thou mayst, sin thou hast wisdom and manhede, Assemblen alle the folk of our kinrede. And make a werre so sharp on this citee, That by some aventure, or some tretee, 430 Thou mayst have hir to lady and to wyf, For whom that I mot nedes lese i' my lyf. For, as by wey of possibilitee, Sith thou art at thy large, of prison free, And art a lord, greet is thyn avauntage, More than is myn, that sterve here in a cage. For I mot wepe and wayle, whyl I live, With al the wo that prison may me yive, And eek with peyne that love me yiveth also, That doubleth al my torment and my wo.' 440 ' murder. 8 servants, ' slippery. M especially, n weened, thought. 12 health. " very. " must needs lose. THE CANTERBURY TALES Ther-with the fyr of jelousye up-sterte With-inne his brest, and hente him by the herte So woodly,^ that he lyk was to biholde The box-tree, or the asshen dede and eolde. Tho seyde he; '0 cruel goddes, that gov- erne This world with binding of your word eterne, And wryten in the table of athamaiint ^ Your parlement,* and your eterne graunt, What is mankinde more uu-to yow holde Than is the sheep, that rouketh'' in the folde. 450 For slayn is man right as another beste, And dwelleth eek in prison and areste, And hath siknesse, and greet adversitee, And ofte tymes giltelees, pardee! What governaunce is in this prescience, That giltelees tormenteth innocence ? And yet encreseth this al my penaunce. That man is bounden to his observatince. For Goddes sake, to letten of his wille, Ther as a beest may al his lust fulfille. 460 And whan a beest is deed, he hath no peyne; But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne, Though in this world he have care and wo; With-outen doute it may stonden so. Th' answere of this I lete to divynis,^ But wel 1 woot, that in this world gret pyne is. Alias! I see a serpent or a theef, That many a trewe man hath doon mes- oheef, Goon at his large, and wher him list may turne. 469 But I mot been in prison thurgh Saturne, And eek thurgh Juno, jalous and eek wood, That hath destroyed wel ny al the blood Of Thebes, with his waste walles wyde. And Venus sleeth me on that other syde For jelousye, and fere of him Aroite.' Now wol I stinte of Palamon a lyte. And lete him in his prison stille dwelle, And of Arcita forth I wol yow telle. The somer passeth, and the nightes longe Encresen double wyse the peynes stronge Bothe of the lovere and the prisoner. 481 I noot which hath the wofuUere mester.^ For shortly for to seyn, this Palamoun Perpetuelly is dampned to prisoun, In cheynes and in fettres to ben deed; And Arcite is exyled upon his heed I madly. E dlTlnes. 2 adamant. ' decree. * huddles. G the more woful occupation, life. For ever-mo as out of that contree, Ne never-mo he shal his lady see. Yow loveres axe I now this questioun. Who hath the worse, Arcite or Pala- moun ? 490 That oon may seen his lady day by day. But in prison he moot dweUe alway. That other wher him list may ryde or go, But seen his lady shal he never-mo. Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can, For I wol telle forth as I bigan. Explicit prima Pars. Sequitur pars secunda. Whan that Arcite to Thebes comen was, Ful ofte a day he swelte'and seyde 'alias,' For seen his lady shal he never-mo. And shortly to eoncluden al his wo, 500 So muche sorwe had never creature That is, or shal, whyl that the world may dure. His sleep, his mete, his drink is hinj biraft, That lene he wex, and drye as is a shaft. His eyen hoi we, and grisly to biholde; His hewe falwe, and pale as asshen colde, And solitarie he was, and ever allone. And wailling al the night, making his mone. And if he herde song or instrument, Then wolde he wepe, he mighte nat be stent; 510 So feeble eek were his spirits, and so lowe. And chaunged so, that no man coude knowe His speche nor his vols, though men it herde. And in his gere,^ for al the world he ferde Nat oouly lyk the loveres maladye Of Hereos,^ hut rather lyk nianye i" Engendred of humour malencolyk, Biforen, in his celle fantastyk.^i And shortly, turned was al up-so-doun Bothe habit and eek disposicioun 520 Of him, this woful lovere daun '^ Arcite. What sholde I al-day of his wo endyte ? Whan he endured hadde a yeer or two This cruel torment, and this peyne and wo, At Thebes, in his contree, as I seyde, Up-on a night, in sleep as he him leyde. Him thoughte how that the winged god Mercuric Biforn him stood, and bad him to be murye. ' Bwooned. b behavior. " A specific disease of lovers and such, ^^e Modern Philology^ xi, 491. 10 mania. 11 An allusion to the mediaeval notion of humors and a triple division of the brain. Cf. Macbeth, i, 7, 65. 12 sir, dominus. GEOFFREY CHAUCER His slepy yerde ^ in hond he bar uprighte; An hat he werede up-on his heres brighte. Arrayed was this god (as he took keepe ^) 53 1 As he was whan that Argus took his sleep; And seyde him thus : ' To Athenes shaltou wende ; Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende.' And with that word Aroite wook and sterte. ' Now trewely, how sore that me smerte,' Quod he, ' to Athenes right now wol I fare; Ne for the drede of deeth shal I nat spare To see my lady, that I love and serve ; In hir presence I recche nat to sterve.' 540 And with that word he eaughte a greet mirour. And saugh that chaunged was al his colour, And saugh his visage al in another kinde. And right aiioon it ran him in his minde, That, sith his face was so disfigured Of nialadye, the which he hadde endured. He mights wel, if that be bar him lowe,' Live in Athenes ever-more unknowe, And seen his lady wel ny day by day. And right anon he chaunged his array, 550 And cladde him as a povre laborer. And al alloue, save oonly a squyer, That knew his privetee and al his oas, Which was disgysed povrely, as he was, To Athenes is he goon the nexte ^ way. And to the court he wente up-on a day. And at the gate he protreth his servyse. To drugge" and drawe, what so men wol devyse. And shortly of this matere for to seyn, He fil in office ^ with a chamberleyn, 560 The which that dwelling was with Emelye; For he was wys, and coude soon aspye Of every servaunt, which that serveth here. Wel coude he hewen wode, and water bere. For he was yong and mighty for the nones. And ther-to he was strong and big of bones To doon that any wight can him devyse. A yeer or two he was in this servyse, Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte ; And ' Philostrate ' he seide that he highte. But half so wel biloved a man as he 571 Ne was ther never in court, of his degree; He was so gentil of condicioun. That thurghout al the court was his re- noun. They seyden, that it were a charitee That Theseus wolde enhauncen his degree, 1 sleep-causing rod. a heed, s lived in obscurity. * sliortest. 5 drudge. ^ took service. And putten him in worshipful servyse, Ther as he mighte his vertu exceroyse. And thus, with-inne a whyle, his name is spronge 579 Bothe of his dedes, and his goode tonge, That Theseus hath taken him so neer That of his chambre he made him a squyer. And yaf him gold to mayntene his degree; And eek men broghte him out of his contree From yeer to yeer, ful prively, his rente; But honestly and slyly he it spente. That no man wondred how that he it hadde. And three yeer in this wyse his lyf he ladde. And bar him so in pees and eek in werre, Ther nas no man that Theseus hath derre.'' And in this blisse lete I now Arcite, 591 And speke I wol of Palaniou a lyte. In derknesse and horrible and strong prisoun This seven yeer hath seten Palamouu, Forpyned,' what for wo and for distresse; Who f eleth double soor ^ and hevinesse But Palamon ? that love destreyneth i" so. That wood out of his wit he gooth for wo; And eek therto he is a prisoner Perpetuelly, noght oonly for a yeer. 600 Who coude ryme in English proprely His martirdom ? For sothe, it am nat I; Therefore I passe as lightly as I may. It fel that in the seventhe yeer, in May, The thridde night, (as olde bokes seyn That al this storie tellen more pleyn,) Were it by aventure or destinee, (As, whan a thing is shapen, it shal be,) That, sone after the midnight, Palamoun, By helping of a f reend, brak his prisoun, 610 And fleeth the citee, faste as he may go; For he had yive his gayler drinke so Of a claree,ii maad of a certeyn wyn. With nercotikes and opie ^^ of Thebes fyn, That al that night, thogh that men wolde him shake. The gayler sleep, he mighte nat awake ; And thus he fleeth as faste as ever he may. The night was short, and faste by the day. That nedes-cost ^' he moste him-selven hyde. And til a grove, faste ther besyde, 620 With dredf nl foot than stalketh Palamoun. For shortly, this was his opinioun. That in that grove he wolde him hyde al day. And in the night than wolde he take his way 7 dearer, s Greatly tormented. » sorrow. 10 per- secutes. 11 spiced wine, i^ opium, i^ necessarily. THE CANTERBURY TALES "3 To Thebes-ward, his freendes for to preye On Theseus to belpe him to werreye; ^ Aud shortly, outher he wolde lese hia lyf, Or winnen Kmelye un-to his wyf ; This is th'efBeet and his entente pleyn. Now wol I torne un-to Arcite ageyn, 630 That litel wiste how ny that was his care, Til that fortune had broght him in the snare. The bisy larke, messager of day, Salueth in hir song the morwe gray; And fyry Phebus ryseth up so biighte, That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, And with his stremes dryeth in the graves The silver dropes, hanging ou the leves. And Arcite, that is in the court royal With Theseus, his squyer principal, 640 Is risen, aud loketh on the myrie day. And, for to doon his observaunce to May, Remembring ou the poynt of his desyr, He ou a courser, startlynge ^ as the fyr, Is riden in-to the feeldes, him to pleye, Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye; And to the grove, of which that I yow tolde, By aventure, his wey he gan to holde. To maken him a gerland of the greves, 649 Were it of wodebiude or hawethorn-leves, And loude he song agey n the sonne shene : ' May, with alle thy floures and thy grene, AVel-come be thou, faire fresshe Maj", I hope that I som grene gete may.' And from his courser, with a lusty herte, In-to the grove ful hastily he sterte. And in a path he rometh up and doun, Ther-as, by aventure, this Palamouu AVas in a bush, that no man mighte him see. For sore afered of his deeth was he. 660 No-thing ne knew he that it wn s Arcite : God wot lie wolde have trowed it ful lyte. But sooth is seyd, gon sithen many yeres. That ' feeld hath eyen, and the wode hath eres.' It is ful fair a man to here him evene,' For al-day meteth men at unset stevene.^ Ful litel woot Arcite of his felawe. That was so ny to herknen al his sawe, For in the bush he sittetli now ful stille. Wlian that Arcite had romed al his fille, And songen al the roundel lustily, 671 In-to a studie he fil sodeynly. As doon thise lovers in hir queynte geres,* Now in the croppe,^ now doun in the breres, 1 make war, 2 skittish. Another reading is fteWj/n^. 3 be circumspect, steadfast. ' unexpectedly. 6 changeful ways, turns. " top. Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle. Right as the Friday, soothly for to telle, Now it shyneth, now it reyneth faste. Right so can gery ' Venus overcaste The hertes of hir folk; right as hir day ' Is gerful,' right so chaungeth she array. 680 Selde is the Friday al the wyke y-lyke. Whan that Arcite had songe, he gan to syke,^ And sette him doun with-outen any more: ' Alas ! ' quod he, ' that day that I was bore ! How louge, Juno, thurgh thy crueltee, Woltow werreyen Thebes the citee ? Alias ! y-broght is to confusioun The blood royal of Cadme and Amphioun; Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man 689 That Thebes bulte, or first the toun bigan, And of the citee first was crouned king. Of his linage am I, and his ot-spring By verray ligne, as of the stok royal: And now I am so caitif and so thral, That he, that is my mortal enemy, I serve him as his squyer povrely. And yet doth Juno me wel more shame. For I dar noght biknowe myn owne name; But ther-as I was wont to highte Arcite, Now highte I PhUostrate, noght worth a myte. 700 Alias ! thou felle Mars, alias ! Juno, Thus hath your ire our kinrede al fordo, Save ouly me, and wrecched Palamouu, That Theseus martyreth in prisonn. And over al this, to sleen me utterly. Love hath his fyry dart so brenningly Y-stiked thurgh my trewe careful herte, That shapen was my deeth erstw than my sherte. Ye sleen me with your eyen, Emelye; Ye been the cause wherfor that I dye. 710 Of al the remenant of myn other care Ne sette I nat the mountaunee ^^ of a tare So that I coude don aught to your ple- saunce ! ' And with that word he fil doun in a traunce A longe tyme; and after he up-sterte. This Palamoun, that thoughte that thurgh his herte He felte a cold swerd sodeynliche glyde. For ire he quook,^^ no lenger wolde he byde. And whan that he had herd Areites tale, 719 As he were wood, with face deed and pale, ' changeable. 8 i.e. Friday. s sigh. 10 ere, i.e. hia death was foreordained. 11 amount. ^^ quaked. 114 GEOFFREY CHAUCER He sterte him up out of the buskes thikke, And seyde: ' Arcite, false traitour wikke/ Now artow hent,^ that lovest my lady so, For whom that I have al this peyue and wo, And art my blood, and to my counseil sworn. As I f ul ofte have told thee heer-biforn, And hast by-japed ^ here duk Theseus, And falsly ehaunged hast thy name thus; I wol be deed, or elles thou shalt dye. Thou shalt nat love my lady Emelye, 730 But I wol love hir only, and namo; For I am Palamoun, tby mortal fo. And though that I no wepne have in this place, But out of prison am astert by grace, I drede noght that outher thou shalt dye, Or thou ne shalt nat loven Emelye. Chees which thou wilt, for thou shalt nat asterte.' This Arcite, with ful despitous herte. Whan he him knew, and hadde his tale herd, As fiers as leoun, pulled out a swerd, 740 And seyde thus : ' By God that sit above, Nere ^ it that thou art sik, and wood for love. And eek that thou no wepne hast in this place. Thou sholdest never out of this grove pace. That thou ne sholdest dyen of myn bond. For I defye the seiu-tee and the bond Which that thou seyst that I have maad to thee. What, verray fool, think wel that love is free. And I wol love hir, maugre al thy might ! But, for as muche thou art a worthy knight. And wilnest to darreyne ^ hir by batayle, 751 Have beer my trouthe, to-morwe I wol nat fayle, With-outen witing of any other wight. That here I wol be fouuden as a knight. And briugen barneys riglit y-nough for thee ; And chees the beste, and leve the worste for me. And mete and drinke this night wol I bringe Y-nough for thee, and clothes for thy bed- dinge. And, if so be that thou my lady winne, And slee me in this wode ther I am inne, 760 1 wicked. i Were it not. 2 caught. 3 fooled, c decide the right to. Thou mayst wel have thy lady, as for me.' This Palamon auswerde : ' I graunte it thee.' And thus they been departed til a^morwe. When ech of hem had leyd his feith to borwe.^ O Cupide, out of alle charitee 1 O regne,' that wolt no felawe have with thee ! Ful sooth is seyd, that love ne lordshipe Wol noglit, his thankes,' have no felawe- shipe; Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. Arcite is riden anon un-to the toun, 770 And on tlie morwe, er it were dayes light, Ful prively two barneys hath be dight, Bothe suflisaunt and mete to darreyne The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al this barneys him biforn; And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. Tho chaungen gan the colour in hir face; Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, 781 Whan hunted is the leoun or the here, And hereth him come russhing in the greves. And breketh bothe bowes and the leves. And thinketh, 'Hear cometh my mortel enemy, With-oute faile, he moot be deed, or I; For outher I mot sleen him at the gappe, Or he mot sleen me, if that me mishappe:' So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe. As fer as everich of hem other knewe. 790 Ther nas no good day, ne no saluing;^ But streight, with-outen word or rehersing, Everich of hem halp 1° for to armen other. As freendly as he were his owne brother; And after that, with sharpe speres stronge They foynen 11 ech at other wonder longe. Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun In his fighting were a wood leoun, And as a cruel tygre was Arcite: As wilde bores gonne they to smyte, 800 That frothen whyte as foom for ire wood. Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle; And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. The destinee, ministre general. That executeth in the world over-al 8 pledged his faith. ' rule. 8 willingly. » saluting. 10 helped. " thrust. THE CANTERBURY TALES "5 The purveyaiince, that God hath seyu bif orn, So strong it is, that, though the world had sworn The contrarie of a thing, by ye or nay, Yet somtyme it shal fallen on a day 8io That falleth nat eft with-inne a thousand yere. For ceiteinly, our appetytes here. Be it of werre, or pees, or hate, or love, Al is this reuled by the sighte above. This mene I now by mighty Theseus, That for to honten is so desirous, And namely at the grete hert in May, That in his bed ther daweth him no day, That he nis clad, and redy for to ryde With hunte ^ and horn, and houndes him bisyde. 820 For in his hunting hath he swich delyt. That it is al his joye and appetyt^ To been him-self the grete hertes bane: For after Mars he serveth now Diane. Cleer was the day, as 1 have told er this, And Theseus, with alle joye and blis. With his Ipolita, the fayre queue. And Emelye, clothed al in grene, On hunting be they riden royally. S29 And to the grove, that stood ful faste by, In which ther was an hert, as men him tolde, Duk Theseus the streighte wey hath holde. And to the launde " he rydeth him ful right, For thider was the hert wont have his flight. And over a brook, and so forth on his wey e. This duk wol han a cours at him, ortweye. With houndes, swiche as that him list com- aunde. And whan this duk was come un-to the launde. Under the sonne he loketh, and anon He was war of Arcite and Palamon, 840 That foughten breme,' as it were bores two; The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro So hidously, that with the leeste strook It seemed as it wolde felle an 00k; But what they were, no-thing he ne woot. This duk his courser with his spores smoot. And at a stert he was bitwix hem two, And pulled out a swerd and cryed, 'Ho! Nainore, up ^ peyne of lesing of your heed. By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed 850 That smyteth any strook that I may seen! But telleth me what mister^ men ye been. 1 huntsman. i upon. 2 glade. 3 furiously, e manner of. That been so hardy for to tighten here With-outen juge or other officere. As it were in a listes royally ? ' This Palamon answerede hastily And seyde: ' Sire, what nedeth wordes mo ? We have the deeth deserved bothe two. Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves. That been encombred of our owne lyves ; 860 And as thou art a rightful lord and juge, Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge; But slee me first, for seynte charitee; But slee my felawe eek as wel as me. Or slee him first; for, though thou knowe it lyte, This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, That fro thy lond is banished on his heed, For which he hath deserved to be deed. For this is be that cam uii-to thy gate, And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. 870 Thus hath he japed ^ thee full many a yeer. And thou has maked him thy chief squyer: And this is he that loveth Emelye. For sith the day is come that I shal dye, I make pleynly my confessioun, That I am thilke woful Palamoun, That hath thy prison broken wikkedly. I am thy mortal fo, and it am I That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, That I wol dye present in hir sighte. 880 Therfore I axe deeth and my juwyse;'' But slee my felawe in the same wyse. For bothe han we deserved to be slayn.' This worthy duk answerde anon agayn. And seyde, 'This is a short couclusioun: Youre owne mouth, by your confessioun. Hath dampned you, and I wol it recorde. It nedeth noght to pyne ^ yow with the corde. Ye shul be deed, by mighty Mars the rede ! ' The quene anon, for verray womman- hede, 890 Gan for to wepe, and so dide Emelye, And alle the ladies in the companye. Gret pitee was it, as it thoughte hem alle, That ever swioh a chaunoe sholde falle; For gentil men they were, of greet estat. And no-thing but for love was this debat; And sawe hir blody woimdes wyde and sore; And alle cryden, bothe lasse and more, ' Have mercy, lord, up-on us wommen alle ! • And on hir bare knees adoun they falle, 900 8 deceived. ' judgment. a torture. ii6 GEOFFREY CHAUCER And wolde have kist his feet ther-as he stood, Til at the laste aslaked was his mood; For pitee renneth sone in gentil herte. And though he iirst for ire quook and sterte, He hath considered shortly, in a clause. The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause : And al-though that his ire hir gilt accused. Yet in his reson he hem bothe excused; As thus: he thoghte wel, that every man Wolhelpe him-self in love, if that he can, 910 And eek delivere him-self out of prisoun; And eek his herte had oorapassioun Of wommen, for they wepeu ever in oon; And in his gentil herte he thoghte auoon. And sof te uu-to himself he seyde : ' Fy Up-on a lord that wol have no mercy, But been a leoun, bothe in word and dede, To hem that been in repentauuce and drede As wel as to a proud despitous man That wol maynteyne that he first bigani 920 That lord hath litel of discrecioun, That in swich cas can no divisioiin, But weyeth pryde and humblesse after oon.' 1 And shortly, whan his ire is thus agoon, He gan to loken up with eyen lighte, And spak thise same wordes al on highte : — ' The god of love, a ! henedicite, How mighty and how greet a lord is he ! Ayeins his might ther gayneth none ob- stacles, He may be cleped a god for his miracles ; 930 For he can maken at Ids owne gyse Of everieh herte, as that him list devyse. Lo heer, this Arcite and this Palamoun, That qnitly ^ weren out of my prisoun, And mighte han lived in Thebes royally, And witen I am hir mortal enemy, And that hir deeth lyth in my might also; And yet hath love, maiigree hir eyen two, Y-broght hem hider bothe for to dye ! Now loketh, is nat that an heigh f olye ? 940 Who may been a fool, but-if he love ? Bihold, for Goddes sake that sit above, Se how they blede ! be they noght wel arrayed ? Thus hath hir lord, the god of love, y-payed Hir wages and hir fees for hir servyse ! And yet they wenen for to been ful wyse 1 Kegards them equally. > entirely. That serven love, for aught that may bifalle ! But this is yet the beste game of alle. That she, for whom they han this jolitee. Can hem ther-f or as muche thank as me ; 950 She woot namore of al this bote fare, By God, than woot a cokkow or an bare ! But al mot been assayed, hoot and cold ; A man mot been a fool, or yong or old; I woot it by my-self ful yore agoon: For in my tyme a servant ^ was I oon. And therfore, sin * I kuowe of loves peyne, And woot how sore it can a man distreyne, As he that hath ben caught ofte in his las,^ I yow foryeve al hoolly this trespas, 960 At requeste of the quene that kneleth here, And eek of Emelye, my suster dere. And ye shul bothe anon un-to me swere, That never-mo ye shul my contree dere," Ne make werre up-on me night ne day. But been my freendes in al that ye may; I yow foryeve this trespas every del.' And they him swore his axing fayre and wel. And liim of lordshipe and of mercy preyde, And he hem graunteth grace, and thus he seyde : 970 ' To speke of royal linage and richesse, Though that she were a quene or a prin- cesse, Ech of yow bothe is worthy, doutelees, To wedden whan tyme is, but natlielees I speke as for my suster Emelye, For whom ye have this stryf and jelousye ; Ye woot your-self , she may not wedden two At ones, though ye fighten ever-mo: Tliat oon of yow, al be him looth or leef, He moot go pypen in an ivy-leef ; 980 This is to seyn, she may nat now han bothe, Al be ye never so jelous, ne so wrothe. And for-thy I yow putte in this degree. That ech of yow shal have his destinee As him is shape; and herkneth in what wyse; Lo, heer your ende of that I shal devyse. My wil is this, for plat ' conclusioun, With-oiiten any replicacioun, If that yow lyketh, tak it for the beste, That everieh of yow shal gon wher him leste 990 Frely, with-outen raunson or daunger; And this day fifty wykes, fer ne ner,* ' i.e. of love. * since. b lace, net. " injure. ' certain. 8 further nor nearer, more nor less, i.e. exactly. THE CANTERBURY TALES 117 Everich of yow shal briuge an hundred knightes, Armed for listes up at alle rightes, Al redy to darreyne hir by bataille. And this bihote I yow, with-outen faille, Up-on my trouthe, and as I am a knight. That whether ^ of yow bothe that hath might, Tliis is to seyn, that whether he or thou May with his hundred, as I spak of now, 1000 Sleen his oontrarie, or out of listes dryve. Him shal I yeve Emelya to wyve, To whom that fortune yeveth so fair a grace. The listes shal I maken in this place, And God so wisly on my soiile rewe, As I shal even juge been and trewe. Ye shul non other ende with me maken, That oon of yow ne shal be deed or taken. And if yow thinketh this is wel y-sayd, Seyeth your avys, and holdeth yow apayd.^ This is your ende and your conclu- sioun.' loii Who loketh lightly now but Palamoun ? Who springeth up for joye but Arcite? Who couthe telle, or who couthe it endyte. The joye that is maked in the place Whan Theseus hath doon so fair a grace ? But doun on knees wente every maner wight, And thanked him with al her herte and might, And namely the Thebans ofte sythe.^ And thus with good hope and with herte blythe 1020 They take hir leve, and hom-ward gonne they ryde To Thebes, with his olde walles wyde. Explicit secunda pars. Sequitur pars tercia. I trowe men wolde deme it neoligenoe, If I foryete to tellen the dispence Of Theseus, that goth so bisily To maken up the listes royally; That swich a noble theatre as it was, I dar wel seyn that in this world ther nas. The circuit a myle was aboute, 1029 Walled of stoon, and diched al with-oute. Round was the shap, in maner of compas, Ful of degrees,'' the heighte of sixty pas, That, whan a man was set on degree, He letted '' nat his f elawe for to see. 1 which of the two. > times. 4 Bteps. 3 satisfied. G hindered. Est-ward ther stood a gate of marbel whyt, _ West-ward, right swich another in the op- posit. And shortly to concluden, swich a place Was noon in erthe, as in so litel space; For in the lond ther nas no crafty man, That geometrie or ars-metrik ^ can, 1040 Ne purtreyour, ne kerver of images, That Theseus ne yaf him mete and wages The theatre for to maken and devyse. And for to doon his ryte and saerifyse, He est-ward hath, up-on the gate above, In worship of Vencis, goddesse of love, Don make' an auter and an oratorie; And west-ward, in the minde and in mem- orie Of Mars, he maked hath right swich an- other, That coste largely of gold a fother.' 1050 And north- ward, in a touret' on the wal. Of alabastre whyt and reed coral An oratorie riche for to see. In worship of Dyane of ehastitee. Hath Theseus don wroght in noble wyse. But yet hadde I foryeten 1° to devyse The noble kerving, and the portreitnres. The shap, the countenamice, and the figures. That weren in thise oratories three. First in the temple of Venus maystow see 1060 Wroght on the wal, ful pitous to biholde. The broken slepes, and the sykes colde ; ^i The sacred teres, and the waymeuting;!^ The fyry strokes of the desiring That loves servaunts in this lyf endiiren; The othes, that hir covenants assureu ; Plesaunce and Hope, DesjT, Fool-hardi- nesse, Beautee and Youthe, Bauderie,^^ Richesse, Charmes and Force, Lesinges,i* Flaterye, Dispense, Bisynesse, and .lelousye, 1070 That wered of yelwe goldes ^^ a gerland, And a cokkow sitting on hir hand; Festes, instruments, caroles, daiinces. Lust and Array, and alle the circumstaunces Of love, whiche that I rekne and rekne shal, By ordre weren peynted on the wal, And mo '^ than I can make of mencioun. For soothly, al the mount of Citheioun, Ther Venus hath hir principal dwelling. Was shewed on the wal in portreying, 1080 8 arithmetic. ' caused to be made. 8 load. turret. 10 Subjunctive, " I nearly forgot." 11 cruel sighs. 12 lamentation. is lechery. " lyings. " marigolds. i» more. ii8 GEOFFREY CHAUCER With al the gardin, and the lustinesse. Nat was foryeten the porter Ydelnesse, Ne Narcisus the faire of yore agou, Ne yet the folye of king Salamon, Ne yet the grete strengthe of Hercules — Th'enehauutements of Medea and Circes — Ne of Tiirnus, with the hardy fiers corage, The riche Cresus, caytif in servage. Thus may ye seen that wisdom ne richesse, Beautee ne sleighte, strengthe, ne hardi- nesse, 1090 Ne may with Venus holde ehampartye; '■ For as hir list the world than may she gye. Lo, alle thise folk so caught were iu hir las, Til they for wo ful ofte seyde 'alias! ' Suffyceth heer ensamples oon or two, And though I colide rekne a thousand mo. The statue of Venus, glorious for to see. Was naked Acting iu the large see, And fro the navele doun all covered was With wawes ^ grene, and brighte as any glas. noo A eitole ^ iu hir right hand hadde she. And on hir heed, f iil semely for to see, A rose gerland, fresh and wel smellinge; Above hir heed hir dowves flikeringe. Biforn hir stood hir sons Cnpido, Up-on his shuldres winges hadde he two; And blind he was, as it is ofte sane; A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene. Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al The portreiture, that was up-on the wal mo With-inne the temple of mighty Mars the rede ? Al peynted was the wal, in lengthe and brede, Lyk to the estres * of the grisly place That bighte the grete temple of Mars iu Trace, In thilke eolde frosty regioun, Ther-as Mars hath his sovereyn mansioun. First on the wal was peynted a foreste. In which ther dwelleth neither man ne beste, With knotty knarry ^ bareyn trees olde Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to bi- holde ; 1 120 In which ther ran a rumbel and a swough,^ As thongh a storm sholde bresten' every bough : 1 equality, rivalry. ^ wavefl. ' a Bort of harp. 4 interior. 6 gnarled. ^ souglUDg, murmur. 7 break. And downward from an hille, under a bente,' Ther stood the temple of Mars armipo- tente, Wroght al of burned steel, of which then- tree Was long and streit, and gastly for to see. And tlier-out cam a rage and such a vese,' That it made al the gates for to rese.^" The northreu light iu at the dorea shoon, For windowe on the wal ne was ther noon, 1 130 Thurgh wliich men mighten any light dis- cerne. The dores were alle of adamant eterne, Y-cleuched overthwart and endelong " With iren tough; and, for temake it strong, Every piler, the temple to sustene. Was tonne-greet,^'' of iren bright and shene. Ther saugh I first the derke imagining Of felonye, and al the compassing; The cruel Ire, reed as any glede; ^^ 1139 The pykepurs, and eek the pale Urede; The srayler with the knyf under the cloke; The sliepne^'' brenning with the blake smoke; The treson of the mordring in the bedde; The open werre, with woundes al bibledde; Contek,^* with blody knyf and sharp manace; Al ful of chirking ^^ was that sory place. The sleere of him-self yet saugh I ther, His herte-blood hath bathed al his heer; The nayl y-rlriven in the shode ^' a-night; The colde deeth, with mouth gaping up- right. 1 1 50 Amiddes of the temple sat Meschannoe, With disconfort and sory contenaunce. Yet saugh I Woodnesse '* laughing in his rage; Armed Compleint, Out-hees,i' and fiers Out- rage. The careyne 2" in the bush, with throte y-corve: ^^ A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm ^ y-storve;^^ The tiraunt, with the prey by force y-raft; The toun destroyed, ther was no-thing laft. Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres; ^^ The hunte^' strangled with^ the wilde beres ; The sowe f reten ^ the child right in the cradel; 1161 The cook y-scalded, for al his longe ladel. B grassy slope. ^ gust. 10 shake. 11 crosswise and longwise. iz thick as a barrel. i3 hot coal. 14 bam. 16 Strife. 18 creaking. 17 parting of the hair. 18 Madness. 18 Alarm. 23 dead. " cut. 26 hunter. 22 plague. 23 a, 28 by. 27 devour. parting c 20 carrion. 24 dancing. THE CANTERBURY TALES 119 Noght was foryeten by the infortune of Marte; The carter over-riden with his carte, Under the wheel ful lowe he lay adoun. Ther were also, of Martea divisioun,i The harbour, and the boeher, and the smith That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.^ And al above, depeynted in a tour, 1 169 Saw I Conquest sittinge in greet honour, With the sharpe swerde over his heed Hanginge by a sotil twynes threed. Depeynted was the slaughtre of Julius, Of grete Nero, and of Antonius; Al be that thilke tyme they were unborn, Yet was hir deeth depeynted ther-biforn. By manasinge of Mars, right by figure ; So was it shewed in that portreiture As is depeynted in the sterres above, 1179 Who shal be slayn or elles deed for love. Suffyceth oon ensample in stories olde, I may not rekne hem alle, thogh I wolde. The statue of Mars up-on a carte ^ stood, Armed, and loked grim as he were wood; And over his heed ther shynen two fignres Of sterres, that been cleped ■• in scriptures That oon Puella, that other Rubeus. This god of armes was arrayed thus : — A wolf ther stood biforn him at his feet With eyen rede, and of a man he eet; 1190 With sotil pencel was depeynt this storie, In redoutinge ^ of Mars and of his glorie. Now to the temple of Diane the chaste As shortly as I can I wol me haste, To telle yow al the descripcioun. Depeynted been the walles up and doun Of hunting and of shamfast chastitee. Ther saugh I how woful Calistopee,^ Whan that Diane agreved was with here, Was turned from a womman til a here, 1200 And after was she maad the lode-sterre ; Thus was it peynt, I can say yow no ferre; ' Hir sone is eek a sterre, as men may see. Ther saugh I Dane,* y-turned til a tree, I mene nat the goddesse Diane, But Penneus doughter, which that highte Dane. Ther saugh I Attheon an hert y-maked. For vengeaunce that he sangh Diane al naked ; I saugh how that his houndes have him caught. And freten him, for that they knewe him naught. 1210 1 under the influence of Mars. 2 anvil, s chariot. 4 termed. The reference here is to figures in geomancy. See Skeat's uote. ^ honouring. <> CaUisto. ? further, a Daphne. Yet peynted was a litel forther-moor," How Atthalante hunted the wilde boor, And Meleagre, and many another mo. For which Diane wroghte him care and wo. Ther saugh I many another wonder storie. The whiche me list nat drawen to memorie. This goddesse on an hert ful bye seet, With smale houndes al aboute hir feet; And undernethe hir feet she badde a mone, Wexing it was, and sholde wanie sone. 1220 In gaude^" grene hir statue clothed was. With bowe in honde, and arwes in a cas. Hir eyen caste she ful lowe adoun, Ther Pluto hath his derke regioun. A womman travailinge was hir biforn. But, for hir child so longe was unborn, Ful pitously Lucyna gan she calle. And seyde, ' Help, for thou mayst beat of alle.' Wei couthe he peynten lyfly that it wroghte, With many a florin he the hewes boghte. 1230 Now been thise listes maad, and Theseus, That at his grete cost arrayed thus The temples and the theatre every del, Whan it was doon, him lyked wonder wel.ii But stinte I wol of Theseus a lyte, And speke of Palamon and of Arcite. The day approcheth of hir retourniuge, That everich sholde an hundred knightes bringe, The bataille to darreyne, as I yow tolde; And til Athenes, hir covenant for to holde, Hath everich of hem broght an hundred knightes 1241 Wei armed for the werre at alle rightes. And sikerly, ther trowed many a man That never, sithen that the world bigan. As for to speke of knighthod of hir bond. As fer as God hath maked see or lond, Nas, of so fewe, so noble a eompanye. For every wight that lovede ehivalrye, And wolde, his thankes,i^ han a passant i' name, Hath preyed that he mighte ben of that game; ,250 And wel was him, that ther-to chosen was. For if ther fiUe to-morwe swieh a cas, Ye knowen wel, that every lusty knight. That loveth paramours," and hath his might. Were it in Engelond, or elles-where. They wolde, hir thankes, wilnen to be there, 9 further on. i" dyed with weld. 11 he was wondrous well pleased. 12 of his own free will. 13 surpassing. " as a right lover. 120 GEOFFREY CHAUCER To fighte for a lady — benedicite! It were a lusty sighte for to see. And right so ferden they with Palamon. With him ther wenten knightes many oon ; Som wol ben armed in an habergeoun,^ 1261 In a brest-plat and in a light gipoun ; ^ And somme woln have a peyie plates ^ large ; And somme woln have a Pruee ^ sheld, or a targe ; Somme woln ben armed on hir legges weel, And have an ax, and somme a mace of steel. Ther nis no newe gyse that it nas old. Armed were they, as I have you told, Everich after his opinioun. Ther maistow seen coming with Pala- moun 1270 Ligurge him-self, the grete king of Trace; Blak was his herd, and manly was his face. The ceroles of his eyen in his heed, They gloweden bitwixe yelow and reed: And lyk a griffon loked he aboute. With kempe ^ heres on his browes stoute; His limes grete, his braunes harde and stronge. His shnldres brode, his armes rounde and longe. And as the gyse was in his contree, Ful hye up-on a char ^ of gold stood he, 1280 With foure whyte boles ' in the trays. In-stede of cote-armure over his haruays. With nayles yelwe and brighte as any gold. He hadde a beres skin, col-blak, for-old,' His longe heer was kembd ^ bihinde his bak. As any ravenes f ether it shoon f or-blak : ^^ A wrethe of gold arm-greet, of huge wighte. Upon his heed, set ful of stones brighte. Of fyne rubies and of dyamaunts. Aboute his char ther wenten whyte alaunts,^! 1290 Twenty and mo, as grete as any steer, To hunten at the leoun or the deer, And folwed him, with mosel ^^ faste y-bouude, Colers^^ of gold, and torets^^ fyled rounde. An hundred lordes hadde he in his route Armed ful wel, with hertes sterne and stoute. With Arcita, in stories as men finde, The grete Emetreus, the king of Inde, 1 hauberk, coat of mail. 2 tunic or Burcoat. " for breast and back. * Prussian. 6 shaggy. 8 chariot. ' bulls. 8 very old. ^ combed ; of. MTi-kempt. 10 very black. " woli-bounds. la muzzle. 18 collars. 1* swiTel-riugs. tJp-on a stede bay, trapped in steel. Covered in cloth of golddiapred '^ weel, 1300 Cam ryding lyk the god of armes. Mars. His cote-armure '^ was of cloth of Tars,'' Couched 1* with perles whyte and rounde and grete. His sadel was of brend '' gold newe y-bete ; ^^ A mantelet upon his shuldre hanginge Bret-ful^i of rubies rede, as fyr spark- linge. His erispe ^^ heer lyk ringes was y-ronne, And that was yelow, and glitered as the Sonne. His nose was heigh, his eyen bright eitryn,^^ His lippes rounde, his colour was sangwyn, A fewe fraknes ^^ in his face y-spreynd,^^ 13 n Bet wixen yelo w and somdel blak y-meynd,^ And as a leoun he his loking caste. Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste. His herd was wel bigonne for to springe; His voys was as a trompe thunderinge. Up-on his heed he wered of laurer grene A gerland fresh and lusty for to sene. Up-on his hand he bar, for his deduyt,^ An egle tame, as eny lilie whyt. 1320 An hundred lordes hadde he with him there, Al armed, sauf hir heddes, in al hir gere, Ful richely in alle maner thinges. For trusteth wel, that dukes, erles, kinges, Were gadered in tliis noble companye. For love and for encrees of ehivalrye. Aboute this king ther ran on every part Ful many a tame leoun and lepart. And in this wyse thise lordes, alle and some, Ben on the Sonday to the citee come 1330 Aboute pryme,^' and in the toun alight. This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight. Whan he had broght hem in-to his citee. And iimed ^ hem, everich in his degree. He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour To esen hem, and doon hem al honour. That yet men weneth that no mannes wit Of noon estat ne coude amendeu it. The minstraleye, the service at the feste. The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, 1340 The riche array of Theseus paleys, Ne who sat first ne last up-on the deys,^" 16 diapered, patterned. ib over-tunic bearing the coat^of-arms. i' oriental silk, is adorned, w bur- nished. 20 embossed, wrought. 21 brim-full, thick set. " curly. » green-yellow. !< freckles. 2' scattered. 2« mingled. " disport. " the early part of the morumg. 2b lodged. so dais. THE CANTERBURY TALES What ladies fairest been or best daunsinge, Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, Ne who most felingly speketh of love: What haukes sitten on the perche above, What houndes liggen on the floor adoun: Of al this make I now no mencioun; But al th' effect,' that thinketh me the beste ; Now comth the pojnt, and herkneth if yow leste. 1350 The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe. When Palamon the larke herde singe, Although it nere nat day by houres two, Yet song the larke, and Pulamon also. With holy herte, and with an heigh corage He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage Un-to the blisful Citherea benigne, I mene Venus, honurable and digne.^ And in hir houre " he walketh forth a pas Un-to the listes, ther hir temple was, 1360 And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere And herte soor, he seyde as ye shul here. ' Faireste of faire, o lady myn, Venus, Doughter to Jove and spouse of Vuloanus, Thou glader of the mount of Citheroun, For thilke love thou haddest to Adoun,* Have pitee of my bittre teres smerte. And tak myn humble preyer at thyn herte. Alias ! I ne have no langage to telle Th'effectes ne the torments of myn helle ; 1370 Myn herte may myne harmes nat biwreye; ^ I am so confus, that I can noght seye. But mercy, lady bright, that knowest weel My thought, and seest what harmes that I feel, Considere al this, and rewe up-on my sore. As wisly ^ as I shal for evermore, Emforth ' my might, thy trewe servant be, And holden vverre alwey with chastitee; That make I myn avow, so ye me helpe. I kepe noght of armes for to yelpe,^ 1380 Ne I ne axe nat to-morwe to have victorie, Ne renoun in this cas, ne veyne glorie Of pris ^ of armes blowen up and doun, But I wolde have fully possessionn Of Emelye, and dye in thy servyse; Find thou the maner how, and in what wyse. I recche nat, but it may bettre be. To have victorie of hem, or they of me. So that I have my lady in myne armes. 1389 For though so be that Mars is god of armes, 1 to the main matter. 2 worthy. > Each planet had its potent hour in the day. * Adonis. " reveal. ^ certainly. I According to. s care not to boast. > fame. Your vertu is so greet in hevene above, That, if yow list, I shal wel have my love. Thy temple wol I worshipe evermo. And on thyn auter, wlier I ryde or go,^" I wol don sacrifice, and fyres bete.^'^ And if ye wol nat so, my lady swete. Than preye I thee, to-morwe with a spere That Arcita me thurgh the herte here. Thanne rekke I noght, whan I have lost my lyf, 1399 Though that Arcita winne hir to his wyf. This is th'effect and ende of my preyere, Yif me my love, thou blisful lady dere.' Whan th'orisoun was doon of Palamon, His sacrifice he dide, and that anon Ful pitously, with alle circumstauhces, Al telle I noght as now his observaunces. But atte laste the statue of Venus shook. And made a signe, wher-by that he took That his preyere accepted was that day. For thogh the signe shewed a delay, 1410 Yet wiste he wel that graunted was his bone; And with glad herte he wente him hoom ful sone. The thridde honre inequal that Palamon Bigan to Venus temple for to goon, Up roos the Sonne, and up roos Emelye, And to the temple of Diane gan hye. Hir maydens, that she thider with hir ladde, Ful redily with hem the fyr they hadde, Th'encens, the clothes, and the remenant al That to the sacrif yce longen '^ shal ; 1420 The homes f uUe of meth,'^ as was the gy se ; Ther lakked noght to doon hir sacrifyse. Smoking the temple, ful of clothes faire. This Emelye, with herte debonaire, Hir body wessh vrith water of a welle; But how she dide hir ryte I dar nat telle, But it be any thing in general ; And yet it were a game to heren al ; To him that meneth wel, it were no charge : " But it is good a man ben at his large.'^ 1430 Hir brighte heer was kempt, untressed al; A coronne of a grene ook cerial '^ Up-on hir heed was set ful fair and mete. Two fyres on the auter gan she bete. And dide hir thinges, as men may biholde In Stace of Thebes," and thise bokes olde. Whan kindled was the fyr, with pitous chere Un-to Diane she spak, as ye may here. m whether I ride or walk. n kindle. J2 belong. 13 mead. " no affliction. i5 be free (to tell or not). i« a kind of oak. " i.e. in the Thebaiad of Statins. 122 GEOFFREY CHAUCER ' O chaste goddesse of the wodes grene, To whom bothe heven and erthe and see is sene,i 1440 Quene of the regne of Pinto derk and lowe, Goddesse of maydens, that myn herte hast knowe Ful many a yeer, and woost what I desire, As keep me fro thy vengeaunce and thyn ire, That Attheon aboughte ^ cruelly. Chaste goddesse, wel wostow that I Desire to been a mayden al my lyf, Ne never wol I be no love ne wyf . I am, thou woost, yet of thy companye, 1449 A mayde, and love hunting and venerye, And for to walken in the wodes wilde. And noght to been a wyf, and be with childe. Noght wol I knowe companye of man. Now help me, lady, sith ye may and can. For tho thre formes ' that thou hast in thee. And Palamon, that hath swich love to me, And eek Arcite, that loveth me so sore. This grace I preye thee with-oute more, As sende love and pees bitwise hem two; And fro me turne awey hir hertes so, 1460 That al hir bote love, and hir desyr, And al hir bisy torment, and hir fyr Be queynt,^ or turned in another place; And if so be thou wolt not do me grace, Or if my destinee be shapen so, That I shal nedes have oon of hem two, As sende me him that most desireth me. Bihold, goddesse of clene chastitee, The bittre teres that on my chekes falle. Sinthouaremayde,andkeperof us alle, 1470 My maydenhede thou kepe and wel con- serve. And whyl I live a mayde, I wol thee serve.' The fyres brenne up-on the anter clere, Whyl Emelye was thus in hir preyere; But sodeinly she saugh a sighte queynte. For right anon oon of the fyres queynte,^ And quiked agayn, and after that anon That other fyr was queynt, and al agon; And as it queynte, it made a whistelinge. As doon thise wete brondes in hir bren- ninge, 1480 And at the brondes eude out-ran anoon As it were blody dropes many oon ; For which so sore agast was Emelye, That she was wel ny mad, and gan to orye, 1 visible. 2 paid for, Buffered for. 8 Diana, Luna, and Proserpina. Cf. 1. 1440. * quenohed (p.p.). * quenched (past tense). For she ne wiste what it signifyed; But only for the fere thus hath she cryed, And weep, that it was pitee for to here. And ther-with-al Diane gan appere. With bowe in hond, right as an hunteresse, And seyde: 'Doghter, stint thyn hevi- nesse. 1490 Among the goddes hye it is affermed. And by eterne word write and confermed, Thou shalt ben wedded un-to oon of tho That ban for thee so muohel care and wo; But un-to which of hem I may nat telle. Farwel, for I ne may no lenger dwelle, The fyres which that on myn auter brenne Shul thee declaren, er that thou go henne,^ Thyn aventure of love, as in this cas.' And with that word, the arwes in the cas 1500 Of the goddesse clateren faste and ringe, And forth she wente, and made a vanissh- inge; For which this Emelye astoned was, And seyde, ' What amounteth this, alias ! I putte me in thy proteccioun, Diane, and in thy disposicioun.' And boom she gooth anon the nexte weye. This is th'effect, ther is namore to seye. The nexte houre of Mars folwinge this, Arcite un-to the temple walked is 1510 Of flerse Mars, to doon his sacrifyse. With alle the rytes of his payen wyse. With pitous herte and heigh devociouu. Right thus to Mars he seyde his orisoun: ' O stronge god, that in the regnes colde Of Trace honoured art, and lord y-holde, And hast in every regne and every lond Of armes al the brydel in thyn hond. And hem fortunest as thee list devyse, Accept of me my pitous sacrifyse. 1520 If so be that my youthe may deserve, And that my might be worthy for to serve Thy godhede,that I may been oon of thyne, Than preye I thee to rewe up-on my pyne. For thilke peyne, and thilke bote fyr, In which thou whylom brendest for desyr, Whan that thou nsedest the grete beautee Of fayre yonge fresshe Venus free. And haddest hir in armes at thy wille, Al-though thee ones on a tyme misfiUe ' 1530 Whan Vulcanus had caught thee in his las,' And fond thee ligging' by his wyf, alias! For thilke sorwe that was in thyn herte, Have routhe as wel up-on my peynes smerte. " hence. ' lace, net. ' you once had bad luck. » lying. THE CANTERBURY TALES 123 I am yong and unkouning,! as thou wost, And, as I trowe, with love offended most, That ever was any lyves ^ creature; For she, that dooth * me al this wo endure, Ne reccheth never wher I sinke or flete * And wel I woot, er she me mercy hete,' 1540 I moot 15 with strengths winne hir in the place; And wel I woot, withouten help or grace Of thee, ne may my strengths noght availle. Than help me, lord, to-morwe in my bataille, For thilke fyr that whylom brente thee, As wel as thilke fyr now brenneth me; And do that I to-morwe have viotorie. Myn be the travaille, and thyn be the glorie ! Thy soverein temple wol I most honouren Of any place, and alwey most labouren 1550 In thy plesaunce and in thy craf tes stronge. And in thy temple 1 wol my baner honge. And alle the amies of my companye; And evere-mo, un-to that day I dye, Eterne fyr I wol biforii thee finde. And eek to this avow I wol me binde: My berd, myn heer that hongeth long adoun. That never yet ne felte offensioun Of rasour nor of shere, I wol thee yive. And been thy trewe servant whyl I live. Now lord, have routhe up-on my sorwes sore, 1561 Yif me victorie, I aske thee namore.' The preyere stinte of Arcita the stronge. The ringes on the temple-dore that honge, And eek the dores, clatereden f ul faste. Of which Arcita som-what him agaste. The fyres brende up-on the auter brighte, That it gan al the temple for to lighte; And swete smel the ground anon up-yaf. And Arcita anon his hand up-haf,' 1570 And more encens in-to the fyr he caste, With othere rytes mo ; and atte laste The statue of Mars bigan his hauberk ringe. And with that soun he herde a murmnr- inge Ful lowe and dim, that sayde thus, ' Vic- torie ' : For which he yaf to Mars honour and glorie. And thus with joye, and hope wel to fare, Arcite anon uu-to his inue is fare. ' unknowing. > promise. * live. > must. ' causes. < float. 7 up-heaved. As fayn as fowel is of the brighte Sonne. And right anon swioh stryf ther is bi- gonne 1580 For thilke graunting, in the hevene above, Bitwixe Venus, the goddesse of love. And Mars, the sterne god armipotente, That Jupiter was bisy it to stente; Til that the pale Saturnus the colde. That knew so manye of aventures olde, Fond in his olde experience an art, That he ful sone hath plesed every part. As sooth is sayd, elde* hath greet avantage; In elde is bothe wisdom and usage; 1590 Men may the olde at-renne, and noght at- rede." Saturne anon, to stinten stryf and drede, Al be it that it is agayn his kynde. Of al this stryf be gan remedie fyude. ' My dere doghter Venus,' quod Saturne, ' My cours, that hath so wyde for to turne,!" Hath more power than wot any man. Myn is the drenching ^^ in the see so wan; Myn is the prison in the derke cote;^ Myn is the strangling and hanging by the throte ; 1600 The murmure, and the cherles rebelling, The groyning,!' and the pryvee empoyson- ing: I do vengeance and pleyn correccionn Whyl I dwelle in the signe of the Leoun. Myn is the mine of the hye halles. The falling of the toures and of the walles Up-on the mynour or the carpenter. I slow Sampsonn in shaking the piler; And myne be the maladyes colde," The derke tresons, and the castes'^ olde; My loking is the fader of pestilence. 16 h Now weep namore, I shal doon diligence That Palamon, that is thyn owne knight, Shal have his lady, as thou hast him hight.^' Though Mars shal helpe his knight, yet nathelees Bitwixe yow ther moot be som tyme pees, Al be ye noght of o complexioun," That oauseth al day swich divisioun. I am thin ayel,i' redy at thy wille ; Weep thou namore, I wol thy lust ful- fille.' ,620 Now wol I stinten of the goddes above. Of Mars, and of Venus, goddesse of love, And telle yow, as pleynly as I can, The grete effect, for which that I bigan. 8 old age. " out-run but not ont-wit. 10 has a large orbit, 11 drowning, is out-building. 13 grumbling. '• sinister. " tricks. " promised. " disposition. IS grandfather. 124 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Explicit tercia pars. Sequitur pars quart a. Greet was the feste in Athenes that day, And eek the lusty seson of that May Made every wight to been in swioh ple- saunce, That al that Monday justen they and dauuce, And spenden it in Venus heigh servyse. But by the cause that they sholde ryse 1630 Erly, for to seen the grete fight, Unto hir reste wente they at night. And on the morwe, whan that day gan springe. Of hors and barneys, noyse and clateringe Tlier was in hostelryes al aboute; And to the paleys rood ther many a route Of lordes, up-on stedes and palfreys. Ther maystow seen devysing of herneys So uncouth 1 and so riche, and wroght so weel 1639 Of goldsmithrie, of browding,'' and of steel; The sheeldes brighte, testers,' and trap- pures; ^ Gold-hewen helmes, hauberks, cote-ar- mures ; Lordes in paraments " on hir courseres, Knightes of retenue, and eek squyeres Nailinge ^ the speres, and helmes bokelinge, Gigginge ' of sheeldes, with layneres * lac- inge; Ther as need is, they weren no-thing ydel; The fomy stedes on the golden brydel Gnawinge, and faste the armurers also With fyle and hamer prikinge ' to and fro; 1650 Yemen ^^ on fote, and communes many oon With shorte staves, thikke as they may goon; Pypes, trompes, nakers,ii clarionnes. That in the bataiUe blowen blody sounes; The paleys ful of peples up and do\in, Heer three, ther ten, holding hir questioim, Divyninge of thise Theban knightes two. Somme seyden thus, somme seyde it shal be so; Somme helden with him with the blake herd, Somme with the balled,^^ somme with the thikke-berd; ^^ 1660 1 strange, rare. 2 embroidery. » head-pieces for man or steed. * trappings. ^ rich robes. 8 fitting thelieads? ? fitting tlieguiges or straps witiiin. 8 lan- yards, thongs. " spurring, hurrying. lo Teoman. " kettle-drums. " bald. " thick-hairsd. Somme sayde, he loked grim and he wolde fighte ; He hath a sparth'^ of twenty pound of wighte. Thus was the halle ful of divyninge, Longe after that the sonne gan to springe. The grete Theseus, that of his sleep awaked . With minstralcye and noyse that was maked. Held yet the chambre of his paleys riche, Til that the Thehane knightes, bothe y- liche " Honoured, were into the paleys fet.^^ Duk Theseus was at a window set, 1670 Arrayed right as he were a god in trone. The peple preesseth thider-ward ful sone Him for to seen, and doon heigh reverence, And eek to herkne his hest and his sen- tence. An heraud on a scaffold made an ho," Til al the noyse of peple was y-do; And whau he saugh the peple of noyse al stille, Tho showed he the mighty dukes wille. ' The lord hath of his heigh disorecioun Considered, that it were destruccionn 1680 To gentil blood, to flghten in the gyse Of mortal bataille now in this empryse; Wherfore, to shapen that they shul not dye. He wol his flrste purpos modifye. No man therfor, up ^* peyne of los of lyf. No maner shot,^^ ne pollax,™ ne short knyf Into the listes sende, or thider bringe; Ne short swerd for to stoke,^i with poynt bytinge. No man ne drawe, ne here it by his syde. Ne no man shal un-to his felawe rvde 1690 But o cours, with a sharp y-grounde spere; Foyne,'''^ if him list, on fote, him-self to were.^' And he that is at meschief, shal be take. And noght slayii, but be broght un-to the stake That shal ben ordeyned on either syde; But thider he shal by force, and therabyde. And it so falle, the chieftayn be take On either syde, or elles slee his make,''^ No lenger shal the turneyinge laste. God spede yow; goth forth, and ley on faste. 1700 " battle-axe. ie alike. is fetched. *' cry, 18 upon. 1" shooting weapon, such as a crossbow. 20 pole-axe. 21 gtab. 22 fence, ward. 23 defend. 2* fellow, i.e. rival. THE CANTERBURY TALES 125 With long swerd and with maces fight your fille. Goth now your wey ; this is the lordes wille.' The Toys of peple touchede the hevene, So loude cry den they with mery stevene: ' God save swich a lord, that is so good, He wilneth no destruecioim of blood! ' Up goon the trompes and the melodye. And to the listes rit^ the company e By ordinaunce, thurgh-out the eitee large, Hanged with cloth of gold, and nat with sarge.2 1710 Ful lyk a lord this noble duk gan ryde, Thise two Thebanes up-on either syde; And after rood the quene, and Emelye, And after that another eompanye Of oon and other, after hir degree. And thus they passeu thurgh-out the citee, And to the listes come they by tyme. It nas not of the day yet fully pryme,' Whan set was Theseus ful riche and hye, Ipolita the quene and Emelye, 1720 And other ladies in degrees ^ aboiite. Un-to the seetes preesseth al the route. And west- ward, thurgh the gates under Marte, Arcite, and eek the hundred of his parte, With baner reed is entred right anon; And in that selve^ moment Palamon Is under Venus, est-ward in the place. With baner whyt, and hardy chere and face. In al the world, to seken up and doun, So even with-outen variacioun, 1730 Ther nere swiohe companyes tweye. For ther nas noon so wys that coude seye. That any hadde of other avauntage Of worthinesse, ne of estaat, ne age. So even were they chosen, for to gesse. And in two renges ^ f aire they hem drease. Whan that hir names rad were everiohoon. That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, Tho were the gates sliet, and cryed was loude : ' Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude!' 1740 The heraudes lefte hir priking up and doun; Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun; Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est In goon the speres ful sadly in arest;^ In goth the sharpe spore in-to the syde. Ther seen men who can juste, and who can ryde; 1 rideth. 2 coarse cloth. ' mid-mom. * tiers. 6 very. ^ ranks. ' The spears were lowered firmly into the rest. Thershiveren shaftes up-on sheeldes thikke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spoon' the prikke. 1748 Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte. The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blood, with sterne stremes rede. With mighty maces the bones they to- breste.' He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste,!" Ther stomblen stedes stronge, and doun goth al. He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal. He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun,ii And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun. He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen y-take, MaugTee his heed, and broght un-to the stake; 1760 As forward 1^ was, right ther he moste abyde ; Another lad is on that other syde. And som tyme dooth hem Theseus to reste, Hem to ref resshe, and drinken if hem leste. Ful ofte a-day han thise Thebanes two Togidre y-met, and wroght his felawe wo; Unhorsed hath ech other of hem tweye. Ther nas no tygre in the vale of Galgo- pheye, Whan that hir whelp is stole, whan it is lyte,i8 So cruel on the hunte, " as is Areite 1770 For jelous herte upon this Palamoun: Ne in Belmarye ther nis so fel leoun. That hunted is, or for his hunger wood, Ne of his praye desireth so the blood, As Palamon to sleen his fo Arcite. The jelous strokes on hir helmes byte; Out renneth blood on both hir sydes rede. Som tyme an ende ther is of every dede; For er the sonne un-to the reste wente, 1779 The stronge king Emetreus gan hente^^ This Palamon, as he faught with Arcite, And made his swerd depe in his flesh to byte; And by the force of twenty is he take Unyolden,i8 and y-drawe unto the stake. And in the rescous " of this Palamoun The stronge king Ligurge is born adoun ; And king Emetreus, for al his strengthe. Is born out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe, 3 breast, brisket. " smash. 10 thrust. 11 defends himself with his broken lance-butt. 12 agreement. 13 little. 14 hunter. IB sieze. is unyielding. i? rescue. 126 GEOFFREY CHAUCER So hitte him Palamon er he were take ; But al for noght, he was broght to the stake. 1790 His hardy herte mighte him helpe naught; He moste abyde, whan that he was caught, By force, and eek by composicioun.i Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, That moot namore goon agayn to fighte ? And whan that Theseus had seyn this sights, Un-to the folk that foghten thus echoou He eryde, ' Ho ! namore, for it is doon ! I wol be trewe juge, and no partye. Aroite of Thebes shal have Emelye, 1800 That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.' Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne For joye of this, so loude and heigh with- alle. It semed that the listes sholde falle. What can now faire Venus doon above ? What seith she now ? whatdooth this queue of love ? But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, Til that hir teres in the listes fille; She seyde: 'lam ashamed, dontelees.' 1809 Saturnus seyde : ' Doghter, hold thy pees. Mars hath his wUle, his knight hath al his bone,2 And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.' The trompes, with the loude minstraloye, The heraudes, that f ul loude y oUe * and crye, Been in hir wele,* for joye of dauu * Arcite. But herkneth me, and stiiiteth now a lyte. Which a miracle ther bifel anon. This fierse Arcite hath of his helm y-don. And on a courser, for to shewe his face, He priketh eudelong the large place, 1820 Loking upward up-on this Emelye; And she agayn him caste a freeudlich ye, (For wommen, as to speken in comune, They folwen al the favour of fortune) ; ^ And was al liis in chiere, as in his herte. Out of the ground a furie infernal sterte, From Pluto sent, at requeste of Saturne, For which his hors for fere gan to tume. And leep asyde, and foundred as he leep; And, er that Arcite may taken keep, 1830 He pighte ' him on the pomel ' of his heed, That in the place he lay as he were deed, His brest to-brosten ^ with his sadel-bowe. As blak he lay as any cole or orowe, So was the blood y-ronnen in his face. Anon he was y-born out of the place 1 agreement. 2 boon. ' yell. < weal, happiness, c sir. 9 Several good MSS. omit these two lines. ' pitched. ' top. » bidkea. With herte soor, to Theseus paleys. Tho was he corven i" out of his barneys, And in a bed y-brought f ul faire and blyve,il For he was yet in memorie '^ and alyve, 1840 And alway crying after Emelye. Duk Theseus, with al his companye, Is comen boom to Athenes his citee, With alle blisse and greet solempnitee. Al be it that this aventure was falle, He nolde ^^ noght disconforten hem alle. Men seyde eek, that Arcite shal nat dye; He shal ben heled of his maladye. And of another thing they were as fayn, That of hem alle was ther noon y-slayn, 1850 Al were they sore y-hurt, and namely oon. That with a spere was thirled his brest- boon." To othere woundes, and to broken armes. Some hadden salves, and some hadden charmes ; Fermacies '^ of herbes, and eek save '' They dronken, for they wolde hir limes have. For which this noble duk, as he wel can, Conforteth and honoureth every man, And made revel al the longe night, Un-to the straunge lordes, as was right, i860 Ne ther was holden no disconfitinge, But as a justes or a tourneyinge; For soothly ther was no disconfiture, For falling nis nat but an aventure; Ne to be lad with fors un-to the stake Unyolden, and with twenty knightes take, O persone allone, with-outen mo. And haried forth by arme, foot, and to. And eek his stede driven forth with staves, With footmen, bothe yemeu and eek knaves, 1870 It nas aretted " him no vileinye, Ther may no man elepen it cowardye. For which anon duk Theseus leet crye, To stinten alle rancour and envye, The gree ^' as wel of o syde as of other. And either syde y-lyk, as otheres brother; And yaf hem yiftes after hir degree. And fully heeld a f este dayes three ; And conveyed the kinges worthily Out of his toun a journee^" largely. 1880 And hoom weute every man the righte way. Ther was namore, but ' far wel, have good day!' 10 cut. II quickly. 12 conscious. i3 would not. " Whose breast was pierced. is Prescriptions. " salvia, sage. i? imputed. 18 standing, superiority, w day's march.. THE CANTERBURY TALES 127 Of this bataille I wol namore endyte, But speke of Palamon and of Aroite. Swelleth the brest of Areite, and the sore Encreesseth at his herte more and more. The clothered blood, for any lechecraft,! Corrupteth, and is in his bouk ^ y-laft, That neither veyne-blood,^ ne ventusinge,^ Ne drinke of herbea may ben his helpinge. The vertu expulsif, or animal, 1891 Kro thilke vertu oleped natural ' Ne may the venim voyden, ne expelle. The pypes of his longes gonne to swelle, And every lacerte ' in his brest adoun Is shent ' with venim and corrupcioun. Him gayneth ^ neither, for to gete his lyf, Vomyt upward, ne dounward laxatif ; Al is to-brosten * thilke regioun, Nature hath nov? no dominacioun. zgoo And certeinly, ther nature wol nat wirohe, Far-wel, plusyk ! go her the man to ehirehe ! This al and som, that Arcita mot dye, For which he sendeth after Emelye, And Palamon, that was his cosin dere; Than seyde he thus, as ye shul after here. ' Naught may the woful spirit in myu herte Declare o poynt of alle my sorwes smerte To yow, my lady, that I love most; But I biquethe the service of my gost 1910 To yow aboven every creature. Sin that my lyf may no lenger dure. Alias, the wo ! alias, the peynes stronge, That I for yow have suffred, and so longe! Alias, the deeth ! alias, myn Emelye! Alias, departing of our companye ! Alias, myn hertes queue ! alias, my wyf ! Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf ! What is this world ? what asketh men to have ? Now with his love, now in his eolde grave 1920 Allone, with-outen any companye. Far-wel, my swete fo ! myn Emelye ! And softe tak me in your armes tweye, For love of God, and herkneth what I seye. I have beer with my cosin Palamon Had stryf and rancour, many a day a-gon, For love of yow, and for my jelousye. Aud Jupiter so wis my soule gyej^" 1 dotted blood, in apite of all the art of physicians. 2 body, trunk. 3 blood-letting. ^ cupping. B Besides the animal and the natural virtues, there was a third, the vital, which is mentioned in 1. 1944. 8 muscle. ' ruined. 8 it avails him. fl completely crushed, u As surely aa I wish Jupiter to guide my soul. To speken of a servant i^ proprely, With alle circumstaunces trewely, 1930 That is to seyn, trouthe, honour, and kuighthede. Wisdom, humblesse, estaat, and heigh kinrede, Fredom, and al that longeth to that art, So Jupiter have of my soule part, As in this world right now ne knowe I non So worthy to ben loved as Palamon, That serveth yow, and wol don al his lyf. And if that ever ye shul been a wyf, Foryet nat Palamon, the gentil man.' And with that word his speche faille gan, 1940 For from his feet up to his brest was come The cold of deeth, that hadde him over- come. And yet more-over, in his armes two The vital strengthe is lost, and al ago. Only the intellect, with-outen more, That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth. Dusked his eyen two, and f allied hreeth. But on his lady yet caste he his ye; His laste word was, ' Mercy, Emelye! ' 1950 His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, As I cam never, I can nat telleu wher. Therfor I stinte, I nam no divinistre; '^ Of soules finde I nat in this registre, Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. Areite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye; ^^ Now wol I speken forth of Emelye. Shrighte" Emelye, and howleth Pala- mon, And Theseus his suster took anon i960 Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. What helpeth it to tarieu forth the day, To tellen how she weep, bothe eve and morwe ? For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, Whan that hir housbonds been from hem ago. That for the more part they sorwen so, Or elles fallen in swich maladye. That at the laste certeinly they dye. Infinite been the sorwes and the teres Of olde folk, and folk of tendre yeres, 1970 In al the toun, for deeth of this Thehan; For him ther wepeth bothe child and man; So greet a weping was ther noon, certayn, Whan Ector was y-broght, al fresh y-slayn, 11 lover. 12 diviner. is guide. 1* Shrieked. 128 GEOFFREY CHAUCER To Troye ; alias ! the pitee that was ther, Craoching i of chekes, rending eek of beer. ' Why woldestow be deed,' thise wommen orye, ' And haddest gold y-nough, and Emelye? ' No man mighte gladen Theseus, Savings his olde fader Egeus, 1980 That knew this worldes transinutaeioun. As he had seyn it chaungen up and douu, Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse: And shewed hem ensamples and lyknesse. ' Eight as ther deyed never man,' quod he, 'That he ne livede in erthe in som degree, Kight so ther livede never man,' he seyde, ' In al this world, that som tyme he ne deyde. This world nis but a thurghtare ful of wo. And we ben pilgrimes, passings to and fro; iggo Deeth is an ende of every worldly sore.' And over al this yet seyde he muchel more To this effect, ful wysly to enhorte The peple, that they sholde hem recon- forte. Duk Theseus, with al his bisy cure, Caste now wher that the sepulture ^ Of good Arcite may best y-maked be, And eek most honurable in his degree. And at the laste he took eonclusioun, 1999 Tliat ther as first Arcite and Palamoun Hadden for love the bataille hem bitwene. That in that selve grove, swote and grene, Ther as he hadde his amorous desires. His compleynt, and for love his hote fires. He wolde make a fyr, in which th'office Funeral he mighte al aceompliee; And leet comaunde anon to hakke and hewe The okes olde, and leye hem on a rewe In colpons^ wel arrayed for to brenne; His officers with swifte feet they renue And ryde anon at his comaundement. 201 1 And after this, Theseus hath y-sent After a here,'' and it al over-spradde With cloth of gold, the richest that he hadde. And of the same suyte ^ he cladde Arcite ; Upon his hondes hadde he gloves whyte; Eek on his heed a croune of laurer grene, And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene. 1 Scratching. 3 The burial rites which follow are taken largely from the Thebaiad of Statius. 3 piles. ^ bier. ^ suit. He leyde him, bare the visage, on the here, Therwith he weep that pitee was to here. And for the peple sholde seen him alle, 2021 Whan it was day, he broghte him to the halle. That roreth of the crying and the soun. Tho cam this woful Theban Palamoun, With flotery ^ herd, and ruggy ' asshy heres, In clothes blake, y-dropped al with teres; And, passing othere of weping, Emelye, The rewf uUeste of al the companye. In as muche as the service sholde be 2029 The more noble and riche in his degree, Duk Theseus leet forth three stedes bringe. That trapped were in steel al gliteringe. And covered with the armes of daun Arcite. Up-on thise stedes, that weren grete and whyte, Ther seten folk, of which oon bar his sheeld, Another his spere up in his hondes heeld; The thridde bar with him his bows Tur- keys, Of brend gold was the cas, and eek the barneys ; And rid en forth a pas with sorweful chere Toward the grove, as ye shul after here. 2040 The nohleste of the Grekes that ther were Upon hir shuldres carieden the here. With slakke pas, and eyen rede and wete, Thurgh-out the citee, by the maister-strete. That sprad was al with blak, and wonder hye Eight of the same is al the strete y-wrye.' Up-on the right hond \vente old Egeus, And on that other syde duk Theseus, With vessels in hir hand of gold ful fyn, Al ful of hony, mUk, and blood, and wyn; 2050 Eek Palamon, with ful greet companye; And after that cam woful Emelye, With fyr in honde, as was that tyme the gyse, To do th'office of funeral servyse. Heigh labour, and ful greet apparaillinge Was at the service and the fyr-makinge. That with his grene top the heven raughte,' And twenty fadme of brede '" the armes stranghte ; ^l This is to seyn, the bowes were so brode. Of stree^^^ first ther was leyd ful many a lode. 2060 But how the fyr was maked up on highte, And eek the names how the trees highte, < flowing. 7 rough. a decked. " reached, m in breadth. " stretched. " straw. THE CANTERBURY TALES 129 As 00k, flrre, birch, asp, alder, holm, popler, Wilow, elm, plane, ash, box, chasteyn,i lind, laurer, Mapul, thorn, beech, hasel, ew, whippel- ^ tree, How they weren feld, shal nat be told for me; Ne how the goddes ronnen up and doun. Disherited of hir habitacioun, In which they woneden in reste and pees, Nymphes, Faunes, and Amadrides ; ' 2070 Ne how the bestes and the briddes alle Fledden for fere, whan the wode was f alle ; Ne how the ground agast was of the light. That was nat wont to seen the Sonne bright; Ne how the fyr was couched ^ first with stree, And than with drye stokkes cloven a three. And than with grene wode and spyeerye, And than with cloth of gold and with perry e,^ And gerlandes hanging with ful many a flour, The mirre, th'encens, with al so greet odour; 2080 Ne how Arcite lay among al this, Ne what richesse aboute his body is; Ne how that Emelye, as was the gyse, Putte in the fyr of funeral servyse ; Ne how she swowned whan men made the fyr, Ne what she spak, ne what was hir desyr; Ne what jeweles men in the fyr tho caste, Whan that the fyr was greet and brente f aste ; Ne how som caste hir" sheeld, and som hir spere. And of hir vestiments, whiche that they were, 2090 And cuppes ful of wyn, and milk, and blood. Into the fyr, that brente as it were wood; Ne how the Grekes with an huge route Thryes riden al the fyr aboute Up-on the left hand, with a loud shoutinge, And thryes with hir speres clateringe; And thryes how the ladies gonne crye; Ne how that lad was hom-ward Emelye; Ne how Arcite is brent to asshen colde; Ne how that liche-wake was y-holde 2100 Al thilke night, ne how the Grekes pleye The wake-pleyes, ne kepe I nat to sey e ; 1 chestnut. • laid. 8 cornel. 8 jewelry. s Hamadryads. B their. Who wrastleth best naked, with oille enoynt, Ne who that bar him best, in no disjoynt.' I wol nat tellen eek how that they goon Hoom til Athenes, whan the pley is doon; But shortly to the poynt than wol I wende. And maken of my longe tale an ende. By processe and by lengthe of certeyn yeres Al stinted is the moorning and the teres. 2110 Of Grekes, by oon general assent, Than aemed me ther was a parlement At Athenes, up-on certeyn poyiits and cas; Among the whiche poynts y-spoken was To have with certeyn contrees alliaunce. And have fully of Thebans obeisaunce. For which this noble Theseus anon Leet senden after gentil Palamou, Unwist of him * what was the cause and why; But in his blake clothes sorwefully 2120 He cam at his comaundemente in hye.' Tho sente Theseus for Emelye. Whan thej' were set, and bust i" was al the place. And Theseus abiden hadde a space Er any word cam from his wyse brest, His eyen sette he ther as was his lest,^i And with a sad visage he syked ^^ stille. And after that right thus he seyde his wille. ' The firste moevere of the cause above,^' Whan he first made the faire cheyne of love, 2130 Greet was th'effect, and heigh was his en- tente ; Wei wiste he why, and what ther-of he mente ; For with that faire cheyne of love he bond The fyr, the eyr, the water, and the lond In certeyn boimdes, that they may nat flee; That same prince and that moevere,' quod he, 'Hath stablissed, in this wrecched world adoun, Certeyne dayes and duracioun To al that is engendred in this place, 2139 Over the whiche day they may nat pace, Al mowe they yet tho dayes wel abregge ; Ther needeth non auctoritee allegge, For it is proved by experience. But that me list declaren my sentence. Than may men by this ordre wel discerne, That thilke moevere stable is and eterne. ' failure. 8 He heing ignorant. " haste. 10 hushed. " pleasure. 12 sighed. ^ The passage is from various parts of the JDe Conso- latione FhUosophiae of Boethius. I30 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Wei may men knowe, but it be a fool, That every part deryveth from his hool. For nature hath nat take his beginning Of no party ne eantel ^ of a thing, 2150 But of a thing that parfit is and stable, Descending so, til it be corrumpable. And therfore, of his wyse purveyaunce, He hath so wel biset his ordinauiioe. That speees of thinges and progressiouns Shullen enduren by successiouns, And nat eterne be, with-oute lye: This maistow understonde and seen at ye. ' Lo the ook, that hath ao long a noris- shinge 2159 From tyme that it first biginneth springe, And hath so long a lyf, as we may see, Yet at the laste wasted is the tree. ' Considereth eek, how that the harde stoon Under our feet, on which we trede and goon, Yit wasteth it, as it lyth by the weye. The brode river somtyme wexeth dreye. The grete tounes see we wane and wende. Than may ye see that al this thing hath ende. ' Of man and womman seen we wel also, That nedeth, in oon of thise termes two, This is to seyn, in youthe or elles age, 2171 He moot ben deed, the king as shal a page; Som in his bed, som in the depe see, Som in the large feeld, as men may se; Ther helpeth noght, al goth that ilke weye. Thanne may I seyn that al this thing moot deye. What maketh this but Jupiter the king ? The which is prince and cause of alle thing, Converting al un-to his propre welle, From which it is deryved, sooth to telle. And here-agayns no creature on lyve 2181 Of no degree availleth for to stryve. ' Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken vertu of necessitee. And take it wel, that we may nat eschue, And namely that to us alle is due. And who-so grucoheth^ ought, he dooth folye. And rebel is to him that al may gye. And certeinly a man hath most honour To dyen in his excellence and flour, 2190 Whan he is siker of his gode name; Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. L fragmeot. And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth, Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth. Than whan his name apalled^ is for age; For al forgeten is his vasselage.* Than is it best, as for a worthy fame. To dyen whan that he is best of name. The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse. Why gruochen we ? why have we hevi- nesse 2200 That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour. Departed is, with duetee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lyf ? Why grucchen heer his eosin and his wyf Of his wel-fare that loved hem so weel ? Can he hem thank ? nay, God wot, never a deel, That bothe his soule and eek hem-self of- fende. And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende. ' What may I conclude of this longe serie, But, after wo, I rede us to be merie, 2210 And thanken Jupiter of al his grace ? And, er that we departen from this place, I rede ^ that we make, of sorwes two, O parfyt joye, lasting ever-mo; And loketh now, wher most sorwe is her- inne, Ther wol we first amenden and biginne. ' Suster,' quod he, ' this is my f ulle as- sent. With al th'avys beer of my parlement. That gentil Palamon, your owne knight. That serveth yow with wille, herte, and might, 2220 And ever hath doon, sin that ye first him knewe. That ye shul, of your grace, up-on him rewe,- And taken him for housbonde and for lord: Leen me your bond, for this is our acord. Lat see now of your wommanly pitee. He is a kinges brother sone, pardee; And, though he were a povre bacheler,' Sin he hath served yow so many a yeer. And had for yow so greet adversitee. It moste been considered, leveth me; 2230 For gentil mercy oghte to passen right.' Than seyde he thus to Palamon fnl right; ' I trowe ther nedeth litel sermoning To make yow assente to this thing. ! murmurs. > faded. E adviae. * proweas. B i.e. below a knight. THE CANTERBURY TALES 131 Com neer, and tak your lady by the bond.' Bitwixen bem was maad anon the bond, That highte matrimoine or mariage, By al the eounseil and the baronage. And thus with alle blisse and melodye Hath Palamon y-wedded Emelye. 3240 And God, that al this wyde world hath wroght, Sende him his love, that hath it dere a-boght. For now is Palamon in alle wele, Living iu blisse, in richesse, and in liele; And Emelye him loveth so tendrely, And he hir serveth al-so geutilly, That never was ther no word hem bitwene Of jelousye, or any other tcne. Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye; And God save al this faiie compauye ! — Amen, 2250 Here is ended the Kmghtes Tale, THE PRIORESSES TALE Thek was in Asie, in a greet citee, Amonges Crlsten folk, a Jewerye,^ Sustened by a lord of that contree For foule usure and lucre of vilanye. Hateful to Crist and to his eompanye ; And thurgh the strete men mighte ryde or weude, For it was free, and open at either ende. A litel scole of Cristen folk ther stood Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were Children an heep, y-comen of Cristen blood, 10 That lerned in that scole yeer by yere Swich maner doctrine as men used there, This is to seyn, to singen and to rede. As smale children doon in hir childhede. Among thise children was a widwes sone, A litel clergeou,'' seven yeer of age. That day by day to scole was his wone,' And eek also, wher-as he saugh th'image Of Cristes moder, hadde he in usage. As him was taught, to knele adoun and seye 20 His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye. ^ The Bharply defined Jewish quarter of a medueval town. s clerk, cleric. ' custom. Thus hath this widwe hir litel sone y-taught Our bHsful lady, Cristes moder dere, To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught. For sely * child wol alday sone lere; * But ay, whan I remembre on this matere, Seint Nicholas stant ever iu my presence, For he so youg to Crist did reverence.' This litel child, his Utel book lerninge, As he sat in the scole at his prymer, 30 He Alma redemptoris herde singe, As children lerned hir antiphoner ; ' And, as he dorste, he drough him ner and ner,' And herkned ay the wordes and the note, Til he the firste vers coude al by rote. Noght wiste he what this Latin was to seye, For he so yong and tendre was of age; But on a day his felaw gan he preye T'expounden him this song in his langage. Or telle him why this song was in usage ; 40 This preyde he him to construe and declare Ful ofte tyme upon bis knowes ^ bare. His felaw, which that elder was than he, Answerde him thus : ' This song, I have herd seye, Was maked of our blisful lady free, Hir to salue,^" and eek hir tor to preye To been our help and socour whan we deye. I can no more expounde in this matere; I lerne song, I can but smal grammere.' ' And is this song maked in reverence 50 Of Cristes moder ? ' seyde this innocent; ' Now certes, I wol do my diligence To conue it al, er Cristemasse is went; Though that I for my prymer shal be shent,^ And shal be beten thryes in an houre, I wol it oonne, our lady for to honoure.' His felaw taughte him homward prively, Fro day to day, til he coude it by rote, And than he song it wel and boldely Fro word to word, acording with the note; Twyes a day it passed thurgh his throte, 61 To scole ward and homward whan he wente; On Cristes moder set was his entente. * innocent, good. e leara. 6 As a young infant St. Nicholas could not suck on 'Wednesdays or Fridays. ^ book of responsive songs, anthems. 8 nearer and nearer. » knees, w hail, greet. 11 scolded. 132 GEOFFREY CHAUCER As I have seyd, thurgh-out the Jewerye This litel child, as he cam to and fro, Ful merily than wolde he singe, and erye Alma redemptoris ever-mo. The swetnes hath his herte perced so Of Cristes moder, that, to hir to preye. He can nat stinte of singing by the weye. 70 Our firste fo, the serpent Sathanas, That hath in Jewes herte his waspes nest, Up swal,^ and seide, ' Hebraik peple, alias ! Is this to yow a thing that is honest,^ That swich a boy shal walken as him lest In your despyt, and singe of swich sen- tence. Which is agayn your lawes reverence ? ' Fro thennes forth the Jewes han conspyred This innocent out of this world to chace; An homicyde ther-to han they hyred, 80 That in an aley hadde a privee place ; And as the child gan for-by for to pace, This cursed Jew him hente and heeld him faste. And kitte his throte, and in a pit him caste. 1 seye that in a wardrobe ^ they him threwe Wher-as these Jewes purgen hir entraille. O cursed folk of Herodes al newe. What may your yvel entente yow availle ? Mordre wol out, certein, it wol nat faille. And namely ther th'onour of God shal sprede, 90 The blood out cryeth on your cursed dede. ' O martir, souded ^ to virginitee. Now maystou singen, folwing ever in oon The whyte lamb celestial,' quod she, ' Of which the grete evangelist, seint John, In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon Biforn this lamb, and singe a song al newe. That never, fleshly, wommenthey neknewe.' This povre widwe awaiteth al that night After hir litel child, but he cam noght; 100 For which, as sone as it was dayes light. With face pale of drede and bisy thoght, She hath at scole and elles-wher him soght, Til finally she gan so fer espye That he last seyu was in the Jewerye. 1 swelled. 3 privy. 2 decent. * devoted. With modres pitee in hir brest enclosed, She gooth, as she were half out of hir minde, To every place wher she hath supposed By lyklihede hir litel child to finde ; 109 And ever on Cristes moder meke andkinde She cryde, and atte laste thus she wroghte, Among the cursed Jewes she him soghte. She frayneth ^ and she preyeth pitously To every Jew that dwelte in thilke place, To telle hir, if hir child wente oght for-by. They seyde, ' nay ' ; but Jesu, of his grace, Yaf in hir thought, inwith a litel space. That in that place after hir sone she cryde, Wher he was casten in a pit bisyde. O grete God, that parfournest thy laude 120 By mouth of innocents, lo beer thy might ! This gemme of chastitee, this emeraude. And eek of niartirdom the ruby bright, Ther he with throte y-corven * lay upright,' He ' A Ima redemptoris ' gan to singe So loude, that al the place gan to ringe. The Cristen folk, that thurgh the strete wente. In comen, for to wondre up-on this thing, And hastily they for the provost sente; He cam anon with-outen tarying, 130 And herieth ^ Crist that is of heven king. And eek his moder, honour of mankinde. And after that, the Jewes leet he binde. This child with pitous lamentacioun Up-taken was, singing his song alway; And with honour of greet processioun They earien him un-to the nexte abbay. His moder swowning by the here lay; Unnethe ' might the peple that was there This newe Rachel bringe fro his here. 140 With torment and with shamf nl deth echon This provost dooth thise Jewes for to sterve ^^ That of this mordre wiste, and that anon; He nolde no swich cursednesse observe. ^^ Yvel shal have that yvel wol deserve. Therfor with wilde hors^^ he dide hem drawe,^^ And after that he heng hem by the lawe. B inquires. 6 carved, cut. ' on his back. s praiseth. " Scarcely. *o die. 11 countenance. 12 horses. " i.e. to the place of execution. THE CANTERBURY TALES 133 Up-on his bere ay lyth this innocent Biforn the chief auter, whyl masse laste, And after that, the abbot with his cov- ent 150 Han sped hem for to burien him ful faste; And whan they holy water on him caste, Yet spak this child, whau spreynd^ was holy water, And song — ' A Ima redemptoris mater I ' This abbot, which that was an holy man As monkes been, or elles oghteu be. This yonge child to conjure he bigan. And seyde, ' O dere child, I halse '' thee, In vertu of the holy Trinitee, Tel me what is thy cause for to singe, 160 Sith that thy throte is cut, to my sem- inge? ' ' My throte is cut un-to my nekke-boon,' Seyde this child, ' and, as by wey of kinde, I sholde have deyed, ye, longe tyme agoon; But Jesu Crist, as ye in bokes finde, Wil that his glorie laste and be in minde; And, for the worship of his moder dere, Yet may I singe " O Alma " loude and clere. This welle of mercy, Cristes moder swete, I lovede alwey, as after my conninge;^ 170 And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete,^ To me she cam, and bad me for to singe This antem verraily in my deyinge. As ye ban herd; and, whan that I had songe. Me thoughte, she leyde a greyu up-on my tonge. Wherfor I singe, and singe I moot certeyn In honour of that blisful mayden free. Til fro my tonge of-taken is the greyn. And afterward thus seyde she to me, " My litel child, now wol I fecche thee 180 Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge y-take ; Be nat agast, I wol thee nat forsake." ' This holy monk, this abbot, him mene I, Him tonge out-caughte, and took a-wey the greyn, And he yaf up the goost ful softely. And whan this abbot had this wonder seyn, His salte teres trikled doun as reyn. 1 sprinkled. s as well as I knew how. » conjure. 4 forsake. And gruf ^ he fil al plat up-on the grounde, And stille he lay as he had been y-bounde. The covent eek lay on the pavement 190 Weping, and herien" Cristes moder dere; And after that they ryse, and forth ben went, And toke awey this martir fro his bere. And in a tombe of marbul-stones clere Enclosen they his litel body swete; Ther he is now, God leve us for to mete. O yonge Hugh of Lincoln, slayn also With cursed Jewes, as it is notable. For it nis but a litel whyle ago ; Preye eek for us, we sinful folk unstable, 300 That, of his mercy, God so merciable On us his grete mercy multiplye, For reverence of his moder Marye. Amen. //ere is ended the Prioresses Tale, PROLOGUE TO SIR THOPAS Bihold the murye wordes of the /lost to Chaucer Whan seyd was al this miracle, every man As sobre was, that wonder was to see, Til that our hoste japen^ tho bigan, And than at erst he looked up-on me. And seyde thus, ' What man artow ? ' quod he; ' Thou lokest as thou woldest finde an hare, For ever up-on the ground I see thee stare. Approche neer, and loke up merily. Now war yow, sirs, and lat this man have place ; He in the waast is shape as wel as I ; 10 This were a popet in an arm t'enbrace For any womman, smal and fair of face. He semeth elvish by his contenaunce, For un-to no wight dooth he daliaunce. Sey now som what, sin other folk han say d ; Tel us a tale of mirthe, and that anoon; ' — ' Hoste,' quod I, ' ne beth nat yvel apayd,^ For other tale certes can I noon, But of a ryme I lerned longe agoon.' ' Ye, that is good,' quod he; 'now shul we here 20 Som deyntee thing, me thinketh by his ehere.' E groveling, i.e. upon his face. praise. ' jest. 8 be not ill-pleased. 134 GEOFFREY CHAUCER SIR THOPAS Here biginneih Chancers Tale of Thopas LiSTETH, loi'des, in good eiitent, Aud I wol telle verrayment Of mirthe aud of solas ; Al of a knyght was fair and gent In bataUle and in touineymeut, His name was sir Thopas. Y-bom he was in f er contree, In Flaundres, al biyonde the see, At Popering, in the place ; His fader was a man ful free, lo And lord he was of that contree, As it was Goddes grace Sir Thopas wex ^ a doghty swayn, Whyt was his face as payndemayii,^ His lippes rede as rose; His rode ^ is lyk scarlet in grayn,^ And I yow telle in good certayn, He hadde a semely nose. His heer, his herd was lyk safBroun, That to his girdle raughte ^ adoun ; 20 His shoon of Cordewane.^ Of Brugges ' were his hosen broun, His robe was of ciclatoun,^ That coste many a jane.' He coude 1° hunte at wilde deer, And ryde an banking for riveer,ii With grey goshauk on honde ; Ther-to he was a good archeer. Of wrastling was ther noon his peer, Ther any ram shal stonde.^ 30 Ful many a mayde, bright in bonr, They moorne for him, paramour. Whan hem were bet'^ to slepe; But he was chast and no lechour. And sweet as is the bremble-flour That bereth the rede hepe.^^ And so bifel up-on a day. For sotlie, as I yow telle may, Sir Thopas wolde out ryde; 1 waxed, grew. 2 finest bread. 8 complexion. ^ well-dyed. 6 reached. *> Spanish leather. t From Bruges. ^ scarlet or any rich fabric. B Genoese coin. it* knew how. 11 Simply *' hawking." " To go to the river " is to go hawking ; *' to go to the wood " is Lo go hunting. 12 A ram was the usual prize. 13 better. " hips. He worth upon '^ his stede gray, 40 And in his honde a launcegay,^' A long swerd by his syde. He priketh thurgh a fair forest, Ther-iune is many a wilde best, Ye, bothe bukke and hare; And, as he priketh north and est, I telle it yow, him hadde almest Bitid a sory care. Ther springen herbes grete and smale. The lycorys and cetewale,!' 50 And many a clowe-gilof re ; ^' Aud notemuge to putte in ale. Whether it be moyste ^' or stale. Or for to leye in cofre. The briddes singe, it is no nay,^'' The sparhauk aud the papejay. That joye it was to here; The thrustelcok made eek his lay, The wodedowve upon the spray She sang ful loude and clere. 60 Sir Thopas fil in love-longinge Al whan he herde the thrustel singe. And priked ^^ as he were wood.^ His faire stede in his prikinge So s watte ^^ that men mighte him wringe; His sydes were al blood. Sir Thopas eek so wery was For prikinge on the softe gras. So fiers was his corage, That doun he leyde him in that plas 70 To make his stede som solas. And yaf him good forage. ' O seinte Marie, benedicite ! What eyleth this love at me ^^ To binde me so sore ? Me dremed al this night, pardee. An elf-queen ahal my lemman be, And slepe under my gore.^ An elf-queen wol I love, y-wis. For in this world no womman is 80 Worthy to be my make ^^ In toune; 15 mounted. n hunting-spear. 17 the herb zedoary. is clove. 18 musty, new. 21 there 's no denying it. 31 spurred. 22 mad. 2a sweated. 24 What has this love against me? 25 cloak. 28 mate. THE CANTERBURY TALES ^35 Alle othere wommen I forsake, And to an elf-queen I me take By dale and eek by doune ! ' In-to his sadel he clamb anoon, And priketh over style and stoou An elf-queen for t'espye, Til he so longe had riden and goon That he foud, in a privee woon,^ 90 The oontree of f airye So wilde ; For in that oontree was ther noon That to him dorste ryde or goon, Neither wyf ne ohilde. Til that ther cam a greet geaunt, His name was sir Olifaunt, A perilous man of dede. He seyde, ' Child, by Termagaunt, But-if thou prike out of myn haunt, 100 Anon I alee thy stede With mace. Heer is the queen of Fayerye, With harpe and pype and simphonye ^ Dwelling in this place.' The child seyde, ' Al-so mote I thee,' Tomorwe wol I mete thee Whan I have myn armoure ; And yet I hope, par ma fay, That thou shalt with this launcegay no A by en it ful soure; ■■ Thy mawe Shal I percen, if I may, Er it be fully pryme of day. For heer thou shalt be slawe.' Sir Thopas drow abak ful faste; This geaunt at him stones caste Out of a fel staf-slinge; But faire escapeth child Thopas, And al it was thur^h Goddes gras, 120 And thurgh his fair beringe. Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale Merier than the nightingale. For now I wol yow roune ^ How sir Thopas with sydes smale,' Priking over hil and dale, Is come agayn to toune. His merie men comanded he To make him bothe game and glee, For nedes moste he fighte 130 1 retreat. ' a stringed instrument. s prosper. A sourly, i.e. dearly, pay for it. & tell. slim waist. With a geaunt with hevedes ' three, For paramour and jolitee Of oon that shoon ful brighte. ' Do come,' he seyde, ' my minstrales, And gestours, for to tellen tales Anon in myn arminge ; Of romances that been royales, Of popes and of cardiiiales. And eek of love-lykinge.' They f ette ' him first the swete wyn, 140 And mede eek in a maselyn,' And royal spicerye Of gingebreed that was ful fyn, And lycorys, and eek comyn,^" With sugre that is so trye.^ He dide next his whyte lere ^ Of clooth of lake ^^ fyn and olere A breech and eek a sherte; And next his sherte an aketoun,!^ And over that an habergeoun ^ jjg Fori* percinge of his herte; And over that a fyn hauberk," Was al y-wroght of Jewes werk, Ful strong it was of plate; And over that his cote-armour As whyt as is a lily-flour, In which he wol debate.^' His sheeld was al of gold so reed, And ther-in was a bores heed, A charbocle bisyde; 160 And there he swoor, on ale and breed, How that the geaunt shal be deed, Bityde what bityde ! His jambeux ^^ were of quirboilly,™ His swerdes shethe of yvory. His helm of laton ^^ bright; His sadel was of rewel-boon,^^ His brydel as the Sonne shoon, Or as the mone light. His spere was of fyn ciprees, 170 That bodeth werre, and no-thing pees. The heed ful sharpe y-grounde; ' heads. b fetched. » mazer, or maple-bowl. 10 cummin. n delicious. is flesh. i» linen. " padded doublet. is coat-of-maQ. " against, to prevent. 1' Hauberk is usually coat-of-mail, but here it is, ap- parently, plate-armour. Thopas was well protected ! 18 fight. n shin-pieces. 20 hard leather, boiled and moulded. 21 a composite metal. 82 probably ivory. 136 GEOFFREY CHAUCER His stede was al dappel-gray, It gooth an ambel in the way Ful softely and rounde In londe. Lo, lordes myne, heer is a fit I If ye wol any more of it, To telle it wol I fonde. [ The Second Fit'\ Now hold your mouth, par charitee, 180 Bothe knight and lady free. And herkneth to my spells; Of bataille and of chivalry, And of ladyes love-drury ^ Anon I wol yow telle. Men speke of romances of prys, Of Horn child and of Ypotys, Of Bevis and sir Gy, Of sir Libeux and Pleyn-damour; But sir Thopas, he bereth the flour 190 Of royal chivalry. His gode stede al he bistrood. And forth upon his wey he glood ^ As sparkle out of the bronde; Up-on his crest he bar a tour. And ther-in stiked a, lily-flour. God shilde his cors fro shonde ! ^ And for he was a knight auntrous,* He nolde slepen in non hous. But liggen in his hode; 200 His brighte helm was his wonger,^ And by him baiteth his dextrer ^ Of herbes fyne and gode. Him-self drank water of the wel. As did the knight sir Peroivel, So worthy under wede. Til on a day //ere the Host stinteth Chaucer of his Tale of Thopas. THE NONNE PREESTES TALE Here biginneth the Nonne Preestes Tale of the Cok and Hen^ Chauntecleer and Pertelote A POVRE widwe, soradel stope ' in age. Was whylom dwelling in a narwe cotage, Bisyde a grove, stonding in a dale. This widwe, of which I telle yow my tale, 1 passion. 2 glided. s harm. * adventurous, errant. ^ pillow. ^ war-horse. ? advanced. Sin thiike day that she was last a wyf, In pacience ladde a ful simple lyf. For litel was hir catel * and hir rente ; By housbondrye ^ of such as God hir seute She fond i" hir-self, and eek hir doghtren two. Three large sowes hadde she, and namo, 10 Three kyn, and eek a sheep that highte Malle. Ful sooty was hir hour, and eek hir halle, In which she eet ful many a solendre meel. Of poynaunt sance hir neded never a deel. No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte ; Hir dyete was accordant to hir cote. Repleccioun ne made hir never syk; Attempree '^ dyete was al her phisyk. And exercyse, and hertes suffisaunce. The goute lette hir no-thing '^ for to daunce, N'apoplexye shente ^^ nat hir heed; 21 No wyn ne drank she, neither whyt ne reed; Hir bord was served most with whyt and blak, Milk and broun breed, in which she fond no lak, Seynd" bacouu, and somtyme an ey or tweye. For she was as it were a maner deye.'^ A yerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute With stikkes, and a drye dich with-oute. In which she hadde a cok, hight Chamite- cleer. In al the land of crowing nas his peer; 30 His vois was merier than the mery orgon '° On messe-dayes that in the chirche gon; Wel sikerer '' was his crowing in his logge, Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge. By nature knew he eoh ascenciouu Of equinoxial in thiike toun; For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, Thanne crew he that it mighte nat ben amended. His comb was redder than the fyn coral, And batailed as it were a castel-wal. 40 His bile was blak, and as the jeet it shoon; Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon; His nayles whytter than the lilie flour. And lyk the burned gold was his colour. This geutil cok hadde in his governaunoe Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce, Whiche were his siistres and his paramours, And wonder lyk to him, as of colours. 8 chattels. e economy. lo provided for. " Temperate. " hindered her not at all. i" hurt. 1* Singed. iG farming or dairy woman. w organ pipes (plural). i? more accurate. THE CANTERBURY TALES 137 Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte Was eleped faire damoysele Pertelote. 50 Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire. And compaignable, and bar hir-self so faire, Sin thilke day that she was seven night old, That trewely she hath the herte in hold Of Chauntecleer loken in every lith ; ^ He loved hir so, that wel was him therwith. But such a joye was it to here hem singe, Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe. In swete accord, ' My lief is faren in londe.' For thUke tyme, as I have understonde, 60 Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe. And so bifel, that in a daweninge, As Channtecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte. As man that in his dreem is drecched^ sore. And whan that Pertelote thus herde him rore, She was agast, and seyde, ' O herte dere, What eyleth yow, to grone in this man- ere ? 70 Ye been a verray sleper, fy for shame ! ' And he answerde and seyde thus, ' Madame, I pray yow, that ye take it nat a^grief : By God, me mette ^ I was in swich mes- chief Right now, that yet myn herte is sore afright. Now God,' quod he, ' my swevene recohe ^ aright. And keep my body out of foul prisoan ! Me mette, how that I romed up and doun Withinne our yerde, wher-as I saugh a beste, Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areste 80 Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed. His colour was bitwixe yelwe and reed; And tipped was his tail, and bothe his eres, With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heres; His snowte smal, with glowinge eyen tweye. Yet of his look for fere almost I deye; This caused me my groning, doutelees.' ' Avoy ! ' quod she, ' fy on yow, herte- lees ! 1 limb. 2 troubled. 3 Impersonal verb — "I dreamed." * interpret my dream. Alias ! ' quod she, ' for, by that God above. Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love ; 90 I can not love a coward, by my feith. For certes, what so any womman seith, We alle desyren, if it mighte be, To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free, And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool, Ne him that is agast of every tool," Ne noon avauutour,^ by that God above ! How dorste ye seyn for shame unto your love. That any thing miglite make yow aferd ? Have ye no mannes herte, and han a herd ? 100 Alias ! and conne ye been agast of swe- venis ? No-thing, God wot, but vanitee, in sweven is. Swevenes engendren of replecciouns,' And ofte of fume,* and of eomplecciouns' Whan humours been to habundant in a wight. Certes this dreem, which ye han met to- night, Cometh of tlie grete superfluitee Of youre rede colera,'" pardee, Which causeth folk to dreden in here dremes Of arwes, and of f yr with rede lemes ; ^^ no Of grete bestes, that they wol hem byte, Of contekji^and of whelpes grete and lyte; Eight as the humour of malencolye Causeth ful many a man, in sleep, to crye, For fere of blake beres, or boles blake. Or elles, blake develes wole hem take. Of othere humours coude I telle also, That workeu many a man in sleep ful wo; But I wol passe as lightly as I can. Lo Catoun,^' which that was so wys a man, 120 Seyde he nat thus, " Ne do no fors ^^ of dremes " ? Now, sire,' quod she, ' whan we flee fro the hemes, For Goddes love, as tak som laxatyf ; Up peril of my soule, and of my lyf, I counseille yow the beste, I wol nat lye. That bothe of colere and of malencolye 6 weapon. " boaster. ' repletions. 8 the vapors from a disordered stomach. " dispositions, mixtures of humors. 10 red bile. Clioler was one of the four '"humours," the others being blood, black bile, and phlegm. I' flames. 12 strife. 13 The mediaeval Dionysius Cato. " Pay no attention. 138 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Ye purge yow; and for ye shul uat tarie, Though ill this toun is noon apotecarie, I shal my self to herbes techen yow, That shul ben for your hele, and for your prow;i 130 And in our yerd tho herbes shal I flnde, The whiche hau of hir propretee, by kiude, To purgen yow binethe, and eek above. Forget not this, for Goddes owene love I Ye been ful colerik of compleccioun. Ware the souue in his ascenoioun Ne fynde yow nat repleet of humours bote; And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote. That ye shul have a fevere terciane, Or an agu, that may be youre bane. 140 A day or two ye shul have digestyves Of wormes, er ye take your laxatyves, Of lauriol,^ centaure,^ and f umetere,^ Or elles of ellebor, that groweth there, Of oatapuce,^ or of gaytres ^ beryis. Of erbe yve,' growing in our yerd, that mery is; Pekke hem up right as they growe, and ete hem iu. Be mery, housbond, for your fader kin ! Dredeth no dreem; I can say yow namore.' ' Madame,' quod he, ' graunt mercy ^ of your lore. 150 But nathelees, as touching daun Catoun, That hath of wisdom such a greet renoun. Though that he bad no dremes for to drede, By God, men may in olde bokes rede Of many a man, more of auetoritee Than ever Catoun was, so mote I thee, That al the revers seyn of his sentence, And ban wel founden by experience, That dremes ben significaciouns. As wel of joye as tribulaciouns 160 That folk enduren in this lyf present. Ther nedeth make of this noon argument; The verray preve sheweth it in dede. Oon of the gretteste auctours ' that men rede Seith thus, that whylom two felawes wente On pilgrimage, in a ful good entente; And happed so, thay come into a toun, Wher-as ther was swioh congregacioun Of peple, and eek so streit '" of herbergage That they ne founde as muche as o cotage In which they bothe mighte y-logged be. 171 Wherfor thay mosten, of necessitee, 1 profit. 2 laurel. ^ centaury. i fumitory. 8 lesser spurge. " dogwood, or possibly buclcthorn. ^ ground-pine. « many thauka. " Perhaps Cicero in De Divinatione, I, 27. 10 limited. As for that night, departen compaigny e ; And ech of hem goth to his hostelrye, And took his logging as it wolde falle. That oon of hem was logged iu a stalle, Fer in a yerd, with oxen of the plough; That other man was logged wel y-nough, As was his aventure, or his fortune, That us goverueth alle as in commune. 180 And so bifel, that, longe er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther-as he lay, How that his felawe gan up-on him calle, And seyde, " Alias ! for in an oxes stalle This night I shal be mordred ther I lye. Now help me, dere brother, er I dye; In alle haste com to me," he sayde. This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde ; 1* But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep; 190 Him thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyes in his slepiug dremed he. And atte thridde tynie yet his felawe Cam, as him thoughte, and seide, " I am now slawe; Bihold my blody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde. And at the west gate of the touu," quod he, " A carte ful of dong ther shaltow see. In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte aresten boldely. 200 My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn; " And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn, With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe. And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful tre we ; For on the morwe, as sone as it was day. To his felawes in he took the way; And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle. After his felawe he bigan to calle. The hostiler answered him anon, And seyde, " Sire, your felawe is agon; 210 As sone as day he wente out of the toun," This man gan fallen iu suspecioun, Remembriug on his dremes that he mette. And forth he goth, no longer wolde he lette,i2 Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond. That was arrayed in the same wyse As ye ban herd the dede man devyse; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeannce and justice of this felonye: — 220 " My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. 11 started. 12 delay. THE CANTERBURY TALES 139 I crye out on the ministres," quod he, " That sholden kepe and reulen this citee ; Harrow ! alias ! her lyth my felawe slayu ! " What shoide I more un-to this tale sayn ? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grouude, And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe. O blisful God, that art so just and trewe ! 230 Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordrealwayl Mordre wol out, that see we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom ^ and abhominable To God, that is so just and resonable, That he ne wol nat sufBre it heled ^ be ; Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or three, Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun. And right anoou, ministres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned,' Aud eek the hostiler so sore engyned,'' 240 That thay biknewe ^ hir wikkednesse anoon. And were an-hanged by the nekke-boou. Here may men seen that dremes been to drede. And certes in the same book I rede. Eight in the nexte chapitre after this, (I gabbe* nat, so have I joye or blis,) Two men that wolde ban passed over see, For certeyn cause, in-to a fer contree, If that the wind ne hadde been contrairie. That made hem in a citee for to tarie, 25c That stood ful mery upon an haven-syde. But on a day, ageyn the even-tyde. The wind gan ehaunge, and blew right as hem leste. Jolif aud glad they wente un-to hir reste. And casten hem ' ful erly for to saille ; But to that 00 man fil a greet mervaille. That oon of hem, in sleping as he lay. Him mette a wonder dreem, agayn the day; Him thonghte a man stood by his beddes s.yde. And him comaunded that he shoide abyde, 260 And seyde him thus, "If thou to-morwe wende. Thou shalt be dreynt;^ my tale is at an ende." He wook, and tolde his felawe what he mette. And preyde him his viage for to lette ; ' As for that day, he preyde him to abyde. His felawe, that lay by his beddes syde, 1 disgusting. 2 concealed. 3 tortured. * racked. » coufeBsed. » lie. ' planned, s drowned. • delay. Gan for to laughe, and scorned him ful f aste. " No dreem," quod he, " may so myn herte agaste. That I wol lette for to do my thinges. I sette not a straw by thy dremiuges, 270 For swevenes been but vanitees and japes. Men dreme al-day of owles or of apes, And eek of many a mase^" therwithal; Men dreme of thing that never was ne shal. But sith I see that thou wolt heer abyde, Aud thus for-sleuthen " wilfully thy tyde, God wat it reweth me;'^ and have good day." And thus he took his leve, and wente his way. But er that he hadde halfe his cours y- seyled, Noot I nat why, ne what misehaunce it eyled, 280 But casuelly the shippes botme rente. And ship and man under the water wente In sighte of othere shippes it byside. That with hem seyled at the same tyde. And therefor, faire Pertelote so dere. By swiche ensamples olde maistow lere, That no man shoide been to recchelees Of dremes, for I sey thee, doutelees, That many a dreem ful sore is for to drede. 289 Lo, in the lyf of seint Kenelm, I rede. That was Kennlphus sone, the noble king Of Meroenrike,!^ how Kenelm mette a thing; A lyte er he was mordred, on a day, His nioidre in his avisioun he say. His norice liim expouned every del His sweveu, aud bad him for to kepe him wel For traisoun ; but he nas but seven yeer old, And therfore litel tale hath he told Of any dreem, so holy was his herte. By God, I hadde lever than my sherte 300 That ye had rad his legende, as have I. Dame Pertelote, I sey yow trewely, Macrobeus, that writ th'avisioun In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,!* Affermeth dremes, and seith that they been Warning of thinges that men after seen. And forther-more, I pray yowloketh wel In the olde testament, of Daniel, If he held dremes any vanitee. Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see 3 10 10 aatounding thing. n idle away. la i lament. 13 Mercia. in central England. 1* Macrobius'a commentary on Cioero's Dream 0/ Scipio, 140 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Wher dremes ben somtyme (I sey nat alle) Warning of thinges that shul after falle. Loke of Egipt the king, daun ^ Pharao, His bakere and his boteler also, Wher they ne felte noon effect in dremes. Who-so wol seken aetes of sondry remes ' May rede of dremes many a wonder thing. Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde king, Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree. Which signified he sholde anhanged be ? 320 Lo heer Andromaeha, Ectores wyf, That day that Ector sholde lese his lyf, She dremed on the same night biforn, How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn If thiike day he wente in-to bataille; She warned him, but it mighte nat availle ; He wente for to fighte nathelees, But he was slayn anoon of Achilles. But thiike tale is al to long to telle, And eek it is ny day, I may nat dwelle. 330 Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun, That I shal ban of this avisioun Adversitee; and I seye forther-more. That I ne telle of laxatyves no store,^ For they ben venimous, I woot it wel; I hem defye, I love hem never a del. Now let us speke of mirthe, and stinte al this. Madame Pertelote, so have I blis, Of o thing God hath sent me large grace; For whan I see the beautee of your face, 340 Ye ben so scarlet-reed about your yen. It maketh al my drede for to dyen; For, also siker as In principio, Mulier est Tiominis confusio. Madame, the sentence of this Latin is — Womraan is mannes joye and al his blis. For whan I fele a-night your softe syde, Al-be-it that I may nat on you ryde, For that our perche is maad so narwe, alas ! I am so ful of joye and of solas 350 That I defye bothe sweven and dreem.' And with that word he fley doun fro the beem, For it was day, and eek his hennes alle ; And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle. For he had founde a corn, lay in the yerd. Royal he was, he was namore aferd; He fethered Pertelote twenty tyme. And trad as ofte, er that it was pryme. He loketb as it were a grim leoun; And on his toos he rometh up and doun, 360 Himdeyned not to sette his foot to grounde. He chukketh, whan he hath a corn y-f ounde, 1 lord, dominus. 2 realms. b set no store by. And to him rennen thanne his wyves alle. Thus royal, as a prince is in his halle, Leve I this Chaunteeleer in his pasture; And after wol I telle his aveuture. Whan that the month in which the world bigan. That highte March, whan God first maked man,^ Was complet, and [y]-passed were also, Sin March bigan, thritty dayes and two, 370 Bifel that Chaunteeleer, in al his pryde, His seven wyves walking by his syde, Caste up his eyen to the brighte sonne, That in the signe of Taurus hadde y-ronne Twenty degrees and oon, and somwhat more; And knew by kynde,* and by noon other lore, That it was pryme,^ and crew with blisful stevene. ' The sonue,' he sayde, ' is clomben up on hevene Fourty degrees and oon, and more, y-wis. Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis, 380 Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they singe, And see the fresshe floures how they springe ; Ful is myn herte of revel and solas.' But sodeinly him fil a sorweful cas; For ever the latter ende of joye is wo. God woot that worldly joye is sone ago; And if a rethor ' coude faire endyte. He In a cronique saufly mighte it wryte, As for a sovereyn notabilitee. Now every wys man, lat him herkne me; 390 This storie is al-so trewe, I undertake. As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,' That wommen holde in ful gret reverence. Now will I torne agayn to my sentence, A col-fox,^ ful of sly iniqnitee. That in the grove hadde woned yeres three, By heigh imaginacioun forn-east. The same night thurgh-out the heggesbrast i" Into the yerd, ther Chaunteeleer the faire Was wont, and eek his wyves, to repaire; And in a bed of wortes ^^ stille he lay, 401 Til it was passed undern^^ of the day, Wayting his tyme on Chaunteeleer to falle, As gladly doon thise homicydes alle, ^ So they called March the first month of the year, 6 nature. 9 nine A.M. 7 a master of eloquence. B A long-winded prose romance, of which Malory made much use. 8 black or black-tipped fox. lo burst. 12 middle of the morning. THE CANTERBURY TALES 141 That in awayt liggen to mordre men, O false mordrer, lurking in thy den ! O newe Scariot,^ uewe Geniloii ! ^ False dissimilour, O Greek Sinon, That broghtest Troye al outrely * to sorwe ! Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe, 410 That thou into that yard flough fro the hemes ! Thou were f ul wel y-warned by thy dremes, That thiike day was perilous to thee. But what that God forwoot mot nedes be, After the opinioun of certeyn clerkis. Witnesse on him, that any perfit clerk is, That in scole is gret altercaeioun In this matere, and greet disputisoun, And hath ben of an hundred thousand men. But I ue can not bulte it to the bren,* 420 As can the holy doctour Augustyn, Or Boece,^ or the bishop Bradwardyn,' Whether that Goddes worthy forwiting Streyneth ' me nedely for to doon a thing, (Nedely clepe I simple necessitee); Or elles, if free choys be graunted me To do that same thing, or do it noglit, Though God forwoot it, er that it was wroght; Or if his witing streyneth nevere a del But by necessitee coudicionel. 430 1 wol not han to do of swioh matere; My tale is of a cok, as ye may here, That took his counseil of his wyf, with sorwe. To walken in the yard upon that morwe That he had met the dreem, that I yow tolde. Wommennes counseils been ful ofte colde;9 Wommannes counseil broghte us first to wo, And made Adam fro paradys to go, Ther-as he was ful mery, and wel at ese. — But for I noot to whom it mighte displese If I counseil of wommen wolde blame, 441 Passe over, for I seyde it in ray game. Kede auctours, wher they trete of swich matere. And what thay seyn of wommen ye may here. Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne; I can noon harm of no womman divyne. — Faire in the sond, to bathe hir merily, Lyth Pertelote, and alle hir sustres by, 1 Judas Iscariot. 2 Roland's betrayer. 8 entirely. * sift it thoroughly. ^ Boethius. « English theologian, d. 1349. ' constraineth. 8 disastrous, — a proverb. Agayn the Sonne ; and Chauntecleer so free Song merier than the mermayde in the see ; 450 For Phisiologus " seith sikerly, How that they singen wel and merily. And so bifel that, as he caste his ye, Among the wortes, on a boterflye. He was war of this fox that lay ful lowe. No-thing ne liste him thanne for to crowe, But cryde anon, ' cok, cok,' and up he sterte. As man that was affrayed in his herte. For naturelly a beest desyreth flee Fro his contrarie, if he may it see, 460 Though he never erst had seyn it with his ye. This Chauntecleer, whan he gan him espye. He wolde han fled, but that the fox anon Seyde, ' Gentil sire, alias ! wher wol ye gon ? Be ye affrayed of me that am your f reend ? Now certes, I were worse than a feend, If I to yow wolde harm or vileinye. I am nat come your counseil for t'espye ; But trewely, the cause of my cominge Was only for to herkne how that ye singe. For trewely ye have as mery a stevene 471 As eny aungel hath, that is in hevene; Therwith ye han in musik more felinge Than hadde Boece, or any that can singe. My lord your fader (God his soule blesse!) And eek your moder, of hir gentilesse, Han in myu hous y-been, to my gret ese; And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese. But for men speke of singing, I wol saye. So mote I brouke^" wel myn eyen tweye, 480 Save yow, I herde never man so singe, As dide your fader in the morweninge; Certe, it was of herte, al that he song. And for to make his voys the more strong. He wolde so peyne him, that with bothe his yen He moste winke, so loude he wolde cryen. And stonden on his tiptoon there-with-al. And strecche forth his nekke long and smal. And eek he was of swich discrecioun. That ther nas no man in no regiouu 490 That him in song or wisdom mighte passe. I have wel rad in daun Burnel the Asse,^! Among his vers, how that ther was a cok, For that a preestes sone yaf him a knok " The raedigeval " Bestiary," a collection of moral- ized descriptions of beasts. 10 Our "brook" vb., here "use" or "enjoy." " Nigellus Wireker's " Burnellus " or "Speculum Btultorum" (Mirror of Fools), Anglo-Latiu satirical poem written about 1190. 1+2 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Upon his leg, whyl he was yong and nyce,^ He made him for to lese his beuefyce. But certeyn, ther nis no comparisoun Bitwix the wisdom and discrecioun Of youre fader, and of his subtiltee. Now singeth, sire, for seinte Charitee, 500 Let see, conne ye your fader eountref ete ? ' ^ This Chaunteeleer his winges gau to bete, As man that coude his tresoun nat espye, So was he ravisshed with his flaterye. Alias ! ye lordes, many a fals flatour Is ill your courtes, and many a losengeour,^ That plesen yow wel more, by my feith, Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith. Redeth Ecclesiaste * of flaterye; Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye. 510 This Chaunteeleer stood hye up-on his toos, Strecching his nekke, and heeld his eyen cloos, And gan to crowe loude for the nones; ^ And daiin Russel the fox sterte up at ones. And by the gargat^ hente Chaunteeleer, And on his bak toward the wode him beer. For yet ne was ther no man that him sewed.'' O destinee, that mayst nat been eschewed ! Alias, that C hannteeleer fleigh fro the hemes ! Alias, his wyf ne roghte nat of dremes ! 520 And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce. O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunee, Sin that thy servant was this Chaunteeleer, And in thy service dide al his poweer. More for delyt, than world to multiplye. Why woldestow sufEre him on thy day to dye? O Gaufred,* dere mayster soverayn. That, whan thy worthy king Richard was slayn With shot,^ compleynedest his deth so sore. Why ne hadde 1 now thy sentence and thy lore, 530 The Friday for to chyde, as diden ye ? (For on a Friday soothly slayn was he.) Than wolde I shewe yow how that I coude pleyne For Chauntecleres drede, and for his peyne. Certes, swioh cry ne lamentacioun Was never of ladies maad, whan Ilioun 1 foolish. 2 imitate. 3 flatterer. * Perhaps EcclesiasHcus xii, 10 f , in the Apocrypjui. 5 *'For the nonce," a meaningless phrase. fl gorge, throat. ' pursued. s Geoffrey de Vinsauf (fl. 1200) who wrote the Nova Poptria to show what good verse should be. It contains an overdone lament for Richard I. B He was deeply wounded near the nape of the neck by an arrow. Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd, Whan he hadde bent i" king Priam by the herd, And slayn him (as saith us Eneydos)^'^ As maden alle the heunes in the elos, 540 Whan they had seyn of Chaunteeleer the sigbte. But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte. Fill louder than dide Hasdrubales '^ wyf, Whan that hir housbond hadde lost his lyf. And that the Romayns hadde brend Car- tage; She was so ful of torment and of rage, That wilfully into the fyr she sterte. And brende hir-selven with a stedf ast herte. O woful hennes, right so eryden ye, As, whan that Nero brende the citee 550 Of Rome, eryden senatoures wyves, For that hir housbondes losten alle hir lyves; Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem slayn. Now wol I torne to my tale agayn. This sely ^^ widwe, and eek hir doghtres two, Herden thise hennes crye and maken wo, And out at dores sterten they anoon, And syen the fox toward the grove goon. And bar upon his bak the cok away; And eryden, ' Out ! harrow ! and weyla- way ! 560 Ha, ha, the fox ! ' and after him they ran. And eek with staves many another man; Ran CoUe our dogge, and Talbot, and Ger- land. And Malkin, with a distaf in hir hand; Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges. So were they fered for berking of the dogges And shouting of the men and wimraen eke; They ronne so, hem thoughte hir herte breke. They yelleden as feendes doon in hells; The dokes eryden as men wolde hem quelle ; ''■* 570 The gees for fere flowen over the trees; Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees; So hidous was the noyse, a ! henedicitel Certes, he Jakke Straw,'^ and his meynee, 1" seized. 11 ^neid, II, 544. 12 King of Carthage, who slew himself when the Romans captured it in 146 B. c. 13 helpless. 14 kin. 1" Leader of the London insurrection of 1381. He Blew many Flemings. THE CANTERBURY TALES 143 Ne made never shoutes half so shrille, Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille, As thilke day was maad upon the fox. Of bras thay broghten bemes,i and of box, Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and pouped, And therewithal thay shryked and they houped; 580 It semed as that heven sholde falle. Now, gode men, I pray yow herkneth alle! Lo, how fortune turneth sodeinly The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy! This 00k, that lay upon the foxes bak. In al his drede, un-to the fox he spak. And seyde, ' Sire, if that I were as ye. Yet sholde I seyn (as wis 2 God helpe me), " Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle! A verray pestilence up-on yow falle! 590 Now am I come un-to this wodes syde, Maugree* your heed, the cok shal beer abyde; I wol him ete in f eith, and that anon." ' — The fox answerde, 'In feith, it shall be don,' — And as he spak that word, al sodeinly This cok brak from his mouth deliverly,^ And heighe up-on a tree he fleigh anon. And whan the fox saugh that he was y-gon, ' Alias ! ' quod he, ' O Chauntecleer, alias ! I have to yow,' quod he, ' y-doon trespas, In-as-muche as I maked yow aferd, 601 Whan I yow hente, and broghte out of the yerd; But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente; Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente. I shal seye sooth to yow, God help me so.' ' Nay than,' quod he, ' I shrewe * us bothe two. And first I shrewe my-self, bothe blood and bones, If thou bigyle me of ter than ones. Thou shalt na-more, thurgh thy flaterye, Do me to singe and winke with myn ye. 610 For he that winketh, whan he sholde see, Al wilfully, God lat him never thee ! ' ' ' Nay,' quod the fox, ' but God yeve him meschaunee, That is so undiscreet of governaunce. That jangleth whan he sholde holde his pees.' Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees, And neeligent, and tniste on flaterye. But ye that holden this tale a folye, 1 trumpets. « deftly. 2 surely. 6 curse. 8 In spite of. flourish. As of a fox, or of a cok and hen, Taketh the moralitee, good men. 620 For seint Paul seith, that al that writen is. To our doctryne it is y-write, y-wis.' Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille. Now, gode God, if that it be thy wille. As seith my lord, so make us alle good men; And bringe us to his heighe blisse. Amen. Here is ended the Nonne Preestes^ Tate. THE PROLOGUE OF THE PARDONERS TALE Here fol-weth the Prologe of the Pardoners Tale Radix malorum est Cupiditas : Ad Thimotheum, sexto. 'L0BDING8,' quod he, 'in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to ban an hauteyn speehe,^ And ringe it out as round as gooth a belle. For I can al by rote^ that I telle. My theme is alwey oon, and ever was — " Radix malorum est Cupiditas." ''■" First I pronounce wheiines that I come, And than my buUes shewe I, alle and soihme. Our lige lordes seel on my patente,^^ That shewe I first, my body to warente, 10 That no man be so bold, ne preest ne clerk, Me to destourbe of Cristes holy werk; And after that than telle I forth my tales, BuUes of popes and of cardinales, Of patriarkes, and bishoppes I shewe ; And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predieacioun,!'' And for to stire men to devooiouu. Than shewe I forth my longe cristal stones, Y-crammed ful of cloutes and of bones; za Reliks been they, as wcnen they echoon. Than have I in latoun ^^ a sholder-hoon Which that was of an holy Jewes shepe." " Good men," seye I, " tak of my wordes kepe ; ^ If that this boon be wasshe in any welle. If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle That any worm hath ete, or worm y-stonge,l' Tak water of that welle, and wash bis tonge, ' 2 Timothy, iii, 16. B I take pains to preach in a lofty vein. 9 know by heart. lo 1 Timothy, vi, 10. 11 warrant, privilege. 12 To colour, make more impressive, my preaching. Saffron was a beloved spice and garnish. 13 latten, a mixed metal resembling brass. » Jacob's? 15 heed. IB If it has eaten a snake, or if a snake has stung it. 144 GEOFFREY CHAUCER And it is hool anoa ; and furthermore, Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every sore 30 Shal every sheep be hool, that of this vfelle Drinketh a draughte; tak kepe eek what I telle. If that the good-man, that the bestes oweth,-' Wol every wike,^ er that the cok him croweth, Fastinge, drinken of this v?elle a draughte, As thilke holy Jewe our eldres taughte, His bestes and his stoor shal multiplye. And, sirs, also it heleth jalousye; For, though a man be falle in jalous rage, Let maken with this water his potage, 40 And never shal he more his wyf mistriste. Though he the sooth of hir defaute wiste; Al had she taken preestes two or three. Heer is a miteyn eek, that ye may see. He that his bond wol putte in this miteyn, He shal have multiplying of his greyn. Whan he hath soweu, be it wbete or otes, So that he ofEre pens, or elles grotes. Good men and wommen, o thing warne I yow, If any wight be in this ehirche now, 50 That hath doon sinne horrible, that he Dar nat, for shame, of it y-shriven be, Or any womman, be she yong or old. That hath y-maad hir housbond cokewold, Swioh folk shul have no power ne no grace To offren to my reliks in this place. And who-so findeth him out of swich blame. He wol com up and offre in Goddes name, And 1 assoille him by the auctoritee Which that by bulle y-graunted was to me." 6a By this gaude ^ have I wonne, yeer by yeer. An hundred mark sith I was Pardoner. I stonde lyk a clerk in my pulpet, And whan the lewed peple is doun y-set, I preehe, so as ye han herd bifore. And telle an hundred false japes more. Than peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke, And est and west upon the peple I bekke,^ As doth a dowve sitting on a berne. Myn hondes and my tonge goon soyerne,^ 70 That it is joye to see my bisinesse. Of avaryce and of swich cursednesse Is al my preching, for to make hem free To yeve her pens, and namely * un-to me. 1 •' Own '' and '* owe " are the same word. 2 fipparently "week." s trifle. 4 nod. 6 actively. o especially. For my entente is nat but for to winne, And no-thing for correccioun of sinne. I rekke never, whan that they ben beried, Though that her soules goon a-blake- beried ! ' For certes, many a predicacioun Comth ofte tyme of yvel entencioim; 80 Som for plesaunce of folk and flaterye, To been avaunoed by ipocrisye. And som for veyne glorie, and som for hate. For, whan I dar non other weyes debate, Than wol I stinge him with my tonge smerte In preching, so that he shal nat asterte To been defamed falsly, if that he Hath trespased to my brethren or to me. For, though I telle noght his propre name, Men shal wel knowe that it is the same 90 By signes and by othere circumstances. Thus quyte I folk that doon us displesances; Thus spitte I out my venim under hewe Of holynesse, to seme holy and trewe. But shortly myn entente I wol devyse; I preehe of no-thing but for coveityse. Therfor my theme is yet, and ever was — " Radix malorum eat cupiditas." Thus can I preehe agayn that same vyee Which that I use, and that is avaryce. loo But, though my-self be gilty in that sinne, Yet can I maken other folk to twinne ' From avaryce, and sore to repents. But that is nat my principal entente. I preehe no-thing but for coveityse; Of this matere it oughte y-nogh sufByse. Than telle I hem ensamples many oon Of olde stories, longe tyme agoon: For lewed peple loven tales olde; Swich thinges can they wel reporte and holde. no What ? trowe ye, the whyles I may preehe, And winne gold and silver for I teche, That I wol live in povert wilfully ? Nay, nay, I thoghte it never trewely ! For I wol preehe and begge in sondry londes ; I wol not do no labour with myn hondes, Ne make baskettes, and live therby, Because I wol nat beggen ydelly. 1 wol non of the apostles counterf ete ; I wol have money, woUe, chese, and whete, Al " were it yeven of the povrest page, 121 Or of the povrest widwe in a village, Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne. Nay ! I wol drinke licour of the vyne, ' a-blackberrying. ' separate. » Althougli. THE CANTERBURY TALES 145 And have a joly wenche in every toun. But herkneth, lordings, iu conclusioun; Yuur lyking is that I shal telle a tale. Now, have 1 dronke a draughte of corny ale, By God, I hope I slial yow telle a thing That shal, by resoun, been at your lyking. For, though myself be a ful vicious man, 131 A moral tale yet I yow telle can, Which I am wont to preche, for to winne. Now holde your pees, my tale I wol be- ginue.' THE PARDONERS TALE Here biginneth the Pardoners Tale In Flaundres whylom was a eompanye Of yonge folk, that haunteden ' folye. As ryot, hasard, stewes,^ and tavernes, Wher-as, with harpes, lutes, and giternes,^ They daunce and pleye at dees bothe day and night, And ete also and drinken over hir might, Thurgh which they doou the devel saori- fyse With-in that develes temple, in cursed wyse, By superfluitee abhomiuable; Hir othes been so grete and so dampnable, That it is grisly for to here hem swere; n Our blissed lordes body they to-tere;^ Hem thoughte Jewes rente him noght y-nough; And ech of hem at otheres sinne lough.* And right anon than comen tombesteres ° Fetys' and smale, and yonge fruytesteres,' Singers with harpes, baudes, wafereres,^ Whiche been the verray develes officeres To kindle and blowe the fyr of lecherye, That is annexed un-to glotonye; 20 The holy writ take I to my witnesse. That luxurie is in wyn and dronkenesse. Lo, how that dronken Loth, unkindely,'" Lay by his doghtres two, nnwitingly; So dronke he was he niste what he wroghte. Herodes, (who-so wel the stories soghte). Whan he of wyn was replet at his feste. Right at his owene table he yaf his heste'^ To sleen the Baptist John ful giltelees. Senek seith eek a good word doiitelees; 30 1 followed. 2 brothels. ' citherns, mandolins. * The church taught that Christ was pained again in whatever part of his body a profane person swore by. 5 laughed. " tumbling girls. 7 well formed. ^ girls who sold fruit. > venders of wafers, i.e. waffles, w against nature. " gave the order. He seith, he can no difference finde Bitwix a man that is out of his minde And a man which that is dronkelewe,'^ But that woodnesse, y-fallen in a shrewe,^^ Persevereth lenger than doth dronkenesse. O glotonye, ful of cursed nesse, O cause first of our confusioun, O original of our dampnacioun. Til Crist had boght us with his blood agayn 1 . Lo, how dere, shortly for to sayn, 40 Aboght was thilke cursed vileinye; Corrupt was al this world for glotonye! Adam our fader, and his wyf also, Fro Paradys to labour and to wo Were driven for that vyce, it is no drede;^* For whyl that Adam fasted, as I rede, He was in Paradys; and whan that he Eet of the fruyt defended '* on the tree. Anon '^ he was out-cast to wo and peyne. glotonye, on thee wel oghte us pleyne! 50 O, wiste a man how many maladyes Folwen of excesse and of glotonyes. He wolde been the more mesurable Of his diete, sittinge at his table. Alias! the shorte throte, the tendre mouth, Maketh that, Est and West, and North and South, In erthe, in eir, in water men to-swinke " To gete a glotoun deyntee mete and drinke ! Of this matere, o Paul, wel canstow trete, ' Mete uu-to wombe, and wombe eek un-to mete, 60 Shal God destroyen bothe,' as Paulus seith.^^ Alias! a foul thing is it, by my feith, To seye this word, and fouler is the dede. Whan man so drinketh of the whyte and rede,^^ That of bis throte he maketh his privee, Thurgh thilke cursed superfluitee. The apostel weping seith ful pitously, ' Ther walken many of whiche yow told have I, 1 seye it now weping with pitous voys, That they been enemys of Cristes croys, 70 Of whiche the ende is deeth, wombe is her god.' 20 O wombe! bely! O stinking cod,^^ Fulflld of donge and of corrupcioun ! At either ende of thee foul is the soun. 12 drunken. The termination is Scandinavian. 13 madness, happening to a person of evil nature. w beyond doubt. is forbidden. la Instantly. " labour overmuch. ib i Corinthians^ vi, 13. IB wines. 20 P/iilippiaTis, iii, 19. 21 bag. 146 GEOFFREY CHAUCER How greet labour and cost is thee to finde ! ^ Thise cokes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grinde, And turnen substaunce in-to accident,^ To fulfille al thy likerous talent ' I Out of the harde bones knokke they The mary,* for they caste noght a-wey 80 That may go thurgh the golet softe and swote ; Of spicerye, of leef, and bark, and rote Shal been his sauce y-maked by delyt, To make him yet a newer appetyt. But certes, he that haunteth swiob delyees Is deed, whyl that he liveth in tho vyces. A lecherous thing is wyn; and dronke- nesse Is ful of stryving and of wrecchednesse. O dronke man, disfigured is thy face, 89 Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace, And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun As though thou seydest ay, ' Sampsoun, Sampsoun'; And yet, God wot, Sampsoun drank never no wyn. Thou fallest, as it were a stiked swyn; Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honest cure; " For dronkenesse is verray sepulture Of mannes wit and his discreeioun. lu whom that drinke hath dominacioun. He can no conseil kepe, it is no drede. Now kepe yow fro the whyte and fro the rede, 100 And namely fro the whyte wyn of Lepe,^ That is to selle in Fish-strete or in ChepeJ This wyn of Spayne crepeth subtilly In othere wynes, growing faste by,* Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee,' Tliat whan a man hath dronken draughtes three, And weneth that he be at boom in Chepe, He is in Spayne, right at the tonne of Lepe, Nat at the Rochel, ne at Burdeux toun ; '" And thanne wol he seye, ' Sampsoun, Samp- soun.' no But herkneth, lordings, o word, I yow preye. That alle the sovereyn actes, dar 1 seye, 1 to provide for. 2 A scholastic distinction: the cooks change the very nature of the food. 3 gourniandizing appetite. * marrow. ^ decent personal care. 6 Near Cadiz ; the wine is perhaps natural sherry. 7 Cheapside, London. B A sly allusion to the adulterating and fortifying of wines. ^ drunken fumes. 10 The wines of La Rochelle and Bordeaux were milder. Of victories in th'olde testament, Thurgh verray God, that is omnipotent. Were doon in abstinence and in preyere; Loketh the Bible, and ther ye may it lere. Loke, Attila, the grete conquerour, Deyde in his sleep, with shame and dishon- our, Bledinge ay at his nose in dronkenesse; A eapitayn shoulde live in sobrenesse. 120 And over all this, avyseth yow right wel What was comaunded un-to Lamuel — ^^ Nat Samuel, but Lamuel, seye I — Redeth the Bible, and finde it expresly Of wyu-yeving to hem that ban justyse. Na^more of this, for it may wel suffyse. And now that I have spoke of glotonye, Now wol I yow defenden '^ hasardrye. Hasard is verray moder of lesinges, 129 And of deceite, and cursed forsweringes. Blaspheme of Crist, mauslaughtre, and wast also Of catel^' and of tyme; and forthermo. It is repreve " and coutrarie of honour, For to ben holde a commune hasardour. And ever the hyer he is of estaat. The more is he holdeu desolaat. If that a prince useth hasardrye, In alle governaunce and policye He is, as by commune opinioun, Y-holde the lasse in reputacioun. 140 Stilbon,!* that was a wys erabassadour. Was sent to Corinthe, in ful greet honour, Fro Laeidomie, to make hir alliannce. And whan he cam, him happede, par chaunce. That alle the grettest that were of that lond, Pleyinge atte hasard he hem fond. For which, as sone as it mighte be. He stal him boom agayn to his contree, And seyde, ' Ther wol I nat lese my name; Ne I wol nat tak on me so greet de- fame, 150 Yow for to allye un-to none hasardours. Sendeth othere wyse embassadours. For, by my trouthe, me were lever dye, Than I yow sholde to hasardours allye. For ye that been so glorious in honours Shul nat allyen yow with hasardours As by my wil, ne as by my tretee.' This wyse philosophre thus seyde he. 11 Lemuel, v. Proverbs, xxxi, 4. 12 forbid. 13 chattels, property. i* reproach. IS Apparently for Chilon. The story is in John of Salisbury's Policraticus^ book I, chap. 5. THE CANTERBURY TALES 147 Loke eek that, to the king Demetrius The king of Parthes, as the book seith us,i 160 Sente him a paire of dees of gold in scorn, For he hadde used hasard ther-biforn; For which he heeld his glorie or his renoun At no value or reputacioun. Lordes may finden other maner pley Honeste y-nough to dryve the day awey. Now wol 1 speke of othes false and grete A word or two, as olde bokes trete. Gret swering is a thing abhominable, And false swering is yet more reprev- able. 170 The heighe God forbad swering at al, Witnesse on Mathew; ^ but in special Of swering seith the holy Jereraye,^ ' Thou shalt seye sooth thyn othes, and nat lye, And swere in dome, and eek in rightwis- nesse ; ' But ydel swering is a cursednesse. Bihold and see, that in the firste table ^ Of heighe Goddes hestes honurable. How that the seconde heste of him is this — 'Tak nat my name in ydel or amis.' 180 Lo, rather ^ he forbedeth swich swering Than homieyde or many a cursed thing; I seye that, as by ordre, thus it stondeth; This knowen, that his hestes understond- eth, How that the second heste of God is that. And forther over, I wol thee telle al plat,' That vengeance shal nat parten from his hous. That of his othes is to outrngeous. 'By Goddes precious herte, and by his nayles, And by the blode of Crist, that it is in Hayles,' 190 Seven is my chaunce, and thyn is cink and treye ; ^ By Goddes arraes, if thou falsly pleye, 1 John of Salisbury's Policraticus, after the place last cited. 2 Matthew, V. 34. ■> Jeremiah, iv, 2. * The commandments were divided into two tables, the first laying down man's duty toward God, the sec- ond his duty toward his fellows. The first two com- mandments were grouped as one, and so our third was the second — as in 1. 179. 6 He forbids it sooner, i.e. earlier among the com- mandments. 6 And furthermore I say flatly. ' At Ashridge in Gloucestershire. This precious blood in a phial was visible only to the truly penitent. s five and three. These are technical expressions in the game of " hazard." This dagger shal thurgh-out thyn herte go' — This fruyt cometh of the bicched' bones two, Forswering, ire, falsnesse, homieyde. Now, for the love of Crist that for us dyde, Leveth your othes, bothe grete and smale. But, sirs, now wol I telle forth my tale. Thise ryotoures three, of whiohe I telle, Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle, 200 Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke ; And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke Bifom a cors, was caried to his grave ; That oon of hem gau eallen to his knave, ' Go bet,' '" quod he, ' and axe redUy, What cors is this that passeth heer f orby ; And look that thou reporte his name wel.' ' Sir,' quod this boy, ' it nedeth never- a-del. It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres; He was, pardee, an old f elawe of y oures ; 210 And sodeynly he was y-slayn to-night, For-dronke,'i as he saton his bench upright; Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, That in this contree al the peple sleeth, And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, And wente his wey with-outen wordes mo. He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence: And, maister, er ye come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were necessarie For to be war of swich an adversarie: 220 Beth redy for to mete him evermore. Thus taughte me my dame, I sey na-more.' ' By seinte Marie,' seyde this taverner, ' The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn this yeer, Henne over a myle, with-in a greet village, Both man and womman, child and hyne, and page. I trowe his habitaciovm be there ; To been avysed greet wisdom it were, Er that he dide a man a dishonour.' ' Ye, Goddes armes! ' quod this ryotour, 230 ' Is it swich peril with him for to mete ? I shal him seke by wey and eek by strete, I make avow to Goddes digne bones! Herkneth, felawes, we three been al ones; Lat ech of us holde up his bond til other. And ech of us bicomen otheres brother, ' An uncertain word meaning picked, endented : or accursed ; or knuckle (bones). i° quickly, literally " better." " Dead drunk. 148 GEOFFREY CHAUCER And we wol sleen this false traytour Ueeth; He shal be slayn, which that ao many sleeth, By Goddes diguitee, er it be night.' Togidres han thise three her trouthes plight, 240 To live and dyen ech of hem for other, As though he were his owene y-boren brother. And up they sterte al dronken, in this rage. And forth they goon towardes that village, Of which the taverner had spoke biforn. And many a grisly ooth than han they sworn, And Cristas blessed body they to-rente — Deeth shal be deed, if that they may him hente. Whan they han goon nat fully half a myle. Right as they wolde han troden over a style, 250 An old man and a povre with hem mette. This olde man ful mekely hem grette,i And seyde thus, ' Now, lordes, God yow see! '2 The proudest of thise ryotoures three Answerde agayu, ' What ? carl, with sory grace,^ Why artow al forwrapped ^ save thy face ? Why livestow so longe in so greet age ? ' This olde man gan loke in his visage, And seyde thus, ' For I ne can nat finde A man, though that I walked iu-to lude, 260 Neither in citee nor in no village, That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age; And therfore moot I han myn age stille, As longe time as it is Goddes wille. Ne deeth, alias! ne wol nat han my lyf; Thus walke I, lyk a restelees caityf, And on the ground, which is my modres gate, I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late. And seye, " Leve moder, leet me in! Lo, how I vanish, flesh, and blood, and skin I 270 Alias! whan shul my bones been at reste ? Moder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste, That in my ehambre longe tyme hath be, Ye! for an heyre clout to wrappe me!" ^ But yet to me she wol nat do that grace. For which ful pale and welked ^ is my face. 1 greeted. 2 save. 8 confound you. 1 concealed with wrappings. B I would change all the treasure that is in the cheat at the foot of my bed for a haircloth (shroud). 6 withered. But, sirs, to yow it is no curteisye To speken to an old man vileinye. But he trespasse in worde, or elles in dede. In holy writ ye may your-self wel rede, 280 "Agayus'' an old man, hoor upon his heed, Ye sholde aryse;"* wherfor 1 yeve yow reed, Ne dooth un-to an old man noon harm now, Na-more than ye wolde men dide to yow In age, if that ye so longe abyde; And God be with yow, wher y e go ^ or ryde. I moot go thider as I have to go.' * Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shalt nat so,' Seyde this other hasardour anon; ' Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint John! Thou spak right now of thiike traitour Deeth, 291 That in this contree alle our f rendes sleeth. Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his aspye,^" Tel wher he is, or thou shalt it abye,ii By God, and by the holy sacrament! For soothly thou art oon of his assent. To sleen us youge folk, thou false theef ! ' ' Now, sirs,' quod he, ' if that yow be so leef To finde Deeth, turne up this croked wey. For in that grove I lafte him, by my fey. Under a tree and ther he wol abyde ; 301 Nat for your boost he wol him no-thing hyde. See ye that 00k ? Eight ther ye shul him finde, God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde. And yow amende! ' — thus seyde this olde man. And everich of thise ryotoures ran. Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde Of florins fyne of golde y-coyned rounde Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte. No lenger tlianne after Deeth they soughte, But ech of hem so glad was of that siglite. For that the florins been so faire and brighte, 312 That doim they sette hem by this precious hord. The worste of hem he spake the flrste word. ' Brethren,' quod he, ' tak kepe what I seye; My wit is greet, though that I bourdei'^ and pleye. 7 When you meet. a Leiniicus, xix, 32. 8 walls. 10 spy. 11 pay for. 12 joke. THE CANTERBURY TALES 149 This tresor hath fortune un-to us yiven, In mirthe and jolitee our lyf to liven ; And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende. Ey ! Goddes precious dignitee ! who weude To-day, that we sholde han so fair a grace ? But mighte this gold be caried fro this place 322 Hoom to myn hous, or elles un-to youres — For wel ye woot that al this gold is oures — Thau were we in heigh felicitee. But trewely, by daye it may nat be; Men wolde seyn that we were theves stronge, And for our owene tresor doon us honge.^ This tresor moste y-caried be by uighte As wysly and as slyly as it miglite. 330 Wherfore I rede that cut ^ among us alle Be drawe, and lat see wher the cut wol f alle ; And he that hath the cut with herte blythe Shal renne to the toune, and that ful swythe/ And bringe us breed and wyn ful prively. And two of us shul kepen subtilly This tresor wel; and, if he wol nat tarie, Whan it is night, we wol this tresor carie By oon assent, wher-as us thinketh best.' That oon of hem the cut broughte in his fest, 340 And bad hem drawe, and loke wher it wol falle; And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle; And forth toward the toun he wente anon. And also sone as that he was gon, That oon of hem spak thus un-to that other, 'Thou knowest wel thou art my sworue brother, Thy profit wol I telle thee anon. Thou woost wel that our f elawe is agon ; And heer is gold, and that ful greet plentee. That shal departed been among us three. But natheles, if I can shape it so 351 That it departed were among us two, Hadde I nat doon a f reendes torn to thee ? ' That other answerde, ' I noot how that may be; He woot how that the gold is with us tweye ; What shal we doon, what shal we to him seye ? ' ' Shal it be conseil ? ' * seyde the flrste shrewe,* 1 cause us to be hanged. 2 lot ; the " cut '' was the stick or straw cut longer (or shorter) than all the others. 3 quickly. * a secret. b rascal. ' And I shal tellen thee, in wordes fewe, What we shal doon, and bringe it wel aboute.' ' I graunte,' quod that other, ' out of doute, 360 That, by my trouthe, I wol thee nat bi- wreye.' ' Now,' quod the flrste, ' thou woost wel we be tweye. And two of us shul strenger be than oon. Look whan that he is set, and right anoon Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye; And I shal ryve him thurgh the sydes tweye Whyl that thou strogelest with him as in game. And with thy dagger look thou do the same ; And than shal al this gold departed be, My dere freend, bitwixeu me and thee; 370 Than may we bothe our lustes al fulfills. And pleye at dees righte at our owene wiUe.' And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me This yongest, which that wente un-to the toun, Ful ofte in herte he roUeth up and doun The beautee of thise florins newe and brighte. ' O lord ! ' quod he, ' if so were that I mighte Have al this tresor to my-self allone, Ther is no man that liveth under the trone Of God, that sholde live so mery as I! ' 381 And atte laste the feend, our enemy, Putte in his thought that he shold poyson beye, With which he mighte sleen his felawes tweye ; For-why the feend fond him in swich lyvinge, That he had )eve him to sorwe bringe. For this was outrely his fulle entente To sleen hem bothe, and never to repente. And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie. Into the toun, un-to a pothecarie, 390 And preyed him, that he him wolde selle Som poyson, that he mighte his rattes quelle ; ° And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe,' That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde y-slawe, e kill. 7 yard, hen-yard, literally " hedge." 15° GEOFFREY CHAUCER And fayn he wolde wreke him, if he mighte, On vermin, that destroyed him by nighte. The pothecarie answerde, ' And thou shalt have A thing that, al-so God my soule save, In al this world ther nis no creature. That ete or dronke hath of this confiture K oght but the mountanoe ^ of a corn of whete, 401 That he ne shal his lyf anon forlete; Ye, starve ^ he shal, and that in lasse whyle Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a myle; This poyson is so strong and violent.' This cursed man hath in his bond y-hent This poyson in a box, and sith he ran In-to the nexte strete, un-to a man, And borwed of him large hotels three; And in the two his poyson poured he; 410 The thridde he kepte clene for his drinke. For al the night he shoop him ' for to swiuke * In caryinge of the gold out of that place. And whan this ryotour, with sory grace. Had filled with wyn his grate hotels three, To his felawes agayn repaireth he. What nedeth it to sermone of it more ? For right as they had oast his deeth bifore, Right so they han him slayn, and that anon. And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon, 420 ' Now lat us sitte and drinke, and make us merie, And afterward we wol his body berie.' And with that word it happed him, par cas, To take the hotel ther the poysou was. And drank, and yaf his felawe drinke also, For which anon they storven ^ bothe two. But, certes, I suppose that Avicen Wroot never in no canon, ne in no fen,' Mo wonder ' signes of empoisoning Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir end- ing. 430 Thus ended been thise homicydes two, And eek the false erapoysoner also. O cursed sinne, ful of cnrsednesse ! O traytours homicyde, o wikkednesse ! O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye ! Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileinye And othes grete, of usage and of pryde ! Alias ! mankinde, how may it bityde, 1 amount. 2 die. 8 intended. * labour. ^ died. fl Avicenna (fl. 1000 A.D.), the great Arabian phy- sician, wrote a medical treatise called the "Canon," with chapters termed "fens." ^ wondrous. That to thy creatour which that thee wroghte, And with his precious herte-blood thee boghte, 440 Thou art so fals and so unkinde, alias I Now, goode men, God forgeve yow your trespas, And ware yow fro the sinne of avaryce. Myn holy pardoun may yow alle waryce,' So that ye offre nobles or sterlinges,^ Or elles silver broches, spones, ringes. Boweth your heed under this holy bulle ! Cometh up, ye wyves, offreth of your woUe ! Your name 1 entre heer in my rolle anon; In-to the blisse of hevene shul ye gon; 450 I yow assoile, by myn heigh power, Yow that wo] offre, as clene and eek as cleer As ye were born; and, lo, sirs, thus I prcche. And Jesu Crist, that is our soules leche. So graunte yow his pardon to receyve ; For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve. But sirs, o word forgat I in my tale, I have relikes and pardon in my male, As faire as any man in Engelond, Whiche were me yeven by the popes bond. If any of yow wol, of devocioun, 461 OfBren, and han myn absolucioun, Cometh forth anon, and kneleth heeradoun, And mekely receyveth my pardoun: Or elles, taketh pardon as ye wende, Al newe and fresh, at every tonnes ende, So that ye offren alwey newe and newe Nobles and pens, which that be gode and trewe. It is an honour to everich that is heer. That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer T'assoille yow, in contree as ye ryde, 471 For aventures which that may bityde. Peraventure ther may falle oon or two Doun of his hors, and breke his nekke atwo. Look which a seuretee is it to yow alle That I am in your felaweship y-falle, That may assoille yow, bothe more and Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe. I rede that our hoste heer shal biginne, For he is most envoluped in sinne. 480 Com forth, sir hoste, and o£Pre first anon. And thou shalt kisse the reliks everichon, Ye, for a grote ! unbokel anon thy purs. ' Nay, nay,' quod he, ' than have 1 Cristes curs ! > save. 8 silver coins. THE CANTERBURY TALES 151 Lat be,' quod he, ' it shal nat be, so thee'oh ! ^ Thou woldest make me kisse thyn old breech,'' And swere it were a relik of a seint.' • Here is ended the Pardoners Tale, THE TALE OF THE WYF OF BATHE Here higinneth the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe In th'olde dayes of the king Arthour, Of which that Britons speken greet honour, Al was this land f ulfild of fayerye. The elf-queen, with hir joly companye, Daunoed f ul of te in many a grene mede ; This was the olde opinion, as I rede. I speke of manye hundred yeres ago; But now can no man see none elves mo. For now the grete charitee and prayeres Of limitours and othere holy freres, 10 That serchen every lond and every streem, As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem, Blessinge halles, chambres, kiehenes, boures, Citees, burghes, oastels, hye tonres, Thropes,* hemes, shipnes,' dayeryes, This maketh that ther been no fayeryes. For ther as wont to walken was an elf, Ther walketh now the limitour himself In underrneles ' and in morweninges, 19 And seyth his matins and his holy thinges As he goth in his limitacioun. Wommen may go saufly up and doun, In every bush, or under every tree; Ther is noon other incubus but he. And he ne wol doon hem non' dishonour. And so bifel it, that this king Arthour Hadde in his hous a lusty bacheler. That on a day cam rydinge fro river;" And happed that, allone as she was born, He saugh a mayde walkinge him bifom, 30 Of whiehe mayde anon, maugree hir heed,' By verray force he rafte hir maydenheed; For which oppressioun was swich clamour And swich pursute un-to the king Arthour, 1 as I may prosper. 2 breecbea. ' Here follows for a few lines a coarse quarrel be- tween the two, but the knight reconciles them. * Thorps, Tillages. 6 cow-bams, fl Here apparently mid-aftemoon. ^ Most MSS. read bui. s xhat is, from hawking. B in spite of all resistance. That dampned was this knight for to be deed By cours of lawe, and sholde ban lost his heed Paraventure, swich was the statut tho; But that the queue and othere ladies mo So longe preyeden the king of grace. Til he his lyf him graunted in the place, 40 And yaf him to the queue al at hir wille, To chese, whether she wolde him save or spille.io The queue thanketh the king with al hir might. And after this thus spak she to the knight, Whan that she saugh hir tyme, up-on a day: 'Thou standest yet,' quod she, 'in swich array That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee. I grante thee lyf, if thou canst tellen me What thing is it that wommen most de- syren. Be war, and keep thy nekke-boon from yren. 50 And if thou canst nat tellen it anon, Yet wol I yeve thee leve for to gon A twelf-month and a day, to seche and lere An answere sufiisant in this matere. And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace, Thy body for to yelden in this place.' Wo was this knight and sorwefuUy he syketh; But what ! he may nat do al as him lyketh. And at the laste, he chees him for to wende, 59 And come agayn, right at the yeres ende, With swich answere as God wolde him pur- veye; And taketh his leve, and wendeth forth his weye. He seketh every hous and every place, Wher-as he hopeth for to finde grace. To lerne what thing wommen loven most; But he ne coude arryven in no cost, Wher-as he mighte finde in this matere Two creatures accordinge in-fere.^^ Somme seyde, wommen loven best rich- esse, Somme seyde honour, somme seyde joly- nesse ; 70 Somme riche array, somme seyden lust abedde. And ofte tyme to be widwe and wedde. 10 destroy. " agreeing together. 152 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Somme seyde, that our hertes been most esed Whan that we been y-flatered and y-plesed. He gooth ful ny the sothe, I wol nat lye; A man shal winne us best with flaterye; And with attendance and with bisiuesse Been we y-lymed,' both more and lesse. And somme seyn, how that we loven best For to be free, and do right as us lest, 80 And that no man repreve us of our vyce. But seye that we be wyse, and uo-thing nyce.2 For trewely, ther is noon of us alle. If any wight wol olawe us on the galle. That we nil kike,' for he seith us sooth; Assay, and he shal finde it that so dooth. For be we never so vicious with-inne. We wol been holden wyse, and clene of sinne. And somme seyn, that greet delyt ban we For to ben holden stable and eek secree, 90 And in o purpos stedefastly to dwelle. And nat biwreye thing that men us telle. But that tale is nat worth a rake-stele; ^ Pardee, we wommen conne no-thing hele ; ^ Witnesse on Myda;^ wol ye here the tale ? Ovyde, amonges othere thinges smale, Seyde Myda hadde, under his longe heres, Growinge up-ou his heed two asses eres, The whiohe vyce he hidde, as he best mighte, Ful subtilly from every mannes sighte, too That, save his wyf, ther wiste of it namo. He loved hir most, and trusted hir also; He preyede hir, that to no creature She sholde tellen of his disfigure. She swoor him nay, for al this world to winne. She nolde do that vileinye or sinne. To make hir housbond hfiu so foul a name; She nolde nat telle it for hir owene shame. But natlielees, hir thoughte that she dyde,' That she so longe sholde a conseil hyde; no Hir thoughte it swal so sore aboute hir herte, That uedely som word hir moste asterte; " 1 caught, as birds by lime-twigs. z silly. 3 If any touch us on a tender spot we '11 kick. Some MSS. have like for kike, giving the meaning — if any stroke our wound gently we will like it. 4 rake-handle — still used in English dialects. 6 know how to conceal nothing. 8 Midas, Ovid's Metamorphoses, XI, 174, though the versions do not agree. 7 it seemed to her as if she must perish. 8 she had to say something. And sith she dorste telle it to no man, Doun to a mareys' faste by she ran; Til she came there, hir herte was a-fyre, And, as a bitore bombleth i" in the myre. She leyde hir mouth un-to the water doun: 'Biwreye me nat, thou water, with thy souu,' Quod she, ' to thee I telle it, and namo; 119 Myn liousbond hath longe asses eres two ! Now is myn herte all hool, now is it oute; I mighte no lenger kepe it, out of doute.' Heer may ye se, thogh we a tyme abyde, Yet out it moot, we can no conseil hyde ; The remenant of the tale if ye wol here, Kedeth Ovyde, and ther ye may it lere. This knight, of which my tale is speci- ally, Whan that he saugh he mighte nat come therby. This is to seye, what wommen loven moost, With-inne his brest ful sorweful was the goost; 130 But hoom he gooth, he mighte not so- journe. The day was come that hoomward moste he tourne; And in his wey it happed him to ryde, In al this care, under a foresl^syde, Wher-as he saugh up-on ^' a daunce go Of ladies foure and twenty, and yet mo; Toward the whiche daunce he drow ful yerne,^ In hope that som wisdom sholde he leme. But certeinly, er he came fully there, Vanisshed was this daunce, he niste where. 140 No creature saugh he that bar lyf, Save on the grene he saugh sittinge a wyf; A fouler wight ther may no man devyse. Agayn the knight this olde wyf gan ryse, And seyde, ' Sir knight, heer-forth ne lyth no wey. Tel me what that ye seken, by your fey. Para venture it may the bettre be ; Thise olde folk can muchel thing,' quod she. ' My leve mooder,' quod this knight, ' cer- teyn I nam but deed, but-if that I can seyn 150 What thing it is that wommen most de- syre; Coude ye me wisse,^^ I wolde wel quyte your hyre."^ B marsh. 10 as a bittern bumbles or booms. " in. I! eagerly. 13 show. " reward you. THE CANTERBURY TALES IS3 'Plight me thy trouthe, heer in myn hand,' quod she, ' The nexte thing that I requere thee, Thou shalt it do, if it lye in thy might; And I wol telle it yow er it be night.' ' Have heer my trouthe,' quod the knight, ' I grante.' ' Thanne,' quod she, ' I dar me wel avante. Thy lyf is sauf, for I wol stonde therby; Up-on my lyf, the queen wol seye as I. i6o Lat see which is the proudeste of hem alle, That wereth on a coverehief or a calle,i That dar seye nay, of that I shal thee teche ; Lat us go forth with-outen lenger speche.' The rouned she a pistel" in his ere, And bad him to be glad, and have no fere. Whan they be comen to the court, this knight Seyde he had holde his day as he hadde hight,^ And redy was his answere, as he sayde. Ful many a noble wyf, and many a mayde, 170 And many a widwe, for that they ben wyse, The queue hir-self sittinge as a justyse, Assembled been, his answere for to here; And afterward this knight was bode appere. To every wight comanded was silence, And that the knight sholde telle in audi- ence, What thing that worldly worn men loven best. This knight ne stood nat stille as doth a best, But to his questionn anon answerde With manly voys, that al the court it herde : 180 ' My lige lady, generally,' quod he, ' Worn men desyren to have sovereyntee As wel over hir housboud as hir love. And for to been in maistrie him above; This is your moste desyr, thogh ye me kille. Doth as yow list, I am heer at your wille.' In al the court ne was ther wyf ne mayde, Ne widwe, that contraried that he sayde, But seyden he was worthy han his lyf. And with that word up stirte the olde wyf, 190 Which that the knight saugh sittinge in the grene: ' Mercy,' quod she, ' my sovereyn lady queue ! 1 caul, head-dxess. 2 whispered a tale. 3 promised. Er that your court departe, do me right. I taughte this answere un-to the knight; For which he plighte me his trouthe there, The flrste thing I wolde of him requere, He wolde it do, if it lay in his might. Bifore the court than preye I thee, sir knight,' Quod she, 'that thou me take un-to thy wyf; For wel thou wost that I have kept thy lyf. 200 If I sey fals, sey nay, up-on thy fey! ' This knight answerde, 'Alias! andweyla- wey! I woot right wel that swich was my bi- heste.^ For Goddes love, as chees a newe requeste ; Tak al my good, and lat my body go.' ' Nay than,' quod she, ' I shrewe us bothe two! For thogh that I be foul, and old, and pore, I nolde for al the metal, ne for ore. That under erthe is grave, or lyth above, But-if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.' ' My love ? ' quod he ; ' nay, my dampna.- ciounl 211 Alias! that any of my nacioun Sholde ever so foule disparaged be!' But al for noght, the ende is this, that he Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde ; And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde. Now wolden som men seye, paraventure. That, for my necligence, I do no cure To tellen yow the joye and al th'array That at the feste was that ilke day. 220 To whiehe thing shortly answere I shal; I seye, ther nas no joye ne feste at al, Ther nas but hevinesse and muche sorwe; For prively he wedded hir on a morwe. And al day after hidde him as an oule; So wo was him, his wyf looked so foule. Greet was the wo the knight hadde in his thoght. Whan he was with his wyf a-bedde y- brogbt; He walweth,^ and he turneth to and fro. His olde wyf lay smylinge evermo, 230 And seyde, ' O dere housbond, benedicite ! Fareth every knight thus with his wyf as ye? Is this the lawe of king Arthures hous ? Is every knight of his so dangerous ? ^ t promise. 6 wallows, turns. s diataut. 154 GEOFFREY CHAUCER I am your owene love and eek your wyf ; I am she which that saved hath your lyf ; And certes, yet dide I yow never unright; Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit; What is my gilt ? for Goddes love, tel me it, 240 And it shal been amended, if I may.' 'Amended?' quod this knight, 'alias! nay, nay! It wol nat been amended never mo ! Thou art so loothly, and so old also. And ther-to comen of so lowe a kinde. That litel wonder is, thogh I walwe and winde.^ So wolde God myn herte wolde breste! ' 'Is this,' quod she, 'the cause of your unrests ? ' ' Ye, certainly,' quod he, ' no wonder is.' ' Now, sire,' quod she, ' I coude amende al this, 250 If that me liste, er it were dayes three, So wel ye mighte bere yow un-to me. But for ye speken of swich gentillesse As is descended out of old richesse. That therf ore sholden ye be gentil men, Swich arrogance is nat worth an hen. Loke who that is most vertuous alway, Privee and apert, aud most entendeth ay To do the gentil dedes that he can. And tak him for the grettest gentil man. Crist wol, we clayme of him our gentil- lesse, 261 Nat of our eldres for hir old richesse. For thogh they yeve us al hir heritage. For which we clayme to been of heigh par- age,2 Yet may they nat biquethe, for no-thing. To noon of us hir vertuous living. That made hem gentil men y-called be; And bad us folwen hem in swich degree. Wel can the wyse poete of Florence, That highte Dant, speken in this sentence; Lo in swich maner rym * is Dautes tale : 271 "Ful selde^ up ryseth by his branches smale Prowesse of man; for God, of his good- nesse, Wol that of him we clayme our gentil- lesse;" For of our eldres may we no-thing clayme But temporel thing, that man may hurte aud mayme. 1 twist. I rhyme. — Purgatorio^ VII, 121. 2 kindred. i seldom. Eek every wight wot this as wel as I, If gentillesse were planted naturelly Un-to a certeyn linage, doun the lyne, Privee ne apert, than wolde they never f yne ^ 280 To doon of gentillesse the faire offyce; They mighte do no vileinye or vyce. Tak fyr, and ber it in the derkeste hous Bitwix this and the mount of Caucasus, And lat men shette the dores and go thenne ; Yet wol the fyr as faire lye and brenne. As twenty thousaud men mighte it biholdej His office naturel ay wol it holde, Up peril of my lyf, til that it dye. Hear may ye see wel, how that genterye Is nat annexed to possessioun, 291 Sith folk ne doon hir operaoioun Alwey, as dootb the fyr, lo! in his kinde. For, God it woot, men may wel often flnde A lordes sone do shame and vileinye ; And he that wol ban prys of his geutrye For he was boren of a gentil hous. And hadde hise eldres noble and vertuous, And nil him-selven do no gentil dedis, Ne folwe his gentil anncestre that deed is, He nis nat gentil, be he duk or erl; 301 For vileyns sinful dedes make a cherl. For gentillesse nis but renomee ° Of thyne auncestres, for hir heigh bountee, Which is a strange thing to thy persone. Thy gentillesse cometh fro God allone; Than comth our verray gentillesse of grace, It was no-thing biquethe us with our place. Thenketh how noble, as seith Valerius,' Was thilke TuUius HostUius, 310 That out of povert roos to heigh noblesse. . Redeth Senek, and redeth eek Boece, Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede ' is. That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis; And therfore, leve housbond, I thus con- clude, Al were it that myne auncestres were rude. Yet may the bye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to liven vertuously. Thanne am I gentil, whan that I biginne To liven vertuously and weyve' sinne. 320 And ther-as ye of povert me repreve, The bye God, on whom that we bileve, In wilful povert chees to live his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf, B cease. 8 renown. ' Valerius Maximus (first century A.D.) bk. Ill, chap. 4, of his De FactiJi Dictisque MeinorabUibus. ° doubt. ' shim. THE CANTERBURY TALES iSS May understonde that Jesus, hevene king, Ne wolde nat chese a vicious living. Glad povert is an honest thing, oerteyn; This wol Senek and othere clerkes seyn. Who-so that halt him payd' of his poverte, I holde him riche, al hadde he nat a sherte, He that ooveyteth is a povre wight, 331 For he wolde han that is nat in his might. But he that noght hath, ne coveyteth have, Is riche, al-though ye holde him but a knave. Verray povert, it singeth proprely; Juvenal seith of povert merily: " The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye." ^ Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse, A f ul greet bringer out of bisinesse ; 340 A greet amender eek of sapience To him that taketh it in paeience.^ Povert is this, al-though it seme elenge ^ Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge. Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe, Maketh his God and eek him-self to knowe.^ Povert a spectacle^ is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see. And therefore, sire, sin that I noght yow greve, Of my povert na-more ye me repreve. 350 Now, sire, of elde' ye repreve me; And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentils of honour Seyn that men sholde an old wight doon favour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse ; And auctours ^ shal I finden, as I gesse. Now ther ye seye that I am foul and old, Than drede you noght to be a cokewold; For filthe and elde, al-so mote I thee, Been grete wardeyns up-on chastitee. 360 But nathelees, sin I knowe your delyt, I shal fulfiUe your worldly appetyt. Chees now,' quod she, ' oon of thise thinges tweye, — To han me foul and old til that I deye, And be to yow a trewe humble wyf. And never yow displese in al my lyf. Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair, And take your aventure * of the repair 1 pleased. 2 Juvenal's Satires, X, 22. 3 These sentiments are found in Vincent of BeauTais' Speculum Historiale, bk. X, chap. 71, and In other writers. ^ wearisome. 5 Causes a man to know himself and God. B lens, pair of spectacles. ^ age. ^ authorities to support me in this. risk. That shal be to your hous, by-cause of me. Or in som other place, may wel be. 370 Now chees your-selven, whether " that yow lyketh.' This knight avyseth him and sore syk- eth,ii But atte laste he seyde in this manere, ' My lady and my love, and wyf so dere, I put me in your wyse governance; Cheseth your-self, which may be most ples- ance. And most honour to yow and me also. I do no fors the whether ^^ of the two; For as yow lyketh, it suffiseth me.' ' Thanne have I gete of yow maistrye,' quod she, 380 ' Sin I may chese, and goveme as me lest ? ' 'Ye, certes, wyf,' quod he, 'I holde it best,' •Kis me,' quod she, 'we be no lenger wrothe ; For, by my trouthe, I wol be to yow bothe, This is to seyn, ye, bothe fair and good. I prey to God that I mot sterven wood,'^' But I to yow be al-so good and trewe As ever was wyf, sin that the world was newe. And, but I be to-morn as fair to sene As any lady, emperyce, or queue, 39a That is bitwixe the est and eke the west. Doth with my lyf and deeth right as yow lest. Cast up the curtin, loke how that it is.' And whan the knight saugh verraily al this, That she so fair was, and so yong ther-to, For joye he hente hir in his armes two, His herte bathed in a bath of blisse; A thousand tyme a-rewe ^* he gan hir kisse. And she obeyed him in every thing 399 That mighte doon him plesanee or lyking. And thus they live, un-to hir lyves ende. In parflt joye; and Jesu Crist us sende Housbondes meke, yonge, and fresshe a-bedde. And grace t'overbyde^^ hem that we wedde. And eek I prej'e Jesu shorte hir lyves That wol nat be governed by hir wyves; And olde and angry nigardes of dispence, God sende hem sone verray pestilence. Here endeth the Wyves Tale of Bathe. 10 whichever of the two. " sighs, w I care not which. 13 die mad. " in succession. " outlive. THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE Many men seyn that in sweveniiiges * Ther nis but fables and lesinges;'' But men may somme swevenes seen, Which hardely ^ ne false been, But afterward ben apparaunte. This may I drawe to waraunte An authour, that hight Macrobes, That halt not dremes false ne lees,^ But uudoth * us the avisioun That whylom mette king Cipioun.^ lo And who-so sayth, or weneth it be A jape, or elles nyoetee " To wene that dremes after falle, Let who-so liste a fool me calle. For this trowe I, and say for me. That dremes signlfiaunce be Of good and harme to many wightes, That dremen in her slepe a-nightes Ful many thinges covertly, That fallen after al openly. 20 THE DREAM Within my twenty yere of age. Whan that Love taketh his oorage ' Of yonge folk, I wente sone To bedde, as I was wont to done, And fast I sleep; and in sleping, Me mette ^ swiche a swevening. That lykede me wonders wel; But in that sweven is never a del That it nis afterward befalle. Right as this dreera wol telle us alle. 30 Now this dreem wol I ryme aright, To make your hertes gaye and light; For Love it prayeth, and also Commaundeth me that it be so. And if ther any aske me. Whether that it be he or she. How this booke which is here Shall hatte,^ that I rede you here; It is the Romance of the Rose, In which al the art of love I close. 40 The mater fair is of to make; God graunte in gree ^^ that she it take For whom that it begonuen is ! And that is she that hath, y-wis, 1 dreams. ' lies. ' surely. ' explains. » The Somnittm Scipionis of Cicero, known in the commen- tary by Macrobius (fl.400A.D.). • A jolieoraBiliything. ' liking. ' I dreamed. ' be called. " favor. So mochel prys ; and ther-to she So worthy is biloved be. That she wel oughte, of prys and right, Be cleped Rose of every wight. That it was May me though te tho — It is fyve yere or more ago; 50 That it was May, thus dremed me, In tyme of love and jolitee, That al thing ginneth waxen gay. For ther is neither busk nor hayU In May, that it nil shrouded been, And it with newe leves wreen.^^ These wodes eek recoveren grene. That drye in winter been to sene ; And th' erthe wexeth proud withalle, For swote ^^ dewes that on it falle, 60 And al the pore estat forget In which that winter hadde it set; And than bicometh the ground so proud That it wol have a newe shroud. And maketh so queynt his robe and fayr That it hath hewes an hundred payr Of gras and floures, inde and pers,^< And many hewes ful dyvers: That is the robe I mene, y-wis, Through which the ground to preisen is. jo The briddes, that han left hir song, Whyl they han suffred cold so strong In wedres ^^ grille ,^^ and derk to sighte, Ben in May, for the sonne brighte. So glade, that they shewe in singing That in hir herte is swich lyking That they mote singen and be light. Than doth the nightingale hir might To make noyse, and singen blythe. Than is blisful, many a sythe," 80 The chelaundre '* and the papingay.^' Than yonge folk entenden ^ ay For to ben gay and amorous. The tyme is than so savorous.^^ Hard is his herte that loveth nought In May, whan al this mirth is wrought; Whan he may on these braunches here The smale briddes singen clere Hir blisful swete song pitous; And in this sesoun delitous,*'^ 90 11 bush nor hedge. i^ cover. i' sweet. w dark blue and lipht blue. ^5 storms. " savage. 1' time. " a kind of lark. i« properly parrot; here green wood- pecker. 20 are disposed. 21 pleasant. 22 delightful. THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE H7 Whan love afErayeth ^ alle thing, Me thoughte a-night, in my sleping, Kight in my bed, ful redily, That it was by the morowe erly. And up I roos and gan me clothe; Anoon I wissh ^ myn hondes bothe; A sylvre nedle forth I drogh Out of an aguiler ^ queynt y-nogh, And gan this nedle threde anou; For out of toun me list to gon loo The sowne of briddes for to here, That on thise busshes singen clere. And in the swete sesoun that leef * is, With a threde basting my slevis,^ Aloon I wente in my playing. The smale foules song harkning; That peyned hem ^ ful many a payre To singe on bowes blosmed fayre. Jolif and gay, ful of gladnesse. Toward a river I gan me dresse, no That I herde renne faste by; For fairer playing non saugh I Than playen me by that riveer, For from an hille that stood ther neer Cam doun the streem ful stif and bold. Cleer was the water, and as cold As any welle is, sooth to seyne; And somdel lasse it was than Seine, But it was straighter wel away. And never saugh I, er that day, 120 The water that so wel lyked' me; And wonder glad was I to see That lusty place, and that riveer; And with that water that ran so cleer My face I wissh. Tho saugh I wel The botme paved everydel With gravel, ful of stones shene. The medewe softe, swote, and grene, Beet * right on the water-syde. Ful cleer was than the morow-tyde, 130 And ful attempre,' out of drede. Tho gan I walke through the mede, Dounward ay in my pleying, The river-syde costeying.'" THE GARDEN And whan I had a whyle goon, I saugh a Gardin right anoon, Ful long and brood, and everydel Enclosed was, and walled wel. With hye walles embatailled. Portrayed without, and wel entailled ^^ 140 1 distracts. 2 washed. 3 needle-case. * dear, s They often sewed on the long drooping sleeves each time the garment was donned. " took pains. ' pleased. B Impinged. " temperate. 10 coasting, following along. 11 decorated. With many riche portraitures ; And bothe images and peyntures Gan I biholde bisily. And I wol telle you, redily, Of thilke images the semblaunoe, As fer as I have remembraunce. A-midde saugh I Hate stonde. That for hir wrathe, ire, and onde,^ Semed to been a moveresse,^^ An angry wight, a ohideresse ; 1^ 150 And ful of gyle, and fel corage,'' By semblaunt was that ilke image. And she was no-thing wel arrayed. But lyk a wood ^^ womman af rayed ; Y-froimced i' foule was hir visage, And grenning ^* for dispitous 1^ rage; Hir nose snorted up for tene.'^" Ful hidous was she for to sene, Ful foul and rusty was she, this. Hir heed y-writhen ^1 was, y-wis, 160 Ful grimly with a greet towayle. An image of another entayle,^ A lift half,^' was hir faste by: Hir name above hir heed saugh I, And she was called Felonye. Another image, that Vilante Y-cleped was, saugh I and fond Upon the walle on hir right hond. Vilanye was lyk somdel ^^ That other image; and, trusteth wel, 170 She semed a wikked creature. By countenaunce, in portrayture, She semed be ful despitous. And eek ful proud and outrageous. Wel coude he peynte, I undertake, That swicbe image coude make. Ful foul and cherlish semed she, And eek vilaynous for to be. And litel coude of norture. To worshipe any creature.^ ,80 [TAe descriptions of Covetousness, Ava- rice, Envy, and Poverty are omitted.^ Tho gan I go a ful gret pas Envyroning even in compas ^ The closing of the square wal. Til that I fond a wiket smal 12 malice. i3 fomentress of quarrels. i* scolder. IS bad disposition, lo mad. ^^ wrinkled, is grinning. 19 spiteful. 20 vexation. 21 encircled. 22 fashion. 23 On the left side. 21 somewhat. 25 knew little of manners to be polite to any. 2a Going quite about the circuit. ^58 GEOFFREY CHAUCER So shet, that I ne mighte in goon, And other entree was ther noon. 530 THE DOOR Upon this dore I gan to smyte, That was [so] f etys ^ and so lyte ; For other wey coude I not seke. Ful long I shoof,'* and knokked eke, And stood ful long and oft herkning If that I herde a wight coining; Til that the dore of thilke entree A mayden curteys opened me. YDELNESSE Hir heer was as yelowe of hewe As any basin ^ scoured newe. 540 Hir flesh [as] tendre as is a chike, With beute ^ browes, smothe and slike; And by mesure large were The opening of hir yen clere. Hir nose of good proporcioun, Hir yen greye as a faucoun. With swete breeth and wel savoured. Hir face whyt and wel coloured, With litel mouth, and round to see; A clove ^ chin eek hadde she. 550 Hir nekke was of good f asoun In lengthe and gretnesse, by resoun, Withoute bleyne, seabbe, or royne.^ Fro Jerusalem unto Burgoyne Ther nis a fairer nekke, y-wis, To fele how smothe and softe it is. Hir throte, al-so whyt of hewe As snow on brauuche snowed newe. Of body ful wel wrought was she; Men neded not, in no cuntree, 560 A fairer body for to seke. And of f yn orf rays ' had she eke A chapelet: so semly oon Ne wered never mayde upon; And faire above that chapelet A rose gerland had she set. She hadde [in honde] a gay ^ mirour, And with a riche gold tressour ^ Hir heed was tressed queyntely; Hir sieves sewed f etisly. 570 And for to kepe hir hondes faire Of gloves whyte she hadde a paire. And she hadde on a cote of grene Of cloth of Gaunt; 1" withouten wene,^i Wel semed by hir apparayle 1 well-made. 2 shoved. ' The basin would be of latten. * arched. ^ cloven, i.e. dimpled. ^ roughness. ' gold-work. 8 pretty. 8 head-dress, caul. 10 Ghent. 11 beyond doubt. She was not wont to greet travayle. For whan she kempt ^^ was f etisly, And wel arayed and richely, Thanne had she doon al hir journee; ^^ For mery and wel bigoon " was she. 580 She ladde a lusty lyf in May, She hadde no thought, by night ne day, Of no-thing, but it were oonly To graythe ^^ hir wel and unoouthly.w Whan that this dore hadde opened me This mayden, semely for to see, I thanked hir as I best mighte, And axede hir how that she highte,^'' And what she was, I axede eke. And she to me was nought unmeke, 590 Ne of hir answer daungerous,^' But faire answerde, and seide thus : — ' Lo, sir, my name is Ydelnesse ; So clepe men me, more and lesse. Ful mighty and ful riche am I, And that of oon thing, namely; '' For I entende "" to no-thing But to my joye, and my ploying. And for to kembe and tresse ^^ me. Aqueynted am I, and privee 600 With Mirthe, lord of this gardyn, That fro the lande Alexandryu Made the trees be hider fet. That in this gardin been y-set. And when the trees were woxen ^ on highte, This wal, that stant here in thy sighte, Dide Mirthe encloseu^^ al aboute; And these images, al withoute. He dide hem bothe entaile ^^ and peynte. That neither ben jolyf ne queyute, 610 But they ben ful of sorowe and wo, As thou hast seen a whyle ago. ' And ofte tyme, him to solace. Sir Mirthe cometh into this place. And eek with him cometh his meynee, That liven in lust and jolitee. And now is Mirthe therin, to here The briddes, how they singen clere, The mavis and the nightingale. And other joly briddes smale. 620 And thus he walketh to solace Him and his folk; for swetter place To pleyen in he may not finde. Although he soughte oon in-til Inde. The alther-fairest^ folk to see That in this world may foimde be 12 combed, dressed. i3 day's work. " satisfied. IS clothe. 16 rarely. n was called. 18 haughty. 18 especially. 20 apply myself. 8I do my hair. 82 waxed. " had it enclosed. " carve, 's fairest of all. THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE 159 Hath Mirthe with him in his route, That folowen him alwayes aboute.' When Ydehiesse had told al this, And I hadde herkned wel, y-wis, 630 Than seide I to dame Ydelnesse, ' Now al-so wisly ^ God me blesse, Sith Mirthe, that is so fair and free. Is in this yerde with his nieynee,^ Fro thUke assemblee, if I may, Shal no man werne ' me to-day, That I this night ne mote it see. For, wel wene I, ther with him be A fair and joly eompanye Fulfilled of alle curtesye.' 640 And forth, without wordes mo. In at the wiket wente I tho, That Ydelnesse hadde opened me, Into that gardin fair to see. THE GARDEN And whan I was [ther]in, y-wis, Myn herte was ful glad of this. For wel wende I ful sikerly Have been in paradys erth[e]Iy ; So fair it was, that, trusteth wel. It semed a place espirituel. 650 For certes, as at my devys, Ther is no place in paradys So good in for to dwelle or be As in that Gakdin, thoughte me ; For there was many a brid singing, Throughout the yerd al thringing.* In many places were nightingales, Alpes,^ finches, and wodewales,^ Tlmt in her swete song delyten In thilke place as they habyten.' 660 Ther mighte men see many Hokkes Of turtles and [of] laverokkes. Chalaundres ' fele saw I there. That wery, nigh forsongen^ were. And thrustles, terins,^" and mavys,^' That songen for to winne hem prys,'^ And eek to sormounte in hir song These other briddes hem among. By note made fair servyse These briddes, that I you devyse ; 670 They songe hir song as faire and wel As angels doon espirituel. And, trusteth wel, whan I hem herde, Full lustily and wel I ferde; For never yit swich melodye Was herd of man that mighte dye. 1 so sure as. 2 retinue. 3 forbid. * throngiug. 6 Bullfinchea. 8 green woodpeckers. ' In that place which they inhabit. ^ Larks. ^ sung out. lo tarins, siskinB. ii song-thruBh. u reputation. Swioh swete song was hem among, That me thoughte it no briddes song. But it was wonder lyk to be Song of mermaydens of the see; 680 That, for her singing is so clere. Though we mermaydens clepe hem here In English, as in our usaunce. Men clepe[n] hem sereyns '^ in Fraunce. Ententif " weren for to singe These briddes that nought unkunninge Were of hir craft, and apprentys, But of [hir] song sotyl and wys. And certes, whan I herde hir song. And saw the grene place among, 690 In herte I wex so wonder gay. That I was never erst, er that day. So jolyf, nor so wel bigo, Ne mery in herte, as I was tho. And than wiste I, and saw ful wel. That Ydelnesse me served wel. That me putte in swich jolitee. Hir freend wel onghte I for to be, Sith she the dore of that gardyn Hadde opened, and me leten in. 700 From hennesforth how that I wroughte, I shal you tellen, as me thoughte. First, whereof Mirthe served ^^ there. And eek what folk ther with him were, Without[e] fable I wol descryve. And of that gardin eek as blyve i' I wol you tellen after this. The faire fasoun al, y-wis. That wel [y-] wrought was for the nones, I may not telle you al at ones: 710 But as I may and can, I shal By ordre tellen you it al. Ful fair servyse and eek ful swete These briddes maden as they sete. Layes of love, ful wel sowning They songen in hir jargoning; Summe highe and summe eek lowe songe Upon the braunches grene y-spronge. The sweetnesse of hir melodye Made al myn herte in reverdye." 720 And whan that I hadde hei'd, I trowe. These briddes singing on a rowe, Than mighte I not withholde me That I ne wente ^^ in for to see Sir Mirthe; for my desiring Was him to seen, over alle thing, His countenaunce and his manere: That sighte was to me ful dere. " sirens. " Eager. " employed himself. 18 immediately. " rejoicing. w from going. THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES THE PROEM The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne, Th'assay so hard, so sharp the conquering, The dredful joye, that alwey slit so yerne,' Al this mene I by love, that my feling Astonyeth with his wonderful worching So sore y-wis, that whan 1 on him thinke, Nat wot I wel wher that I wake or wiuke. For al be that I knowe not love in dede, Ne wot how that he quyteth folk hir hyre, Yet happeth me f ul ofte in bokes rede lo Of his miracles, and his cruel yre; Ther rede I wel he wol be lord and syre, I dar not seyn, his strokes been so sore. But God save swich a lord ! I can no more. Of usage, what for luste what for lore,^ On bokes rede I ofte, as I yow tolde. But wherfor that I speke al this ? Not yore Agon hit happed me for to beholde Upon a boke, was write with lettres olde; And ther-upon, a certeyn thing to lerne, 20 The longe day ful faste I radde and yerne.^ For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this newe corn fro yeer to yere; And out of olde bokes, in good feitb, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.^ But now to purpos as of this matere — To rede forth hit gan me so delyte, That al the day me thoughte but a lyte. This book of which I make mencioun, Entitled was al thus, as I shal telle, 30 'Tullius of the dreme of Scipioun';^ Chapitres seven hit hadde, of hevene and helle, And erthe, and soules that therinne dwelle, Of whiohe, as shortly as I can hit trete, Of his sentence I wol you seyn the grete.^ ^ slideth, slipB away, so soon, 2 Habitually, sometimes for pleasure, sometimes for edification. 3 I read closely and eagerly. « learn. 5 Cicero's Somnium Scipionis in the commentary of Macrobius. See line 111, below. 8 giat. First telleth hit, whan Scipioun was come In Afrik, how he mette Massinisse, That him for joye in armes hath y-uome.' Than telleth hit hir speche and al the blisse That was betwix hem, till the day gan misse ; ^ 40 And how his auncestre, African so dere, Gan in his slope that night to him appere. Than telleth hit that, fro a sterry place, How African hath him Cartage shewed, And warned him before of al his grace. And seyde him, what man, lered other lewed. That loveth comun profit, wel y-thewed,' He shal unto a blisful place wende, Ther as joye is that last withouten ende. Than asked he if folk that beer be dede 50 Have lyf and dwelling in another place; And African seyde, ' Ye, withoute drede,' And that our present worldes lyves space Nis but a maner deth, what wey we trace, And rightful folk shal go, after they dye. To heven; and shewed him the galaxye. Than shewed he him the litel erthe, that beer is. At regard of 1° the hevenes quantite; And after shewed he him the nyne speres.'^i And after that the melodye herde he 60 That Cometh of thilke speres thryes three, The welle ^^ is of musyke and melodye In this world heer, and cause of armonye. Than bad he him, sin erthe was so lyte, And ful of torment and of harde grace, That he ne shulde him in the world delyte. Than tolde he him, in certyn yeres space, That every sterre shulde come into his place Ther hit was first; and al shulde 1* out of minde 69 That in this worlde is don of al mankinde. Than prayde him Scipioun to telle him al The wey to come un-to that hevene blisse; 7 taken. a fail. » virtuous. 10 As compared with. " spheres. " source. " Supply " depart." THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES i6i And he seyde, 'Know thy-self first im- mortal, And loke ay besily thou werke and wisse ^ To comun profit, and thou shalt nat misse To comen swiftly to that place dere. That f ul of blisse is and of soules clere. But brekers of the lawe, soth to seyne, And lecherous folk, after that they be dede, 79 Shul alwey whirle aboute th'erthe in peyne, Til many a world be passed, out of drede, And than, for-yeven alle hir wikked dede, Than shul they come unto that blisful place. To which to comen God thee sende his grace ! ' — The day gan fallen, and the derke night, That reveth bestes from hir besinesse, Berafte me my book for lakke of light. And to my bedde I gan me for to dresse, Fulfild of thought and besy hevinesse ; For bothe I hadde thing which that I nolde, 90 And eek I ne hadde that thing that I wolde. But fynally my spirit, at the laste, For-wery of my labour al the day, Took rest, that made me to slepe faste, And in my slepe I mette,^ as I lay. How African, right in that selfe aray That Scipioun him saw before that tyde. Was comen, and stood right at my beddes syde. The wery hunter, slepinge in his bed. To wode ayein his minde goth anoon ; 100 The juge dremeth how his plees ben sped; The carter dremeth how his cartes goon; The riche, of gold; the knight fight with his foon,' The seke met he drinketh of the tonne; The lover met he hath his lady wonne. Can I nat seyn if that the cause were For I had red of African beforn. That made me to mete that he stood there; But thus seyde he, ' Thou hast thee so wel born In loking of myn olde book to-torn, no Of which Macrobie roghte nat a lyte, That somdel of thy labour wolde I quyte ! ' — * teach. > dreamed. 8 foes. A. Citherea ! thou blisful lady swete. That with thy fyr-brand dauntest whom thee lest, And madest me this sweven for to mete. Be thou my help in this, for thou mayst best; As wisly as I saw thee north-north-west, When I began my sweven for to wryte, So yif me might to ryme hit and endyte ! THE STORY This forseid African me hente anoon, 120 And forth with him unto a gate broghte Right of a parke, walled with grene stoon; And over the gate, with lettres large y- wroghte, Ther weren vers y-writen, as me thoghte, On eyther halfe, of f ul gret difference. Of which I shal yow sey the pleyn sen- tence. 'Thorgh me men goon in-to that blisful place Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure; Thorgh me men goon unto the welle of Grace, Ther grene and lusty May shal ever en- dure; 130 This is the wey to al good aventure; Be glad, thou reder, and thy sorwe of- caste; Al open am I; passe in, and hy the faste! ' 'Thorgh me men goon,' than spak that other syde, ' Unto the mortal strokes of the spere, Of which Disdayu and Daunger is the gyde, Ther tree shal never fruit ne leves here. This streem you ledeth to the sorwful were,* Ther as the fish in prison is al drye; Th'eschewing is only the remedye.' 140 Thise vers of gold and blak y-writen were, The whiche I gan a stounde^ to beholde, For with that oon encresed ay my fere, And with that other gan myn herte bolde. That oon me hette, that other did me colde ; No wit had I, for errour, for to chese. To entre or flee, or me to save or lese. * fish-weir. 6 a while. l62 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Right as, betwixen adamauntes^ two Of even might, a peee of iren y-set. That hath no might to meve to ne fro — 150 For what that on may hale, that other let — ^ Ferde I, that iiiste whether me was bet,' To entre or leve, til African my gyde Me hente, and shoof ^ in at the gates wyde. And seyde, 'Hit stondeth writen in thy face, Thyn errour, though thou telle it not to me; But dred thee nat to come in-to this place. For this wryting is no-thing ment by* thee, Ne by noon, but he Loves servant be; For thou of love hast lost thy tast, I gesse, 160 As seek man hath of swete and bitternesse. But natheles, al-though that thou be dulle, Yit that thou canst not do, yit mayst thou see; For many a man that may not stonde a pulle, Yit lyketh him at the wrastling for to be, And demeth yit wher he do bet or he; And if thou haddest cunning for t'endyte, I shal thee shewen mater of to wryte.' With that my hond in his he took anoon, Of which I comfort caughte, and wente in faste; 170 But lord! so I was glad and wel begoon! ' For over-al, wher that I myn eyen caste, Were trees clad with leves that ay shal laste, Eche in his kinds, of colour fresh and grene As emeraude, that joye was to sene. The bilder ook, and eek the hardy asshe; The piler ' elm, the cof re unto careyne ; ' The boxtree piper ; ' holm to whippes lasshe;^" The saylingi^ flrr; the cipres, deth to pleyne; 179 The sheter ^ e w, the asp for shaf tes pleyne ; The olyve of pees, and eek the drunken vyne. The victor palm, the laurer to devyne.^' 1 magnets. ^ one pulls, tlie other hinders. 3 knew not which was better for me. * seized and shoved. 6 concerning. ^ situated. ' for posts. 8 coflBns for corpses. for making whistles. i" Apparently, furnishing handles for lashes. " good for masts. 12 "shooter," because used for bows. la used In divination. A garden saw I, ful of blosmy bowes. Upon a river, in a grene mede, Ther as that swetnesse evermore y-now is, With floures whyte, blewe, yelowe, and rede; And colde welle-stremes, no-thing dede. That swommen ful of smale fisshes lighte. With finnes rede and scales silver-brighte. On every bough the briddes herde I singe. With voys of aungel in hir arnionye, 191 Som besyed hem hir briddes forth to bringe.i^ The litel conyes to hir pley gunne hye; And further al aboute I gan espye The dredful 1* roo, the buk, the hert and hinde, Squerels, and bestes smale of gentil kiude. Of instruments of strenges in acord Herde I so pleye a ravisshing swetnesse. That God, that maker is of al and lord, Ne herde never better, as I gesse; 200 Therwith a wind, imnethe i^ hit might be lesse, Made in the leves grene a noise softe Acordant to the foules songe on-lofte. The air of that place so attempre " was That never was grevaunce of hoot ne cold ; Ther wex eek every holsom spyce and gras, Ne no man may ther wexe seek ne old; Yet was ther joye more a thousand fold Then man can telle; ne never wolde it nighte. But ay cleer day to any mannes sighte. 210 Under a tree, besyde a welle, I say Cupyde our lord his arwes forge and fyle; And at bis fete his bowe al redy lay; And wel his doghter tempred al the whyle The hedes in the welle, and with hir wyle '* She couched ^'•' hem after as they shulde serve, Som for to slee, and som to wounde and kerve. Tho was I war of Plesannce anon-right, And of Aray, and Lust, and Curtesye; And of the Craft that can and hath the might 220 To doon by force a wight to do f olye — Disfigurat was she, I nil not lye; 1* to rear their chicks. 16 timid. i^ hardly. 17 temperate. is guile, subtlety. 19 arranged. THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES 163 And by him-self, under an oke, I gesse, Sawe I Delyt, that stood with Gentilnesse. I saw Beautee, withouteu any atyr, And Youthe, fiU of game and Jolyte, Fool-hardinesae, Flatery, and Desyr, Messagerye, and Mede, and other three — Hir names shul noght here be told for me — And upon pilers grete of jasper longe 230 I saw a temple of bras y-f ounded stronge. Aboute the temple daunceden alway Wommen y-nowe, of whiohe somme ther were Faire of hem-self, and somme of hem were In kirtels, al disshevele, wente they there — That was hir office alwey, yeer by yere — And on the temple, of doves whyte and faire Saw I sittinge many a hundred paire. Before the temple-dore f ul soberly Dame Pees sat, with a curteyn in hir bond : 240 And hir besyde, wonder disoretly, Dame Pacienoe sitting ther I fond With face pale, upon an hille of sond ; And alder-next, within and eek withoute. Behest and Art, and of hir f olke a route. Within the temple, of syghes bote as fyr I herde a swogh ^ that gan aboute renue ; Which syghes were engendred with desyr, That maden every auter for to brenne Of newe flaume; and wel aspyed I thenne That al the cause of sorwes that they drye^ 251 Com of the bitter goddesse Jalousye. The god Priapus saw I, as I wente. Within the temple, in soverayn place stonde, In swich aray as whan the asse him shente With crye by night,* and with his ceptre in honde ; Ful besily men gunne assaye and fonde Upon his hede to sette, of sondry hewe, Garlondes ful of fresshe floures newe. And in a privee corner, in disporte, 260 Fond I Venus and hir porter Eichesse, That was ful noble and hauteyn of hir porte. 1 dressed-up. I suffer. 8 murmur. • Ovid's Fasti, I, 4B0. Derk was that place, but afterward light- nesse I saw a lyte, unnethe * hit might be lesse; And on a bed of golde she lay to reste, Til that the bote sonne gan to weste. Hir gilte heres with a golden threde Y-bouuden were, untressed as she lay. And naked fro the breste unto the hede Men might hir see ; and, sothly for to say, 270 The remenant wel kevered to my pay ^ Bight with a subtil kerchef of Valence,' Ther was no thikker cloth of no defence. The place yaf a thousand savours swote. And Bachus, god of wyn, sat hir besyde. And Ceres next, that doth of hunger bote ; ' And, as I seide, amiddes lay Cipryde, To whom on knees two yonge folkes cryde To ben hir help; but thus I leet hir lye. And f erther in the temple I gan espye 280 That, in dispyte of Diane the chaste, Ful many a bowe y-broke heng on the wal Of maydens, suche as gunne hir tymes waste In hir servyse ; and peynted over al Of many a story, of which I touche shal A f ewe, as of Calixte ' and Athalaunte '" Aud many a mayde of which the name I wante; Semyramus, Candace,!^ and Ercules, Biblis,^^ Dido, Tisbe and Piramus, Tristram, Isoude,^* Paris, and Achilles, 290 Eleyne," Cleopatre, and Troilus, Silla,!^ and eek the moder of Romulus — AUe these were peynted on that other syde, And al hir love, and in what plyte they dyde. Whan I was come ayen into the place That I of spak, that was so swote and grene. Forth welk I tho, my-selven to solace. Tho was I war wher that ther sat a queue That, as of light the somer-sonne shene Passeth the sterre, right so over mesure 300 She fairer was than any creature. B scarcely. ^ content. 7 thin sillE. s causes relief from hunger. o Callisto. 10 Atalanta, the fleet-footed. n An Indian queen who fascinated Alexander the Great. 12 who loved vainly in Ovid's Metamorphoses, IX. i3 Iseult. 1* Helen of Troy, or possibly Lancelot's Elaine. w gcylla of Megara, whom Minos would not have. 164 GEOFFREY CHAUCER And in a launde, upon an hille of floures, Was set this noble goddesse Nature; Of braunches were hir halles and hir boures, Y- wrought after hir craft and hir mesure; Ne ther nas foul that cometh of engen- drure,^ That they ne were prest^ in hir presence, To take hir doom and yeve hir audience. For this was on seynt Valentynes day, Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make, 310 Of every kinde, that men thenke may; And that so liuge a noyse gan they make, That erthe and see, and tree, and every lake So ful was, that uniiethe was ther space For me to stonde, so ful was al the place. And right as Aleyn, in the Pleynt of Kinde,^ Devyseth Nature of aray and face. In swich ara)' men mighte[n] hir ther finde. This noble emperesse, ful of grace, Bad every foul to take his owne place, 320 As they were wont alwey fro yeer to yere, Seynt Valentynes day, to stonden there. That is to sey, the foiiles of ravyne * Were hyest set; and than the foules smale, That eten as hem nature wolde enclyne. As worm, or thing of whiche I telle no tale ; But water-foul sat lowest iu the dale; And foul that liveth by seed sat on the grene. And that so fele,^ that wonder was to seiie. Ther mighte men the royal egle finde, 330 That with his sharpe look perceth the Sonne; And other egles of a lower kinde, Of which that clerkes wel devysen conne. Ther was the tyraunt with his fethres doiine And greye, I mene the goshauk, that doth pyne To briddes for his outrageous ravyne. The gentil faucon, that with his feet dis- treyneth ^ The kinges bond ; the hardy sperhauk ' eke. The quayles foo; the merlion * that peyneth Himself ful ofte the larke for to seke ; 340 Ther was the douve, with hir eyen meke; The jalous swan, ayens his deth that singeth ; The oule eek, that of dethe the bode bringeth; 1 begetting. « ready. > Alan us de Insulia' De Planctu Naturae (c. 1170). * birds of prey, b many. 6 grasps. ^ sparrow-hawk. b the merlin. The crane the geaunt," with his trompes soune ; The theef, the chogh;^" and eek the jang- ling" pye; The scorning jay; the eles foo, the heroune; The false lapwing, ful of trecherye; ^ The stare,!^ that the counseyl can bewrye; " The tame ruddok;^^ and the coward kyte; The cok, that orloge is of thorpes lyte; ^^ 350 The sparow, Venus sone; the nightingale. That clepeth forth " the fresshe leves newe; The swalow, mordrer of tlie foules ^^ smale That makeu bony of floures fresshe of he we ; The wedded turtel, with hir herte trewe; The pecok, with his aungels fethres brighte; The fesaunt, soorner of the cok by nighte; The wakeri^ goos; the oukkow ever un- kinde ; ^^ The popinjay, ful of delicasye ; ^^ The drake, stroyer of his owne kinde ; 360 The stork, the wreker of avouterye ; ^ The bote eormeraunt of glotouye ; The raven wys, the crow with vois of care; The throstel olde; the frosty ^^ feldefare. What shulde I seyn? Of foules every kinde That in this worlde ban fethres and stature. Men mighten in that place assembled flnde Before the noble goddesse Nature. And everich of hem did his besy cure Benignely to chese or for to take, 370 By hir acord, his formel ^ or his make. But to the poynt — Nature held on hir honde A formel egle, of shap the gentileste That ever she among hir werkes fonde. The most benigne and the goodlieste; In hir was every vertu at his reste. So ferforth,^^ that Nature hir-self had blisse To loke on hir, and ofte hir bek to kisse. Nature, the vieaire of th'almyghty lorde. That hoot, cold, bevy, light, [and] moist and dreye 380 Hath knit by even noumbre of acorde. In esy vois began to speke and seye, ' Foules, tak hede of my sentence, I preye, B giant. 10 chough, crow. n chattering. 12 because she misleads those seeking her nest, 13 starling. H that tells tales. 16 robin redbreast. ifi the timepiece of little villages. i7 announces. 18 Another reading is ftyes. 1" watchful. 20 un- natural (about its eggs). 21 wantonness. 22 avenger of adultery. 28 Because he comes in the winter. 2* the female of a bird of prey. 25 Xo such a degree. THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES i6s And, for your ese, in furthering of your nede, As faste as I may speke, I wol me spede. Ye know wel how, seynt Valentynes day, By my statut and through my goveruaunce, Ye come for to chese — and flee your way — Your makes, as I prik yow with plesaunee. But natheles, my rightful ordenaunce 390 May I not lete, for al this world to winne, That he that most is worthy shal beginne. The tercel ' egle, as that ye knowen wel. The foul royal above yow in degree. The wyse and worthy, secree, trewe as stel, The which I formed have, as ye may see. In every part as hit best lyketh me. Hit nedeth noght his shap yow to devyse. He shal first chese and speken in his gyse.^ And after him, by order shul ye chese, 400 After your kinde, everich as yow lyketh. And, as your hap is, shul ye wiune or lese; But which of yow tlmt love most entry keth,^ God sende him hir that sorest for him sy keth.' And therwith-al the tercel gan she calle, And seyde, ' My sone, the choys is to thee falle. But natheles, in this condieioun Mot * be the choys of everich that is here, That she agree to his eleccioun, 409 Who-so he be that shulde been hir fere; ^ This is our usage alwey, fro yeer to yere; And who so may at this time have his grace. In blisful tyme he com in-to this place.' With hed enclyned and withf ul humble chere This royal tercel spak and taried nought; ' Unto my sovereyn lady, and noght my fere, I chese, and chese with wille and herte and thonght. The formal on your bond so wel y-wrought, Whos I am al and ever wol hir serve, Do what hir list, to do me live or sterve. 420 Beseching hir of mercy and of grace, As she that is my lady sovereyne; Or let me dye present in this place. For certes, long may I not live in peyne; For in myn herte is corven ^ every veyne ; Having reward ' [al] only to my trouthe, My dere herts, have on my wo som routhe. 1 the male of a bird of prey — perhaps so called because a third smaller than the female. ^ way. > pesters. * must. ^ mate. < cut. ' regard. And if that I to hir be founde untrewe, Disobeysaunt, or wilful negligent, Avauntour,^ or in proces' love a newe, 430 I pray to you this be my jugement, That with these foules I be al to-rent, That ilke day that ever she me finde To hir untrewe, or in my gilte unkinde. And sin that noon loveth hir so wel as I, Al be she never of love me behette,'" Than oghte she be myn thonrgh hir mercy. For other bond can I noon on hir knette.^^ For never, for ne wo, ne shal I lette ^ 439 To serven hir, how f er so that she wende ; Sey what yow list, my tale is at au ende.' Right as the fresshe, rede rose newe Ayen the somer-sonne coloured is. Right so for shame al wexen gan the hewe Of this formel, whan she herde al this; She neyther answerde 'Wel,' ne seyde amis. So sore abasshed was she, til that Nature Seyde, ' Doghter, drede yow noght, I yow assure.' ^^ Another tercel egle spak anoon. Of lower kinde, and seyde, ' That shal not be; 450 I love hir bet than ye do, by seynt John, Or atte leste I love hir as wel as ye ; And lenger have served hir, in my d.egree, And if she shulde have loved for long loving, To me allone had been the guerdoniug.i^ I dar eek seye, if she me finde fals, Unkinde, jangler, or rebel any wyse, Or jalous, do me hongen by the hals ! And but I here me in hir servyse. As well as that my wit can me sufEyse, 460 Fro poynt to poynt, hir honour for to save, Tak she my life, and al the good ^^ I have.' The thridde tercel egle answerde tho,^^ ' Now, sirs, ye seen the litel leyser ^' here ; For every foul cryeth out to been a-go Forth with his make, or with his lady dere ; And eek Nature hir-self ne wol nought here. For taryinghere, noght half that I wol de seye ; And but I speke, I mot for sorwe deye. Of long servyse avaunte I me no-thing, 470 But as possible is me to dye to-day For wo, as he that hath ben languisshing 8 boaster. » in time, m promised. » knit. " cease. 18 protect. » rewarding. » goods. 16 then. " leisure. i66 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Thise twenty winter, and wel happen may A man may serven bet and more to pay ^ In half a yere, al-though hit were no more, Than som man doth that hath served f ul yore. I ne say not this by^ me, for I ne can Do no servyse that may my lady plese; But I dar seyn, I am hir trewest man 479 As to my dome, and feynest wolde hir ese; At shorte wordes, til that deth me seae, I wol ben hires, whether I wake or winke, And trewe in al that herte may bethinke.' Of al my lyf, sin that day I was born. So gentii plee in love or other thing Ne herds never no man me beforn, Who[-so] that hadde leyser and cunning For to reherse hir ehere and hir speking; And from the morwe gan this speehe laste Til dounward drow the sonne wonder faste. 490 The noyse of foules for to ben delivered So loude rong, ' Have doon and let us wende! ' That wel wende ^ I the wode had al to-shiv- ered. 'Come of !'^ they cryde, 'alias! ye wil us sliende ! When shal your cursed pleding have an ende? How shulde a juge eyther party leve,^ For yee or nay, with-outen any preve ? ' The goos, the cokkow, and the doke also So cryden ' Kek, kek! ' ' Kukkow! ' ' Quek, quek! ' hye. That thorgh myn eres the noyse wente the. The goos seyde, 'Al this nis not worth a fly el 501 But I can shape hereof a remedye, And I wol sey my verdit faire and swythe For water-foul, who-so be wrooth or blythe.' ' And I for worm-foul,' seyde the fool cuk- kow, ' For I wol, of myn owne auctorite, For oomune spede, take the charge now. For to delivere us is gret charite.' ' Ye may abyde a whyle yet, parde ! ' Seide the turtel, ' if hit be your wille 510 A wight may speke, him were as good be stille.« 1 pleaae. 2 about. " thought, i Hurry up. 5 believe. B if a man is to speali after your fashion, he might as well be silent. I am a seed-foul, oon the uuworthieste, That wot I wel, and litel of kunninge ; But bet is that a wightes tonge reste Than entremeten him ' of such doinge Of which he neyther rede can nor singe. And who-so doth, f ul f oule himself acloyeth,^ For office uncommitted ofte anoyeth.' ° Nature, which that alway had an ere To murmour of the lewednes behinde, 520 With facound^" voys seide, 'Hold your tonges there ! And I shal sone, I hope, a counseyl finde You to delivere, and fro this noyse unbinde ; I juge, of every folk men shal oon calle To seyn the verdit for you foules alle.' Assented were to this conclusiouu The briddes alle; and foules of ravyne Han chosen first, by pleyn eleccioun, The tercelet of the faucou, to diffyne 529 Al hir sentence,!! and as him list, termyne ; ^ And to Nature him gonnen^^ to presente. And she aooepteth him with glad entente. The tercelet seide than in this manere: ' Ful hard were hit to preve hit by resoun Who loveth best this gentii formel here; For everich hath swioh replicacioun^^ That noon by skilles^^ may be broght a-doun; I can not seen that arguments avayle ; Than semeth hit ther moste be batayle.' ' Al redy! ' quod^^ these egles tercels tho. ' Nay, sirs! ' quod he, ' if that I dorste it seye, 54. Ye doon me wrong, my tale is not y-do! For sirs, ne taketh noght a-gref," I preye. It may noght gon, as ye wolde, in this weye ; Oure is the voys that ban the charge in honde. And to the juges dome ye moten stonde; And therfor pees! I seye, as to my wit. Me wolde thinke '^ how that the worthieste Of knighthode, and lengest hath used hit,!' Moste of estat, of blode the gentileste, 550 Were sittingest^" for hir, if that hir leste; And of these three she wot hir-self , I trowe. Which that he be, for hit is light to knowe.' ' meddle. 8 overburdens. . 8 A proverb; cf. "Proffered service stinketh." 10 fluent, ready, n their sentiments. 12 determine. 18 proceeded. " repartee, i" reasons. 18 quoth. 1' in bad part. 18 It would seem to me. i^ who has been longest a good Imight. so most suitable. THE PARLEMENT OF FOULES 167 The water-foules han her hedes leyd Togeder, and of short avysement, Whan everich had his large golee^ seyd, They seyden sothly, al by oon assent, How that 'the goes, with hir facounde gent,2 That so desyreth to pronounce our Bede, Shal telle our tale,' and preyde ' God hir spede.' 560 And for these water-foules tho began The goos to speke, and in hir cakelinge She seyde, 'Pees! now tak kepe^ every man, And herkeneth which a^ reson I shal bringe ; My wit is sharp, I love no taryinge ; I seye, I rede^ him, though he were my brother. But she wol love him, lat him love another! ' ' Lo here! a parfit reson of a goos! ' Quod the sperhauk; 'never mot she thee!^ Lo, swich hit is to have a tonge loos! 570 Now parde, fool, yet were hit bet for thee Have holde thy pees, than shewed thy nycete ! ' Hit lyth not in his wit nor in his wille, But sooth is seyd, "a fool can noght be stille." ' The laughter aroos of gentil foules alle, And right anoon the seed-foul chosen hadde The turtel trewe, and gunne hir to hem calle. And preyden hir to seye the sothe sadde Of this matere, and asked what she radde; And she answerde, that pleynly hir en- tente 580 She wolde shewe, and sothly what she mente. ' Nay, God forbede a lover shulde chaunge! ' The turtel seyde, and wex for shame al reed; 'Thogh that his lady ever-more be straunge. Yet let him serve hir ever, til he be deed; For sothe, I prey se noght the gooses reed ; For thogh she deyed, I wolde none other make, I wol ben hires, til that the deth me take.' 1 gobble, lit. moutbful. ^ gentle eloquence. ' pay heed. * what aort of. 6 advise. thrive. ' folly. 'Wei bourded!'^ quod the doke, 'by my hat! That men shulde alwey loven, causeles, 590 Who can a reson finde or wit in that ? Daunceth he mury that is mirtheles ? Who shulde recche of that is reccheles ? Ye, quek! ' yit quod the doke, ful wel and faire, ' There been mo sterres, God wot, than a paire! ' ' Now fy, oherl! ' quod the gentil tercelet, ' Out of the dunghil com that word ful right, Thou canst noght see which thing is wel be-set: Thou farest by love as oules doon by light. The day hem blent,^ ful wel they see by night; 600 Thy kind is of so lowe a wrechednesse. That what love is, thou canst nat see ne gesse.' Tho gan the cukkow putte him forth in prees For foul that eteth worm, and seide blyve,!" So I,' quod he, ' may have my make i^ in pees, I recche not how longe that ye stryve; Lat ech of hem be soleyn ^ al hir ly ve, This is my reed, sin they may not acorde ; This shorte lesson nedeth noght recorde.' 1^ ' Ye ! have the glotoun fild ynogh his paunche, 610 Than are we wel! ' seyde the merlioun; ' Thou mordrer of the heysugge " on the braunohe That broghte thee forth, thou rewthelees glotoun ! Live thou soleyn, ^^ wormes corrupoioun ! ^^ For no f ors is of lakke of thy nature ; i' Go, lewed be thou, whyl the world may dure!'" 'Now pees,' quod Nature, 'I comaunde here; For I have herd al your opinioun. And in effect yet be we never the nere; ^^ But fynally, this is my conclusioun, 620 That she hir-self shal han the eleccioim 8 jested. B blindeth, 10 promptly. n mate. 13 lone. 13 to be put on record. 1* haysuck, hedge- sparrow. IB solitary. i8 Because his diet was worms. 1? It -would not matter if there were a dearth of such as thou. 19 endure. i9 nearer. 1 68 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Of whom hir list, who-so be wrooth or blythe, Him that she cheest/ he shal hir have as swythe.2 For sith hit may not here discussed be Who loveth hir best, as seide the tercelet, Than wol I doon hir this favour, that she Shal have right him on whom hir herte is set. And he hir that his herte hath on hir knet. This juge I, Nature, for I may not lye; To noon estat I have non other ye.' 630 But as for counseyl for to chese a make, If hit were reson, certes, than wolde I Counseyle yow the royal tercel take, As seide the tercelet ful skilfully, As for the gentilest and most worthy, Which I have wroght so wel to my ples- aunce ; That to yow oghte been a suffisaunce.' With dredful ^ vois the formel hir answerde, ' My rightful lady, goddesse of Nature, Soth is that I am ever under your yerde,' Lyk as is everiohe other creature, 641 And moot be youres whyl my lyf may dure; And therfor graunteth me my flrste bone. And myn entente I wol yow sey right sone.' 'I grauute it you,' quod she; and right anoon This formel egle spak in this degree, ' Almighty quene, unto this yeer be doon I aske respit for to avysen me. And after that to have my ohoys al free ; This al and som * that I wolde speke and seye ; 650 Ye gete no more, al-though ye do me deye. I wol noght serven Venus ne Cupyde For sothe as yet, by no manere wey.' ' Now sin it may non other wyse betyde,' Quod tho Nature, 'here is no more to sey; Than wolde I that these f oules were a-wey Ech with his make, for tarying lenger here' — And seyde hem thus, as ye shul after here. ' To you speke I, ye tercelets,' quod Nature, ' Beth of good herte and serveth, alle three ; 660 A yeer is not so longe to endure, 1 chooseth. 2 forthwith. > eye. * deferential. f> rod, governance. ^ This is quite all. And ech of yow peyne him, in his degree, For to do wel; for, God wot, quit is she Fro yow this yeer ; what after so bef alle, This entremes ' is dressed for you alle.' And whan this werk al broght was to an ende. To every fouie Nature yaf his make By even acorde, and on hir wey they wende. A ! lord ! the bUsse and joye that they make ! 669 For ech of hem gan other in winges take. And with hir nekkes ech gan other winde. Thanking alwey the noble goddesse of kinde. But first were chosen foules for to singe, As yeer by yere was alwey hir usaunce To singe a roundel at hir departinge. To do Nature honour and plesaunce. The note, I tro we, maked was in Fraunce ; The wordes were swich as ye may beer finde, The nexte vers, as I now have in minde. Qui bien aime a tard oublie.^ 'Now weleom somer, with thy Sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over- shake, 6Si And driven awey the longe nightes Make ! Seynt Valentyn, that art ful by onlofte, Thus singen smale foules for thy sake : Now weleom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake. Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte, Sith ech of hem recovered hath his make ; Ful blisful may they singen whan they wake, Now weleom somer, with thy sonne softe, 690 That hast this wintres weders over-shake. And driven awey the longe nightes blake.' And with the showting, whan hir song was do. That foules maden at her flight a-way, I wook, and other bokes took me to To rede upon, and yet I rede alway; I hope, y-wis, to rede ao som day That I shal mete som thing for to fare The bet; and thus to rede I nil not spare. ' intermission; between-course. B Who lores truly forgets late. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE BOOK I 1. The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, That was the king Priamiis sone of Troye, In lovinge, how his aventures fellen Fro wo to wele, and after out of joye, My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. Thesiphone, thou help uie for t'eiidyte Thise wof ul vers, that wepen as I wryte ! 2. To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of tor- ment, Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in pey ne ; 9 Help me, that am the sorwf ul instrument That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne! For wel sit ^ it, the so the for to seyne, A woful wight to han a drery f ere,^ And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere. 3. For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve, Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse, Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve. So fer am I fro his help in derknesse; But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse To any lover, and his cause avayle, 20 Have he my thank, and myn be this tra- vaylel 4. But ye loveres that bathen in glad- nesse. If any drope of pitee in yow be, Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse That ye han felt, and on the adversitee Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye Han felt that Love dorste yow displese; Or ye han wonne him with to greet an ese. 5. And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas Of Troilus, as ye may after here, 30 That love hem bringe in hevene to solas; And eek for me preyeth to God so dere. That I have might to shewe, in som man- ere, Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure, In Troilus unsely ° aventure. 1 is becoming. s companion, s tiapleaa. 6. And biddeth eek for hem that been de- speyred In love, that never nil recovered be. And eek for hem that f alsly been apeyred * Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she; Thus biddeth God, for his benignitee, 40 To graunte hem sone out of this world to pace, That been despeyred out of Loves grace. 7. And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese. That God hem graunte ay good perseve- raunce. And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese, That it to Love be worship and plesaunce. For so hope I my soule best avaunce, To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be. And wryte hir wo, and live in charitee. 8. And for to have of hem compassioun 50 As though I were hir owene brother dere. Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun, For now wol I gon streight to my matere, In whiche he may the double sorwes here Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde, And how that she forsook him er she deyde. 9. It is wel wist, how that the Grekes stronge In armes with a thousand shippes wente To Troye-wardes, and the citee longe Assegeden neigh ten yeer er they stente, 60 And, in diverse wyse and oon entente. The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne, By Paris doon, they wroughten al hir peyne. 10. Now fil it so, that in the touu ther was Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee, A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas, That in science so expert was, that he Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be, By answere of his god, that highte thus, Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus. 70 4 disparaged. 170 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 11. So whan this Calkas knew by calcu- linge, And eek by answers of this AppoUo, That Grekes sholden swich a peple brings Thorugh which that Troye moste been for- do, He caste ' anoon out of the toun to go ; For wel wiste he, by sort,^ that Troye sholde Destroyed been, ye, wolde who-so nolde.^ 12. For which, for to departeu softely Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse,* And to the Grekes ost ful prively 80 He staP anoon; and they, in curteys wyse, Him deden bothe worship and servyse, In trust that he hath conning hem to rede In every peril which that is to drede. 13. The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed, Thorugh al the toun, and generally was spoken, That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken " On him that f alsly hadde his f eith so broken ; And seyden, he and al his kin at ones 90 Ben worthy for to brennen, f el ' and bones. 14. Now hadde Calkas left, in this mes- chaunee, Al unwist ^ of this false and wikked dede. His doughter, which that was in gret pen- aunce. For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede, As she that niste what was best to rede ; ' For bothe a widowe was she, and allone Of any f reend to whom she dorste hir mone. 15. Criseyde was this lady name a-right ; As to my dome, in al Troyes citee 100 Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee, That lyk a thing immortal semed she, As doth an hevenish parfit creature, That doun were sent in scorning of nature. 16. This lady, which that al-day herde at ere Hir fadres shame, his f alsnesse and tresoun, Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere. In widewes habit large of samit broun, On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun; no 1 planned. ' divination, a In spite of those for or against. < sage. ^ stole. s they planned to he arenged. ' skin. ■ unknowing. » to plan. With pitous voys, and tendrely wepinge, His mercy bad, hir-selven excusinge. 17. Now was this Ector pitous of nature, And saw that she was sorwfuUy bigoon,^" And that she was so fair a creature; Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon, And seyde, ' Lat your fadres treson goon Forth with mischaunce, and ye your-self, in joye, Dwelleth with us, whyl you good list, in Troye. 18. And al th'onour that men may doon yow have, 120 As ferforth as your fader dwelled here. Ye shul han, and your body shal men save, As fer as I may ought enquere or here.' And she him thonked with ful bumble chere, And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille, And took hir leve, and hoom, and held hir stille. 19. And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee ^^ As to hir honour nede was to holde; And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee, Kepte hir estat, and bothe of yonge and olde 130 Ful wel beloved, and wel men of hir tolde. But whether that she children hadde or noon, I rede it nought ; therf ore I lete it goon. 20. The thinges f ellen, as they doon of werre, Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte; For som day boughten they of Troye it derre. And eft*^ the Grekes founden no thing softe The folk of Troye ; and thus fortune onlof te. And under eft, gan hem to wheelen bothe After hir cours, ay whyl they were wrothe. 21. But how this toun com to destruc- oioun 141 Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle; For it were here a long digressioun Fro my matere, and yow to longe dwelle.^^ But the Troyane gestes, as they felle. In Omer, or in Dares," or in Dyte,^' Who-so that can, may rede hem as they wryte. 10 in distress. " retinue. i' again. 18 delay, bore, too long. >< Dares Fhrygius. » Diotys Oretensis. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 171 22. But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten,! And hir citee hisegede al a^boute, Hir olde usage wolde they not letten, 150 As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute; But aldermost in honoure, out of doute, They hadde a relik hight Palladion, That was hir trist a-boven everiohon. 23. And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede With newe grene, of lusty Ver ^ the pryme, And swote smellen floures whyte and rede, In sondry wyses shewed, as I rede, The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde, 160 Palladiones f este for to holde. 24. And to the temple, in al hirbeste wyse, In general, ther weute many a wight, To herknen of Palladion the servyse; And namely, so many a lusty knight. So many a lady fresh and maydeu bright, Ful wel arayed, bothe moste and leste, Ye, bothe for the seson and the feste. 25. Among thise othere folk was Criseyda, In widewes habite blak; but nathelees, 170 Right as our firste lettre is now an A,° In beautee first so stood she, makelees ; ' Hir godly looking gladede al the press. Nas never seyn thing to ben preysed derre, Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre 26. As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everich- oon That hir bihelden in hir blake wede; And yet she stood ful lowe and stille alloon, Bihinden othere folk, in litel brede,* And neigh the dore, ay under shames drede, 180 Simple of atyr, and debonaire of chere, With ful assured loking and manere. 27. This Troilus, as he was wont to gyde His yonge knightes, ladde hem up and doun In thilke large temple on every syde, Biholding ay the ladyes of the toun, Now here, now there, for no devocioun Hadde he to noon, to reven him his reste. But gan to preyse and lakken ^ whom him leste. 1 Bhut up, > the spring. > Alluding to Richard Il'a queen, Anne. ' peerleaa. 6 space. o criticize. 28. And in his walk ful fast he gan to wayten ' 190 If knight or squyer of his companye Gan for to syke * or lete his eyen bayten ° On any woman that he eoude aspye ; He wolde srayle, and holden it folye, And seye him thus, ' God wot, she slepeth softe For love of thee, whan thou tornest ful ofte! 29. 'I have herd told, pardieux, of your livinge, Ye lovers, and your lewede observaunces. And which a labour folk han in winuinge Of love, and, in the keping, which dou- taunces; 200 And whan your preye is lost, wo and pen- aunces; O verrey f oles ! nyce and blinde be y e ; Ther nis not oon can war by other be.' 30. And with that word he gan cast up the browe, Asoaunces,^" 'Lo! is this nought wysly spoken ? ' At which the god of love gan loken rowe " Right for despyt, and shoop for to ben wroken ; '^ He kidde ^^ anoon his bowe nas not broken; For sodeynly he hit him at the fulle; And yet as proud a pekok can he pidle.i* 210 31. O blinde world! O blinde entencioun! How ofte falleth al th'efEect contraire Of surquidrye^^ and foul presumpcioun; For caught is proud, and caught is debo- naire. This Troilus is clomben on the staire. And litel weneth that he moot descenden. But al-day fayleth thing that f oles wenden. 32. As proude Bayard ^^ ginneth for to Out of the wey, so priketh him his corn. Til he a lash have of the louge whippe, 220 Than thenketh he, 'Though I praunce al biforn First in the trays, ful fat and newe shorn. Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe I moot endure, and with my feres drawe.' t take heed. ^ sigh. ^ feed. 10 As if to say. 11 cross. 12 determined to wreak vengeance. IS showed. 1^ pluck as proud a bird. iG over-confldence. is a bay horse. 172 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 33. So ferde it by this fers and proude knight; Though he a worthy kinges sone were, And wende no-thing hadde had swiche might Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere,^ Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere,^ That he, that now was most in pryde above, 230 Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love. 34. For-thy ensample taketh of this man, Ye wyse, proude, and worthy folkes alle, To soornen Love, which that so sone can The freedom of your hertes to him thralle ; For ever it was, and ever it shal bifalle, That Love is he that alle thing may binde ; For may no man for-do the la we of kinde. 35. That this be sooth, hath preved ' and doth yit; For this trowe I ye knowen, alle or some, 240 Men reden not that folk han gretter wit Thau they that han be most with love y-nome ; ^ And strengest folk ben therwith overcome, The worthiest and grettest of degree; This was, and is, and yet men shal it see. 36. And trewelich it sit wel to be so; For alderwysest han ther-with ben plesed ; And they that han ben aldermost in wo. With love han been comforted most and esed ; And of te it hath the cruel herte apesed, 250 And worthy folk maad worthier of name, And causeth most to dreden vyce and shame. 37. Now sith it may not goodly be with- stonde. And is a thing so vertuous in kinde, Ref useth not to Love for to be bonde. Sin as him-selven list, he may yow binde. The yerde is bet that bowen wole and winde Than that that brest; * and therfor I yow rede To folwen him that so wel can yow lede. 38. But for to tellen forth in special 260 As of this kinges sone of which 1 tolde, And leten other thing collateral, Of him thenke I my tale for to holde, Bothe of his joye, and of his cares colde; And al his werk, as touching this matere, For I it gan, I wil ther-to refere.^ 1 stir. 2 afeared. » hath been proved. t taken. ' breaketh. < return. 39. With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge, This Troilus, of every wight aboute, On this lady and now on that lokinge, Wher-so she were of toune, or of with- oute : 270 And up-on cas bifel, that thorugh a route His eye perced, and so depe it wente. Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente. 40. And sodeynly he wex ther-with astoned, And gau hire bet biholde in thrifty ' wyse : ' O mercy, God! ' thoughte he, ' wher hastow woned,^ That art so fair and goodly to devyse ? ' Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse, And sof te sighed, lest men mighte him here, And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere. 280 41. She nas not with the leste of hir stature, But alle hir limes so wel answeringe Weren to womanhode, that creature Was never lasse mannish in seminge. And eek the pure wyse of here meninge Shewede wel,' that men might in hir gesse Honour, estat,^'' and wommanly noblesse. 42. To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle Gan for to lyke hir mening and hir chere. Which somdel deynous "^ was, for she leet falle 290 Hir look a lite a^side, in swich man ere, Ascaunces,^ ' What 1 may I not stonden here ? ' And after that hir loking gan she lighte,'^ That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte. 43. And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken So greet desir, and swich affeccioun. That in his hertes botme gan to stiken Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun : And though he erst hadde poured up and doun, 299 He was tho glad his homes in to shrinke; Unnethes wiste he how to loke or wiuke. 44. Lo, he that leet" him-selven so kon- ninge. And scorned hem that loves peynes dryen,^' Was f ul un war that love hadde his dwellings ' discreet. a dwelt. » The very nature of her disposition was apparent. 10 ranl£. u disdainful. 1^ As much as to say. 13 make cheerful. " considered. ib endure* TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 173 With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen; That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen, Right with hir look, the spirit in his herte ; Blessed be love, that thus can folk cou- verte ! 45. She, this in blak, lykinge to Troilus Over alle thing, he stood forto biholde; 3T0 Ne his desir, ne wherfor he stood thus. He neither chere made, ne worde tolde; But from a-fer, his manor for to holde, On other thing his look som-tyme he caste, And eft on hir, whyl that servyse laste. 46. And after this, not fulHohe al a- whaped,! Out of the temple al esiliohe he wente, Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-japed Of loves folk, lest fully the descente Of scorn fiUe ou him-self; but, what he mente, 320 Lest it were wist on any maner syde,^ His wo he gan dissimuleu and hyde. 47. Whan he was fro the temple thus de- parted. He streyght anoon un-to his paleys torneth, Right with hir look thurgh-shoten and thurgh-darted, Al feyneth he in lust that he sojorneth; And al his chore and speche also he born- eth;3 And ay, of loves servants every whyle, Him-self to wrye,^ at hem he gan to smyle. 48. And seyde, ' Lord, so ye live al in lest,^ Ye loveres! for the conningest of yow, 331 That serveth most ententiflich and best. Him tit^ as often harm ther-of as prow;' Your hyre is quit ayein, ye, God wot how! Nought wel for wel, but scorn for good servyse ; In feith, your ordre is ruled in good wyse! 49. In noun-eerteyn ^ ben alle your observ- aunces, But it a sely fewe poyntes be; 33S Ne no-thing asketh so grete attendaunces As doth your lay,' and that knowe alle ye; But that is not the worste, as mote I thee; But, tolde I yow the worste poynt, 1 leve, Al seyde I sooth, ye wolden at me greve! 1 bewildered. 2 anyhow, anywhere. 3 burnishes, brightens. i conceal. ^ pleasure. " betideth. 7 advantage. ^ uncertainty. s faith, creed. 50. But tak this : that ye loveres ofte es- chuwe Or elles doon of good entencioun, Ful ofte thy lady wole it misconstrue, And deme it harm in hiropinioun; And yet if she, for other enehesoun,^" Be wrooth, than shalt thou ban a groyn " anoon: Lord ! wel is him that may be of yow oon ! ' 350 51. But for al this, whan that he say ^^ his tyme, He held his pees, non other bote him gayned;^' For love began his fetheres so to lyme," That wel unnethe '* un-to his folk he f eyned That othere besye nedes him destrayned; For wo was him, that what to doon he niste, But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste. 62. And whan that he in chaumbre was al- lone, He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette, And first he gan to syke, and eft to grone, _ _ 360 And thoughte ay on hir so, with-outen lette, That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette That he hir saw a^^ temple, and al the wyse Right of hir loke, and gan it newe avyse. 63. Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde, In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure; And that he wel coude in his herte fiude, It was to him a right good aventure To love swich oon, and if he dide his cure To serven hir, yet mighte he falle in grace, 370 Or elles, for oon of hir servaunts pace: 54. Imagininge that travaille nor grame " Ne mighte, for so goodly oon, be lorn As she; ne him for his desir no shame, '* Al were it wist, but in prys and up-born 1^ Of alle lovers wel more than biforn; Thus argumented he in bis ginninge, Ful unavysed of his wo cominge. 10 occasion. 11 rebuff. 12 saw. la no other remedy profited him. i^Aswith bird-lime. IB with great difficulty. 18 in the. i' pain. 18 Supply " come upon " (with object him), 19 Supply " would he be." 174 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 55. Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,'^ And thoughte he wolde werken prively, 380 First, to hyden his desir in muwe ^ From every wight y-born, al-outrely, But he mighte ought recovered be therby; Kemembring him, that love to wyde y- blowe Yelt^ bittre fruyt, though swete seed be 56. And over al this, yet muchel more he thoughte What for to speke, and what to holden inne, And what to arten ^ hir to love he soughte. And on a song anoon-right to biginne, 389 And gau loude on his sorwe for to wiune; For with good hope he gau fully assente Criseyde for to love, and nought repente. 57. And of his song nought only the sen- tence, As writ myn autour called Lollius,^ But pleynly, save our tonges difference, I dar wel sayn, in al that Troilus Seyde in his song, lo ! every word right thus As I sbal seyn; and who-so list it here, Lo ! next this vers, he may it fiuden here. CANTUS TROILI 58. ' If no love is, O God, what fele I so? 400 And if love is, what thing and whiche is he? If love be good, from whennes comth my wo? If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me, When every torment and adversitee That Cometh of him, may to me savory thinke ; For ay thurste I, the more that I it drinke. 59. And if that at myn owene lust I brenne, Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my pleynte ? If harme agree me, wher-to pleyne I thenne? I noot, ne why unwery that I feynte. 410 O quike deeth! O swete harm so queynte! 1 follow. 2 secret; literally, "hawk's moulting place." * Yieldeth. * incite. s A puzzling name — here for Petrarch, whose 88th sonnet follows ; elsewhere for Boccaccio. See Skeat's note. K How may of thee in me swich quantitee, But-Lf that I consente that it be ? 60. And if that I consente, I wrongfully Compleyne, y-wis ; thus possed * to and fro, Al sterelees ' with-inne a boot am I A-mid the see, by-twixen windes two, That in contrarie stonden ever-mo. Alias! what is this wonder malady e ? For hete of cold, for cold of hete, I dye.' 420 61. And to the god of love thus seyde he With pitous voys, ' O lord, now youres is My spirit, which that oughte youres be. Yow thanke I, lord, that han me brought to this; But whether goddesse or womman, y-wis. She be, I noot, which that ye do me serve; But as hir man I wole ay live and sterve. 62. Ye stonden in hire eyen mightily. As in a place nn-to your vertu digne; Wherfore, lord, if my servyse or I 430 May lyke yow, so beth to me benigne; For myn estat royal here I resigne In-to hir bond, and with ful humble chere Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere.' 63. In him ne deyned sparen blood royal The fyr of love, wher-fro God me blesse, Ne him forbar in no degree, for al His vertu or his excellent prowesse; But held him as his thral lowe in distresse. And brend him so in sondry wyse ay newe, That sixty tyme a day he lost his hewe. 441 64. So muche, day by day, his owene thought. For Inst to hir, gan quiken and encrese. That every other charge he sette at nought; For-thy fnl ofte, his hote fyr to cese. To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese; For ther-by to ben esed wel he wende, And ay the neer^ he was, the more he brende. 65. For ay the neer the fyr, the hotter is. This, trowe I, knoweth al this compaiiye. But were he fer or neer, I dar seye this, 451 By night or day, for wysdora or folye, His herte, which that is his brestes ye, Was ay on hir, that fairer was to sene Than ever was Eleyne or Polixene. B pushed, tossed. ' rudderless. s higher. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 175 66. Eek of the day ther passed nought an houre That to him-self a thousand tyme he seyde, 'Good goodly, to whom serve I and la- boure, As I best can, now wolde God, Criseyde, Ye wolden on me rewe er that I deyde! 460 My dere herte, alias! myn hele ^ and hewe And lyf is lost, but ye wole on me rewe.' 67. AUe othere dredes weren from him fledde, Bothe of th'assege and his savacioun; Ne in him desyr noon othere fownes^ bredde But arguments to this conclusioun, That she on him wolde han compassioun. And he to be hir man, whyl he may dure ; Lo, here his lyf, and from the deeth his cure! 68. The sharpe shoures felle ^ of armes preve, 470 That Ector or his othere bretheren diden, Ne made him only ther-f ore ones move ; And yet was he, wher-so men wente or riden, Founde oon the best, and lengest tyme abiden Ther peril was, and dide eek such travayle In armes, that to thenke it was mervayle. 69. But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde, Ne also for the rescous' of the toun, Ne made him thus in armes for to madde,'' But only, lo, for this conclusioun, 480 To lyken ^ hir the bet for his renoun; Fro day to day in armes so he spedde. That alle the Grekes as the deeth him dredde. 70. And fro this forth tho refte him love his sleep, And made his mete his foo; and eek his sorwe Gan multiplye, that, who-so toke keep. It shewed in his hewe, bothe eve and mor we ; Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe Of other syknesse, lest of him men wende That the bote fyr of love him brende ; 490 ^ health. 2 younglings (lit. fawna). 3 An adjective. ' rescue. >> rage. ^ please. 71. And seyde, he hadde a fever and ferde amis; But how it was, certayn, can I not seye. If that his lady understood not this, Or feyned hir she niste, oon of the tweye; But wel I rede that, by no maner weye, Ne semed it [as] that she of him roughte. Nor of his peyne, or what-so-ever he thoughte. 72. But than fel to this Troylus such wo That he was wel neigh wood; for ay his drede Was this, that she som wight had loved so, 500 That never of him she wolde have taken hede; For whiche him thoughte he f elte his herte blede. Ne of his wo ne dorste he not biginne To tellen it, for al this world to winne. 73. But whanne he hadde a space fro his care. Thus to him-self ful ofte he gan to pleyne; He sayde, ' O fool, now art thou in the snare, That whilom japedest at loves peyne ; Now artow bent, now gnaw thyu owene cheyne ; Thou were ay wont eche lovere repre- hende 510 Of thing fro which thou canst thee nat defende. 74. What wole now every lover seyu of thee, If this be wist, but ever in thyn absence Laughen in scorn, and seyn, "Lo, ther gooth he, That is the man of so gret sapience. That held us loveres leest in reverence ! Now, thonked be God, he may goon in the daunce Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce! 75. But, O thou woful Troilus, God wolde. Sin thow most loven thurgh thy destinee, 520 That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde Knowe al thy wo, al lakkede hir pitee: But al so cold in love, towardes thee, Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone, And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sono." 176 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 76. God wolde I were aryved in the port Of deeth, to which my sorwe wil me lede ! A, lord, to me it were a greet comfort; Then were I quit of languisshing in drede. For by myn hidde sorwe y-blowe on brede ^ I shal bi-japed been a thousand tyme 531 More than that fool of whos folye men ryme. 77. But now help God, and ye, swete, for whom I pleyne, y-caught, ye, never wight so f aste ! O mercy, dere herte, and help me from The deeth, for I, whyl that my lyf may laste. More than my-self wol love yow to my laste. And with som freendly look gladeth me, swete. Though never more thing ye me bi-hete I ' ^ 78. This wordes and ful manye an-other to He spak, and called ever in his com- pleynte 541 Hir name, for to tellen hir his wo. Til neigh that he in salte teres dreynte.' Al was for nought, she herde nought his pleynte; And whan that he bithoughte on that folye, A thousand fold his wo gan multiplye. 79. Bi-wayling in his ehambre thus allone, A freend of his, that called was Pandare, Com ones in unwar, and herde him grone. And sey his freend in swich distresse and care ; 550 'Alias!' quod he, 'who causeth al this fare ? ^ O mercy, God ! what unhap may this mene ? Han now thus sone Grekes maad yow lane ? 80. Or hastow som remors of conscience, And art now falle in som devocioun. And way lest for thy sinne and thyn offence. And hast for ferde caught attricioun ? ^ God save hem that bi-seged han our toun, And so can leye our jolytee on presse,^ And bring our lusty folt to holinesse ! ' 560 81. These wordes seyde he for the nones alle,' That with swich thing he mighte him angry maken, And with an angre don his sorwe falle, 1 abroad. 2 promise. ^ drowned. * ado. B horror of sin through fear of punishment. 6 make us put it away — as in a clothes-press. T merely for the nonce. As for the tyme, and his corage awaken ; But wel he wiste, as fer as tonges spaken, Ther nas a man of gretter hardinesse Than he, ne more desired worthinesse. 82. ' What cas,' quod Troilus, ' or what aventure Hath gyded thee to see my languisshinge, That am refus of every creature ? 570 But for the love of God, at my preyinge. Go henne ^ a-way, for certes, my deyinge Wol thee disese,* and I mot nedes deye ; Ther-for go wey, ther is no more to seye. 83. But if thou wene I be thus syk for drede, It is not so, and ther-for scome nought; Ther is a-nother thing I take of hede Wel more than ought the Grekes han y- wrought. Which cause is of my deeth, for sorwe and thought. But though that I now telle thee it ne leste,w s8o Be thou nought wrooth, I hyde it for the beste.' 84. This Pandare, that neigh malt ^^ for wo and routhe, Ful often seyde, 'Alias! what may this be? Now freend,' quod he, 'if ever love or trouthe Hath been, or is, bi-twixen thee and me, Ne do thou never swiche a crueltee To hyde fro thy freend so greet a care; Wostow nought wel that it am I, Pandare ? 85. 1 wole parten ^ with thee al thy peyne, If it be so I do thee no comfort, 590 As it is freendes right, sooth for to seyne. To entreparten ^ wo, as glad desport. I have, and shal, for ^' trewe or fals report. In wrong and right y-loved thee al my lyve; Hyd not thy wo from me, but telle it blyve.' ^* 86. Then gan this sorwf nl Troilus to syke. And seyde him thus, ' God leve ^^ it be my beste To telle it thee ; for, sith it may thee lyke, Yet wole I telle it, though myn herte breste ; 599 And wel wot I thou mayst do me no reste. 8 hence. o make uncomfortable. 10 do not care to tell it thee. " melted. la share. " in spite of. 1* quickly. IB grant. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 177 But lest thow deme I truste not to thee, Now herkne, freend, for thus it stant with me. 87. Love, a-yeins the which who-so de- fendeth Him-selven most, him alder-lest ' avayleth, With desespeir so sorwf ully me offendeth, That streyght un-to the deeth myn herte sayleth. Ther-to desyr so brenningly me assaylleth. That to ben slayn it were a gretter joye To me than king of Grece been and Troye ! 88. SufBseth this, my fuUe freend Pan- dare, 610 That I have seyd, for now wostow my wo; And for the love of God, my colde care So hyd it wel, I telle it never to mo; For harmes mighte folwen, mo than two. If it were wist; but be thou in gladnesse, And lat me sterve, unknowe of my dis- tresse.' ^ 89. ' How hastow thus unkindely and longe Hid this fro me, thou fool ? ' quod Pan- darus; 'Paraunter thou might after swich oon longe. That myn avys anoon may helpen us.' 620 ' This were a wonder thing,' quod Troilus, 'Thou coudest never in love thy-selven wisse; ' How devel maystow bringen me to blisse ? ' 90. ' Ye, Troilus, now herke,' quod Pan- dare, ' Though I be nyce ; * it happeth of te so, That oon that exoes doth ful yvele fare ^ By good counseyl can kepe his freend ther- fro. I have my-self eek seyn a blind man go Ther-as he fel that coude loke wyde; A fool may eek a wys man ofte gyde. 630 91. A whetston is no kerving instrument. And yet it maketh sharpe kerving-tolis. And ther thow woost that I have ought miswent, Eschewe thou that, for swich thing to thee scole is; Thus ofte wyse men ben war by folis. 1 least of all. 2 my distress being unlraown. B guide. * foolish. ^ that passion causes to fare ill. If thou do so, thy wit is wel biwared ; " By his contrarie is every thing declared. 92. For how might ever sweetnesse have be knowe To him that never tasted bitternesse ? Ne no man may be inly glad, I trowe, 640 That never was in sorwe or som distresse; Eek whyt by blak, by shame eek worthi- nesse, Ech set by other, more for other semeth; As men may see; and so the wyse it demeth. 93. Sith thus of two contraries is a lore,' I, that have iu love so ofte assayed Grevaunces, oughte conne,* and wel the more Counsayllen thee of that thou art amayed.' Eek thee ne onghte nat ben yvel apayed,!" Though I desyre with thee for to bere 650 Thyu hevy charge; 11 it shal the lasse dere.^ 94. I woot wel that it fareth thus by me As to thy brother Parys an herdesse. Which that y-oleped was Oenone, Wroot in a oompleynt of hir hevinesse: Ye sey the lettre 1* that she wroot, y gesse ? ' ' Nay, never yet, y-wis,' quod Troilus. ' Now,' quod Pandare, ' herkneth ; it was thus. — 95. " Phebus, that first fond art of medi- cyne," Quod she, " and coude in every wightes care 660 Kemede and reed," by herbes he knew fyne,i6 Yet to him-self his conninge was ful bare; For love hadde him so bounden in a snare, Al for the doughter of the kinge Admete, That al his craft ne coude his sorwe bete." i" 96. Right so fare I, unhappily for me; I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore; And yet, paraimter, can I rede thee. And not my-self; repreve me no more. I have no cause, I woot wel, for to sore 670 As doth an hauk that listeth for to pleye. But to thyn help yet somwhat can I seye. 97. And of o thing right siker maystow be, That certayn, for to deyen in the peyne,^' * spent. ? one lesson. 8 to know. 8 dismayed. 1" pleased. n load. " hurt. " See Ovid, Heroides, v. " remedy and counsel. ie An adjective. " amend. " though I had to die by torture. 178 GEOFFREY CHAUCER That I shal never-mo discovereh ^ thee ; Ne, by my trouthe, I kepe nat ^ restreyne Thee fro thy love, thogh that it were Eleyne, That is thy brotheres wyf , if ieh it wiste ; Be what she be, and love hir as thee liste. 98. Therfore, as freend fullich in me as- sure,' 680 And tel me plat ^ what is thyn enchesoun,* And final cause of wo that ye endure; For douteth no-thing, myn entenoioun Nis nought to yow of reprehencioun. To speke as now, for no wight may bireve A man to love, til that him list to leve. 99. And witeth wel, that bothe two ben vyces, — Mistrusten alle, or elles alle leve; ' But wel I woot, the mene of it no vyce is, For for to trusten sum wight is a prove 690 Of trouthe, and for-thy wolde I fayn remeve Thy wrong eonoeyte, and do thee som wight triste,' Thy wo to telle; and tel me, if thee liste. 100. The wyse seyth, "Wo him that is allone. For, and he falle, he hath noon help to ryse;" And sith thou hast a f elawe, tel thy mone ; For this nis not, certeyn, the nexte wyse To winneu love, as teohen us the wyse. To walwe and wepe as Niobe the quene, Whos teres yet in marbel been y-sene. 700 101. Lat be thy weping and thy drerinesse, And lat us lissen ^ wo with other speohe ; So may thy wof ul tyme seme lesse. Delyte not in wo thy wo to seehe, As doon thise f oles that hir sorwes eohe ° With sorwe, whan they han misaventure. And listen i" nought to seehe hem other cure 102. Men seyn, " To wrecche is consolacioun To have.an-other f elawe in his peyne; " That oughte wel ben our opinioun, 710 For, bothe thou and I, of love we pleyne; So ful of sorwe am I, soth for to seyne. That certeynly no more harde grace May sitte on me, for- why ther is no space! 1 disclose. ' care not to. ^ trust. * downright. E occasion. " to believe. ' cause thee to trust some one. 8 alleviate. " augment, eke out. 103. If God wole thou art not agast of me, Lest I wolde of thy lady thee bigyle, Thow wost thy-self whom that I love, pardee. As I best can, gon sithen longe whyle.^^ And sith thou wost I do it for no wyle. And sith I am he that thou tristest most, 720 Tel me sumwhat, sin al my wo thou wost.' 104. Yet Troilus, for al this, no word seyde. But longe he lay as stille as he ded were; And after this with sykinge he abreyde,^ And to Pandarus voys be lent his ere, And up his eyen caste he, that in fere Was Pandarus, lest that in frenesye He sholde falle, or elles sone dey e : 105. And cryde ' A-wake ! ' ful wonderly and sharpe ; 'What? slombrestow as in a lytargye? 730 Or artow lyk an asse to the harpe. That hereth soun, whan men the strcnges plye, But in his minde of that no melodye May sinken, him to glade, for that he So dul is of his bestialitee ? ' 106. And with that Pandare of his wordes stente; i' But Troilus yet him no word answerde, For-why to telle nas not his entente To never no man, for whom that he so ferde. 739 For it is seyd, ' Man maketh ofte a yerde " With which the maker is him-self y-beten In sondry maner,' as thise wyse treten, 107. And namely, in his counseyl tellings That toucheth .love that oughte be seoree ; For of him-self it wolde y-nough out- springe, But-if that it the bet governed be. Eek som-tyme it is craft to seme flee Fro thing which in effect men huute faste; Al this gan Troilus in his herte caste. 108. But nathelees, whan he had herd him crye 750 ' Awake! ' he gan to syke wonder sore. And seyde, 'Freend, though that I stille lye, I am not deef ; no w pees, and cry no more ; For I have herd thy wordes and thy lore; >' since long ago. » started. i> ceased. '< rod. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 179 But suffre me my misehef to biwayle, For thy proverbes may me nought avayle. 109. Nor other cure canstow noon for me. Eek I nil not be cured, I wol deye; What knowe I of the quene Niobe ? Lat be thyne olde ensaumples, I thee preye.' 760 ' No,' quod tho Paudarus, ' therfore I seye, Swich is delyfc of foles to biwepe Hir wo, but sekeu bote they ne kepe. 110. Now knowe I that ther reson in thee fayleth. But tel me, if I wiste what she were For whom that thee al this misaunter '■ ayleth, Dorstestow ^ that I tolde hir in hir ere Thy wo, sith thou darst not thy-self for fere, And hir bisoughte on thee to ban som routhe ? ' ' Why, nay,' quod he, ' by God and by my trouthe ! ' 770 111. ' What ? not as bisily,' quod Pandarus, •As though myn owene lyf lay on this nede ? ' ' No, oertes, brother,' quod this Troilus. •And why?' — 'For that thou sholdest never spede.' ' Wostow that wel ? ' — ' Ye, that is out of drede,' Quod Troilus, ' for al that ever ye conne. She nil to noon swich wrecche as I be 112. Quod Pandarus, • Alias ! what may this be, That thou despeyred art thus causelees? What ? liveth not thy lady ? benedicite I 780 How wostow so that thou art gracelees ? Swich yvel is not alwey botelees.^ Why, put not impossible thus thy cure, Sin thing to come is ofte in aventure. 113. I graunte wel that thou endurest wo As sharp as doth he, Ticius,* in helle, Whos stomak foules tyren ever-mo That highte volturis, as bokes telle. But I may not endure that thou dwelle In so unskilful an opinioun 790 That of thy wo is no curaoioun. 1 misadventure. ' without remedy. s Wouldst thou dare. « Tityua. 114. But ones niltow, for thy coward herte. And for thyn ire and folish wilfulnesse. For wantrust,' tellen of thy sorwes smerte, Ne to thyn owene help do bisinesse As muche as speke a resoun more or lesse. But lyest as he that list of no-thing recche. What womman coude love swich a wrecche ? 115. What may she demen other of thy deeth. If thou thus deye, and she not why it is, 800 But that for fere is yolden up thy breeth. For Grekes han biseged us, y-wis ? Lord, which a thank than shaltow han of this! Thus wol she seyn, and al the toim at ones, " The wrecche is deed, the devel have hia bones I " 116. Thou mayst allone here wepe and crye and knele; But, love a woman that she woot it nought, And she wol quyte that thou shalt not fele; Unknowe, unkist, and lost that is un- sought. What! many a man hath love ful dere y-bought 810 Twenty winter that his lady wiste, That never yet his lady mouth he kiste^ 117. What? shulde he therfor fallen in despayr. Or be recreauut for his owene tene,* Or sleen him-self, al be his lady fayr ? Nay, nay, but ever in oon ' be fresh and grene To serve and love his dere hertes quene, And thenke it is a guerdoun hir to serve A thousand-fold more than he can deserve.' 118. And of that word took hede Troilus, And thoughte an oon what folye he was inue, 821 And how that sooth him seyde Pandarus, That for to sleen him-self mighte he not winne, But bothe doon unmanhod and a sinne. And of his deeth his lady nought to wyte ; ' For of his wo, God woot, she knew ful lyte. 6 distrust. B vexation. 7 continuously, b blamei GEOFFREY CHAUCER 119. And with that thought he gan ful sore syke, And seyde, ' Alias! what is me best to do? ' To whom Pandare answerde, ' If thee lyke, The best is that thou telle me thy wo; 830 And have my trouthe, but thou it fiude so, I be thy bote ^ or that it be ful longe, To peces do me drawe, and sitheu honge! ' 120. ' Ye, so thou seyst,' quod Troilus tho, 'alias! But, God wot, it is not the rather so; Ful hard were it to helpen in this cas, For wel finde I that Fortune is my fo, Ne alle the men that ryden conne or go May of hir cruel wheel the harm withstonde ; For, as hir list, she pleyeth with free and bonde.' 840 121. Quod Pandarus, 'Than blamestow Fortune For thou art wrooth, ye, now at erst ^ I see ; Wostow nat wel that Fortune is commune To every maner wight in som degree ? And yet thou hast this comfort, lo, pardee ! That, as hir joyes moten over-goon. So mote hir sorwes passen everichoon. 122. For if hir wheel stinte any-thing to tome, Than cessed she Fortune anoon to be: Now, sith hir wheel by no wey may so- jorne, 850 What wostow if hir mutabilitee Eight as thy-selven list, wol doon by thee, Or that she be not fer fro thyn helpinge ? Paraunter, thou hast cause for to singe ! 123. And therfor wostow what I thee beseche ? Lat be thy wo and turning to the grounde; For who-so list have helping of his leche. To him bihoveth first unwrye ^ his wounde. To Cerberus in helle ay be I bounde. Were it for my suster, al thy sorwe, 860 By my wil, she sholde al be thyn to-morwe. 124. Loke up, I seye, and tel me what she is Anoon, that I may goon aboute thy nede; Knowe ioh hir ought ? For my love, tel me this; Than wolde I hopen rather ^ for to spede.' Tho gan the veyne of Troilus to blede, 1 That I am your remedy. 3 uncover. 2 for the first time. 4 sooner. For he was hit, and wex al reed for shame; 'A ha ! ' quod Pandare, ' here biginneth game ! ' 125. And with that word he gan him for to shake. And seyde, ' Theef, thou shalt hir name telle.' 870 But tho gan sely ^ Troilus for to quake As though men sholde han lad him in-to helle, And seyde, ' Alias ! of al my wo the welle, Than is my swete fo called Criseyde ! ' And wel nigh with the word for fere he deyde. 126. And whan that Pandare herde hir name nevene,' Lord, he was glad, and seyde, 'Freend so dere, Now fare a-right, for Joves name in hevene. Love hath biset ' thee wel, be of good chere ; For of good name and wysdom and manere 880 She hath y-nough, and eek of gentilesse. If she be fayr, thow wost thy-self, I gesse. 127. Ne I never saw a more bountevous Of hir estat, ne a gladder, ne of speche A freendlier, ne a more gracious For to do wel, ne lasse hadde nede to seche What for to doon; and al this bet to eche,' In honour, to as fer as she may strecohe,' A kinges herte semeth by hires a wrecehe. 128. And for-thyi" loke of good comfort thou be; 890 For certeinly, the firste poynt is this Of noble corage and wel ordeynfe,ii A man to have pees with him-self, y-wis; So oughtest thou, for nought but good it is To loven wel, and in a worthy place; Thee oughte not to clepe it hap, but grace. 129. And also thenk, and ther-with glade thee, That sith thy lady vertuous is al, So folweth it that ther is som pitee Amonges alle thise othere in general; 900 And for-thy see that thou, in special, Kequere nought that is ayein hir name ; For vertue streccheth not him-self to shame.'^ B poor. 6 named. ^ bestowed. 8 the more to enhance. within her proper sphere. 1" therefore. n reguhited. IS Virtue goes not to the extent of shaming virtue; or, virtue does nothing shameful. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 130. But wel is me that ever I was born, That thou biset ait in so good a place ; For by my trouthe, in love I dorste have sworn, Thee sholde never han tid thus fayr a grace ; And wostow why ? For thou were wont to chace At love in scorn, and for despyt him oalle " Seynt Idiot, lord of thise foles alls." 910 131. How often hastow maad thy nyee japes.i And seyd, that loves servants everichone Of nyoetee ben verray Goddes apes; And some wolde monehe ^ hir mete alone, Ligging a-bedde, and make hem for to grone ; And som, thou seydest, hadde a, blaunche fevere,^ And preydest God he sholde never kevere! ^ 132. And some of hem toke on hem, for the eolde, More than y-nough,* so seydesto w f ul of te ; And some han feyned ofte tyme, and tolde How that they wake, whan they slepen softe; 921 And thus they wolde han brought hemself a-lofte,^ And nathelees were under at the laste ; Thus seydestow, and japedest f ul faste. 133. Yet seydestow, that, for the more part. These loveres woldeu apeke in general,'' And thoughten that it was a siker art. For fayling,* for to assayen over-al.^ Now may I jape of thee, if that I sbal ! But natheless, though that I sholde deye, 930 That thou art noon of tho, that dorste I seye. 134. Now beet thy brest, and sey to god of love, " Thy grace, lord ! for now I me repente If I mis-spak, for now my-self I love:" Thus sey with al thyn herte in good en- tente.' Quod Troilus, 'A ! lord ! I me consente, 1 foolish jests. 2 munch. 3 Jocose — a white fever. * recover. 5 Made over-much pretense of being afflicted by the lady's coldness. 6 advanced themselves. ^ in generalities. 8 A sure method to prevent failure. ^ everywhere. And pray to thee my japes thou foryive, And I shal never-more whyl I live.' 135. ' Thow seyst wel,' quod Pandare, ' and now I hope That thou the goddes wraththe hast al apesed; 940 And sithen thou hast wepen many a drope. And seyd swich thing wher-with thy god is plesed. Now wolde never God but thou were esed ; And think wel, she of whom rist '"' al thy wo Here-after may thy comfort been al-so. 136. For thilke ground, that bereth the wedes wikke, Bereth eek thise holsom herbes, as ful ofte Next the foule uetle, rough and thikke. The rose waxeth swote and smothe and softe ; And next the valey is the hill a-lof te ; 950 And next the derke night the glade morwe; And also joye is next the fyn ^' of sorwe. 137. Now loke that atempre be thy bry del,^^ And, for the beste, ay suffre to the tyde,^' Or elles al our labour is on ydel; He hasteth wel that wysly can abyde; Be diligent, and trewe, and ay wel hyde. Be lusty, free, persevere in thy servyse, And al is wel, iJE thou werke in this wyse. 138. But he that parted is in every place 960 Is no-wher hool, as writen clerkes wyse; What wonder is, though swich oon have no grace ? Eek wostow how it fareth of soro servyse ? As plaunte a tre or herbe, in sondry wyse, And on the morwe puUe it up as blyve, No wonder is though it may never thryve. 139. And sith that god of love hath thee bistowed In place digne un-to thy worthinesse, Stond faste, for to good port hastow rowed ; And of thy-self, for any hevinesse, 970 Hope alwey wel; for, but-if dreriiiesse Or over-haste our bothe labour shende, I hope of this to maken a good eude. 140. And wostow why I am the lasse a- fered Of this matere with my nece trete ? " m rises. n end. « temperate be thy bridle. 13 accommodate thyself to the occasion. " to treat. iSz GEOFFREY CHAUCER For this have I herd seyd of wyse y-lered,i " Was uever man ne woman yet bigete That was unapt to sufEren loves hete Celestial, or elles love of kinde;" For-thy som grace I hope iu hir to flnde. 980 141. And for to speke of hir in special, Hir beau tee to bithinken and hir youthe, It sit ^ hir nought to be celestial As yet, though that hir liste bothe and couthe ; But trewely, it sete ^ hire wel right nouthe ^ A worthy knight to loven and cheryce, And but she do, I holde it for a vyce. 142. Wherfore I am, and wol be, ay redy To peyne me to do yow this servyse; For bothe yow to plese thus hope I 990 Her-af terward ; for ye beth bothe wyse, And coune it counseyl kepe in swioh a wyse, That no man shal the wyser of it be; And so we may be gladed alle three. 143. And, by my trouthe, I have right now of thee A good ooneeyt in my wit, as I gesse. And what it is, I wol now that thou see. I thenke, sith that love, of his goodnesse, Hath the converted out of wikkednesse, 999 That thou shalt be the beste post,^ I leve, Of al his lay,* and most his foos to-greve.' 144. Ensample why, see now these wyse clerkes. That erren aldermost a-yein a lawe. And ben converted from hir wikked werkes Thorugh grace of God, that list hem to him drawe. Than arn they folk that han most God in awe. And strengest-feythed been, I understonde. And oonne an errour alder-best withstonde.' 145. Whan Troilus had herd Pandare as- sented To been his help in loving of Criseyde, loio Wexof his wo, as who seyth,' untormented; But hotter wex his love, and thus he seyde. With sobre chere, al-though his herte pleyde ' Now blisful Venus helpe, er that I starve. Of thee, Pandare, I may som thank deserve. 1 learned ones. 2 becometh. > would become. * now. 6 pillar. " religion. ' grieve excessively. ^ as it were. 146. But, dere frend, how shal myn wo ben lesse Til this be doon ? And goode, eek tel me this. How wiltow seyn of me and my destresse? Lest she be wrooth, this drede I most, y-wis, Or nil not here or trowen how it is. ^"^ Al this drede I, and eek for the manere Of thee, hir eem,^ she nil no swich thing here.' 147. Quod Pandarus, ' Thou hast a tvl gret care Lest that the cherl may falle out of the mone ! Why, lord ! I hate of thee thy nyce farel^" Why, entremete of that thou hast to done ! ^ For Goddes love, I bidde thee a bone,^ So lat me alone, and it shal be thy beste.'' — ' Why, freend,' quod he, ' now do right as thee leste. 148. But herke, Pandare, o word, for I nolde 1030 That thou in me wendest so greet folye, That to my lady I desiren sholde That toueheth harm or any vilenye; For dredelees, me were lever dye Than she of me ought elles understode But that that mighte sounen ^^ in-to gode.' 149. Tho lough ^^ this Pandare, and anoon answerde, ' And I thy borw ? ^^ Fy ! no wight dooth but so; I roughte ^* nought though that she stode and herde 1039 How that thou seyst; but fare- wel, I wol go. A-dieu ! be glad ! God spede us bothe two ! Yif me this labour and this besinesse. And of my speed be thyn al that swetnesse.' 150. Tho Troilus gan doun on knees to falle, And Pandare in his armes hente faste, And seyde, ' Now, fy on the Grekes alle ! Yet, pardee, God shal helpe us at the laste; And dredelees, if that my lyf may laste. And God to-forn,^' lo, som of hem shal smerte ; And yet me athinketh that this avaunt me asterte ! ^' 1050 ' uncle; cf. Ger. Oheim. 10 foolish fuss. 11 mind your own business. 12 ask a favor of you. ^^ tend. 14 laughed. is backer, security. 1" should reck. 1^ before God. is x repent that this boast escaped me. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 183 151. Now, Pandare, I can no more seye, But thou wys, thou wost, thou mayst, thou ait al I My lyf, my deeth, hool in thyn honde I leye; Help now,' quod he. ' Yis, by my trouthe, I shal.' 'God yelde ^ thee, freend, and this in special,' Quod Troilus, ' that thou me recomaunde To hir that to the deeth me may com- auude.' 152. This Pandarus tho, desirous to serve His f ulle freend, than seyde in this manere, ' Far-wel, and thenk I wol thy thank de- serve ; 1060 Have here my trouthe, and that thou shalt wel here.' — And wente his wey, thenking on this matere, And how he best mighte hir beseche of grace, And finde a tyme ther-to, and a place. 153. For every wight that hath an hous to fouude Ne renneth nought the werk for to biginne With rakel^ bond, but he wol byde a stounde,^ And sende his hertes lyne out fro with-inne Alderflrst his purpos for to winne. 1 reward. ^ rash. 3 time. Al this Pandare in his herte thoughte, 1070 And caste ^ his werk ful wysly, or** he wroughte. 154. But Troilus lay tho no lenger doun, But up anoon up-on his stede bay. And in the feld he pleyde tho leoun ; Wo was that Greek that with him mette that day. And in the toun his maner tho forth ay So goodly was, and gat him so in grace, That ech him lovede that loked on his face. 155. For he bioom the frendlyeste wight. The gentileste, and eek the moste free, 1080 The thrif tieste ^ and oon the beste kuight, That in his tyme was, or mighte be. Dede were his japes and his crueltee, His heighe port and his manere estraunge, And ech of tho gan for a vertu chaunge. 156. Now lat us stints of Troilus a stounde, That fareth lyk a man that hurt is sore, And is somdel of akinge of his wounde Y-lissed ' wel, but heled no del more : And, as an esy pacient, the lore 1090 Abit' of him that gooth aboute his cure; And thus he dryveth forth his aventuie. Explicit Liber Primus. * planned. ^ before. 7 Kelieved. B most successful, s Abldetb. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN PROLOGUE A The prologe of .ix. goode Wimmen. A THOUSANB sythes^ have I herd men telle, That ther is joye in heven, and peyne in helle; And I aoorde wel that hit be so; But natheles, this wot I wel also, That ther nis noon that dwelleth in this contree. That either hath in helle or heven y-be, Ne may of hit non other weyes witen,^ But as he hath herd seyd, or fouude hit writen ; For by assay ther may no man hit preve. ButGoddes forbode,^but men shulde leve^ lo Wel more thing then men ban seen with y e ! ^ Men shal nat wenen every-thing a lye For that he seigh it nat of yore ago. God wot, a thing is never the lesse so Thogh every wight he may hit nat y-see. Bernard the monk^ ne saugh nat al, parde! Than mote we to bokes that we finde, Through which that olde thinges been in minde. And to the doctrine of these olde wyse, Yeven credence, in every skilful ' wyse, 20 And trowen on these olde aproved stories Of holinesse, of regnes,* of victories, Of love, of hate, of other sundry thinges, Of whiche I may not maken rehersinges. And if that olde bokes were a^weye, Y-loren were of remembraunce the keye. Wel oghte us than on olde bokes leve, Ther-as ther is non other assay by preve. ^ And, as for me, though that my wit be lyte, On bokes for to rede I me delyte, 30 And in myn herte have hem in reverence; And to hem yeve swich lust and swioh cre- dence. That ther is wel unethe game noon i" That from my bokes make me to goon, 1 times. 2 know. ' God's prohibition — i.e. God forbid ! * believe. ^ eye. ^ Bernard of Clairvaux. 1 reasonable. 8 empires. • testing by experiment. 10 scarcely any game. But hit be other up-on the haly-day, Or elles in the joly tyme of May; Whan that I here the smale foules singe, And that the floures ginne for to springe, Farwel my studie, as lasting that sesoun! Now have I therto this condicioun"^! 40 That, of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. To hem have I so greet affeccioun. As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May, That in my bed ther daweth ^'^ me no day That I nam up, and walking in the mede To seen these floures agein the Sonne sprede, Whan it up-riseth by the morwe shene, 49 The longe day, thus walking in the grene. And whan the sonne giimeth for to weste, Than closeth hit, and draweth hit to reste, So sore hit is afered of the night, Til on the morwe, that hit is dayes light. This dayesye, of alle floures flour, Fulfild of vertu and of alle honour. And ever y-lyke fair and fresh of hewe, As wel in winter as in somer newe. Fain wolde I preisen, if I coude aright; But wo is me, hit lyth nat in my might! 60 For wel I wot, that folk han her-beforn Of making ropen,^^ and lad a-wey the corn; And I come after, glening here and there, And am ful glad if I may finde an ere Of any goodly word that they han left. And, if hit happe me rehersen eft That they han in her fresshe souges sayd, I hope that they wil nat ben evel apayd," Sith hit is seid in forthering and honour Of hem that either serven leef or flour.^^ 70 For trnsteth wel, I ne have nat undertake As of the leef, ageyn the flour, to make ; 1^ Ne of the flour to make, ageyn the leef, No more than of the corn ageyn the sheef. For, as to me, is leefer noon ne lother; I am with-holde ^' yit with never nother. 11 peculiarity. 12 dawns. 13 Reaped the poetic field ; an allusion to the French " Marguerite " poets. i^ pleased. 16 Apparently poets sided in playful allegory with one or the other. " compose poetry, i7 retained. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN i8s I not who serveth leef, ne who the flour; That nis nothing the entent of my labour. For this werk is al of another tunne,^ Of olde story, er swich stryf was begunne. 80 But wherfor that I spak, to yeve cre- dence To bokes olde and doon hem reverence, Is for men shulde autoritees beleve, Ther as ther lyth non other assay by preve. For myn entent is, or I fro yow fare, The naked text in English to declare Of many a story, or elles of many a gest. As autours seyn; leveth hem if yow leste! Whan passed was almost the month of May, And I had romed, al the someres day, 9° The grene medew, of which that I yow tolde, Upon the fresshe daysy to bebolde. And that the Sonne out of the south gan weste, And closed was the flour and goon to reste For derknesse of the night, of which she dredde, Hoom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde; And, in a litel erber ^ that I have, Y-benched ^ newe with turves fresshe y- grave, I bad men shulde me my couehe make ; For deyntee of the newe someres sake, 100 I bad hem strowe floures on my bed. Whan I was layd, and had myn eyen hed, I fel a^slepe with-in an houre or two. Me mette how I was in the medew tho, And that I romed in that same gyse. To seen that flour, as ye ban herd devyse. Fair was this medew, as thoughte me overal; With floures swote embrowded was it al ; As for to speke of gomme, or erbe, or tree, Comparisoun may noon y-maked be. no For hit surmounted pleynly alle odoures, And eek of riche beaute alle floures. Forgeten had the erthe his pore estat Of winter, that him naked made and mat,* And with his s\verd of cold so sore had greved. Now had the atempre sonne al that releved, And clothed him in grene al newe agayn. The smale foules, of the seson fayn. That from the panter^ and the net ben scaped, "' Upon the fouler, that hem made a-whaped ' 1 of quite another matter. 2 arbor. » With raised seats of turf. i dead. ^ large bird-net. ^ scared. In winter, and distroyed had hir brood, In his despyt, hem thoughte hit did hem good To singe of him, and in hir song despyse The foule cherl that, for his covetyse. Had hem betrayed with his sophistrye. This was hir song — ' The fouler we defye! ' Somme songen [layes] on the braunches clere Of love and [May], that joye hit was to here, In worship and in preysing of hir make,' And of the newe blisful someres sake, 130 That songen, ' Blissed be seynt Valentyn! [For] at his day I chees yow to be myn, With-oute repenting, myn herte swete! ' And therwith-al hir bekes gonnen mete. They dide honour and humble obei- saunces. And after diden other observaunces Right [plesing] un-to love and to nature; So ech of hem [doth wel] to creature. This song to herkne I dide al myn entente, For-why I mette ^ I wiste what they mente. Til at the laste a larke song above : 141 ' I see, quod she, ' the mighty god of love ! Lo ! yond he cometh, 1 see his winges sprede ! ' Tho gan I loken endelong the mede, And saw him come, and in his bond a queue. Clothed in ryal abite al of grene. A fret ^ of gold she hadde next hir heer,. And up-on that a whyt coroun she beer With many flonres, and I shal nat lye; For al the world, right as the dayesye 150 I-coroned is with whyte leves lyte, Swich were the floures of hir coroun whyte. For of o perle fyn and oriental Hir whyte coroun was y-maked al ; For which the whyte coroun, above the grene. Made hir lyk a daysie for to sene. Considered eek the fret of gold above. Y-clothed was this mighty god of love Of silk, y-brouded'" ful of grene greves; A garlond on his heed of rose-leves 160 Steked al with lilie floures newe; But of his face I can nat seyn the hewe. For sekirly his face shoon so brighte, That with the gleem a-stoned was the sighte ; A f urlong-wey I mighte him nat beholde. But at the laste in haude I saw him holde ' their mate. B ornament. 8 Because I dreamt. 10 embroidered. i86 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Two fyry dartes, as the gledes^ rede; And auiigellioh his wenges gan he sprede. And al be that men seyn that blind is he, Al-gate^me thoughte he mighte wel y- see ; 170 For sternely on me he gan biholde, So that his loking doth myn herte colde. And by the hande he held the noble quene, Corouned with whyte, and clothed al in grene. So womanly, so benigne, and so meke. That in this world, thogh that men wolde seke, Half hir beautee shulde men nat finde In creature that formed is by kinde, Hir name was Alceste the debonayre ; I prey to God that ever falle she fayre! 180 For ne hadde confort been of hir presence, I had be deed, withouten any defence, For drede of Loves wordes and his chere. As, whan tyme is, her-after ye shal here. Byhind this god of love, up-on this grene, I saw cominge of ladyes nyntene In ryal abite, a ful esy pas, And after hem com of women swich a tras" That, sin that God Adam made of erthe. The thredde part of women, ne the ferthe, Ne wende I nat by possibilitee 191 Haddeu ever in this world y-be; And trewe of love thise wemen were echoon. Now whether was that a wonder thing or noon, That, right anoon as that they gonue espye This flour, which that I olepe the dayesye, Ful sodeinly they stinten alle at-ones. And kneled adoan, as it were for the nones. And after that they wenten in compas, Daunsinge aboute this flour an esy pas, 200 And songen, as it were iu carole-wyse. This balade, which that I shal yow devyse. Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere ; Ester, ley thou thy mekuesse al a^doun ; Hyd, Jonathas,* al thy friendly manere; Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun, Mak of your wyfhod no compariaoun; Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude ° and Eleyne,' Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne.^ I firebrands. 2 Nevertheless. 3 heap. « Jona- than. 6 Iseult, Isolde. 8 Elaine who loved Lancelot, or Helen of Troy. ' bedim. Thy faire bodye, lat hit nat appere, 210 Lavyne ; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun, And Polixene, that boghte love so dere, Eek Cleopatre, with al thy passioun, Hyde ye your trouthe in love and your re- noun; And thou, Tisbe, that hast for love swich peyne : Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle in-fere, Eek Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun, And Canace, espyed by thy chere, Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun, 220 Mak of your trouthe in love no host ne soun; Nor Ypermistre ^ or Adriane,' ne pleyne; Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. Whan that this balade al y-songen was, Upon the softe and swote grene gras, They setten hem ful softely adoun. By ordre alle in compas, alle enveroun. First sat the god of love, and than this quene With the whyte coroun, clad in grene ; And sithen al the remenant by and by, ^"230 As they were of degree,^^ ful curteisly ; Ne nat a word was spoken in the place The mountanoe of a furlong-wey of space.'* I, lening faste by under a bente,!^ Abood, to knowen what this peple mente, As stille as any stoou; til at the laste, The god of love on me his eye caste, And seyde, ' Who resteth ther ? ' and I answerde Un-to his axing, whan that I him herde. And seyde, ' Sir, hit am I ' ; and cam him neer, 240 And sallied him. Quod he, ' What dostow heer In my presence, and that so boldely ? For it were better worthy, trewely, A werm to comen in my sight than thou.' ' And why, sir,' quod I, ' and hit lyke yow?' 'For thou,' quod he, 'art ther-to nothing able." My servaunts been alle wyse and honour- able. Thou art my mortal f 0, and me warreyest,'* And of myne olde servaunts thou misseyest, And binderest hem, with thy translacioun, And lettest ^' folk to hau devocioun 251 8 Hypemmeatra. " Ariadne. i" alongside. " according to rank. 12 The amount of time it takes to go a furlong, is little hill, i^ suitable, is makest war upon. " dost binder. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN 187 To serven me, and baldest hit folye To troste on me. Thou majst hit nat denye; For ill pleyn text, hit nedeth nat to glose,i Thou hast translated the Komauns of the Rose, That is au heresye ageyns my lawe. And makest wyse folk fro me withdraws. And thihkest in thy wit, that is ful cool,^ That he nis but a verray propre fool That loveth paramours,^ to harde and hote. 260 Wei wot I ther-by thou beginnest dote As olde f oles, whan hir spirit f ayleth ; Than blame they folk, and wite nat what hem ayleth. Hast thou nat mad in English eek the book How that Crisseyde Troilus forsook, In shewinge how that wemen han don mis ? But natheles, answere me now to this. Why noldest thou as wel han seyd good- nesse Of wemen, as thou hast seyd wikkednesse? Was ther no good matere in thy minde, 270 Ne in alle tl]y bokes coudest thou nat finde Sum story of wemeu that were goods and trewe ? Yis ! God wot, sixty bokes olde and newe Hast thou thy-self , alle f ulle of stories grete, That bothe Romains and eek Grekes trete Of sundry wemen, which lyf that they ladde, And ever an hundred gode ageyn oon badde. This knoweth God, and alle olerkes eke, That usen swiohe materes for to seke. 279 What seith Valerie,^ Titus,^ or ClaudianS ? What seith Jerome ageyns Jovinian ? ' How clene maydens, and how trewe wyves. How stedfast wldwes during al hir lyves, Telleth Jerome; and that nat of a fewe, But, I dar seyn, an hundred on a rewe ; That hit is pitee for to rede, and routhe, The wo that they enduren for hir trouthe. For to hir love were they so trewe, That, rather than they wolde take a newe, They chosen to be dede in sundry wyse, And deyden, as the story wol devyse; 291 And some were brend, and some were cut the hals,* And some dreynt,' for they wolden nat be fals. 1 explain it away. 2 stupid. ^ lilie a lover. * Supposed author of a bitter mediseval treatise against marriage. B Livy. 8 In his De Raptu Proserpinae f ' The Saint's famous tirade against women and marriage. b had their throats cut. 8 drowned. For alle keped they hir maydenhed, Or elles wedlok, or hir widwehed. And this thing was nat kept for holinesse, But al for verray vertu and clennesse, And for men shulde sette on hem no lak,!" And yit they weren bethen, al the pak, That were so sore adrad of alle shame. 300 These olde wemen kepte so hir name. That in this world I trow men shal nat finde A man that coude be so trewe and kinde, As was the leste woman in that tyde. What seith also the epistles of Ovyde Of trewe wyves, and of hir labour ? What Vincent, in his Storial Mirour ? ^^ Eek al the world of autours maystow here, Cristen and hethen, trete of swich matere ; It nedeth nat alday thus for t'endyte, 310 But yit I sey, what eyleth thee to wryte The draf ^ of stories, and forgo the corn ? By seint Venus, of whom that I was born. Although [that] thou reneyed hast my lay,!" As othere olde foles many a day. Thou shalt repente hit, that hit shal be sene! Than spak Alceste, the worthieste queue. And seyde, ' God, right of your curtesye, Ye moten herknen if he can replye Ageyns these points that ye han to him meved ; 320 A god ne sholde nat be thus agreved, But of his deitee he shal be stable. And therto rightful and eek merciable. He shal nat rightfully his yre wreke Or he have herd the tother party speke. Al ne is nat gospel that is to yow pleyned; The god of love berth many a tale y-f eyned. For in your court is many a losengeour,^^ And many a queynte totelere ^^ accusour, That tabouren 1^ in your eres many a thing For hate, or for jelous imagining, 331 And for to ban with yow som daliaunce. Envye (I prey to God yeve hir mischaunce !) Is lavender " in the grete court alway. For she ne parteth, neither night ne day, Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seith Dante ;18 Who-so that goth, alwey she moot [nat] wante. This man to yow may wrongly been ac- cused, Ther as by right hira oghte been excused. 10 reproach. " The Speculum Hiitonale of Vincent of Beauvais, thirteenth century. 12 chaff. 13 renounced my religion, i* flatterer, ifi tattling, ifl drum. 17 laundress, harlot. ^ Inferno^ xiii, 64. i88 GEOFFREY CHAUCER Or elles, sir, for that this man is nyce,^ 340 He may translate a thing in no malyee, But for he useth bokes for to make, And takth non heed of what matere he take; Therfor he wroot the Rose and eek Cris- seyde Of innocence, and niste what he seyde; Or him was boden make thilke tweye Of som persone, and durste hit uat with- seye; For he hath writen many a book er this. He ne hath nat doou so grevously amis To translaten that olde clerkes wryten, 350 As thogh that he of malice wolde endyten Despyt of love, and hadde him-self y- wroght. This shulde a rightwys lord han in his thoght, And uat be lyk tlraunts of Lumbardye, That usen wilfulhed and tirannye. For he that king or lord is naturel, Him oghte nat be tiraunt ne cruel. As is a fermour,^ to doon the harm he can. He moste thinke hit is his lige man, And that him oweth, of verray duetee, 360 Shewen his peple pleyu benignitee, And wel to here hir excusaciouns. And hir compleyntes and peticiouns, In duewe tyme, whan they shal hit profre. This is the sentence of the philosophre : A king to kepe his liges in justyce, With-outen doute, that is his offyce. And therto is a king ful depe y-sworn, Ful many an hundred winter heer-biforn; And for to kepe his lordes hir degree, 370 As hit is right and skilful that they be Enhaunced and honoured, and most dere — For they ben half-goddes in this world here — This shal he doon, bothe to pore [and] riehe, Al be that her estat be nat a-liohe, And han of pore folk compassioun. For lo, the gentil kind of the lioun ! For whan a flye ofEendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily; for, of his genterye, 380 Him deyneth nat to wreke him on a fiye, As doth a eurre or elles another beste. In noble corage oghte been areste. And weyen every thing by equitee. And ever han reward to his owen degree. 1 foolish. 2 farmer of taxes, extortioner. For, sir, hit is no maystrie for a lord To dampne a man with-oute auswere or word; And, for a lord, that is ful foul to use. And if so be he may him nat excuse, 389 [But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte. And profreth him, right in his bare sherte, To been right at your owne jugement. Than oghte a god, by short avysement, Considre his owne honour and his trespas. For sith no cause of deeth lyth in this cas, Yow oghte been the lighter merciable ; Leteth your yre, and beth som what tre table ! The man hath served yow of his conning. And forthered your lawe with his making. Whyl he was yong, he kepte your estat; 400 I not wher he be now a renegat. But wel I wot, with that he can endyte, He hath maked lewed folk delyte To serve you, in preysing of your name. He made the book that hight the Hous of Fame, And eek the Deeth of Blaunche the Duch- esse. And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse, And al the love of Palamon and Arcyte Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte; And many an ympne ^ for your halydayes, That highten Balades, Roundels, Virelayes ; And for to speke of other besinesse, 412 He hath in prose translated Boece; And of the Wreched Engendring of Man- kinde. As man may in pope Innocent y-finde; And mad the Lyf also of seynt Cecyle; He made also, goon sithen a greet whyl, Origenes upon the Maudeleyne ; Him oghte now to have the lesse peyne; He hath mad many a lay and many a thing. 420 Now as ye been a god, and eek a king, I, your Alqeste, whylom queue of Trace, I axe yow this man, right of your grace, That ye him never hurte in al his lyve ; And he shal sweren yow, and that as blyve,^ He shal no more agilten^ in this wyse; But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse, Of wemen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve, Wher-so ye wil, of maiden or of wyve. And forthren yow, as muche as he mis- seyde 430 Or in the Rose or elles in Criseyde.' The god of love answerde hir thus anoon, ' Madame,' quod he, ' hit is so long agoon « hymn. * forthwith. = be guilty. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN 189 That I yow knew so charitable and trewe, That never yit, sith that the world was newe, To me ne fond I better noon than ye; That, if that I wol save my degree, I may ne wol uat warne your requeste; Al lyth in yow, doth with him what yow leste, 439 And al foryeve, with-outen lenger space; For who-so yeveth a yift, or doth a grace, Do hit by tyme, his thank ia wel the more; And demeth ye what he shal do therfore. Go thanke now my lady heer,' quod he. I roos, and doun I sette me on my knee. And seyde thus : ' Madame, the God above Foryelde ^ yow, that ye the god of love Han maked me his wrathe to foryive ; And yeve me grace so long for to live. That I may knowe soothly what ye be, 450 That han me holpen, and put in swich de- gree. But trewely I wende, as in this cas. Naught have agilt, ne doon to love tres- pas. Forwhy a trewe man, with-outen drede. Hath nat to parten with ^ a theves dede ; Ne a trewe lover oghte me nat blame, Thogh that I speke a fals lover som shame. They oghte rather with me for to holde, For that I of Creseyde wroot or tolde. Or of the Rose; what-so myn auctour mente, Algate, God wot, hit was myn entente 461 To forthren trouthe in love and hit cheryce; And to be war fro f alsnesse and fro vyce By swich ensample ; this was my meninge.' And she answerde, ' Lat be thyn argu- inge; For Love ne wol nat eomitrepleted ' be In right ne wrong; and lerne this at me! Thou hast thy grace, and hold thee right ther-to. Now wol I seyn what penance thou shalt do For thy trespas, and understond hit here : Thou shalt, whyl that thou livest, yeer by yere, 471 The moste party of thy lyve spende In making of a glorious Legende Of Gode Wemen, maidenes and wyves, That were trewe in lovings al hir lyves; And telle of false men that hem bitrayen, That al hir lyf ne doon nat but assayen 1 Repay. ' has no part in. ' pleaded against. How many wemen they may doon a shame ; For in your world that is now holden game. And thogh thou lesteth nat a lover be, 480 Spek wel of love; this penance yeve I thee. And to the god of love I shal so preye, That he shal charge his servants, by any weye, To forthren thee, and wel thy labour quyte ; Go now thy wey, thy penance is but lyte.' The god of love gan smyle, and than he seyde, 'Wostow,' quod he, ' wher this be wyf or mayde. Or queue, or countesse, or of what degree. That hath so litel penance yeven thee, That hast deserved sorer for to smerte? 490 But pitee renneth sone in gentil herte ; That mayst thou seen, she kytheth ^ what she is.' And I answerde, ' Nay, sir, so have I blis, No more but that I see wel she is good.' ' That is a trewe tale, by myn hood,' Quod Love, 'and that thou knowest wel, pardee, If hit be so that thou avyse thee. Hastow nat in a book, lyth in thy cheste. The grete goodnesse of the queue Alceste, That turned was into a dayesye : 500 She that for hir husbonde chees to dye, And eek to goon to helle, rather than he, And Ercules rescued hir, pardee. And broghte hir out of helle agayn to blis ? ' And I answerde ageyn, and seyde, ' Yis, Now knowe I hir! And is this good Alceste, The dayesye, and myn owne hertes reste ? Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wyf, That bothe after hir deeth, and in hir lyf, Hir grete bountee doubleth hir renoun! 510 Wel hath she quit me myn afleccioun That I have to hir flour, the dayesye! No wonder is thogh Jove hir stellifye. As telleth Agaton,^ for hir goodnesse! Hir whyte coroun berth of hit witnesse; For also many vertues hadde she, As sraale fioures in hir coroun be. In remembrannce of hir and in honour, Cibella^ made the dayesy and the flour T-ooroned al with whyt, as men may see; 520 And Mars yaf to hir coroun reed, pardee. In stede of rubies, set among the whyte.' Therwith this queue wex reed for shame a lyte, * makes known. » Possibly the Athenian tragic poet of the fifth century b.o. « Cybele. IQO GEOFFREY CHAUCER Whan she was preysed so in hir presence. Than seyde Love, ' A f ul gret negligence Was hit to thee, to write unstedfastnesse Of women, sith thou knowest hir good- nesse By preef, and eek by stories heer-biforn; Let be the chaf, and wryt wel of the corn. Why noldest thou han writen of Alceste, 530 And leten Criseide been a-slepe and reste ? For of Alceste shulde thy wryting be, Sin that thou wost that kalender ^ is she Of goodnesse, for she taughte of fyn lov- inge, And namely of wyfhood the livinge. And alle the boundes that she oghte kepe; Thy litel wit was thilke tyme a-slepe. But now I charge thee, upon thy lyf, 538 That in thy legend thou make of this wyf, Whan thou bast othere smale maad be- fore; And fare now wel, I charge thee no more. At Cleopatre I wol that thou beginne ; And so forth; and my love so shalt thou winne.' And with that word of sleep I gan a-awake, And right thus on my Legend gan I make. THE LEGEND OF CLEOPATRA Incipit Legenda Cleopatrie^ Martiris^ ^g^p^i regine. After the deeth of Tholomee ^ the king. That al Egipte hadde in his governing, Regned his quene Cleopataras; Til on a tyme befel ther swiche a cas, That out of Kome was sent a senatour, For to conqueren regnes and honour Unto the toun of Rome, as was usaunee, To have the world unto her obeisaunce; And, sooth to seye, Antonius was his name. So fll hit, as Fortune him oghte ^ a shame 10 Whan he was fallen in prosperitee, Rebel unto the toun of Rome is he. And over al this, the suster of Cesar, He lafte hir falsly, er that she was war, And wolde algates han another wyf; For whiche he took with Rome and Cesar stryf. Natheles, for-sooth, this ilke senatour Was a ful worthy gentil werreyour. And of his deeth hit was ful greet damage. But love had broght this man in swiche a rage, 20 1 example. > Ptolemy. > owed. And him so narwe bounden in his las, Al for the love of Cleopataras, That al the world he sette at no value. Him thoughte, nas to him no thing so due As Cleopatras for to love and serve; Him roghte ^ nat in armes for to sterve In the defence of hir, and of hir right. This noble quene eek lovede so this knight. Through his desert, and for his chivalrye; As certeinly, but-if that bokes lye, 30 He was, of persone and of gentilesse, And of discrecioun and hardinesse, Worthy to any wight that liven may, And she was fair as is the rose in May. And, for to maken shortly is the beste, She wex his wyf, and hadde him as hir leste. The wedding and the feste to devyse. To me, that have y-take swiche empryse Of so many a storie for to make, Hit were to long, lest that I sholde slake 40 Of thing that bereth more effect and charge ;* For men may overlade a ship or barge; And fortby to th'effect than wol I skippe, And al the remenant, I wol lete hit slippe. Octovian, that wood * was of this dede, Shoop ' him an ost on Antony to lede Al-outerly for his destruccioun. With stoute Remains, cruel as leoun; To ship they wente, and thus I let hem saile. Antonius was war, and wol nat faile 50 To meten with thise Remains, if he may; Took eek his reed, and bothe, upon a day, His wyf and he, and al his ost, forth wente To shippe anoou, no lenger they ne stente; And in the see hit happed hem to mete. Up goth^ the trompe, and for to shoute and shete," And peynen hem to sette on with the sonne.^' With grisly soun out goth ^i the grete gonne, And heterly '^ they hurtlen 1^ al at ones, And fro the top ^* doun Cometh the grete stones. 60 In goth the grapenel so ful of crokes Among the ropes, and the sherlng-hokes. In with the polax presseth he and he; Behind the mast beginneth he to flee, And out agayn, and dryveth him over- borde ; He stingeth him upon his speres orde ; ^' 4 recked. 6 weight. « angry. ' Shaped, i.e. pre- pared. 9 sounds. B shoot, loose infinitive. 10 To attack with the sun at their back. 11 off goes, is ferociously. >> clash together, " station up on the mast. » point. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN 191 He rent the sail with hokes ly ke a sythe ; He bringeth the ouppe, and biddeth hem be biythe; He poureth pesen upon the hacches slider; ^ With pottes ful of lym^ they goon to- gider; _ 70 And thus the longe day in fight they spende Til, at the last, as every thing hath ende, Antony is shent,* and put him to the flighte, And al his folk to-go,^ that best go mighte. Fleeth eek the queen, with al her purpre sail, For strokes, which that wente as thikke as hail; No wonder was, she mighte hit nat en- dure. And whan that Antony saw that aventure, ' Alas ! ' quod he, ' the day that I was born ! My worshipe in this day thus have I lorn ! ' 80 And for dispeyr out of his witte he sterte, And roof ^ him-self anoon through-out the herte Er that he ferther wente out of the place. His wyf, that coude of Cesar have no grace, To Egipte is fled, for drede and for dis- tresse. But herkneth, ye that speke of kindenesse, Ye men, that falsly sweren many an ooth That ye wol dye, if that your love be wrooth, Heer may ye seen of women whiche a trouthe! This woful Cleopatre hath mad swieh routhe 90 That ther nis tonga noon that may hit telle. But on the morwe she wol no lenger dwelle, But made hir subtil werkmen make a shryne Of alle the rubies and the stones fyne In al Egipte that she coude espye ; And putte ful the shryne of spycerye, And leet the cors embaume ; and forth she fette This dede cors, and in the shryne hit shette. And next the shryne a pit than doth she grave ; And alle the serpents that she mighte have, 100 I Apparently "pours peas upon the slippery deck," I.e. to make the deck slippery. But v. KiUredge Anniversary Papers, p. 149, for another explanation. i Loose quicklime to hlind the enemy. * ruined. * disperse. b pierced* She putte hem in that grave, and thus she seyde: 'Now love, to whom my sorweful herte obeyde So ferforthly that, fro that blisful houre That I yow swor to been al frely youre, I mene yow, Antouius my knight ! That never waking, in the day or night. Ye nere out of myn hertes remembraunee For wele or wo, for Carole or for daunee; Aud in my-self this covenant made I tho. That, right swich as ye felten, wele or wo, no As ferforth as hit in my power lay, Unreprovable unto my wyf hood ay. The same wolde I felen, lyf or deeth. And thilke covenant, whyl me lasteth breeth, I wol fulfille, and that shal wel be sene; Was never unto hir love a trewer queue.' And with that word, naked, with ful good herte. Among the serpents in the pit she sterte, And ther she chees to ban hir buryinge. Anoon the neddres gonne hir for to stinge, 120 And she hir deeth receyveth, with good chore. For love of Antony, that was hir so dere : — And this is storial sooth,' hit is no fable. Now, er I finde a man thus trewe and stable. And wol for love his deeth so freely take, I pray God lat our hedes never ake! Explicit Legenda Cleopatrie, Martiris, THE LEGEND OF LUCRETIA Incipit Legenda Lucrecie Rome, Mariiris. Now moot I seyn the exiling of kinges Of Rome, for hir horrible doinges, And of the laste king Tarqulnius, As saith Ovyde and Titus Livius. But for that cause telle I nat this storie, But for to preise and drawen to memorie The verray wyf, the verray trewe Lucresse, That, for her wyfhood and her steadfast- nesse, Nat only that thise payens her comende, But he, that cleped is in our legende 10 > historical truth. 192 GEOFFREY CHAUCER The grete Austin,^ hath greet compas- sioun Of this Lucresse, that starf at Rome toun; And in what wyse, I wol hut shortly trete, And of this thing I touche but the grete.^ Whan Ardea beseged was aboute With Romaiiis, that ful sterne were and stoute, Ful longe lay the sege, and litel wroghte,* So that they were half ydel, as hem thoghte; And in his pley Tarquinius the yonge Gan for to jape, for he was light of tonge, 20 And seyde, that 'It was an ydel lyf; No man did ther no more than his wyf ; And lat us speke of wyves, that is best; Praise every man his owne, as him lest, And with our speche lat us ese our herte.' A knight, that highte Colatyne, up stei-te, And seyde thus, ' Nay, for hit is no nede To trowen on the word, but on the dede. I have a wyf,' quod he, ' that, as I trowe, Is holden good of alle that ever her knowe; 30 Go we to-night to Rome, and we shtd see.' Tarquinius answerde, ' That lyketh me.' To Rome be they come, and faste hem dighte ^ To Colatynes hous, and doun they lighte, Tarquinius, and eek this Colatyne. The husbond knew the estres * wel and fyne, _ And prively into the hous they goon ; Nor at the gate porter was ther noon ; And at the chambre-dore they abyde. This noble wyf sat by her beddes syde 40 Disehevele, for no malice she ne thoghte; And softe woUe our book seith that she wroghte To kepen her fro slouthe and ydelnesse ; And bad her servants doon hir businesse. And axeth hem, ' What tydings heren ye? How seith men of the sege, how shal hit be? God wolde the walles weren falle adoun; Myn husbond is so longe out of this toun, 1 St. Augustine in liis City of God. a main points. 3 Tlie beleaguering was long and ineffective. 4 repaired. ^ rooma. For which the dreed doth me so sore smerte. Right as a swerd hit stingeth to myn herte s" Whan I think on the sege or of that place ; God save my lord, I preye him for his grace : ' — And ther-with-al ful tenderly she weep, And of her werk she took no more keep, But mekely she leet her eyen falle; And thilke semblant sat her wel with-alle. And eek her teres, ful of honestee, Embelisshed her wyfly chastitee; Her oountenaunce is to her herte digne, For they acordeden in dede and signe. 60 And with that word her husbond Colatyn, Or she of him was war, com sterting in, And seide, 'Dreed thee noght, for I am here ! ' And she anoon up roos, with blisful chere, And kiste him, as of wyves is the wone.^ Tarquinius, this proude kinges sone. Conceived ' hath her beautee and her chere, Her yelow heer, her shap, and her manere, Her hew, her wordes that she hath com- pleyned. And by no orafte her beautee nas nat f eyned ; 70 And caughte to this lady swich desyr. That in his herte brende as any fyr So woodly, that his wit was al forgeten. For wel, thoghte he, she sholde nat be geten ; And ay the more that he was in dispair, The more he coveteth and thoghte her fair. His blinde lust was al his covetinge. A-morwe, whan the brid began to singe, Unto the sege he comth ful privily, And by himself he walketh sobrely, 80 Th' image of her recording alwey newe; ' Thus lay her heer, and thus fresh was her hewe; Thus sat, tlms spak, thus span; this was her chere. Thus fair she was, and this was her manere.' Al this conceit his herte hath now y-take. And, as the see, with tempest al to-shake, That, after whan the storm is al ago. Yet wol the water quappe* a day or two. Right so, thogh that her forme wer ab- sent. The plesaunce of her forme was present; 90 B wont, custom. ' Perceived. ^ be tempestuous. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN 193 But natheles, nat plesaunce, but delyt, Or an unrightful talent ^ with despyt ; 'For, maugre her,^ she shal my lemman' be; Hap helpeth hardy man alday,'* quod he; 'What ende that I make, hit shal be so;' And girt him with his swerde, and gau to go; . . And forth he rit ' til he to Rome is come, And al aloon his wey than hath he nome ' Unto the house of Colatyn ful right. Doun was the Sonne, and day hath lost his light; 100 And in he com un-to a privy halke,' And in the night ful theefly * gan he stalke, Whan every wight was to his reste broght, Ne no wight had of tresoun swieh a thoght. Were hit by window or by other gin,' With swerde y-drawe, shortly he comth in Ther as she lay, this noble wyf Lueresse. And, as she wook, her bed she felte presse. ' What beste is that,' quod she, ' that weyeth thus ? ' ' I am the kinges sone, Tarquinius,' no Quod he, ' but and thou crye, or noise make. Or if thou any creature awake, By thilke God that formed man on lyve, This swerd through-out thyn herte shal I ryve.' And ther-withal unto her throte he sterte, And sette the point al sharp upon her herte. No word she spak, she hath no might therto. What shal she sayn ? her wit is al ago. Right as a wolf that fynt i" a lomb aloon. To whom shal she compleyne, or make moon? 120 What ! shal she flghte with an hardy knight ? Wei wot men that a woman hath no might. What ! shal she crye, or how shal she asterte That hath her by the throte, with swerde at herte ? She axeth grace, and seith al that she can. 'Ne wolt thou nat,' quod he, this cruel man, ' As wisly ^'^ Jupiter my soule save, As I shal in the stable slee thy knave, 1 paBsion. 2 in spite of herself. 3 mistress. 4 Fortune always favors the brave. •* rideth. 8 taken. ' corner, s like a thief. » contrivance. 10 findeth. 11 Bo sure as. And leye him in thy bed, and loude crye, That I thee finde in suche avouterye ; ^ 130 And thus thou shalt be deed, and also lese ^^ Thy name, for thou shalt none other chese.' Thise Romain wy ves loveden so hir name At thilke tyme, and dredden so the shame, That, what for fere of slaundre and drede of deeth, She loste bothe at-ones wit and breeth, And in a, swough" she lay and wex so deed. Men mighte smyten of her arm or heed; She feleth no-thing, neither foul ne fair. Tarquinius, that art a kinges eyr, 140 And sholdest, as by linage and by right, Doon as a lord and as a verray knight. Why hastow doon dispyt to chivalrye ? Why hastow doon this lady vilanye ? Alias ! of thee this was a vileins dede ! But now to purpos; in the story I rede, Whan he was goon, al this mischaunce is falle. This lady sente after her frendes alle, Fader, moder, husbond, al y-fere;^^ And al dischevele, with her heres clere, 150 In habit swich as women used the Unto the burying of her frendes go. She sit in halle with a sorweful sighte. Her frendes axen what her aylen mighte, And who was deed ? And she sit ay wep- inge, A word for shame ne may she forth out- bringe, Ne upon hem she dorste nat beholde. But atte laste of Tarquiny she hem tolde, This rewful cas, and al this thing horrible. The wo to tellen hit were impossible, 160 That she and alle her frendes made atones.^' Al hadde f olkes hertes been of stones, Hit mighte have maked hem upon her rewe, Her herte was so wyfly and so trewe. She seide, that, for her gilt ne for her blame. Her husbond sholde nat have the foule name. That wolde she nat suffre, by no wey. And they answerden alle, upon hir fey. That they foryeve hit her, for hit was right; Hit was no gilt, hit lay nat in her might; 170 And seiden her ensamples many oon. But al for noght; for thus she seide anoon, ' Be as be may,' quod she, ' of forgiving, I wol nat have no forgif t " for no-thing.' 12 adultery. n lose. » swoon. IB together. 10 at once. " forgiveness. 194 GEOFFREY CHAUCER But prively she eaughte forth a knyf, And therwith-al she rafte her-self her lyf ; And as she f el adoun, she caste her look, And of her clothes yit she hede took; For in her falling yit she hadde care Lest that her fieet or swiche thing lay bare; i8o So wel she loved clennesse and eek trouthe. Of her had al the toun of Rome routhe, And Brutus by her chaste Mode hath swore That Tarquin sholde y-banisht be ther-fore, And al his kin ; and let the peple calle, And openly the tale he tolde hem alle, And openly let carie her on a here Through al the toun, that men may see and here The horrible deed of her oppressioun. Ne never was ther king in Rome toun igo Sin thilke day; and she was holden there A seint, and ever her day y-halwed dere As in hir lawe: and thus endeth Lucresse, The noble wyf, as Titus bereth witnesse. I tell hit, for she was of love so trewe, Ne in her wiUe she chaunged for no newe. And for the stable herte, sad and kinde, That in these women men may alday fiude; Ther as they caste hir herte, ther hit dwelleth. For wel I wot, that Crist him-selve telleth, 200 That in Israel, as wyd as is the lond, That so gret feith in al the lond he ne fond As in a woman ; and this is no lye. And as of men, loketh which tirannye They doou alday; assay hem who so liste, The trewest is ful brotel ^ for to triste. Explicit Legenda Lucrecie Rome^ Martiris. 1 brittle. MINOR POEMS CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWNE SCRIVEYNi Adam scriveyn, if ever it thee bifalle Boeoe or Troilus to wryten newe, Under thy lokkes thou most have the scalle,^ But ^ after my making thou wryte trewe. So ofte a daye I mot thy werk renewe, Hit to correcte and eek to rubbe and scrape ; And al is through thy negligence and rape.^ THE FORMER AGE A BLISFUL lyf , a paisible and a swete Ledden the peples in the former age; They helde hem payed* of fruites, that they ete, Which that the feldes yave hem by usage; They ne were nat forpampred with out- rage ; ' Unknowen was the quern' and eek the melle; * Theyeten mast, hawes, and swich poimage,' And dronken water of the colde welle. Yit nas the ground nat wounded with the plough, But corn up-sprong, unsowe of mannes hond, lo The which they gniden,^" and eete nat half y-nough. No man yit knew the forwes ''■^ of his lond; No man the fyr out of the flint yit fond; Un-korven and un-grobbed ^ lay the vyne; No man yit in the morter spyces grond To clarre,^^ ne to sause of galantyne.-'* No mader, welde, or wood no litestere Ne knew ; ^^ the flees was of his former hewe ; 1 scrivener, scribe. 2 scab, s Unless. * destruc- tiveness. ^ pleased. ^ spoiled by pampering with excessive luxury. ' hand-mill. b mill. ' swine's food. 1" bruised. ^^ furrows. 12 TJnpruned and uncultivated. is For spiced wine. i^ Galantine was an elaborate fish-sauce. 16 No dyer knew the use of madder, weld, or woad — three dye-plants. No flesh ne wiste ofEence of egge 1* or spere ; No coyn ne knew man which was fals or trewe; 20 No ship yit karf the wawes grene and blewe ; No marehaunt yit ne fette outlandish " ware; No trompes for the werres folk ne knewe, No toures heye, and walles rounde or square. What sholde it han avayled to werreye? 1^ Ther lay no profit, ther was no richesse; But cursed was the tyme, I dar wel seye, That men first dide hir swety bysinesse To grobbe up metal, lurkinge in darknesse, And in the riveres first gemmes soghte. 30 Alias ! than sprong up al the cursednesse Of covetyse, that first our sorwe broghte ! Thise tyraunts putte hem gladly nat in pres No wildnesse^' ne no busshes for to winne Ther poverte is, as seith Diogenes, Ther as vitaile is eek so skars and thinne That nogbt but mast or apples is therinne. But, ther as bagges been and fat vitaile, Ther wol they gon, and spare for no sinne With al hir est the cite for t'assaile. 40 Yit were no paleis-chaumbres, ne non halles ; In caves and [in] wodes softe and swete Slepten this blissed folk witb-oute walles, On gras or leves in parfit quiete. No doun of fetheres, ne no bleched shete Was kid 20 to hem, but in seurtee they slepte ; Hir hertes were al oon, with-oute galles, Everich of hem his feith to other kepte. Unforged was the hauberk and the plate ;2i The lambish'^^ peple, voyd of alle vyce, 50 Hadden no fantasye to debate,^^ But ech of hem wolde other wel cberyce ; '^ " edge, knife. " foreign. " fight. w wilder- ness. !» known. ai plate-armor. M innocent. 23 no inclination to contend. 24 cherish. 196 GEOFFREY CHAUCER No pryde, non envye, non avaryee, No lord, no taylage ^ by no tyranny e ; Humblesse and pees, good feith, the em- perice, [Fulfilled erthe of olde curtesye.] ^ Yit was not Jupiter the Ulcerous,' That first was fader of delicacye,^ Come in this world; ne Nembrot,' de- sirous 59 To reynen, had nat maad his toures hye.^ Alias, alias ! now may men wepe and cry el For in our dayes nis but covetyse [And] doublenesse, and tresoun and envye, Poysoun, manslauhtre, and mordre in son- dry wyse. MERCILES BEAUTE: A TRIPLE ROUNDEL I. CAPTIVITY Tour yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beauts of hem not sustene, So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. And but your word wol helen hastily My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene, Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, I may the beaute of hem not sustene. Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully. That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene ; For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene. Your yen two wol slee me sodenly, n 1 may the beaute of hem not sustene, So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. II. REJECTION So hath your beauts fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; For Daunger halt ' your mercy in his cheyne. Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced; I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne ; So hath your beaute fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne. so Alias! that nature hath in yow compassed So greet beautfe, that no man may atteyne To mercy, though he sterve for the peyue. 1 taxation. 2 Line supplied by Skeat. ' lustful. 4 sinful luxury. s Nimrod. 6 i.e. Babel, ' Disdain holdeth. So hath your beauth fro your herte chaced Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne ; For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. III. ESCAPE Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; Sin I am free, I oounte him not a bene. He may answere, and seye this or that; 30 I do no f ors,^ I speke right as I mene. Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, 1 never thenk to ben in his prison lene. Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,' And he is strike out of my bokes clene For ever-mo; ther is non other mene. Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, I never thenk to ben in his prison lene ; Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene. TRUTH 1" Flee fro the prees, and dwelle with soth- fastnesse, SufByee unto thy good,^^ though hit be smal; For hord hath hate, and climbing tikel- nesse,^ Prees hath envye, and wele blent ^° overal; Savour ^^ no more than thee bihove shal; Werk wel thy-self, that other folk canst rede; And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede.^* Tempest 1^ thee noght al croked to redresse, In trust of hir that turneth as a bal: " Gret reste stant in litel besinesse ; 10 And eek be war to sporne ageyn an al ; ^ Stry ve noght, as doth the crokke ^^ with the wal. Daunte^" thy-self, that dauntest otheres dede; And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. That thee is sent, reeeyve in buxumnesse,^^ The wrastling for this worlde axeth a fal. 8 I care not. ' slate. 10 It has recently been shown that this exhortation was addressed to a conspicuously busy and ambitious associate of Chaucer's, Sir Philip la Vache. See Modem Philology, xi, p. 209. 11 Be satisfied with your possessions. 12 precarious- ness. 13 success blindeth. i^ ReliBb, ifi without doubt. ns Vex. i? i.e. Fortune. 18 kick against an awl. " pitcher. 20 Subdue. 21 submission. LENVOY DE CHAUCER A SCOGAN 197 Her nis non hoom, her nis but wildernesse : Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, baste, out of thy stall Know thy contree, look up, thank God of al; Hold the hye wey, and lat thy gost thee lede: 20 And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. ENVOY Therfore, thou vaehe,i leva thyn old wreechednesse Unto the worlde; leve now to be thral; Crye him mercy, that of his by goodnesse Made thee of uoght, and in especial Draw unto him, and pray in general For thee, and eek for other, bevenlich mede; And trouthe shal dalivere, hit is no dreda. Explicit Le bon counseill de G. Chaucer. GENTILESSE The firste stok, fader of gentilesse — ' What man that claymeth gentil for to be, Must folowe his trace, and alia his wittes dresse Vertu to sewe,' and vyees for to flee. For unto vertu longeth dignitee, And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme, Al were * he mytre, oroune, or diademe. This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse, Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free, Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse, 10 Ageinst the vyee of slouthe, in honestee; And, but his heir love vertu, as dide he, He is noght gentil, thogh he riche seme, Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe. Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse; But thar may no man, as men may wel see, Bequethe his heir bis vertuous noblesse That is appropred unto no degree, Biit to the firste fader in magestee. That maketh bis heir him that can him qneme,* 20 Al were he mytra, croune, or diademe. ^ Cow, beast, a play on la Yacbe's name. His crest was a cow*8 hoof. 2 The original gentle-man. These words without corresponding verb supply the antecedent to his in line 3. a follow. * Though he wear. LAK OF STEDFASTNESSE BALADE SOM tyme this world was so stedfast and stable, That mannes word was obligacioun. And now hit is so fals and deceivable. That word and deed, as in conclusioun ; Ben no-thing lyk, for turned up so doun Is al this world for mede and wilfulnesse. That al is lost for lak of stadfastuesse. What maketh this world to be so variable. But lust that folk have in dissensioun ? Among us now a man is holde unable, 10 But-Lf he can, by som collusioun, Don his neighbour wrong or oppressioun. What causeth this, but wilful wreechednesse. That al is lost, for lak of stedfastnesse ? Trouthe is put doun, resoun is holden fable ; Vertu hath now no dominacioun; Pitee exyled, no man is merciabla. Through covetyse is blent ^ diserecioun; The world hath mad a permutaeioun Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikal- nasse, 20 That al is lost, for lak of stedfastnesse. LENVOY TO KING RICHARD O prince, desyre to be honourable, Cherish thy folk and hate extorcioun ! SufEre no thing, that may be reprevable To thyn estat, don in thy regioun. Shew forth thy swerd of castigacioun, Dred God, do law, love trouthe and worthi- nesse, And wed thy folk agein to stedfastnesse. LENVOY DE CHAUCER A SCOGAN To-broken been the statuts hye in hevene That creat were eternally to d'.'re, Sith that I see the brighte goddes sevene '' Mow wepe and wayle, and passiouii endure. As may in ertbe a mortal creature. Alias, fro whannas may this thing precede? Of whicbe errour I deye almost for drede. By worda eterna wbylom was bit shape That fro the fifte cercle, in no manere, Ne mighte a drope of teres doun escape. 10 8 blinded. 1 the planets. 198 GEOFFREY CHAUCER But now so wepeth Venus in hir spere, That with hir teres she wol drenohe us here. Alias, Scogan! this is for thyn offence! Thou causest this deluge of pestilence.^ Hast thou not seyd, in blaspheme of this goddes, Through pryde, or through thy grete rakel- nesse,^ Swich thing as in the lawe of love forbode is? That, for thy lady saw nat thy distresse, Therfor thou yave hir up at Michelmesse ! Alias, Scogan! of olde folk ne yonge 20 Was never erst Scogan blamed for his tonge! Thou drowe ia scorn Cupyde eek to record Of thilke rebel word that thou hast spoken. For which be wol no longer be thy lord. And, Scogan, thogh his bowe be nat broken, He wol nat with his arwes been y-wroken ^ On thee, ne me, ne noon of our figure ; ^ We shul of him have neyther hurt ne cure. Now certes, frend, I drede of thyn un- happe. Lest for thy gilt the wreche of Love pro- cede On alle hem that ben hore and rounde of shape, 31 That ben so lykly folk in love to spede. Than shul we for our labour han no mede; But wel I wot, thou wilt answere and seye: ' Lo! olde Grisel list to ryme and pleye! ' Nay, Scogan, sey not so, for I m'excuse, God help me so! in no rym, doutelees, Ne thinke I never of slepe wak my muse, That rusteth in my shethe stille in pees. Whyl I was yong, I putte hir forth in prees, 40 But al shal passe that men prose or ryme ; Take every man his turn, as for his tyme. I This wretched deluge. Perhaps alluding to the floods of 1393. 2 rashness. 3 wreaked, revenged. 4 i.e. portly figure, cf. 1. 31. Scogan, that kuelest at the stremes heed * Of grace, of alle honour and worthinesse, Li th'ende of which streme I am dul as deed, Forgete in solitarie wildernesse ; ^ Yet, Scogan, thenke on TuUius kindenesse, Minne ' thy frend ther it may fructifye ! Far-wel, and lok thou never eft Love de- fye! THE COMPLEINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS EMPTY PURSE To you, my purse, and to non other wight Compleyne I, for ye be my lady dere! I am so sory, now that ye be light; For certes, but ye make me hevy chore, Me were as leef be leyd up-on my here; For whiche un-to your mercy thus I crye: Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye I Now voucheth sauf this day, or hit be night, That I of you the blisful soun may here, Or see your colour lyk the sonne bright, lo That of yelownesse hadde never pere. Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes store,' Quene of comfort and of good companye: Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye! Now purs, that be to me my lyves light. And saveour, as doun in this worlde here, Out of this tonne help me through your might. Sin that ye wole nat been my tresorere; For I am shave as nye as any frere. But yit I pray un-to your curtesye: zo Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye! LENVOY DE CHAUCER O conquerour' of Brutes Albioun! Which that by lyne and free eleccioun Ben verray king, this song to you I sonde; And ye, that mowen al our harm amende. Have minde np-on my supplicaoiounl 6 Probably Windsor, where the court was. Probably Greenwich. ' Remember. 8 steersman. ' Henry IV, 1399. THOMAS HOCCLEVE EXTRAVAGANCE IN MEN'S DRESS { The Regemenf of Princes^ §§ 61-77) B0T this me thinkith an abusioun. To se on ^ walke in gownes of scarlet, xii yerdes wyd, with pendant sieves downe On the grounde, and the f urrour therin set Amountyng unto twenty pound or bet; ^ And if he for it payde have, he no good Hath lefts him where-with for to bye an hood. For thogh he jette ^ forth among the prees. And overloke everey pore wight. His cofre and eke his purs ben penylees, 10 He hath no more than he goth in ryght.* For lend, rent, or catel,^ he may go light; The weght of hem sohal not so moche peyse ^ As doth his gowne. Is swiche array to preyse ? Nay sothely, sone, it is al amys me think- yth; So pore a wight his lord to eounterfete In his array, in my oonceyit it stynkith, Certes to blame ben the lordes grete. If that I dnrste seyn, that hir men lete Usurpe swiche a lordly apparaille, 20 Is not worth, my childe, withouten fayle. Som tyme, afer men myghten lordes knowe By there array, from other f olke ; but now A man schal stody and musen a long throwe ' Whiche is whiohe: O lordes, it sit ^ to yowe Amende this, for it is for youre prowe.* If twixt yow and youre men no difference Be in array, lesse is youre reverence. Also ther is another newe get,!" A foul wast of cloth and an exeessyf ; ^ Ther goth no lesse in a mannes tipet 1 one, people. * better. s strut. * merely. B personal property, chattels, money. 6 weigh. 7 while. s belongs. * profit. vi fashion. Than of brood cloth a yerde, by my lif ; Me thynkyth this a verray inductif Unto stelthe: ware hem of Hempen Lane ! For stelthe is medid with a ohekelew bane.^ Let evere lord, his owne men defBende ^ Swiehe gret array, and than, on my peryl, This land within a while schal amende. In Goddys name, putte it in exyl ! It is syune outragious and vyl; Lordes, if ye your estat and honour Loven, fleemyth i^ this vioius errour ! 40 What is a lord withouten his meynee ? I putte cas that his foos hym assaile Sodenly in the stret. What help sehale he, Wos sleeves eneombrous so syde " traille, Do to his lord ? He may hym nat availle; In swych a cas he nys but a womman; He may nat stand hym in steed of a man. His armys two han ryght ynow to done, ^ And snmwhat more, his sleeves up to holde; The taillours, trow I, moot heeraf tei soone Shape in the feeld; thay shal nat sprede and folde On hir bord, thogh thei never so fayn wolde, The cloth that shal ben in a gowne wroght; Take an hool cloth is best, for lesse is noght. The skynner unto the feeld moot also, His hous in London is to streyt and scars To doon his craft; sum tyme it was nat so. O lordes, yeve nnto your men hir pars '^ ^ That so doon, and aqwente hem bet with Mars, God of bataile; he loveth non array That hurtyth manhode at preef i' or assay. Who now moost may here on his bak at ones Of eloth and f urrour, hath a f ressch renoun ; He is "a lusty man" clept for the nones; But drapers and eek skynners in the toun. For swich folk han a special orisoun 11 Stealing is rewarded by a choking death. 12 forbid. 13 banish. w wide. IS parts, portions. w proof. THOMAS HOCCLEVE That troppid i is with curses heere and there, 69 And ay schal, til thei paid be for hir gere. In dayes olde, whan smal apparaille SuEfisid unto hy estat or mene, Was gret housholdwel stuffid of vietaille; But now housholdes ben ful selender and lene, For al the good that men may repe or glenc, Wasted is in outrageous array, So that housholdes men nat holde may. Pryde hath wel lever here an hungry mawe To bedde, than lakke of array outrage; He no prys settith be mesures lawe, ^^ Ne takith of hym clothe, mete, ne wage: Mesure is out of londe on pylgrymage; But I suppose he schal resorte as blyve,'' For verray neede wol us therto dryve. Ther may no lord tak up no newe gyse But that a knave shal the same up take. If lordes wolden in this wyse. For to do swiche gownes to hem make As men did in old tyme, I undertake 89 The same jet ' sholde up be take and usid, And al this costelew outrage * refusid. Of Lancastre Duk lohn, whos soule in Hevene I fully deme, and truste sit ful hye — A noble prince I may allegge and nevene," (Other may no man of hym testifye) — ■ I never sy a lord that cowde hym gye * Bet like his estat; al knyghtly prowesse Was to hym girt: O God ! his soule blisse ! His gamamentes weren noght ful wyde, And yit thei hym becam wonderly wel. ^"^ Now wolde God the waast of cloth and pryde Y-put were in exyl perpetuel For the good and profet universel. And lordes myght helpe al this, if thei wolde The olde jet take, and it furth use and holde. Than myghte silver walke more thikke Among the peple than that it doth now; Ther wold I fayne that were y-set the prikke,' — 1 sprinkled. ' very quickly. 8 fashion. * costly extravagance. t> name. guide. ' aim. Nat for my self; I schal doo wel ynow, — But, sone, for that swiche men as thow no That with the world wrastlen, myght han plente Of coyn, where as ye han now scarsetee. Now hath thise lordes but litil neede of broomes To swepe away the filthe out of the street, Syn syde sieves of penylees gromes Wile it up likke, be it drye or weet. O Engelond ! stand upryght on thy feet ! So foul a wast in so symple degree Bannysshe ! or sore it schal repente the. BADBY'S HERESY 8 (TAs Regement of Princes^ §§ 41-47) SOM man, for lak of occupacioun, Museth forther thanne his wyt may strecche, And, at the fendes instigacioun, Dampnable errour holdeth, and can not flecche ^ For no counseil ne reed, as dide a wrecche Not fern 1° agoo, whiche that of heresye Convyct, and brent was un-to ashen drye. The precious body of oure lorde Jhesu In forme of brede, he leved'^ not at al; He was in no thing abassht, ne eschu 10 To seye it was but brede material; He seyde, a prestes power was as smal As a rakers,!^ or swiche an other wighte. And to mak it, hadde no gretter myght. My lorde the prince '' — God him save and blesse! — Was at his deadly castigaciouii, And of his soule hadde grete tendernesse, Thristynge sore his savacioun: Grete was his pitons lamentacioun. Whan that this renegat not wolde blynne ^^ 20 Of the stynkyng errour that he was inne. 8 John Badby was burned at Smithfleld in 1410. This extract shows the feelings of a temperate, intelligent person regarding heresy. 8 escape. i" long. " believed. " street- cleaner, " Prince Hal, later Henry V. ^* cease. WOMAN'S -SUPERIORITY This good lorde highte hym to be sweche a mene ^ To his fader, oiire lige lorde sovereyne, If he renounce wolde his errour dene, And come un-to oure good byleve ageyne, He sehulde of his lif seure ben and eer- teyne, And sufficiant lyflode ^ eek scholde he have, Un-to the day he clad were in his grave. Also this nobyl prince and worthy knyght — God quyte hym his charitable labour! — Or any stikke kyndled were or light, 3 1 The sacrement, oure blissed Saveoure, With reverence grete and hye honoure He feeche leet, this wrecche to con- verte. And make oure feithe to synkyn in his herte. But al for noght, it wolde not bytyde; He heeld forth his oppynyoun dampnable. And cast oure holy cristen feith a-syde, As he that was to the fende acceptable. By any outward tokyn resonable, 40 If he iuward hadde any repentannce, That wote he, that of no thing hath doutaunce. Lat the divines of hym speke and muse Where his soule is by-come, or whider gon; Myn unkonyng of that me schal excuse, Of whiche matere knowleche have I non. But wolde God, tho Cristes foos echon That as he heelde were i-served soo, For I am seur that ther ben many moo. WOMAN'S SUPERIORITY ( TAe Regement of Princes, §§ 728-742) Ther is also a pees inordinat. Whan the gretter obeith to the lesse ; And thus, whan to his soget ' a prelat Obeyeth; and whan reson the blynd- nesse Sueth ^ of sensualitees madnesse. Obeying it: al swich pees is haynons, For it is goode pees contrarious. 1 Promised to be such an intermediary, I livelihood. * subject. < Follows. Right swich a pees, Adam had with Eve Whan that he unto hir desire obeyde; He was, per caas,^ adradde for to greve; 10 Wherefor he did as that she to hym seide: In that obedience he foleyde,^ For God hir him bytoke ' him to obeye; But I adrad am that I thus fer seye; If that this come unto the audience Of women, I am sure I shal be shent: ^ For that I touche of swich obedience. Many a browe shal on me be bent; Thei wolden waite to ben equipollent,' And sumwhat more, unto hir hous- bondis, 20 And sum men seyn swich vsage in this lond is. And it no wonder is, as semeth me. Whan that I me bethought have al aboute, Thoght that women desiren sovereynte, And hir housbondes make to hem loute;^" Thei made were of a ribbe, it is no doute. Which more strong is, and substancial, Than slymeof eerthe, and clennerther- withal. Wherfor it semeth that the worthynesse Of women, passyth mennes encer- teyne; ^^ 30 And yit sum nyse^^ men, of lewdenesse,'^ In repref of hem holden ther-a-geyn. For orokid was that ribbe ; and speke and seyne, That also crokid is hir eurtaisie; But agayn that, strongly wil I replie; For in the writyng and in the scripture Of philosophers, men may see and reede, Cerely ''' shap is moat perfite figure, Bitokenyng, in gemetrie, onhede;'^ And crokydnesse a part is, that may lede Sumwhat unto cercle or a cumpas: 41 What so men seyen, women stonde in gode oaas. For therby shewith it, that crokydnesse Streccheth unto the gretter perfeccioun Than doth a thing that is of evenesse; Of this helplth no contradiccioun, For it soth is; it is no ficcioun; B perchance. 6 did folly. ' gave her to him. 8 undone. " of equal power, i" bow. 11 certainly. 12 silly. " ignorance. i< circular. ib oneness. 202 THOMAS HOCCLEVE Every perfit body that man kan nevene, Is rounde and crokyd, and uoght streghte ne evene. Bygy nne first at Heyen , and rounde it is ; 50 The Sonne and mone, and the sterres also J Hed of man, then mouth, and hert, I-wisse, Ben alle rounde; and othir ben ther moo Than I expresse as now; but or I goo, Yit shal I bet wommannes part sustene ; So biddeth pees, and that to folwe I mene. Now for to speke or touchen of the place In which that man and womman fourmed were: Almyghty God to womman shope swich grace, That she was formed in the worthier; 60 In Paradys men wot wel he made here; But man ymade was out of Paradys, In place of lesse worthinesse and prys. And of the maner of formacioun Of bothe two herkenth now wel I prey; The token or the signiflcacioun Of making of Adam, may be no way Strecehe to so perfyte a goode, I say, As dide the formacioun of Eve; And that as swithe here I sohal it preve. 70 For more have I for hir partye yit; Making of Eve tokned the makyng Of holy ehirche, and sacramentes of it; As of the syde of Adam, him slepyng, Eve was made, so our lorde Crist deyeng Upon the crois, holy ehirche of his syde, And the sacramentes, made were in that tyde. From tyme eeke Crist was of xii yere age Unto thritty, he with his modir ay Was servyng hir with right plesant corage; To teche humilite, he toolce the way 81 Fro Heven hiddir, and mekenesse verray Taught he, the moste partie of his lyf, Whil he was with his modir and his wyfe; For she was bothe two; and syn she had So long of hir housbonde the maystrie, Women, I trowe, be nat now so mad That style to forgo; nay, swich folye. What man that can in a woman espye, Is worthi shryned be; God save hem alle, 90 And graunt hir hye corage nat to pallet Holy writ seith, ' If women sovereynte Of hir housbondes have, how that thei Unto housbondes contrarious be : ' The text is such, I woot wel, but what thei ? 1 That text I undirstonde thus alwey: Whan that housbondes hem mystake and erre, Ageyn that vice wyves maken werre. Thogh a woman hir housbonde contrarie In his oppynyoun erroneous, 100 Shul men for that deme hir his adversarie ? Straw 1 be he never so harrageous,^ If he and she shul dwellen in on house, Goode is he sufEre ; therby pees may spring ; Housbondes pees is pesible sufBryng. TRIBUTES TO CHAUCER AND GOWER {The Regemmt of Princes, §§ 267, 280-283, 297- 301, 712-716) • What schal I calle the ? What is thi name ? ' ' Hoccleve, fadir myn, men clepen me.' ' Hoccleve, sone ? ' ' I-wis, fadir, that same.' ' Sone, I have herd, or this, men speke of the ; Thou were aqueynted with Gaucher,' pardee — God have his soule best of any wyght ! — Sone, I wole holde the that I have hyght.'" ' With hert as tremblyng as the leef of aspe,^ Fadir, syn ' ye me rede ' to do so. Of my symple conceyt wole I the claspe 10 Undo, and lat it at his large go.^ But weylaway ! so is myn herte wo. That the honour of Englyssh tonge is deed. Of which I wont was han " consail and reed. 1 though. * violent. 8 Chaucer. * what I have promised. B aspen, o BiDce. ' counsel. 8 let it go free. " to have. TRIBUTES TO CHAUCER AND GOWER 203 ' O, maister deere, aud fadir reverent ! Mi maister Chaucer, flour of eloquence, Mirour of fructuous entendement,^ O, universel fadir in science ! Alias ! that thou thyn excellent prudence In thi bed mortel mightist naght by- qwethe ; 20 What eiled Deth ? Alias I whi wolde he sle the ? 'O Deth ! thou didest naght harme sin- guleer In slaghtere of him; but al this land it smertith; But nathelees, yit hast thou no power His name sle ; his hy vertu astertith ^ Unslay n fro the, which ay us lyfly hertyth,* With bookes of his ornat endytyng, That is to al this land enlumynyng. * Hast thou nat eeke my maister Gower slayn, Whos vertu I am insufficient 30 For to descreyve ? I wrote wel in certayn, For to sleen al this world thou haast yment; But syn our lorde Crist was obedient To the, in feith I can no ferther seye; His creatures mosten the obeye.' Simple is my goost, and soars my let- terure,"* Unto your excellence for to write Myn inward love, and yit in aventure Wyle I me putte, thogh I can but lyte. Mi dere maistir — God his soule qnyte I — And fadir, Chaucer, fayn wolde ban me taght; 41 But I was dul, and lerned lite or naght. Alias ! my worthi maister honorable, This landes verray tresor and richesse, Deth, by thi deth, hath harme irreparable Unto us doon; hir vengeable duresse * Despoiled hath this land of the swet- nesse Of rethorik; for un-to Tullius Was never man so lyk a-monges us. Also, who was bier' in philosophie 50 To Aristotle, in our tonge, but thow ? The steppes of Virgile in poesie 1 beneficial understanding, intelligence. 2 escapea. " always heartens us vigorously. i learning. ^ cruelty. • heir. Thow filwedist' eeke. Men wot wel y-now That combre-world that the, my mai- stir, slow. Wold I slayn were ! Deth was to hastyf To renne on the, and reve the thi lyf . Deth hath but smal consideracioun Unto the vertuous, I have espied. No more, as shewith the probacioun. Than to a vicious maistir losel tried; ^ 60 A-mong an beep, every man is maistried With hire, as wel the porre as is the riche ; Lered and lewde eeke standen al y-liche. She myghte han taried hir vengeance awhile. Til that sum man bad egal to the be. Nay, lat be that ! sche knew wel that this yle May never man forth brynge lyk to the, And hir office needes do mot she; God bad hir so, I truste as for thi beste; 6g O maister, maister, God thi soule reste 1 The flrste fyndere of our faire langage. Hath seyde in caas semblable, and otbir moo. So hyly wel, that it is my dotage For to expresse or touche any of thoo.^ Alasse! my fadir fro the worlde is goo — My worthi maister Chaucer, hym I mene — - Be thou advoket for hym, hevenes quene ! As thou wel knowest, o blissid virgyne, With lovyng hert and bye devocioun 79 In thyne honour he wroot ful many a lyne; O now thine helpe and thi promocioun. To God thi sone make a mocioun. How he thi servaunt was, mayden Marie, And lat his love floure and fructifle. Al-though his lyfe be queynt,!" the resem- blaunce Of him hath in me so fressh lyflynesse, That, to putte othir men in remembraunce ' didst follow. 8 one proved a vicious master rascal. * those. 10 quenched. 204 THOMAS HOCCLEVE Of his persone, I have heere his lyknesse Do make, to this ende in sothfastuesse, That thei that have of him lest thought and mynde, 90 Bythispeynture may ageynhimfyude.^ The ymages that in the chirehe been, Maken folk thenke on God and on his seyntes, Whan the ymages thei be-holden and seen ; Were'' oft unsyte^ of hem causith re- streyntes Of thoughtes gode: whan a thing depeyut is, Or entailed,* if men take of it heede, Thoght of the lyknesse it wil in hem brede. Yit somme holden oppynyouii, and sey That none ymages schuld I-maked be : 100 Thei erren foule, and goon out of the wey; Of trouth have thei scant sensibilite. Passe over that : now, blessid Trinite, Uppon my maistres soule, mercy have. For him, Lady, eke thi mercy I crave. ROUNDEL TO SOMER THE CHANCELLOR The Sonne, with his hemes of brightnesse, To man so kyndly is, and norisshynge, That lakkyng it day nere but dirknesse: To day he yeveth his enlumynynge, And causith al fruyt for to wexe and sprynge : Now, syn that Sonne may so moche availl. And moost with Somer is his soiournynge, That sesoun bounteous we wole assaill. Glad-cheerid Somer, to your governaille And grace we submitte al our willynge! 10 To whom yee f reendly been he may nat faille But he shal have his reasonable axynge: Af tir your good lust,^ be the sesonynge Of our fruytes this laste Mighelmesse, The tyme of yeer was of our seed ynnynge,^ The lak of which is our greet hevynesse. We trnste up-on your freendly gentillesse, Ye wole us helpe and been our supportaille. Nowyeve us cause ageyn this Cristemesse 1 Here follows the famous portrait of Chaucer, a Where, whereas. ' not seeing. * carved. B pleasure. ^ harvest, i.e. payment. For to be glad, o lord, whethir our taille ' 20 Shal soone make us with our shippes saille To port salut. If yow list we may synge ; And elles, moot us bothe mourn and waille, Till your favour us sende releevygne. We, your servantes, Hoccleve and Baillay, Hethe and OfEorde, yow beseeche and preye, Haasteth our hervest as soone as yee may! For fere of stormes our wit is aweye ; Were our seed inned wel we mighten pleye, And us desporte and synge and make game, 30 And yit this rowndel shul we synge and seye In trust of yow and honour of your name. Somer, that rypest mannes sustenance With ho) sum hete of the sonnes warm- nesse, Al kyude of man thee holden is to blesse! Ay thankid be thy freendly governance, And thy f ressh look of mirthe and of glad- nesse! Somer etc. To hevy folk of thee the remembraunoe Is salve and oynement to hir seeknesse. For why we thus shul synge in Christe- messe, 40 Somer etc. BALADE TO MY GRACIOUS LORD OF YORK 8 Go, little pamfilet, and streight thee dresse Unto the noble rootid gentillesse Of the myghty Prince of famous honour. My gracious Lord of York, to whose noblesse Me recommande with hertes humblesse, As he that have his grace and his favour Fownden alway; for which I am dettour For him to preye; and so shal my sym- plesse Hertily do unto my dethes hour. Remembre his worthynesse, I charge thee, 10 How ones at London, desired he. Of me that am his servant, and shal ay, ' tally. 9 The father of Edward IV. THE COMPLAINT 205 To have of my balades swich plentee As ther weren remeynynge unto me; And for nat wole I to his will seyn nay, But fulfille it as ferfoorth as I may, Be thow an owter ' of my nycetee,^ For my good lordes lust, and game, and play. My lord beseeke eek in humble maneere, That he nat soufEre thee for to appeere 20 In th'onurable sighte, or the presence. Of the noble Prineesse and lady deere. My gracious lady, my good lordes feere,' The mirour of wommanly excellence. Thy cheer is naght, ne haast noon eloquence To moustre * thee before hir yen eleere: For myn honour were bolsum thyn ab- sence.^ Yit ful fayn wolde I have a messageer To recommande me, with herte enteer. To hir benigne and humble wommanhede; 30 And at the tyme have I noon othir beer But thee; aud smal am I, for thee, the neer,^ And if thow do it nat, than shal that dede Be left and that nat kepte I, out of drede. M\' lord, nat I, shal have of thee poweer. Axe him a licence; upon him crie and grede!' Whan that thow hast thus doon, than aftir- ward Byseeche thou that worthy Prince Edward, That he thee leye apart for what may tyde. Lest thee beholde my Maister Picard. 40 I warne thee that it shal be full hard For thee and me to halte on any syde, But he espie us. — Yit, no force,' abyde ! Let him looke on ; his herte is to me-ward So freendly that our shame wole he hyde. If that I in my wrytynge foleye,' As I do ofte (I can it nat withseye), Meetrynge amis i" or speke nnfittyngly. Or nat by just peys ^ my sentences weye. And nat to the ordre of endytyng obeye, 50 And my colours^ sette ofte sythe awry, — With al myn herte wole I buxumly. It to amende and to correct, him preye; For undir his correcciouu stande Y. 1 ntterer. » folly. ' companion, mate. * show, s Thy absence would be good for my honor. 6 little the nearer. ' calL s no matter, 8 utter folly. i" making false metre. 11 weight, poise. ^ rhetorical decoratiooB. Thow foul book, unto my lorde seye also, That pryde is unto me so greet a fo. That the spectacle forbedith he me,^ And hath y-doon of tyme yore ago; And for my sighte blyve " hastith me fro. And lakkith that that sholde his confort be, 60 Xo wonder thogh thow have no beantee. Out upon pryde, causer of my wo! My sighte is hurt thnrgh hir adversitee. Xow ende I thus. The holy Trinitee, And our Lady, the blissid mayden free. My lord and lady have in governance! And graunte hem joie and by prosperitee, Nat to endure oouly two yeer or three. But a thousand ! and if any plesance Happe mighte, on my poore souffissance, 70 To his prowesse and hir benignitee. My lyves ioie it were, and sustenance! Cest tout. THE COMPLAINT THE PROLOG After that hervest inned had his sheves. And that the broune season of Myhelmesse Was come, and gan the trees robbe of ther leves. That greue had bene and in lusty fressh- nesse, And them in-to colowre of yelownesse Hadd dyen and doune throwne undar f oote, That chaunge sank into myne herte roote. For freshely browght it to my remem- braunce. That stablenes in this worlde is there none ; There is no thinge but channge and vari- aimce ; lo How welthye a man be, or well begone,^^ Endure it shall not; he shall it forgon. Deathe under fote shall hym thrist adowne: That is every wites conclusyou.^ Whiche for to weyve" is in no mannes myght. How riche he be, stronge, lusty, f reshe, and . gay- And in the ende of Novembar, npon a nyglit, 1' Will not let me wear spectacles. Hoccleve mentions them again in his poem To Sir John Oldcastle, L 417. » swiftly. 15 situated. " man's end. " avoid. 206 THOMAS HOCCLEVE Syghenge sore as I in my bed lay, For this and othar thowghts, whiohe many a day Before I toke, sleape came none in myne eye, 20 So vexyd me the thowghtfull maladye. I see well, sythen I with sycknes^ last Was scourged, clowdy hath bene the fa- Toure That shone on me full bright in tymes past; The Sonne abatid and the derke showre Hildy d ^ downe right on me ; and in langour He made me swynie, so that my wite To lyre no lust hadd, ne no delyte. The grefe abowte my harte so sore swal,^ And bolned ^ ever to and to so sore, 30 That nedes cute I rauste there- with-all; I thowght I nolde it kepe cloos no more, Ne lett it in me for to olde and hore;^ And for to pieve I cam of a woman, I brast oute ou the morowe and thus began. {Here endythe my prolof^e and folowythe my cofnplaynt.) AUmyghty God as lykethe his goodues, Visytethe folks alday as men may se, With lose of good and bodily sikenese. And amonge othar he forgat not me; Witnes upon ^ the wy Id infirmytie ' 40 Which that I had, as many a man well knewe. And whiche me owt of my selfe cast and threw. It was so knowen to the people and kouthe. That cownsell* was it none, ne none be myghte. How it with me stode was in every mans mowthe, And that full sore my fryndes afErighte. They for myne helthe pilgrimages highte,' And sowght them, some on hors and some on foote, — God yelde it them — to geten me my bote.i" But althowghe the substannoe of my mem- ory 50 Wente to pley as for a certayne space. Yet the Lorde of Vertew, the Kynge of Glory, > The insanity spoken of below. 2 Poured. 3 Bwelled. * raged. 6 grow old and hoary. « As is shown by. ' His insane fit. 8 secret. ^ ^ promised. 10 cure. Of his highe myght and his benynge grace. Made it to returne into the place Whennes it cam ; whiche at all-hallwe- messe. Was five yeere, neyther more ne lesse. And evere sythen — thanked be God owr Lord Of his good reeonsiliacion, — My wyt and I have bene of such accorde As we were or 11 the alteracion 60 Of it was. But by my savacion, Sith that tyme have I be sore sett on fire, And lyved in great torment and martire; For thowgh that my wit were home come agayne. Men wolde it not so understond or take; With me to deale hadden they dysdayne; A ryotows person I was and forsake; Myn olde frindshipe was all ovarshake; No wyte withe me lyst make daliance; The worlde me made a straunge con- tinance.i^ 70 HOCCLEVE'S GAY YOUTH {La Male Regle^ §§ 16-26) The outward signe of Bachus and his lure, That at his dore hangith day by day Excitith folk to taaste of his moisture So often that man can nat wel seyen nay. For me, I seye I was enclyned ay Withouten daunger^* thidir for to hye me. But if swich charge upon my bake lay, That I moot it forbere as for a tyme; Or but I were nakidly bystad 1* By force of the penylees maladie, 10 For thanne in herte kowde I nat be glad, Ne lust had noon to Bachus hows to hie. Fy ! Lak of ooyn departith conpaignie; And bevy purs, with herte liberal, Qwenchith the thirsty hete of hertes drie, Wher chynchyi^ herte hath therof but smal. I dar nat telle how that the fresshe repeir Of Venus femel lusty children deere. That so goodly, so shaply were, and feir, And so pleasant of port and of maneere, 20 11 before. ^2 countenance. ^^ hesitation. 1* in great straits. i^ stingy. HOCCLEVE'S GAY YOUTH 207 And feede cowden al a. world with oheere, And of atyr passyngly wel byseye,^ At Poules Heed me maden ofte appeere, To talks of mirtlie and to dispoite and pleye. Ther was sweet wyn ynow thurghout the hous, And wafres thikke, for this conpaignie That I spak of been sumwhat likerous,^ Where as they mowe a draght of wyn espie, Sweete and in wirkynge hoot for the mais- trie^ To warme a stomak with, thereof they dranke. 30 To suffre hem paie had been no courtesie : That charge I tooke to wynne love and thanke. Of loves aart yit touchid I no deed ; I cowde nat and eek it was no neede: Had I a kus I was content ful weel, Bettre than I wolde ban be with the deede: Ther-on can I but smal, it is no dreede;* Whan that men speke of it in my presence : For shame I wexe as reed as is the gleede.^ Now wole I tome ageyn to my sentence. 40 Of him that hauntith taverne of cnstume, At shorte wordes the prof y t is this : In double wyse his bagge it shal consume, And make bis tonge speke of folk amis; For in the cuppe seelden f ownden is That any wight his neigheburgh commend- ith. Beholde and see what avantage is his, That God, his freend, and eek himself, offendith. But con avauntage in this cas I have: I was so ferd with any man to fighte, 50 Cloos kept I me; no man dnrst I deprave ^ But rownyngly,' I spak no thyng on highte. 1 provided. s excellent, soTereign. speak slightmgly ol. B fond of good fare. * doubt. 6 glowing coal. 7 whispering. And yit my wil was good, if that I mighte, For lettynge of my manly cowardyse, That ay of strookes impressid the wighte,^ So that I durste medlen in no wyse. Wher was a gretter maister eek than y, Or bet aqweyntid at Westmynstre yate, Among the taverneres namely, And cookes whan I cam eerly or late ? 60 I pyncbid ' nat at hem in myn acate,^'' But paied hem as that they axe wolde ; Whepfore I was the welcomere algate,ii And for a verray gentll man y-holde. And if it happid on the someres day That I thus at the taverne hadde be, Whan I departe sbolde and go my way Hoom to the privee seel,^ so wowed me Heete and unlust and superfluitee 69 To walke unto the brigge and take a boot. That nat durste I contrarie hem all three. But did as that they stired me, God woot. And in the wyntir, for the way was deep, Unto the brigge I dressid me also. And ther the bootmen took upon me keep,!^ For they my riot^* kneewen fern ago: With hem was I i-tugged to and fro. So wel was him that I with wolde fare; For riot paieth largely everemo; He styntith nevere til his purs be bare. 80 Othir than ' maistir ' callid was I nevere, Among this meynee,^^ in myn audience. Me thoghte I was y-maad a man for evere: So tikelid me that nyce reverence. That it me made larger of despense Than that I thoght ban been o flaterie! The guyse of thy traiterous diligence Is, folk to mescheef haasten and to hie. 8 Which impressed [on me] the weight of strokes. » quibble as to price. lO purchasing. •I always. ^ " The office of the Privy Seal. ^0 paid attention to me. ^* extravagance. IS servile throng. JOHN LYDGATE THE CHURL AND THE BIRDi Problemys of olde likenesse and figures, Whiche proved been fructuous of sentence,^ And hath auctorite grownded in scriptures, By reseniblaimces of nobille appareiice, Withe moralites concluding of prudence, Like as the Bibylle rehersithe by writing, How trees somtyme chase" hemself a kyug. First in their choise thay named the olive. To reigne anionge hem, Judioum^ dothe ex- presse, But he hym dide excuse blyve,' lo He myght not forsake his fatnesse, Ner the figge tree his amorows swettnes, Ner the vyne his holsom fressh tarage,^ Whiche yeveth comf orte to al maner age. And semlably ' poetis laureate. By dyrke parables f ul convenient, Feyne that birddis and bests of estate, As royalle egles and lyons be assent, Sent out writtes to olde * a parliament, And made decres brefly for to saye, 20 Some for to have lordshippe and some for obeye. Egles in the heyre" highest to take hir flighte, Power of lyouns on the grounde is sene, Cedre among trees highest of sight, And the laurealle of nature is ay grene; Of flowres also Flora goddes and queue; Thus of al thing ther beene diversites, Some of estate and some of lowe degres. Poetes writin wonderf\ille liknesses, And under covert kepe hemself ful closse; They take bestis and fowles to witnesse, 31 Of whos feyninges fabilles first arosse. And here I east unto my purpose, 1 A favorite Old-French tale, perhaps of oriental origin. See J. O. Halliwell'B remarks in his edition of Lydgate's Minor Poems, Percy So., vol. n, p. 179, whence onr text. 2 fruitful in teaching. " chose. * Judges, ix. ^ at once. ^ flavor. ' similarly. 8 hold. " air. Out of the Frenssh a tale to translate, Whiche in a paunflet I redde and saw but late. This tale whiche I make of mencioun, In gros reherseth playnly to declare, Thre proverbis payed for raunsoun, Of a faire birdde that was take out of a snare, Wondir desirous to scape out of hir care, 40 Of my autour folwyng the processe. So as it fel, iu order I shal expresse. Whilom ther was in a smal village. As myn autor makethe rehersayle, A chorle '^° whiche hadde lust and a grete eorage,ii Within hymself be diligent travayle To array his gardeyn withe notable appar- ayle, Of lengthe and brede yeliche '^ square and longe, Hegged and dyked to make it sure and strong. 49 AUe the aleis were made playne with sond. The benches turned with newe turvis grene, Sote herbers,!" withe condite ^^ at the honde, That wellid up agayne the Sonne shene, Lyke silver stremes as any cristale clene, The burbly wawes in up boyling, Kounde as byralle ther beamys out shyny nge. Amyddis the gardeyn stode a fressh lawrer,!' Theron a bird syiigyng bothe day and nyghte. With shynnyng fedres brightar than the golde weere,!^ Whiche with hir song made hevy hertes lighte, 60 That to beholde it was an hevenly sighte, How toward evyn and in the daw[e]nyng. She ded her payne most amourously to synge. 10 churl, boor. " inclination. 12 alike. *' Sweet arbors. " fountain. " laurel. ^^ wire. THE CHURL AND THE BIRD 209 Espenis enforced hir oorage,^ Toward evyn whan Phebus gan to west, Amid ^ the braunches to hir avauutage To syng hir complyn^ and than go to rest; And at the rysing of the quene Al9est,* To synge agayne, as was hir due, Erly on morowe the day sterre to salue. 70 It was a verray hevenly melodye, Evyne and morowe to here the byrddis songe, And the soote sugred armonye. Of uncouthe * warblys and tunys drawen on longe, That al the gardeyne of the noyse rong. Til on a morwe, whan Tytan shone f ul clere, The birdd was trapped and kaute with a pantere.^ The chorle was gladde that he this birdde hadde take, Mery of ehere, of looke, and of visage; And in al haste he cast for to make, 80 Within his house a pratie litelle cage. And with hir songe to rejoise his oorage. Til at the last the sely birdde abrayed,' And sobirly unto the chorle she sayde. 'I am now take and stand undir daunger,' Holde straite that I may not fle. Adieu, my songe and alle notes clere. Now that I have lost my liberte ; Now am I thralle that somtyme was fre, And trust while I stand in distresse, 90 I canne not synge ner make gladnesse. •And thowe my cage forged were with golde. And the pynaoles of birrale and cristate, I remembre a proverd said of olde, " Who lesethe his fredam, in faith ! he losethall;" For I hadd levyr upon a braunche smale, Mekely to singe amonge the wodes grene. Than in a cage of silver brighte and shene. * Songe and prison have noon accordaunce; Trowest thou I wolle syng in prisoun ? 100 1 Hesperus prompted her. 2 Halliwell reads And, but the emendation seems to be required by the sense, 3 compline, last service of the day. 4 Alcestes is here a constellation of the dawn. In Chaucer's Legend of Good Women (Prol. A 507) she is the daisy (day's eye). Cf. Schick's note to 1. 70 of The Temple 0/ Glas. 6 rare. ^ large bird-net. '' started up. a control. Song procedethe of joy and of pleasaunce. And prison causethe dethe and destruc- cioun; Byngyng of fetires makethe no mery sounde. Or how shuld he be gladde or jooounde Agayne his wylle, that ligthe in chaynes bounde ? ' What avaylethe it a lyon to be kyng Of bestes, alle shette in a towre of stone ? Or an egle, undir strayte kepying. Called also king of fowles everichone ? Fy on lordsliippe whan liberte is gone! no Answere herto and lat it not asterte,' Who syngeth merily that syngeth not of herte ? ' But if thou wilte rejoise of my syngyng, Lat me go flye free from al daunger; And every day in the mornyng, I shall repayre unto thi lawrer. And freshly syng withe lusty notes clere, Undir thy chambire or afore thyne halle. Every season whane thou list me calle. 'To be shett up and pynned undir drede. No thing accordethe unto my nature, m Thouhe I were fedde with mylke and wastelbrede,!" And soote cruddes ^^ browte unto my pasture, Yet had I lever to do my besy cure, Herly in the morowe to shrapyn ^ in the vale. To fynde my dyner amonge the wormes smale. ' The laborare is gladdare at his ploughs, Herly on morne to fede hym withe bacon. Than som man is that hathe tresoure i-noughe. And of alle deyntes plente and foison,^' 130 And no fredom with his possessioun To go at large, but as here to stake " To passe his boundis but if he leve take. ' Take this aunswere for full conclusion — To synge in prison thou shalt me not con- strayne, Till I have fredom in wodis up and downe. To flien at large on boughes rouhe ^^ aud playue ; 9 escape, be aToided. 10 The finest sort of bread. 11 sweet curds. 12 scrape. i" abundance. 14 a bear bound to a stake. it> rough. JOHN LYDGATE And of resoun thou shiildest not disdayne, Of my desire laugh and have game ; ^ But who is a chorle wolde eche a ^ man were the same.' 140 ' Wele,' quod the ehorle, 'syth it will not be That I desire as be ^ thy talkyng, Magry ^ thi will thou shalt chese on of thre : * Withinne a cage merily to synge, Or to the kechen I shal thy body bringe, PuUe thi fedris that bene so bright and clere, And aftir the rooste and baake to my dyner.' 'Than,' quod the birdde, 'to reson saye not nay, Towehing my songe a fuUe aunswer thou haste ; And when my fedres pulled been away, 150 Yf I be rosted, outher bake in paste. Thou shalt of me have a fulle smal repaste; But yf thou wilt werke by my counseille. Thou mayest by me have passing gret availe." ' Yf thou wil unto my rede assent. And suffre me go frely fro prisoun. Without raunsoun or ony other rent, I shal the yeve a notable gret gwerdoun, Thre grete wysdoms according to resoun. More of valewe, take hede what I do profre, 160 Thane all the golde that is shet in thi cofre. ' Trust me wele I shal the not diseeyve.' ' Wele,' quod the chorle, ' telle oon, anone let se.' ' Nay,' quod the byrdde, ' thou must afore oonceyve. Who that shal teche must of reason go free ; It sittethe a maister to have his liberte. And at large to teche his lesson. Have me not suspecte, I mene no tresone.' ' Well,' quod the chorle, ' I holde me con- tent, I trust the promys which thou hast made to me.' 170 The birdde fley forthe, the chorle was of assent; 1 Nor laugh to scorn my desire. 2 every. > " That which I desire concerning," i Maugre. B Why " three " ? Possibly " thre " should be *' <^," these. But we have three returns ofEered by the bird presently. " use. And toke hir flight upon the lawreer tre. Than thought she thus, ' Now I stand fre. With snares panters I oast' not al my lyve, Ner withe no lyme-twygges ony more to stryve. ' He is a fole that scaped is daunger, And broken his fedres ' and fled is fro prisoun. For to resorte,^ for brent childe dredethe fire. Eche a man beware of wisdom and resonn. Of sugre strewed that hydethe fals poyson; Ther is no venome so parlious in sharp- nes, 181 As whan it bathe of treacle 1° a lyknes. ' Who dredeth no parelle,^! in parelle he shal f alle ; Smothe waters ben ofte sithes depe; The quayle-pype can moste falsly calle. Till the quayle undir the net doth crepe; A blery-eed fowler trust not though he wepe ; Eschewe his thombe, of weping take noon hede. That smale birddes can nype be the hede. ' And now that I such daungers am escaped, 1 wil be ware and afore provide, 191 That of no fowler I wil no more be japed,^ From their lyme-twygges I will flee fer asyde ; Where perell is, gret perelle is to abyde. — Come nere, thou chorle, take hede to my speeehe. Of thre wisdomes that I shal the teche. ' Yeve not of wisdom to hasty credence To every tale nor to eche tyding; But eonsidre of resoun and prudence, Among many talis is many gret lesyng;'' 200 Hasty credence bathe caused gret hyndring; Reporte of talis, and tydinges broute tip newe, Makethe many a man to beholde untrewe. ' For oon partie take this for thy raunsoun : Lerne the secund grownded in scripture. Desire thou nott be no condicioun Thing which is impossible to recure;i* Wordly desires stand alle in adventure, 'reckon. » For "fetres," fetters? a return. 10 medicinal syrup. 1^ peril. ^ deceived. ^^ lie. 14 obtain. THE CHURL AND THE BIRD 211 And who desire to clymbe highe on lofte, By soden torue felethe ofte his fal unsofte. ' The thirdde is this ; beware bothe even and more we, 211 Forgete it not, but leme this of me: For tresoure loste maketh never to gret sorowe, Which 1 in no wise may not recovered be ; For who takthe sorowe for losse in that degre, Keknethe first his losse and aftir rekyn his peyne, And of oon sorowe makethe he sorowes tweyae.' Aftir this lessone the birdde begane a songe, Of hir escape gretly rejoysiiig, And she remembryng also the wronge 220 Don by the chorle first at hir takynge, Of hir affray and hir enprisonyng; Gladde that she was at large and out of drede, Said unto hym, hovyng^ above his hedde: 'Thou were,' quod she, 'a very naturall fole To suffre me departe of thy le wdnesse ; * Thou owghtest oft to complayne and make dole. And in thyne herte to have gret hevynesse, That thou hast loste so passing gret richesse, Whiohe myglit suffice, by valewe in rek- enyng, 230 To pay the raunsoum of a myghty kynge. ' There is a stone whiehe called is jagounce,* Of olde engendered witbinne myne en- trayle, Whiehe of fyne golde peyssethe^ a gret unee,' Cytryne ' of colour, lyke garnettes of en- tayle,* Which maketh men victorious in batayle, And so ^ ever here on hym this stone Is fully assured agayne his mortal foone. ' Who hathe this stone in possession, Shal suffre no povert, ner no indigence, 240 But of al tresour have plente and foysoun, And every man shal do hym reverence; And no ennemy shal do hym offence. 1 The antecedent of which is tresoure. 2 poising. ' ignorance. * a kind of gem. ^ weighs. 8 ounce. ' yellow. 8 cut. * " Who " is perhaps lost before so. But from thyne handis now that I am gone, Pleyne if thou wilt, for thi parte is none. 'It causeth love, it makethe men more gracious And favorable in every mannys sighte ; It makethe accorde betwne folke envyous, Comforteth sorowfuU, and maketh heavy herttes lighte; Lyke topasion i" of colours sonnyssh bright; I am a foole to telle al at ones, 251 Or to teche a chorle the price of precious stones. ' Men shuld not put a precious margarite,^^ As rubies, saphires, or othir stones hynde,'^ Emeraudes ner ^* rouude perles whight. To-fore rude swyne that loveu d[r]afEe^* of kynde; For a sowe delightethe, as I fynde, More in foule draffe hir pigges for to glade, That in al the perre ^ that comethe out of Garnade.i' ' Eehe thing draueth unto his semlable," 260 Fysshes on the see, bestes on the stronde. The eyere for fowllis of nature is conven- able. To a ploughe man to tille the lande. And a chorle a mokef orke ^^ in his hande ; I lese my tyme ony more to tarye. To telle a bowen ^ of the lapidarye.'" 'That thou haddest, thou gettest never agayne; Thi lym-twigges and panters I defye: To lete me go thou ware foule over sayne,^i To lese thi richesse only of foly. 270 I am now fre to syng, and to flye Where that me lust, and he is a foole at alle,^^ That gothe at large and makethe himselff thralle. 'To here a wisdom thyn eres been fialf deef, Lyke an asse that listithe on an harppe ; Thou mayst go pype in an yve-leffe; Better is to me to synge on thornes sharppe. Than in a cage withe a chorle to carppe : ^' 10 topaz. 11 gem. « refined, gentle. i' nor. 1* swill. IS jewelry. 16 Granada? " Birds of a feather flock together. 18 dungfork. 16 For *' bower," i.e. boor ? Cf. " boueer " below. 20 treatise on gems. 21 it was a great oversight in thee. 22 jn all ways. " converse, wrangle. JOHN LYDGATE For it was saide of f olkes yore a gone, A choiles chorle is ofte wo begone.' 280 The chorle felt his hert parte in twayne, For verray sorowe, and a-sondire ryve; ' Alias ! ' quod he, ' I may wele wepe and playue. As a wreche never leke ^ to thryve, But for to endure in poverte al my live; For of foly and of wilf ulnesse, I have now lost al holy my riohesse. ' I was a lorde, I crye out of ^ fortune. And . hadde gret tresoure late in my kep- iug, Whiche myghte have made me long to eon- tynue, 290 Withe that stone to have lyved leke a kyng; Yf that I hadde sett it in a ryng, Borne it on me, I hadde had goode i-nowe, And never more have ueded to goon to the ploughe.' Whan the birdde sawe the chorle thus morne. And houghe ^ that he was hevy of his chere, She toke hir ilighte and gayn ^ a-gayne re- tome Towards hym, and said as ye shal here ; — ' O dul chorle wysdoms for to lere ! That I the taughte, al is lefte behynde, 300 Eaked away and clene out of mynde. ' Taughte I the not thies wisdam in sen- tence, — To every tale broughte to the of newe Not hastily to yeve therto credence Into tyme thou knew that it were trewe ? Al is not golde that shynethe goldisshe hewe. Nor stonys al by nature, as I fynde. Be not saphires that shewethe colour ynde.^ ' In this doctryne I loste my laboure, 309 To teche the suche proverbis of substaunce ; Now mayst thou se thyn owne blynde errour, o For al ray body peyssed ^ in balaunce, Weiethe not an unce; rude is thi remem- braunce, I to have more payee' clos in myne en- trayle. Than al my body set for the countirvayle ! 1 like. 2 upon. ' how. * did. fi blue. 8 weighed. ' French poids, weight. ' Al my bodye weyeth not an unce, Hough myght I than have in me a stone, That peyssith more, as dothe a gret jag- ounce ? Thy brayne is dul, thy witte is almoste gone; Of thre wisdoms thou hast f orgeten oou, 320 Thou shuldest not aftir my sentence To every tale yeve hastily credence. 'I badde also be ware bothe even and morowe, For thing lost of soden aventure ; Thou shuld not make to mekelle sorowe. Whan thou seest thou mayst not it recure; ^ Here thou fay lest which doste thi busy cure In thi snare to kache me agayne; Thou art a fole, thi labour is in vayne. ' In the thirdde also thou doste rave : 330 I badde thou shuldest, in no mauer wyse, Coveyte thing whiche thou maist not have. In whiche thou hast forgoten myne em- pryse ; * That I may sey playnly to devyse. Thou hast of madnesse forgoten al thre Notable wysdoms that I taught the. ' It ware but foly withe the more to carpe, ^^ Or to preche of wysdoms more or lasse; I holde hym madde that bryngeth forth his harppe, Therone to teche a rude for-dulle ^^ asse; 340 And madde is he that syngeth a fole a masse ; And he is moste madde that dothe his besy- nesse, To teche a chorle termys of gentilnesse. ' And semlably in Apprille and in May, Whan gentille birddes most maketh melodie, The cokkowe syng can than but oon lay, In othir tymes she hathe no fantasye; Thus every thing, as clerks specifye. As frute and trees, and folke of every de- gre, 349 Fro whens they come thei take a tarage.^ ' The vintere tretethe of his holsom wynes. Of gentille frute bostethe the gardener. The fyssher casteth his hokes and his lynes To kache fyssh in every f ressh rever, Of tilthe of lande tretethe the boueer,!^ The chorle delitethe to speke of rybaudye,^* The hunter also to speke of venerye. 8 recover. 9 undertaking. 10 talk. 11 very dull. ^ flavor, is farmer. 14 coarse jests. THE TEMPLE OF GLAS 213 ' Al oon to the a ffaucion and a kyghte,^ As goode au howle as a popingaye,^ 359 A downghille doke as deynte as a snyghte ; * Who servethe a chorle hathe many a ear- ful day. Ade we ! sir chorle, f arwele ! I flye my way. O caste * me never af tir my lyf e enduring A-fore a chorle any more to syng.' Ye folke that shal here this fable, see or rede, Now forged talis I comisaille you to fle. For losse of goode takethe not to gret hede, Bethe not malicious for noon adversite, Coveitethe no thing that may not be; 369 And remembre, wherever that ye goone, A chorles chorle is woo begone. Unto purpos this proverd is full ryfc, Rade and reported by olde remembraunce. A childes birrde and a knavis wyfe Have often siethe ' gret sorowe and mys- chaunee. Who hathe fredom hathe al sufBsaunce; Bettir is fredom withe litelle in gladnesse, Than to be thralle withe al worldly rich- esse. Go, gentille quayer! ^ and recommaunde me Unto my maister with humble efEection; Beseke hym lowly, of mercy and pite, 381 Of this rude makyng to have compassion; And as touching the translacioim Oute of Frenshe, hough ever the Englisshe be, Al thing is saide undir eorrectioun, With supportacion of your benignite. THE TEMPLE OF GLAS ^ For thought, constreint, and grevous hevi- nes, For pensifhede, and for heigh distres. To bed I went now this othir nyght, Whan that Lucina with hir pale light Was joyned last with Phebus in Aquarie, Amyd Decembre, when of Januarie I falcon aud a kite. 2 parrot. ' gnite i.e. plover or Bnipe. * arrauge, plan. 6 time. ^ quire, i.e. book. ' From Schick's ed. for the Early English Text So- ciety, London, 1891, with a few typographical changes. This poem is an allegorical "love vision," a kind of writ- ing brought anew into fashion by the French poets of the fourteenth century, and much used by Chaucer and others. Lydgate's poem is of course inspired by Chaucer's Rouse oj Fame, Ther be kalendes of the nwe yere. And derk Diane, ihomed, nothing clere. Had hid hir bemys undir a my sty cloude: Within my bed forsore^Iganme shroude, lo Al desolate for constreint of my wo. The longe nyght waloing to and fro, Til atte last, er I gan taken kepe,^ Me did oppresse a sodein dedeli slope, With-in the which methoughte that 1 was Ravysshid in spirit in a temple of glas — I nyste '" how, f ul fer in wildirnes — That foundid was, as hi liklyuesse, Not opon stele, but on a craggy roche. Like ise ifrore.^^ And as I did approche, 20 Again the sonne that shone, me thought, so clere As eny cristal, and ever nere and nere As I gan neigh this grisli, dredful place, I wex astonj'ed: the light so in my face Bigan to smyte, so persing ever in one On evere part, where that I gan gone, That I ne myght nothing, as I would, Abouten me considre and bihold The wondre estres,^ for brightness of the Sonne; Til atte last certein skyes donne,i' 30 With wind ichaced, have her cours iwent To-fore the stremes of Titan and iblent," So that I myght, with-in and with-oute. Where so I walk, biholden me aboute, For to report the fasoun and manere Of al this place, that was circulere In compaswise, round bentaile ^^ wrought. And whan that I hade long gone and sought, I fond a wiket, and entrid in as fast Into the temple, and myn eighen cast 40 On evere side, now lowe and eft ^^ aloft. And right anone, as I gan walken soft. If I the soth aright reporte shal, I saughe depeynt opon evere wal. From est to west, ful many a faire image Of sondri lovers, lich as thei were of age I-sette in ordre, aftir thei were trwe, With Irfli colours wondir fressh of hwe. And, as me thought, I saughe somme sit and stonde. And some kneling with billis in hir honde, 50 And some with corapleint, woful and pit- ous. With doleful chere to putten to Venus, So as she sate fleting in the se. Upon hire wo forto have pite. 8 sorrow. A heed. 10 did not know. ii frozen. 12 interior rooms. is dark clouds. ^* mingled (so as to produce shade). is upper part of a wall; exact meaning obscure. 10 again. 214 JOHN LYDGATE And first of al Isaugh there of Cartage Dido the quene, so goodli of visage, That gan coinpleiu hir adventure and caas, How she deceyved was of Eneas, For al his hestis and his othis sworne, And said : ' alas, that ever she was borne,' 60 Whan that she saugh that ded she moste be. And next I saugh the compleint of Medee, Hou that she wes falsed of lason. And nygh bi Venus saugh I sit Addoun, And al the maner, how the bore liim slough, For whom she wepte and hade pein inoughe. There saugh I also, how Penalope, For she so long hir lord ne myghte se, Ful ofte wex of colour pale and grene. And aldernext ^ was the fresshe quene, 70 I mene Aloeste, the uoble trwe wyfe. And for Admete hou sho lost hir life, And for hir trouth, if I shal not lie, Hou she was turnyd to a daiesie. There was also Grisildis innocence. And al hir mekenes, and hir pacience. There was eke Isaude — and meni a nothir mo — And al the turment, and al the cruel wo, That she hade for Tristram al hir live. And hou that Tesbie her herte dide rife 80 With thilke swerd of him Piramus; And al the maner, hou that Theseus The Minatawre slow amyd the hous That was f or-wrynkked^ bi craft of Dedalus, When that he was in prison shette in Crete. And hou that Phillis felt of loves hete The grete fire of Demophon, alas, And for his falshed and for his trespas Upon the walles depeint men myghte se. How she was honged upon a filbert tre. 90 And mani a stori, mor then I rekin can, Were in the tempil, and how that Paris wan The faire Heleyne, the lusti fresshe quene. And hou Achilles was for Policene I-slain unwarli within Troie tonne: Al this sawe I, walkynge up and doun. Ther sawe I writen eke the hole tale, Hou Philomene into a nyghtyngale Itiirned was, and Progne unto a swalow; And how the Sabynsin hir maner halowe 100 The fest of Lucresse yit in Rome toune. There saugh I also the sorow of Pala- moun. That he in prison felt, and al the smert, And how that he, thurugh unto his hert. Was hurt unwarli thurugh casting of an eyghe Of faire fressh, the yunge Emelie, 1 next of all. ' built as a labyrinth. And al the strife bitwene bim and his brothir. And hou that one faught eke with that othir With-iu the grove, til thei bi Theseus Acordid were, as Chaucer tellith us. ^^^ And forthirmore, as I gan bihold, I sawgh how Phebus with an arow of gold I-woundid was, thurugh oute in his side, Onli bi envie of the god Cupide, And hou that Daphne unto a laurer tre Iturned was, when she dide fle; And hou that love gan to chaunge his cope^ Oonli for love of the faire Europe, And into a bole, when he did hir sue,* 119 List of his godhode his f ourme to transmwe; And hou that he bi transmntacioun The shap gan take of Amphitrioun For hir, Almen, so passing of beaute; So was he hurt, for al his deite, With loves dart, and myght it not ascape. There saugh I also hou that Mars was take Of Vulcanus, and with Venus found, And with the cheynes invisible bound. Ther was also al the poesie Of him. Mercuric and Philologye,' 130 And hou that she, for hir sapience, Iweddit was to god of eloqence. And hou the Musis lowli did obeie. High into heven this ladi to convei. And with hir song hou she was magnified With lubiter to bein istellified. And uppermore depeint men myghte se. How with hir ring, goodli Canace Of evere foule the ledne and the song 139 Coud undirstond, as she welkhem among; And hou hir brothir so oft holpen was In his mysehefe ' bi the stede of bras. And fortherraore in the tempil were Ful mani a thousand of lovers, here and there, In sondri wise redi to complein Unto the goddes, of hir wo and pein, Hon thei were hindrid, some for envie, And hou the serpent of fals jelousie Ful many a lover hath iput o bak,' And causeles on hem ilaid a lak.^ 150 And some ther were that pleyned on absence. That werin exiled and pnt oute of presence 3 disgulBe bimBelf. * pursue. s An allusion to the famous didactic allegorical work of MartianuB Capella (fifth century), De Nuptiis PhiloU ogiae ei Mercurii, mentioned by Chaucer in the House of Fame. 6 distress. ? aback. s alleged some blemlBh. THE TEMPLE OF GLAS 215 Thurugh wikkid tuugis and fals suspecioun, With-oute mercy or remyssyoun. And other eke her servise spent in vain, Thurugh cruel daunger, and also bi disdain; And some also that loved, soth to sein, And of her ladi were not lovyd again. And othir eke, that for poverte Durst in no wise hir grete adversite 160 Discure ^ ne open, lest thai were refusid; And some for wanting also werin accusid, And othir eke that loved secreli, And of her ladi durst aske no merci, Lest that she would of hem have despite; And some also that putten ful grete wite^ On double lovers, that love thingis nwe, Thurgh whos falsnes hindred be the trwe. And some ther were, as it is otte found. That for her ladi meny a blodi wounde 170 Endurid hath in mani a regioun. Whiles that an other hath possessioun Al of his ladi, and berith awai the fruyte Of his labur and of al his suyte. And other eke compleyned of Riches, Hou he with Tresour doth his besines To wynnen al, againes kynd and ryght, Wher trw lovers have force noon ne myght. And some ther were, as maydens yung of age, That pleined sore with peping " and with rage, 180 That thei were coupled, againes al nature, With croked elde, that mai not long endure Forto perfourme the lust of loves plai: For it ne sit ^ not unto f resshe May Forto be coupled to oolde lanuari — Thei ben so divers that thei moste varie — For eld is grucching and malencolious, Ay ful of ire and suspecious. And iouth entendeth to ioy and lustines, To myrth and plai and to al gladnes. 190 ' Alias that ever that it shulde fal, So soote sugre icoupled be with gal ! ' These yonge folk criden ofte sithe. And praied Venus hir pouer forto kithe ^ Upon this myschef , and shape remedie. And right anon I herd othir crie With sobbing teris, and with ful pitous soune, Tofore the goddes, bi lamentacioun, That were constrayned in hir tender youthe, And in childhode, as it is ofte oouthe," 200 Y-entred were into religioun, Or thei hade yeris of discresioun, I reveal. 4 becomes. 1 blame. 6 show. 3 screaming. 6 known. That al her life cannot but complein, In wide copis perfeocion to feine, Ful covertli to curen al hir smert, And shew the coutrarie outward of her hert. Thus saugh I wepen many a faire maide. That on hir freendis al the wite ' thei leide. And other next I saugh there in gret rage, That thei were maried in her tendir age, 210 With-oute fredom of eleccioun, Wher love hath seld domynacioun: For love, at laarge and at liberie. Would f reli chese, and not with such trete.' And other saugh I ful oft wepe and wring. That they in men founde swych variynge, To love a seisoun, while that beaute floureth, And bi disdein so ungoodli loureth On hir that whilom he oallid his ladi dere, That was to him so plesaunt and entere; * 220 But lust with fairness is so overgone. That in her hert trouth abideth none. And som also I saugh in teris reyne. And pitousli on God and kynde pleyne, That ever thei would on eny creature So much beaute, passing bi mesure, Set on a woman, to yeve occasioun A man to love to his confusioun. And nameli there where he shal have no grace; For with a loke, f orth-bi as he doth pace, 230 Ful ofte falleth, thurugh casting of an ygbe, A man is woundid, that he most nedis deye, That never efter peraventure shal hir se. Whi wil God don so gret a cruelte To eny man, or to his creature, To maken him so mych wo endure, For hir, percaas,!" whom he shal in no wise Rejoise never, but so forth in jewise ^^ Ledin his life, til that he be grave.^ For he ne durst of hir no merci crave, 240 And eke peraventure, though he durst and would. He can not wit, where he hir finde shuld. I saugh there eke, and therof hade I routhe, That som were hindred for oovetise and slouth. And some also for her hastines. And other eke for hir reklesnes — But alderlast as I walk and biheld, Beside Pallas with hir cristal sheld, Tofore the statue of Venus set on height, How that ther knelid a ladi in my syght 250 ' blame. 8 treat, have to do. 9 devoted. 10 perchance. " judgment, i.e. sorrow. 12 buried. 2l6 JOHN LYDGATE Tofore the goddes, which right as the sonne Passeth the sterres and doth hir stremea donne,^ And Lucifer, to voide the nyghtes sorow, In clerenes passeth erli bi the morow, And so as Mai hath the sovereinte Of evere moneth, of fairnes and beaute, And as the rose in swetnes and odoure Surmounteth floures, and bawme of al lioour Haveth the pris, and as the rubie bright Of al stones in beaute and in sight, j6o As it is know, now the regalie: Eight so this ladi with hir goodli eighe, And with the stremes of hir loke so bright, Surmounteth al thurugh beaute in my sighte. For to tel hir gret semelines, Hir womanhed, hir port, and hir fairnes, It was a mervaile, hou ever that nature Coude in hir werkis make a creature So aungelike, so goodli on to se, So femynyn or passing of beaute, 270 Whos sonnyssh here,^ brighter than gold were,^ Lich Phebus berays shynyng in his spere — The goodlihed eke of hir fresshli face, So replenysshid of beaute and of grace, So wel ennuyd^ by Nature and depeint, That rose and lileis togedir were so meint,* So egalli by good proporcioun, That, as me thought, in myn inspeccioun I gan mervaile, hou God, or werk of kynd, Mighten of beaute such a tresour iiud, 280 To yeven hir so passing excellence. For in goode faith, thurugh hir heigh pres- ence The tempil was enlumynd enviroun; And forto speke of condieioun. She was the best that myghte ben on lyve : For ther was noon that with hir myghte strive, To speke of bounte, or of gentilles. Of womanhed, or of lowlynes. Of curtesie, or of goodlihed. Of apech, of chere, or of semlyhed, 390 Of port benygne, and of daliaunce. The beste taught; and therto of plesaunce She was the wel, and eke of oneste An exemplarie, and mirrour eke was she Of secrenes, of trouth, of faythfulnes. And to al other ladi and raaistres. To sue vertu, whoso list to lere.^ And so this ladi, benigne and humble of chere. 1 bedim. i tinted. 2 sunny hair. B mingled. 8 wire. 6 teach. Kneling I saugh, al clad in grene and white, Tofore Venus, goddes of al delite, 300 Enbrouded al with stones and perre ' So richeli, that joi it was to se. With sondri rolles on hir garnement, Forto expoune the trouth of hir entent, And shew fuUi, that for hir humbilles, And for hir vertu, and hir stabilnes, That she was rote of womanli plesaunce. Therfore hir woord withoute variaunce Enbrouded was, as men myghte se: ' De mieulx en mieulx,' with stones and perre: 310 This is to sein that she, this benigne. From bettir to bettir hir herte doth resigne, And al hir wil, to Venus the goddes. Whan that hir list hir harmes to redresse. For as me thought sumwhat bi hir chere, Forto compleyne she hade gret desire; For in hir bond she held a litel bil, Forto declare the somme of al hir will. And to the goddes hir quarel forto shewe, ThefEect of which was this in wordys fewe: — ^ 320 NEW TROY (T/te Troy Book, 11. 479-758)0 The sorwe aswaged, and the syghes olde, By longe processe, liche as I yow tolde, This worthi kyng, callyd Priamus, Is in his herte nowe so desyrous, Up-on the pleyn, that was so waste and wylde. So strong a toun of newe for to bilde, At his devyse a cite edefye. That sohal th'assautys outterly defye ' gems. 8 After this the lady, and then the lover, make over- long supplications to Venus, who naturally counsels the lady to accept the devoted service of the knight. The poem ends at line 1403 with "May Lydgate's poem please his lady." B Lydgate's TTOy Book is a version of the celebrated Historia Trojana of Guido delle Colonne; that is, it gives the account of Troy which passed current in the Middle Ages — the account received by Chaucer, for example, and the Gawain poet. In this strange and romantic tale the first Troy, Laomedon's, had been destroyed during Priam's absence by Hercules and Jason. It should be noted that London, fabled to have been founded by the Trojans, was sometimes called New Troy by the poets. Our extract gives an interesting mediaeval conception of town-planning as it might have been practiced by Edward I and other great founders. Warton in his History of English Poetry, London, 1840, vol. n, §23, has a good description of the Troy Book. Our text is that of Bergen in his edition for the Early English Text Soc, with a few unimportant modifications in typog- raphy. NEW TROY 217 Of alle emnyes, and his mortal foon, With riche tourys and wallys of hard stoon. io And al aboute the centres enviroun, He made seke in every regioun For swiche werkemen as were corions, Of wyt inventyf, of eastjng ^ merveilons; Or swyche as conde crafte of gemetrye, Or wer sotyle in her fantasye; And for everyche that was good devysour, Mason, hewer, or crafty quareour; For every wright and passyng carpenter, That may be f ounde, owther f er or nere ; 20 For swyche as koude grave, grope,^ or kerve. Or swiche as werne able for to serve With lym or stoon, for to reise a wal, With bataillyng and crestis marcial; Or swiche as had konyng in her bed, Alabastre, owther white or redde, Or marbil graye for to pulsche ' it pleyn, To make it smothe of veynes and of greyn. He sent also for every ymagoiir, Bothe in entaille,^ and every purtreyour 30 That coude drawe, or with colour peynt With hewes fresche, that the werke nat feynt;' And swiche as coude with conntenannces glade Make an ymage that wil nevere fade: To counterfet in metal, tre, or stoon The sotil werke of Pigmaleoun, Or of Appollo, the whiehe as -bokis telle, In ymagerye alle other dide excelle; For by his crafty werkyng corions, The towmbe he made of kyng Daryus 40 Whiehe Alysanndre dide on heyghte reise, Only for men schuld his fame preise. In his conquest by Perce whan he went. And thus Priam for every maister sent, For eche kerver and passynge joignour, To make knottis with many corious flour, To sette on crestis with-inne and with-oute Up-on the wal the cite rounde aboute; Or who that wer excellyng in practik Of any art callyd mekanyk, 50 Or hadde a name flonryng or famns, Was after sent to come to Priamus. For he pnrposeth, this noble worthi kyng. To make a cite most royal in byldyng, Brod, large, and wyde, and lest it were as- sailed. For werre proudly abouten enbatailled. 1 planning, reckoning. » polish. ' engraving. 2 groove. s fade. And first the grounde he made to be sought, Ful depe and lowe, that it faille nought To make sure the foundaeioun; In the place where the olde toun 60 Was first ybilt, he the wallis sette; And he of lond many myle out mette,^ Aboute in compas, for to make it large, As the maysters that toke on hem the charge Devysed ban the settyng and the syyt, For holsom eyr to be more of delyt. And whan the soille, defouled with myne Of walles old, was made pleyn as lyne. The werkmen gan this cite for to founde, Ful myghtely with stonys square and rounde, 70 That in this world was to it noon lyche Of werkmanschip, nor of bildyng riche, Kor of crafte of coryous masounry. I can no termys to speke of gemetrye, Wherf ore as now I muste hem sette a-syde ; For douteles I radde never Euclide, That the maister and the f oundour was Of alle that werkyn by squyre or compas, Or kepe her mesour by level or by lyne; I am to rude clerly to diffyne 80 Or to discrive this werk in every parte, For lak of termys longyng to that arte. But I dar wel of trouthe affermyn here, In al this world ne was ther never pere Un-to this cite, and write it for a sothe. As in his boke my mayster Guydo doth. And that it myght in prosperite. In hyghe honour and felicite, From al assaut perpetuelly contune," It reysed was in worschip of Keptune, 90 And namyd Troye, as it was to-fom, Lyche the firste that was thorugh Grekis lorn. The lenthe was, schortly to conclude, Thre dayes journe, lyche the latitude, That never I herd make mencioun Of swiche another of f nndacioun. So huge in compas nor of swiche larges. Nor to counte so passyng of fayrnes. So edyfied or lusty to the syght. And, as I rede, the walles wem on highte Two hundrid cubites, al of marbil gray, loi Maskowed * with-oute for sautis ' and assay; And it to make more pleasaunt of delyt, A-mong the marbil was alabaster white Meynt^" in the walles, roimde the toun aboute. To make it sehewe with-inne and with-oute B measured. 9 assaults. 8 Machicolated. 10 Mingled. 2l8 JOHN LYDGATE So fresohe, so riche, and so delitable, That it alone was incomperable Of alle cites that any mortal man Sawe ever yit, sithe the world began. no And at the corner of every wal was set A crowne of golde with riche stonys fret,^ That schone ful bright ageyn the sonne schene ; And euery tour bretexed ^ was so clene Of chose stoon, that wer nat fer a-sondre, That to beholde it was a verray wonder. Ther-to this cite compassed enviroun, Hadde sexe gatis to entre in-to the toun: The first of al and strengest eke with al, Largest also and most principal, 120 Of myghty bildynge allone peereles, Was by the kyug oallyd Dardanydes; And in story, lyche as it is f ownde, Tymbria was named the seoounde ; And the thridde callyd Helyas; The fourte gate hight also Cethas; The fyfte Troiana; the syxte Anthonydes, Strong and myghty bothe in werre and pes, With square toures set on every syde. At whos corners, of verray pompe and pride, 130 The werkmen ban, with sterne and fel visages, Of riche entaille, set up gret ymages, Wrought out of ston, that never ar like to fayle, Ful coriously enarmed for batayle. And thorugh the wal, her fomeu for to lette. At every tour wer grete gunnys sette. For assaut and sodeyn aventurys ; And on tourettis wer reysed up flgurys Of wylde bestis, as beris and lyouns. Of tigers, bores, of serpentis and dragouns And hertis eke, with her brode homes, 141 Olyfauntes and large miioornes, BugUs,' bolys, and many grete grifoun, Forged of brasse, of copur and latoun, That cruelly by sygnes of her facys Up-on her foon made fel manaeys. Barbykans and bolewerkys huge, A-fore the toun made for highe refuge, Yiffie nede were, erly and eke late; And portecolys stronge at every gate, ijo That hem thar nat noon assailyng charge; And the lowkis thikke, brode, and large. Of the gatys al of yoten ^ bras. And with-inne the myghty schittyng ^ was I ornamented. 8 Buffaloes. ' oast. s battlemented. ' fasteniag. Of strong yrne barres square and rounde, And gret barrerys picched * in the grounde, With huge cheynes forged for diSence, Whiche nolde ^ breke for no violence, That hard it was through hem for to wynne. And every hous, that was hilt with-inne, 160 Every paleys and every mancioun. Of marbil werne thorughout al the tonn, Of crafty bildyng and werkyng most roial. And the heght was of every wal Sixty cubites from the grounde acountid; And ther was non that other hath sur- mountid In the cite, but of on heght alyche, In verray sothe, bothe of pore and riche, That it was harde of heighe estat or lowe Hous or palys asounder for to knowe, 170 So egaly of tymbre and of stoon Her housis wern reysed everychon. And if I schulde rehersen by and by The korve * knottes by crafte of masounry, The fresche enbowyng,' with vergis i" right as linys. And the vowsyng ^^ ful of babevifynes,!^ The riche koynyng,^" the lusty tablementis," Vynnettis '^ rennynge in the casementis — Though the termys in Englisch wolde ryme. To rekne hem alle I have as now no tyme, Ne no langage pyked for the nonys, i' 181 The sotil joynyng to tellen of the stonys, Nor how thei putten in stede of morter, In the joynturys copur gilt ful clere. To make hem joyne by level and by lyne. Among the marbil freschely for to schyne Agein the sonne, whan his schene lyght Smote in the gold, that was bornyd ^' bright, To make the werke gletere ^^ on every syde. And of this toun the stretis large and wyde Wer by crafte so prudently provided, 191 And by workemen sette so and devided, That holsom eyr amyddis myght enspire Erly on morwe to hem that it desyre; And Zephirus, that is so comfortable For to norysche thingea vegetable, In tyme of yere, thorugh-oute every strete. With sugred flavour, so lusty and so swete. Most pleasantly in the eyr gan smyte. The cyteyeyns only to delyte; 200 And with his brethe hem to recomfort, Whan thei list walke hem silven to dis- port. 8 aet. 7 would not. 8 carved. • arching, 10 columnB. " vaultings, tabemaclea. i* grotesque figures, images. i3 quoining, comer-work. >< panels. IE- Carved tendrils. is suit>able for the ocoasioQ. 1' burnished. i^ smoother. NEW TROY 219 And thorugh the toun, by crafty purvi- aunce, By gret avys and discret ordynaunce, By compas oast, and squared out by squires,^ Of pulsohed marbil up-on strong pilleris, Devised wern, longe, large, and wyde, In the f rountel ^ of every stretis syde, Fresche alures * with lusty highe pynaoles, And moustryng ^ outward riche tabernacles, Vowted ^ above like reclinatories,' 211 That called werne deambulatories. Men to walks to-gydre tweine and tweyne, To kepe hem drie whan it dide reyne, Or hem to save from tempest, wynde, or thonder, Yit that hem list schrowde hem silve ther- under. And every hous cured' was with led; And many gargoyl and many hidous hed With spoutis thorugh, and pipes as thei ought, From the ston-werke to the canel raught,' Voyding filthes low in-to the grounde, 221 Thorugh gratis percid of y ren peroid rounde ; The stretis paved bothe in lengthe and brede. In cheker wyse with stonys white and rede. And every craft, that any maner man In any lond devise or rekene can, Kyng Priamus, of highe discrecioun, Oideyned hath to dwellyn in the toun. And in stretis, severyd her and yonder, Everyche from other to be sette a-souder. That thei myght, for more comodite, 231 Eche be hym silfe werke at liberte: Gold-smythes first, and riche jowellers. And by hem silf crafty browdereris,' Wevers also of wolne and of lyne, Of cloth of gold, damaske, and satyn, Of welwet, cendel.i" and double samyt eke. And every clothe that men list to seke ; Smythes also, that koude forge wele 239 Swerdis, pollex,'i and speris scharp of stele, Dartis, daggeris, for to mayme and wounde, And quarel ^^ hedis scharp and square- ygrounde. Ther wer also crafty armoureris, Bowyers,^' and faste by fleooheris,!* And swyche as koude make schaftes pleyn, And other eke that dide her besy peyn 1 squares. ' front, facade. ^ covered passages. 4 showing. B Vaulted. 8 couches (New Eng. Diet.); better, confessionals? 7 covered. 8 reached to the gutter. s embroiderers. 10 thin silk. II poleaxe 12 quarrel, arrow for the crossbow. 13 Bow-makers. 1* arrow-featherera. For the werre to mat;e also trappuris,!^ Bete '' baners and royal cote armuris, And by devise stondardis, and penowns, And for the felde fresche and gay gy- touns." 25° And every crafte that may rekned be, To tell schortly, was in his cite. And thorugh this toun, so riche and excel- lent. In the niyddes a large river went, Causyng to hem ful gret commodite; The whiche on tweyne hath partid the cite, Of cours ful swyft, with fresche stremys clere. And higlite Xanctus, as Guydo doth us lere. And as I rede, that up-on this flood, On eche-asyde many mylle stood, 260 Whan nede was her grayn and corn to grinde. Hem to sustene, in story as I fynde. This river eke, of fysehe ful plentevous, Devided was by werkmen corious So craftely, thorough castyng '' sovereyne, That in his course the stremys myght at- teyn For to areohe,!' as Guydo doth conjecte,^ By arohis strong his cours for to reflects Thorugh condut pipis, large and wyde with-al. By certeyn meatis ^ artificial, 270 That it made a ful purgacioun Of al ordure and fylthes in the toun, Waschyng the stretys as thei stod a rowe, And the goteris in the erthe lowe, That in the cite was no filthe seue; For the canel skoured was so clene, And devoyded ^ in so seere wyse, That no man myght espien nor devyse By what engyn the filthes, fer nor ner, Wern born a-way by cours of the ryver — So covertly every thing was cured.^ 281 Wher-by the toun was outterly assured From engenderyng of al corrupcioun. From wikked eyr and from infeccioun, That causyn ofte by her violence Mortalite and gret pestilence. And by example of this flode ther was Made Tibre at Rome, and wrought by Eneas, The which also departed Rome on two, Myn auctor seith, I not wher it be so. 290 "trappings. la Embroider. 17 small flags. 18 device. i" reach. 20 conjecture, 21 chauuels. 22 enif tied. 23 oovered. JOHN LYDGATE BYCORNE AND CHICHEVACHE ^ First ther shal stonde an ytnage in poet wise^ seyeng these iij balades O PR0DENT folkes takithe heede, And remembrithe in youre lyves, How this story dothe precede, Of tlie husbandes and theyr wyfes, Of theyr aocorde and theyr stryves, Withe lyf or dethe whiche to derayne ^ Is graunted to these bestes twayne. Than shal he portrayed two bestis, oonfattCj another leene^ For this Bycorne of his nature Will non other maner foode, But pacient husks never in his pasture, lo And Chiohevache etithe wymmen goode: And bothe these bestes, by the roode ! Be fatte or leene, it may nat faile, Like lak or plente of theyr vitaile. Of Chychevaohe and of Bycorne Tretithe holy this matere, Whos story hathe taught us beforn, Howe these bestes bothe in feere ^ Have ther pasture, as ye shal here, Of men and wymmen in sentence, 20 Thurghe sufBraunce or thurghe impacienoe. Than shal be protrayed a fatte beste callid By- corne, of the cunirey of Bycornoys, and seyn these thre baladis folowyng. Of Bycornoys I am Bycorne, Ful fatte and rounde here as I stonde, And in mariage bounde and sworne To Chivaohe, as hir husbonde, Whiche will nat eete, on see nor londe. But pacient wyfes debonayre, Whiche to her husboudes be nat contrayre, Ful scarce, God wote! is hir vitaile. Humble wyfes she fynt * so fewe, 30 For alweys at the countre-taile ^ Theyr tunge elappithe and dothe hewe;^ Suche meke wyfes I be-shrewe, 1 "Two-Horn" and "Lean-Cow" are the English renderings of the mediaeval French " Bigome " (mean- ing uncertain) and Chicheface (lean-face). Chaucer in the Cleric's Tale, 1. 1131, warns wives not to be bo pa- tient as Griselda "lest Chichevache them swelwe in his entraille." Our piece is said to have been written for " a peynted or desteyned clothe for an halle, a par- lour, or a ohaumbre " ; v. Anglla xxu, 364. The text is J. O. Halliwell's in the Percy Society Edition of Lyd- gate's Minor Poems, London. 1840, p. 129. 2 adjudge. 3 together. * &ndeth. B in retaliation, e make outcry. That neyther can at bedde ne boorde Theyr husbondes nat forbere oon woorde. But my foode and my cherisshynge. To telle plainly and nat to varye, Is of suche folke whiche theyr livyiige Dare to theyr wyfes be nat contrarye, Ne from theyr lustis dare nat varye, 40 Nor withe hem holde no champartye, ' Al suche my stomack wil defye.* Than shal be portrayed a company of men com~ yng towardis this beste Bycorne^ and sey these foure baladis, Felawes, takethe heede, and ye may see How Bycorne castithe bym to devoure Alle humble men, bothe yow and me, Ther is no gayne may us socoure: Woo be therfor, in halle and boure. To al these husbandes whiche theyr lives Maken maystresses of theyr wyfes. Who that so dothe, this is the lawe, so That this Bycorne wil hym oppresse, And devouren in his ma we. That of his wife makithe his maystresse; This wil us bryng in grete distresse, For we, for oure humylite. Of Bycorne shal devoured be. We stonden plainly in suche case. That they to us maystressis be ; We may wele syng, and seyn, alias! That we gaf hem the soverante; 60 For we ben thralle and they be free; Wherfor Bycorn, this cruel beste, Wil us devouren at the lest. But who that can be soverayne. And his wife teche and chastise. That she dare nat a worde gayn-seyn, Nor disobeye in no manner wise; Of suche a man I can devise. He stant under protectioune. From Bycornes jurisdiccioune. 70 Than shal ther be a woman devoured in the mowthe of Chichevache, cryeng to alle wyfes^ and sey these balad: O noble wyves, bethe wele ware, Takithe ensample now by me; Or ellis afferme wele I dare, Ye shal be ded, ye shal nat flee ; Bethe crabbed, voydithe humylite, ' rivalry. s digest. A DIETARY Or Chichevache ne wil nat faile Yow for to swolow in his entraile. Than shat ther be portrayed a long horned beste, sklendre and leene^ with sharp tefhe, and on his body nothyng sauf skyn and boon. Chichevache this is my name, Hungry, megre, sklendre, and leene. To shewe my body I have gret shame; 80 For hunger I feele so grete teene,^ On me no fatnesse wil be seene. By cause that pasture I fynde none, Therfor I am but skyn and boon. Tor my fedying in existence Is of wymmen that ben meke, And liche Gresield in pacience, Or more theyr bouute for to eeke; But I ful longe may gon and seeke, Or I can fynde a good repast go A morwe to breke with my fast. I trowe ther be a deere yeere ^ Of pacient wymmen now these dayes; Who grevithe hem withe word or chere, Lete hym be ware of suche assayes, For it is more than thritty Mayes, That I have sought from lend to lend, But yit oou Gresield never I fond. I fonde but oou in al my lyve. And she was ded ago ful yoore. 100 For more pasture I will nat stryve, Nor seche for my foode no more, Ne for vitaile me to restore ; Wymmen bien woxeu so prudent, They wil no more be pacient. Than shal be portrayed after Chivache, an olde man -withe a baston on his bake^ manasynge the best for devouring of his ivyfe. My wife, alias! devoured is. Most pacient and most pesible, She never sayde to me amysse, Whom hathe nowe slayn this best horrible, And for it is an impossible, no To fynde ever suche a wyfe, I wil live sowle duryng my lyfe. For now of newe for theyr prow,' The wyfes of ful highe prudence Have of assent made ther avow, For to exile forever pacience, And cryed wolfes hede obedience,^ 1 suffering. 2 dearth. 8 advantage. ' outlawed obedience. To make Chichevache faile Of hem to fynde more vitaile. Now Chichevache may fast longe, 120 And dye for al hir crueltee, Wymmen hav made hemself so stronge For to outraye * humylite. O cely " husbondes, wo been yee I Suche as can have no pacience Ageyns yowre wyfes violence. If that ye suffre, ye be but ded, This Bycorne awaitethe yow so sore; Eeke of yowre wyfes ye stand in drede, Yif ye geyn-seyn hem any more; 130 And thus ye stonde and have don yore, Of lyfe and dethe betwixt coveyne,' Lynkede in a double cheyne. A DIETARY 8 For helth of body cover for cold thyn hede; Ete no raw mete, — take goode heede therto ; Drynk holsom wyne; feede the on light brede ; Withe an appetite rise from thy mete also. In thyn age, with wymmen have thow nat ado; Upon thi slepe dryuke nat of the cuppe; Glad towards bedde and at morowe both to, And use never late for to souppe. And if it so be that lechis done the faile, Thanne take goode [hede] and use thynges iii, — 10 Temperat dyete, temperat travaile, Nat malicious for none adversite; Meke in trouble, gladde in poverte; Riche with litel, content with suffisaunce, Nat grucchyng,* but mery like thi degre ; If phesyk lak, make this thy gover- naunce. To every tale, sone, yeve thow no credence; Be nat to hasty, nor sodainly vengeable ; To poore folke do thow no violence; Curteys of language, in spendyng mes- urable ; 20 B crush. 8 silly, hapless. ^ conspiracy. 8 Translated from theLatin, which is given, with an- other version of the English, by F. J. Fumivall, Bahees Book, p. 65, Early Bug. Text Soc, London, 1868. Our text is from the Percy Society edition of the Minor Poems, London, 1840, p. 66. » grumbling. 222 JOHN LYDGATE On sundry mete nat gredy at the table; In fedyng gentil, prudent in daliaunce; Close of tunge, of word nat deceyvable, To sey the best sette alwey thy ples- aunce. Have in hate mowthes that ben double; SufEre at thy table no distractioun; Have despite of folkes that ben trouble. Of false rowners ^ and adulaoioun ; Withyn thy court, suffre no divisioun, Whiche, in thi houshold, shal cause grete encrese 30 Of al welfare, prosperite, and foyson; With thy neyghburghs lyve in rest and peas. Be clenly clad after thyn estate ; Passe nat thy bowndis, kepe thy promyse blyth; With thre folkes thow be nat at debate: First with thy bettir beware for to stry ve ; Ayenst thy felawe no quarrele thou con- try ve ; With thy subject to stryve it were shame: Wherfor I couasaile thow pursue al thy lyve, To lyve in peas and gets the a goode name. 40 Fuyre ^ at morowe, and towards bed at eve. For mystis blake, and eyre '■' of pestilence ; Betyme at masse, thow shalt the better preve, First at thi risyng do to God reverence. Visite the pore, with intyre diligence; On al nedy have thow compassioun, And God shal sende grace and influence, To encrese the and thy possessioun. Suffre no surfetis in thy house at nyght, Ware of reresoupers,* and of grete ex- eesse, so Of noddyng hedys and of candel light. And slowth at morowe and slomberyng idelnes, Whiche of al vices is chief porteresse ; Voyde al drunklew,^ lyers, and lechours; Of al unthriftes exile the mastres, That is to say, dyse, players, and haserd- ours. I whisperers, tale-tellers. ' Fire. ' air. ' late suppers. i drunken persona. Strictly, " drunkenness." After mete beware, make nat to long slepe; Hede, f oote, and stomak preserve ay from cold; Be nat to pensyf, of thought ' take no kepe; After thy rent mayutene thyn house- hold, 60 Suffre in tyme, in thi right be bold; Swere none othis no man to begyle, In thi yowth be lusty; sad' whan thou art olde. Dyne nat at morwe aforne thyn appetite, Clere eyre and walkyng makith goode digestioun; Betweue meles drynk nat for no froward delite But Ihurst or travaile yeve the occasioun; Over salt mete doth grete oppressioun To fieble stomakes, whan they can nat re- freyne. For nothyng more contrary to theyr com- plexioun; 70 Of gredy handes the stomak hath grete peyne. Thus in two thyngs standith al the welthe Of sowle and body, who so lust to sewe; * Moderate foode giveth to man his helthe. And al surfetis doth from hyra remewe, And charite to the sowle is dewe; This ressayt is bought of no poticarye, Of mayster Antony, nor of maister Hewe; To al indifferent, richest diatorye. ON WOMEN'S HORNS' Op God and kynd procedyth all beaulte; Crafte may shew a foreu apparence, But nature ay must haf the soveraynte. Thyng countirfetyd hath non existence; Twene gold and gossomer is gret differ- ence; Trewe metall reqnirith non alay; Unto purpose by clere experience, Bewtey will shewe, thow hornys be away. 8 anxiety. ^ serious. ^ giyg attention, follow. 9 These great horned headdresses were favorite tar- gets for satire. For cuts and descriptions of them see Mrs. C. H. Ashdown's British Costumes, frontispiece, and pp. 167 f . Our text is from Political, Religious, and Love Poems, ed, F. J. Furnivall, E. B. T. Soc, 1893. The piece is also found in the Percy Soc. edition of the Minor Poems, and in Reliquiae Antiquae, ed. Wright and Halliwell, London, 1841, i, 79. LYDGATE'S MUMMING AT HERTFORD 223 Riche attyrys of gold and of perry j'^ Charbunclys, rubeys of most excellence, 10 Shew in derknes lyght, whereso they be, By their natural hevenly influence; Doblettes of glasse yeve a gret evidence, Thyng couutirfet wyl fallen at assay; On thys mater, concludyng in sentence, Bewte wyll shew, thow homes be away. Aleyn ^ remembryght, hys Complaynt who list see, In hys boke of famose eloquence; Cladd all in flowris, and blossummys of a tre, He saw Nature in hyr most excellence, 20 Upon hyr hede a kerchef of valence,* None othyr riches of county rfet aray ; T'exemplifye by kyudly providence, Bewte wyll shew thow hornyg be away. Famose poetys of antiquite In Grece and Troy, renowmyd of pru- dence. Wrote of qwene Helene, and Penolope, Of Policene ^ with hyr chast innocence; For wyfys trew call Lucrece to presence; That they were fayre, ther can no man say nay; 30 Kynd^ wroght hem with so grete dili- gence, Theyr bewte cowde shew, thow hornys were cast away. Clerkes record by gret auctorite, Hornys wer gyffe to besfis for diffence, A thyng contrary to feminite, To be mad sturdy of resistence; But arohwyfes, eger in ther violence, Fierse as a tigre forto make affray. They haf despite, and agayne conscience, List not, of pride, theyre hornys cast away. 40 Noble prineesse, thys litell short ditey. Rudely compilyd, lat it be none offence To yowre womanly mercifuU pyte, Thow it be radd in yowr audience. 1 jewelry. s Alain de I'lsle (Lille), Alanus de Insulis, wrote his Complaint of Nature (De Planctu Naturae) in the lat- ter half of the twelfth century. It was extremely in- fluential. Chaucer in the Parliament of Fowls, 1. 316, alludefl to this same description of Nature. B A thin, fine material. Such a iserchief is YenUB^s whole array in the Parliament of Fowls, 1. 272. 1 Folyxena, the love of Achilles. g Nature. Payse ° every thyng in yowre just adver- tence. So it be no displesance to yowre pay,' Undir support of yowr pacience, Yeveth example homes to cast away. Grettest of vertues is humilite. As Salamon sayth, son of Sapience, 50 Most was accepted to the deite. Take hede here-of, gefe to thys word cre- dence. How Maria, who had a preeminence Above all women, in Bedlem whan she lay. At Christis byrth, no cloth of gret dispence. She weryd a keverohe; hornys were oast away. Of byrthe she was hyghest of degre, To whom all aiigelles did obedience. Of Davides lyne, which sprong out of lesse. In whomall verteuis, by iust convenience 60 Made stable in God by gostly confidence. This rose of Jerico, ther growith non such in May, Pure in spirite, parfite in pacience. In whom all hornys of pride were put away. Moder of Ihesu, myrrour of chastite, In word northowght that never did offence; Trew examplire of virginite, Hede-spryng and well of parfite continence t Was never clerk, by retoryk or science, Cowde all hyr verteus reherse to this day. Noble prineesse, of meke benivolence, 71 By example of hyr, yowre hornys cast away. Explicit. LYDGATE'S MUMMING AT HERTFORD 8 Most noble prynce, with support of your grace Tier been entred into yonre royal place, And late coomen in to youre castell Youre poure lieges, wheche lyke nothing weel, « Weigh. ' pleasure. 8 This jocose piece, printed by Miss Hammond in Anglia XXII, p. 364 f., was written in the first quarter of the 15th century; and it is preceded by this heading; — Nowe folowethe here the maner of a bille by wey of supplicacoun putte to the Kyng, holding his noble feast of Christmasse in the Castel of Hertford, as in a disguysing of the rude upplandisshe people compleyn- ing on hir wyves. With the boystous aunswere of hir wyves. Devysed by Lydgate at the request of the Coimtre Roullour. 224 JOHN LYDGATE Nowe in the vigyle of this niiwe yeei-e Certeyne sweynes f ul f roward of ther chere Of entent comen, fallen on ther kue, For to compleyue unto yuoure magestee Upon the mescheef of gret adversytee, Upon the trouble and the cruweltee, lo Which that they have endured in theyre lyves By the felnesse of theyre fierce wyves; Which is a tourrnent verray importable, A bonde of sorowe, a, knott unremuwable; For whoo is bounde or locked in maryage, Yif he beo olde, he fallethe in dotage; And yong folkes, of theyi'e lymmes sklen- dre, Grene and lusty and of brawne but tendre — Phylosophres callen in suche age A ehylde to wyve a woodnesse ^ or a raage ; 20 For they afferme ther is noon eorthely stryfE May bee compared to wedding of a wyif. And who that ever stondethe in the cas, He with his rebecke^ may sing ful o£Et ' Ellas ! ' Lyke as theos hyues here stonding con by oon, He may with hem upon the daunee goon, Leorne the traas, boothe at even and mor- owe, Of Karyoantowe ' in tourrnent and in sor- owe, Weyle the whyle, ellas, that he was borne. For Obbe the Keeve that goothe here al to forne 30 He pleynthe sore his mariage is not meete. For his wyff, Beautryce Bittersweete, Cast upon him an hougly cheer * ful rowghe. Whane he komethe home ful wery from the ploughe, Whith hungry stomake, deed and paale of cheere, In hope to fynde redy his dynier, Thanne sittethe Beautryce boiling at the nale,^ As she that gyvethe of him no maner tale; For she al day with hir jowsy nolle ^ Hathe for the collyk pouped ' in the bolle ; 40 And for headache, with pepir and gynger Drank dolled* ale to make hir throte cleer; And kemethe hir hoome whane hit drawethe to eve. And thanne RobjTi, the cely ^ poure Reeve, 1 madness. 2 fiddle. " The iraas of K. is appar- ently the dance of the henpecked. * ugly counte- nance. ^ quaflBng at the tavern. 6 drunken head. ' tooted, gulped. ^ mulled. > silly, harmless. Fynde noone amendes of harome ^^ ue dam- age. But leene growell,^i and soupethe colde pot- age; And of his wyf hathe noone other cheer But cokkroworthes ^ unto his souper. This is his servyce sitting at the borde; And cely Robyn, yif he speke a worde, 50 Beautryce of him doothe so lytel rekke That with hir distaff she hittethe him in the nekke For a medecyne to ohawf ^' with his blood. With suche a metyerde ^^ she hathe shape him an hoode.^* And Colyn Cobeller, folowing his felawe, Hathe hade his part of the same la we; For by the feyth that the preost him gaf, His wyff hatha taught him to pleyne at^^ the staff, Hir quarter strookis were so large and rounde. That on his rigge " the towohe was alwey founde. 60 Cecely Soure-Chere, his owen preeyous spouse, Kowde him reheete ^^ whane he came to house. Yif he ought spake whanne he felt peyne, Ageyne on worde alweys he hade tweyue, Sheo qwytt him ever — ther was nothijag to seeehe — Sue for on of worde and strookes eche. Ther was no meen bytweene hem for to goone. Whatever he wan clowting olde shoone The wykday — pleynly this is no tale — Sheo wolde on Sondayes drynk it at the nale.i^ 70 His part was noon; he sayde not onys nay. Hit is no game,^" but an hernest play, For lack of wit a man his wyf to greeve. Theos housbondemen — whoso wolde hem leeve ^^ — Koude, yif they dourst, telle in audyence What foUowthe ther, of wyves to doone offence. Is noon so olde ne ryveld ^^ on hir face, Wit tong or staff but that she dare manase. Mabyle — God hir sauve and blesse — Koude, yif hir list, bere hereof witnesse. 80 10 harm. 1* gruel. 12 heated-up vegetables. 13 heat. »* meaauring-Btick. i5 Figuratively, '* fooled him." ifl play at — or, possibly, complain of. 1' back. 18 comfort. The word also means assail. 18 alehouse. 20 joke. 21 believe. 22 wrinkled. LYDGATE'S MUMMING AT HERTFORD 225 Wordes, strookes, unhappe, and harde grace, With sharp nayles kracching in the face — I mene thus, whane the distaff is broke With theyre fistes wyves wol be wrooke.^ Blessed thoo men that cane in suche offence Meekly souffre, take al in pacyenee, Tendure suche wyfly purgatorye, Heven for theyre meede, to regne ther in glorye. God graunt al housbandes that beon in this place To Wynne so Hevon, for his hooly grace. 90 Nexst in order this bochier^ stoute and bolde. That killed hathe buUes and boores olde. This Berthilmewe, for al his broode knyfB, Yit durst he never with his sturdy wyfE In no mater holde chaumpartye.' And if he did, sheo wolde anoon defye His pompe, his pryde, with a sterne thought, And sodeynly setten him at nought. Thoughe his bely were rounded lyche an ooke, 99 She wolde not f ayle to gyf the first strooke ; For proude Pernelle lyche a chaumpyoun Wolde leve hir puddinges ^ m a gret caw- droun, Suffre hem boylle and take of hem noon heede, But with hir skumour s reeche him on the heved. Shee wolde paye him and make no delaye; Bid him goo pleye him a twenty devel wey. She was no cowarde founde at suche a neode ; Hir fist ful offt made his cheekis bleed. What querell ever that he agenst hir sette, She east hir not to dyen in his dette. no She made no taylle, but qwytt him by and by;8 His quarter sowde ' she payde him feyth- fully, And his waages, with al hir best entent; She made therof noon assignement. Eeke Thomme Tynker, with alle bees pannes olde. And alle the wyres of Banebury that he solde, His styth,^ his hamour, his bagge portatyf. Bare up his arme whane he faught with his wyff — 1 avenged. 2 butcher. 3 dispute the sovereignty, * sausages. ^ skimmer. a ran up no account but paid instantly. ' hire. 8 anvil. He foonde for haste no better bokeller, Upon his cheke the distaff came so neer. 120 Hir name was cleped Tybot Tapister. To brawle and broyle she nad no maner fer, To thakke his pilche stoundemel" nowe and thanne Thikker thane Thome koude clowten any panne. Nexst Colle Tyler, ful bevy of his cheer, Compleynethe on Phelyce his wyff, the wafurer.^" Al his bred with sugre nys not baake, Yit on his cheekis some tyme he hathe a eaake So hoot and nuwe or he can taken heede That his beres glowe verray reede 130 For a medecyne whane the forst is colde. Making his teethe to ratle, that beon olde. This is the compleynt that theos dotardes olde Make on theyre wyves, that beon so stoute and bolde. Thes holy martirs preved ful pacyent, Lowly beseching m al hir best enteut Unto youre noble ryal magestee To graunte hem fraunchyse, and also liber- tee — Sith they beothe fetird and bounden in maryage — 139 A suaf eonduytto sauf him frome damage, Eeke under support of youre hyeghe reuoun Graunt hem also a proteccyoun. Conquest ot wyves is rone thoroughe this lande, Cleyming of right to have the hyegher hande; But if you list of youre regallye The olde testament for to modefye, And that thee list asselen theyre ^ request, That theos poure husbandes might lyf in rest. And that theyre vpyves, in theyre felle might, Wol medle amonge mercy with theyre For it came never of nature ne raysoun A lyonesse t'oppresse the lyoun; Ner a wolfesse for al hir thyraunye. Over the wolf to haven the maystrye, Ther beon nowe wolfesses moo thane twoo or three, The bookys'' recorde, wheeche that yonder bee. 8 Tothvrackhishidebythehour. »o wafer-maker. 1^ seal or grant their (the husbands'). 12 mingle mercy with justice. " The MS. has Bookys. 226 JOHN LYDGATE Seothe^ to this mater of mercy and of grace ; And or thees dotardes parte out of this place, Upon theyre compleynt to shape remedye, Or they be likly to stande in jupardye, i6o It is no game with wyves for to playe, But for foolis that gif no force to deye. Take the heed of th? aunswer of the wyves. Touching the substauace of this hyeghe discorde, We six wyves beon ful of oon aceorde. Yif worde and chyding may us not avaylle, We wol darrein'' it in chaumpeloos^ by ba- taylle In part^ oure right, laate or ellys raathe;' And for oure partye the worthy wyff of Bathe Cane shewe statutes moo than six or seven, Howe wyves make hir housbandes wynne Heven, 170 Maugre the f eonde and al his vyolence ; For theyre vertu of parfyte pacyence Partenethe not to wyves nowe adayes Sauf on theyre housbandes for to make as- sayes. Ther pacyence was buryed long agoo; Gresyldes story recordethe pleiiily soo. It longethe to us to clappen as a mylle, No counselyle keepe, but the trouth oute telle. We beo not borne by hevenly influence Of oure nature to keepe us in sylence ; 180 For this is no doute — every prudent wyfE Hathe redy auuswere in al suche maner stryff, Thoughe theos dotardes with theyre dokked berdes, Which strowtethe out as they were made of herdes,' Have ageyn hus a gret quarell nowe sette. I trowe the bakenn was never of hem fette ' Awaye at Dounmowe in the Pryorye.^ They weene of us to have ay the mays- trye. I Imperative of " see." 2 decide. 3 Settle it in the lists. On the rights and liabilities of women in the judicial combat see H. C. Lea's Supersti- tion and Force (Phil. 1892), p. 152. ' On behalf of. G early. ^ stick out aa if made of hards, flax fibres. ' won by them. 8 An allusion to the celebrated Dunmore flitch for happy couples, given yearly ever since the early thir- teenth century. Chaucer (Wife of Bath's Prologue, 218) and Langland (Piers Plowman A, X, 188) allude to it. See Skeat's note to the latter passage and the Illus- trated Lmdon News for Aug. 24th, 1912, p. 289. Ellas! theos fooles! Let hem aunswere here to, Who cane hem wasshe who can hem wringe alsoo. 190 Wryng hem — yee wryng — so als God us speed. Til that some tyme we make hir nases bleed; And sowe hir cloothes whane they bethe to rent, And clowthe hir bakkes til some of us be sheut. Loo yit theos fooles — God gyf hem sory chaunce ! Wolde sette hir wyves under gou vernaunce ; Make us to hem for to lowte ^ lowe. We knowe to well the bent of Jackys bowe. Al that we clayme, we olayme it but of right. 199 Yif they say nay, let preve it out by fight. We wil us grounde not upon womanhede — Fy on hem, cowardes! when hit komethe to nede — We clayme maystrye by prescripcyoun, Be long tytle of successyoun Frome wyff to wyff, which we wol not leese. Men may weel gruchohe,^" but they shal not cheese.ii Custume is us for nature and usaunoe To let oure housbandes lyf in great noy- saunce, Humbelly byseching nowe at oon worde Unto oure liege and moost soverein lord 210 Us to defende of his regallye,^^ And of his grace susteenen oure partye, Reqnering the statuyt of olde antiquytee, That in youre tyme it may oonf ermed bee. The complaynte of the lewed housbandes with the cruwell aunswers of theyre wyves herde, the kyng yivethe therupon sentence and Jugement. This noble Prynce, moost royal of estate, Having an eyeghe to this mortal debate, First adverting of ful hyeghe prudence, Wil unavysed gyve here no sentence, 218 Witheoute counseylle of haste to precede By sodeyne doome, for he takethe heede To eyther partye as juge indifferent, Seing the paryll of hasty jugement; Pourposithe him in this contynude stryff To gif no sentence therof diflynytyff Til ther be made examynacyoun. B bow. 11 grumble. ** choose. la royalty. THE LEGEND OF DAN JOOS 227 He considerethe and makethe raysoun his guyde, As egal juge, enclyning to noo syde, Notwithstanding he hathe compassyoun Of the poure housbandes trybulacyoun, 129 So offt arrested with theyre wyves rokkes,^ Which of theyre distaves have so many kuokkes; Peysing ' also in his regallye The la we that wymmeu allegge for theyre partye, Custume, Nature, and eeke prescripcyoun, Statuyt used by confirmacyoun, Processe and daate of tyme cute of mynde, Kecorde of cronycles, witnesse of hir kuyude ; Wherfore the kyng wol al this nexst yeere That wyves fraunchyse stonde hoole and entier; And that no man withstonde it, ne with- drawe, 140 Til man may fynde some processe oute by lawe, That they should by nature in theyre lyres Have soverayntee on theyre prudent wyves — A thing unkouthe, which was never founde. Let men be ware, therfore, or they beo bounde. The bonde is harde, who soo that lookethe weel. Some men were lever fetterd beon in steel ; Baunsonn might help his peyne to aswaagc ; But who is wedded lyvethe ever in servage; And I knowe never nowher, for ner neer, Man that was gladde to bynde him prys- onier, 251 Thoughte that his prysoun, his castell, or his holde, Wer depeynted with asure or with golde. Explicit. THE LEGEND OF DAN JOOS" O WELLE of swetnesse replete in every vey ne ! That all mankynde preservyd hast from dethe, And all onre ioy fro langourdydest restreyne At thy Nativite, O flonre of Nazareth ! Whan the Holygost with hys swete breth I distaffs. 2 weighing, » From H. N. MacCracken's edition of the Minor Poems, Early English Text Soc, 1911, with afew changes in typography and punctuation. A good example of Lyd- gate's aacred verse. Gan to enspyre the, as for hys chosyn place, For love of man by influence of hys grace. And were invyolate, bryght hevynly sterre! Mong celestynes, reynyng without memory. That by thyne empryse in thys mortall werre, lo Of oure captyvyte gatest the full vyctory. Whom I beseche for thyne excellent glory, Som drope of thy grace adowne to me con- styll," In reverence of the thys dyte to fulfyll. That ounely my rewdenes thy myracle nat deface Whyehe whylom sendest in a devoute ab- bey. Of an hooly monke thorough thy myght & grace, That of all pyte berest bothe lok and key, For, benynge lady, the sothe of thee to sey. Full well thow quytyst that done thee love and serve 20 An hundryd sythys ' bettyr then they de- serve. Ensample of whyehe here ys in portreture, Withoutyn fable, ryght as hit was in dede, O refuge and welthe to every creaturel Thy clerke to further helpe now at thys nede. For to my purpose I wyll anone precede, The trowthe to recorde, I wyll no lengor tary, Ryght as hit was, a poynt I wyll nat vary. Vincenoius in hys speculatyf historiall " Of thys sayde monke maketh full mensioun, Under the fourme to yow, as I reherse shall, 31 That by a gardeyne as he romyd up and doune He heerd a bysshop of fame & gret re- noune Seying v. psalmes in honour of that flowre, That bare lesu Cryst oure alther redemp- toure.' In whiche Psalmes, standyng eohe in here degre. Whoso lyst take hede in syngler lettres fyve, « distil. B times. ' Vincent of Beauvaia' Specu- lum Hisioriale. ' Redeemer of us all. 228 JOHN LYDGATE This blessyd name Maria there may he se That furst of all oure thraldam can de- pryve, To the haven of dethe when we gan ar- ryre, ' 40 And fro the wawes ^ of this mortall see, Made us to escape from all adversite. Dystynotly in Latyn here may ye rede echone, Folowyng these baladys as for youre ples- aunce, To whom the bysshop hade sayde hys medi- tacione, The monke anone delytyd in his remem- braunce, And thought he wold as for his most affi- aunce Cotydyally ^ with hem oonly oure lady plese, That fro all grevaunce hys sorowes myght appese. And there withall he wrote hem in hys mynde, 50 So stedfastly with devoute and hy oorage, That never a day a worde he f oryate be- hynde, But seyde hem entyerly in-to hys last age, Hys olde gyltes bothe to a soft^ and swage^ Aftyr hyr matyns, as was hys appetyte, To sey hem ever was hys most delyte. Therto his dylygenoe with all hys hert & myght. And f orthe contynuyd in his devoutest wyse, Tyll at last hit befell apon a nyght The hoole Covent at mydnyght gau aryse, As ys here usage, to do to God servyse. 61 So when they were assemblyd there in gen- erall, The snppryour beholdyng aboute over all, As ys hys ofEyce that noone of theym were absent. But of Dan loos he cowde no wyse aspy, He roose hym up and privyly he went In-to hys chambre, and there he fond hym ly Deede as a stoone, and lowde he gan to cry ' Helpe,' quoth he, ' for the love of oure lady bryght, Dan loos oure brother ys sodenly dede to- nyght.' 70 1 waves. 9 Construction not clear. 2 Daily. The covent auone gan renne halfe in a drede, Tyll they had behylde, when passyd was here afray, Owte of hys mowthe a roose boothe sprang and sprede, Fresshe in his coloure as any floure in May; And other tweyne out of his eyen gray; Of hys eares as many full f resshly flowryng That never yet in gardyne halt so feyre gan spryng. Thys rody roose they have so long beholde That sprang for his mowthe, tyll they have espyed Full fayre graven, in lettres of bornyd' golde, 80 Maeie full curyously as hit ys specyfyed, In bookes oolde ; and anone they have hem hyed Unto the temple, with lawde & bye solemp- nyte, Beryng the corse that all men myght hit se. Whyche they kepte in ryalte & hy perfeo- cioune Sevyn dayes in the tempel there beyng present, Tyll thre bysshops of fame & gret renoune Were comyn thedyr, ryght with devout en- tent. And many another clerk with hem by oon assent. To se thys myracle of thys lady bryght 90 Seying in thys wyse, with all her " hert and myght: ' Lawde, honour, pryce, and hygh reverence Eternally be to thee, O hevynly luge, And to thy modyr that of her gret benyvo- lence Preserveth from hevynes, in this derke del- uge. That ' doone her magnyfy, and ys her boole refuge; More then they serve ^ sohe quyteth a thow- sand folde, Hyr passyng goodnes of us may nat be tolde.' Thus when these bysshops & clerkis many oon 99 Had thankyd God, as ferforth as they can. And thys lady that hathe thys grace ydoon, B bumifihed. ^ their. 7 Those that, b deserve. THE LEGEND OF DAN JOOS 229 So full of ioy and blysse was every man Of thys myracle, that syth the world began Yet herde I never in roundell,^ prose ne ryme, Of halfe the gladnes fat was withyn hem that tyme. Sone af tyr thys her iorney gan they holde, £che in hys syde,' in-to hys propre place. Kyght as they fonde overall so have they tolde Of thys holy Monke, O lady full of grace! Now well ys hym, that can hys hert en- brace, no To love the best and chaunge for no new, That art so feythf ull thow canst nat be un- trew. O ye fressche lovers, that lyvyn ever in doublenesse, And hurt your-self full oft with your owne knyfe. Your wofull ioyys medlyd^ aywithbyttyr- nesse, Now glad, now sory, now lyte, now peu- syfe. Thus with your-self ye fall ever at stryfe, Betwene two wawes ay possyd * to and fro, That in contraryosnes ye stryvyn evyr mo. Youre blynde fantasyes now in hertes weyve,^ 120 Of chyldysshe vanyte and let hem over- slyde, 1 song. 3 mingled. 2 in his own direction. 4 pushed. I* give up. And loveth this lady, that can nowyse de- ceyve. She ys so stedfast of hert in every syde, That for your nedys so modyrly can pro- vyde And for your poysy these lettres fyve ye take, Of thys name Makia oonly for hys sake. That for youre travayle so well [will] yow avaunce, Nat as these wemen on the ° whyche ye doon delyte, That fedyn yow all day with feynyd pleas- aunce, Hyd undyr tresoun with many wordys whyte, 130 But bet then ye deserve she woU yow quyte, And for ye shall nat labour all in veyne, Ye shall have heven; there ys nomore to seyne; Whos passyng goodnes may nat be compre- hendyd. In mannys prudence fully to determyne, She ys so parfyte she cannat be amendyd, That ay to mercy and pyty doth enclyne. Now benygne lady that dedyst oure sorowes fyne In honour of the that done thy psalmes rede As was Dan loos, so quyte hem for theyie mede. 14a Amen, ^ yein MacCracken. JOHN SKELTON PHILIP SPARROWi Pla ce bo,^ Who is there, who ? Di le xi,^ Dame Margery; Fa, re, my, my. Wherefore and why, why ? For the soul of Philip Sparrow, That was late slain at Carow, Among the Nunes Black, For that sweet soul's sake, lo And for all sparrows' souls, Set in our beadroUs, . Pater noster qui. With an Ave Mari, And with the corner of a Creed, The more shall be your meed. Whan I remember again How my Philip was slain, Never half the pain Was between you twain, 20 Piramus and Thisbe, As than befell to me: I wept and I wailed, The tears down hailed; But nothing it availed; To call Philip again, Whom Gib our cat hath slain. Gib, I say, our cat Worrowed ^ her on that Which I loved best: 30 It can not be expressed My sorrowful heaviness. But all without redress; For within that stound. Half slumbring, in a swound I fell down to the ground. 1 This sparkling piece is an elegy for the death of Mistress Jane Scrope's pet sparrow. Such mock ele- gies, though shorter, had been in vogue since Catullus' lament for his Lesbia's sparrow (c. 60 B.C.), and very likely for longer; and such travesties of church rites were far from rare in the Middle Ages. The small nunnery of the Benedictines at Carow, near Norwich, was probably a sort of boarding-school where Jane and the other well-to-do young ladies of the neighbourhood were educated. 2 So begins a verse in the OfBce for the Dead — Psalms cxvi (Vulgate cxiv), 9. » Psalms, cxvi, 1. Cf . last note. * worried. Unneth * I kest mine eyes Toward the cloudy skies : But whan I did behold My sparrow dead and cold, 40 No creature but that wold Have rewed ^ upon me. To behold and see What heaviness did me pang; Wherewith my hands I wrang. That my sinews cracked. As though I had been racked. So pained and so strained. That no life wellnigh remained. I sighed and I sobbed, so For that I was robbed Of my sparrow's life. O maiden, widow, and wife. Of what estate ye be. Of high or low degree. Great sorrow than ye might see And learn to weep at' me 1 Such pains did me freat,^ That mine heart did beat. My visage pale and dead, 60 Wan, and blue as lead; The pangs of hateful death Wellmgh had stopped my breath. Heu, heu, me, That I am woe for thee ! Ad Dominum, cum tribularer, claTnavi? Of God nothing else crave I But Philip's soule to keep From the marees ^° deep Of Aoherontes well, 70 That is a flood of Hell; And from the great Pluto, The prince of endless woe; And from foul Aleoto, With visage black and bio ; ^' And from Medusa, that mare,!^ That like a fiend doth stare; And from Megeras edders.^' For ruffling of Philip's feathers, And from her fiery sparklings, ^'' From burning of his wings; 5 With difficulty, 'had pity. ' from. ' fret, gnaw. 9 I cried unto the Lord when I was in trouble. xo marsh. ^^ blue. ^ spectre. i3 adders. PHILIP SPARROW 231 And from the smokes sour Lord, how he would pry Of Proserpina's bower; After the butterfly! And from the deus dark, Lord, how he would hop Where Cerberus doth bark, After the grasshop I Whom Theseus did affray, And whan I said, Phip, Phip, Whom Hercules did outray,i Than he would leap and skip, As famous poets say; And take me by the lip. 140 From that hell hound. Alas, it will me slo,' That lieth in chaines bound, ^ That Philip is gone me frot With ghastly heades three. Sin in i qui la ies To Jupiter pray we Alas, I was evil at ease ! That Philip preserved may be ! De pro fun dis da ma vi, Amen, say ye with me ! When I saw my sparrow diel Do mi nus, Now, after my dome,* Help now, sweet Jesus ! Dame Sulpicia,' at Rome, Levavi oculos meos in monies : ^ Whose name registered was Wolde God I had Zenophontes,' For ever in tables of brass, 150 Or Socrates the wise. Because that she did pass To shew me their devise, 1°" In poesy to endite. Moderately to take And eloquently to write, This sorrow that I make Though she would pretend For Philip Sparrow's sake ! My sparrow to commend. So fervently I shake, I trow she could not amend I feel my body quake ; Eeporting the virtues all So urgently I am brought Of my sparrow royal. Into careful thoughts For it would come and go, Like Andromaeh, Hector's wife, And fly so to and fro; 160 Was weary of her life. And on me it would leap When she had lost her joy, il" When I was asleep. Noble Hector of Troy; And his feathers shake. In like manner also Wherewith he would make Encreaseth my deadly woe, Me often for to wake, For my sparrow is go. And for to take him in It was so pretty a fool. Upon my naked skin; It wold sit on a stool. God wot, we thought no sin: And learned after my school What though he crept so low ? For to keep his cut,^ It was not hurt, I trow; 170 With, Philip, keep your cut ! He did nothing perdie It had a velvet cap, 120 But sit upon my knee, And would sit upon my lap. Philip, though he were nice, And seek after small worms. In him it was no vice; And sometime white bread crumbs; Philip had leave to go And many times and oft To pick my little toe ; Between my breastes soft Philip might be bold It would lie and rest; And do what he wold; It was proper and prest.* Philip would seek and take Sometime he would gasp All the fleas black 180 When he saw a wasp; That he could there espy A fly or a gnat, ^8" With his wanton eye. He would fly at that; pe ra. And prettily he would pant La, soil, fa, fa. When he saw an ant; Confitebor tibi, Domine, in toto corde meo. Alas, I would ride and go 1 vanquish. 2 I lifted mine eyes unto the moun- tains. 3 Xenophon. « melancholy. s distance. ' slay. B judgment. • clean and tidy. » An amorous poetess of Domitian's reign. 232 JOHN SKELTON A thousand mile of ground I The best now that I may, If any sucli might be found, Is for his soul to pray : It were worth an hundred pound A porta inferi, Of king Crcesus' gold, 190 Good Lord, have mercy 240 Or of Attains the old, Upon my sparrow's soul, The rich prince of Pargamee,i Written in my beadroU 1 Who so list the story to see. Au di vi vo cem, Cadmus, that his sister ^ sought, Japhet, Cam, and Sem,' And he should be bought Ma gnifi cat, For gold and fee, Shew me the right path He should over the sea, To the hills of Armony,' To wete ^ if he could bring Wherefore the birds yet cry* Any of the offspring. Of your father's boat. Or any of the blood.^ 200 That was sometime afloat, 250 But whoso understood And now they lie and rot. Of Medea's art, Let some poets write I would I had a part Deucalion's flood it hight ; Of her crafty magic ! But as verily as ye be My sparrow then should be quick The natural sones tlu-ee With a charm or twain, Of Noe the patriarch. And play with me again. That made that great ark. But all this is in vain Wherein he had apes and owls. Thus for to complain. Beasts, birds, and fowls. I took my sampler once, 210 That if ye can find s6o Of purpose, for the nonce, Any of my sparrow's kind, To sew with stitches of silk God send the soul good rest I My sparrow white as milk, I would have yet a nest That by representation As pretty and as prest ^^ Of his image and fashion, As my sparrow was. To me it might import But my sparrow did pass Some pleasure and comfort All the sparrows of the wood For my solace and sport: That were since Noe's flood. But when I was sewing his beak. Was never none so good ; Methought my sparrow did speak, 220 King Philip of Macedon. 270 And opened his pretty bill. Had no such Philip as I, Saying, ' Maid, ye are in will^ No, no, sir, hardely.^' Again me for to kill. That vengeance I ask and cry, Ye prick me in the head ! ' By way of exclamation. With that my needle waxed red. On all the whole nation Methought, of Philip's blood; Of cats wild and tame ; Mine hair right upstood. God send them sorrow and shame ! And was in such afEray,^ That cat specially My speech was taken away. That slew so cruelly I cast down that there was, 230 My little pretty sparrow 280 And said, ' Alas, alas. That I brought up at Carow. How Cometh this to pass ? ' catof carlishi^kind, My fingers, dead and cold. The fiend was in thy mind Could not my sampler hold; When thou my bird untwined ! i' My needle and thread I would thou haddest been blind 1 I threw away for dread. The leopards savage, The lions in their rage, » Pergamus. ' Europa. • know. * This appears to mean : If CadmuB, the great ' Ham and Shem. searcher, could by any means be had, over the sea he 8 Armenia, where the ark grounded. should be sent in order to seek the offspring or blood B Text doubtful ; possibly we should read "whereon relations of my lost sparrow ; so that I might keep up the hordes yet lye." Dyce. the prized stock. » intending. ' fright. 10 tidy. 11 certainly. « churlish. " kUled. PHILIP SPARROW 233 Might catch thee in their paws, These villanous false cats And gnaw thee in their jaws 1 Were made for mice and rats, The serpents of Libany 1 290 And not for birdes small. 340 Might sting thee venomously! Alas, my face waxeth pale, The dragons with their tongues Telling this piteous tale, Might poison thy liver and lungs! How my bird so fair. The manticors ^ of the mountains That was wont to repair, Might feed them on thy brains! And go in at my spare,' Melanehates,^ that hound And creep in at my gore ' That plucked Acteon to the ground, Of my gown before. Gave him his mortal wound, Flickering with his wings. Changed to a deer, Alas, my heart it stings. The story doth appear, 300 Remembring pretty things! 350 Was changed to an hart: Alas, mine heart it slayth. So thou, foul cat that thou art My Philip's doleful death, The self same hound When I remember it. Might thee confound. How prettily it would sit, That his own lord bote,^ Many times and oft Might bite asunder thy throat! Upon my finger aloft ! Of Inde the greedy gripes ^ I played with him tittle tattle. Might tear out all thy tripes! And fed him with my spattle,!" Of Aready the bears With his bill betweene my lips; Might pluck away thine ears! 310 It was my pretty Phipps! 360 The wi d wolf Lycaon * Many a pretty kuss " Bite asunder thy backbone! Had I of his sweet muss ; ^ Of Etna the brenning hill, And now the cause is thus, That day and night brenneth still That he is slain me fro. Set in thy tail a blaze, To my great pain and woe. That all the world may gaze Of fortune this the chance And wonder upon thee. Standeth on variance: From Ocean the great sea Oft time after pleasance Unto the Isles of Orcady, Trouble and grievance; From Tilbury Ferry 320 No man can be sure 370 To the plain of Salisbury! Alway to have pleasure: So traitorously my bird to kill As well perceive ye may That never ought' thee evil will! How my disport and play Was never bird in cage From me was taken away More gentle of courage By Gib, our cat savage. In doing his homage That in a furious rage Unto his sovereign. Caught Philip by the head. Alas, I say again. And slew him there stark dead. Death hath departed us twain! Kyrie, eleison, The false cat hath thee slain: 330 Christe, eleison, 380 Farewell, Philip, adieu ! Kyrie, eleison 1 '' Our Lord thy soul rescue ! For Philip Sparrow's soul, Farewell without restore, Set in our beadroU, Farewell for evermore! Let us now whisper And it were a Jew, A Pater noster. It would make one rue, Lauda, anima mea, Dominum ! ^^ To see my sorrow new. To weep with me look that ye come, I Libya. * An extraordinary fabulous beast. » So the foremost hound is named in Ovid's Meta^ All manner of birds in your kind; See none be left behind. morphoses, m, 232. » slit in the top of a skirt. » opening in the breast. 4 bit. ^ griflBns, or vultures. 10 spittle. 11 kiss. 12 beak, mouth. B A king of Arcadia transformed into a wolf. Ovid's " Partof the Mass— "Lord (Christ), have mercy!" MetaTtiorphotet, i, 163. ' owed. " Praise the Lord, oh my soul. 234 JOHN SKELTON To mourning look that ye fall 390 With dolorous songs funeral, Some to sing, and some to say. Some to weep, and some to pray, Every bird in his lay. The goldfinch, the wagtail; The jangling jay to rail, The flecked pye to chatter Of this dolorous matter; And robin redbreast. He shall be the priest 400 The requiem mass to sing, Softly warbeling. With help of the red sparrow, And the chatt'ring swallow, This hearse ^ for to hallow; The lark with his long toe; The spink,^ and the martinet' also; The shoveler^ with his broad beak; The doterell,^ that foolish peak,° And also the mad coot, 410 With a bald face to toot; The feldfare, and the suite;' The crow, and the kite; The raven, called Rolfe, His plain-song to solf e ; ^ The partridge, the quail; The plover with us to wail; The woodhack,^ that siugeth chur Hoarsely, as he had the mur:^" The lusty chanting nightingale ; 420 The popingay,^^ to tell her tale. That toteth ^ oft in a glass, Shall read the Gospel at mass; The mavis with her whistle Shall read there the pistle.^' But with a large and a long 1* To keep just plain-song, Our chanters shall be the cuckoo, The culver,!* jjjg stockdove, With pewit the lapwing, 430 The versicles shall sing. Tlie bitter with his bump,w The crane with his trump. The swan of Menander," The goose and the gander, The duck and the drake, Shall watch at this wake; 1 bier. 2 chafBnch. s martin. * Bpoonbillduck. 6 A sort of plover easily captured. 8 ddt. 7 gnipe. 8 solf a, i.e., sing the scale. ^ woodpecker. 10 a cold, 11 parrot, 12 peeks, ^^ epistle. " one large note contained two longs. 16 wood-pigeon, IB The bittern, who makes a bumping or booming noise, 17 This stands for the river Meander here and else- where in Skelton. The peacock so proud. Because his voice is loud, And hath a glorious tail, 440 He shall sing the grail; ^^ The owl, that is so foul, Must help us to howl; The heron so gaunoe ^^ And the cormoraunoe,^" With the pheasant. And the gaggling gant ^ And the churlish chough; The route 2^ and the kowgh;''' The barnacle,^^ the buzzard, 450 With the wild mallard; The divendop^° to sleep; The water-ben to weep; The puffin and the teal Money they shall deal To poor folk at large. That shall be their charge; The seamew and the titmose; ^ The woodcock with the long nose; The throstle with her warbling; 460 The starling with her brabbling ; ^' The rook, with the osprey That putteth fishes to affray; And the dainty curlew, With the turtle most true. At this Placebo We may not well forego The countring of the coe : '^ The stork also, That maketh his nest 470 In chimneys to rest; Within those walls No broken galls May there abide Of cuckoldry side. Of else philosophy Maketh a great lie.^' The estrige,^'' that will eat An horseshoe so great. In the stead of meat, 480 Such fervent heat His stomack doth freat; ^l He can not well fly. Nor sing tunably, 18 gradual, so called because sung at the altar steps. 1" gaunt. 20 cormorant. 21 cackling gannet. 22 wild goose? Cf. New Eng. Diet., rout, sb. 7. 22 Variant of chough, i.e. another of the crow family? 24 barnacle goose. 25 dabchick or didapper. Liter- ally " diver-and-dipper. " 28 The proper form of titmouse, 27 scolding. 28 Apparently the jackdaw, chough — or one of hia relatives — yet a third time in this list I 29 Where storks nest there can be no marital infidelity, JO ostrich, "i fret, bite. Skelton spells it also /rete. PHILIP SPARROW 235 Yet at a braid ^ Softly bemole," He hath well assayed For my sparrow's soul. To solfe above ela,'' Pliny sheweth all Ga, lorell.s fa, fa; In his story natural '^ Ne quando What he doth find Male cantando, 490 Of the phoenix kind; The best that we can, Of whose incineration 540 To make him our bellman, There riseth a new creation And let him ring the bells ; Of the same fashion He can do nothing else.* Without alteration. Chaunteelere, our cook. Saving that old age Must tell what is of the clock Is turned into courage By the astrology Of fresh youth agaiu; That he hath naturally This matter true and plain, Conceived and caught. Plain matter indeed. And was never taught 500 Whoso list to read. By Albumazer^ But for the eagle doth fly 550 The astronomer. Highest in the sky. Nor by Ptolemy ^ He shall be the sedean,!^ Prince of astronomy, The quere " to demean,i° Kor yet by Haly; ' As provost principal. And yet he eroweth daily To teach them their ordinal; And nightly the tides Also the noble falcon ^ That no man abides, With the ger falcon " With Partlot his hen. The tercel gentle,i8 Whom now and then 510 They shall mourn soft and still He plucketh by the head In their amice ^' of gray; 560 Whan he doth her tread. The sacre ^^ with them shall say The bird of Araby, Dirige, for Philip's soul; That potentially The goshawk 21 shall have a roll May never die. The queresters to control; And yet there is none The lanners ^ and the merlions '^ But one alone; Shall stand in their mourning gowns; A phoenix it is The hobby 22 and the musket 22 This hearse ^ that must blisa The censers and the cross shall fet; 2* With aromatic gums 520 The kestrel 22 in all this work That cost great sums. Shall be holy-water clerk. 570 The way of thurification ' And now the dark cloudy night To make a fumigation, Chaseth away Phebus bright. Sweet of reflair,!" Taking his course toward the west. And redolent of air, God send my sparrow's soul good rest! This corse for to cense Requiem aelernam dona eis, Domine 1 With great reverence, Pa, fa, fa, my, re, re. As patriarch or pope A por ta infe ri. In a black cope; Fa, fa, fa, my, my. Whiles he censeth the herse, 530 Cre:do videre bona Domini, He shall sing the verse, I pray God, Phlhp to heaven may fly! 580 Libera me, In de, la, soil, re. " Plat. 12 Pliny's Natural Hutory, Bk. X, § 2. i» subdean. I at a piDch. 2 Xo aing above the highest note i^ choir. 16 conduct. 18 peregrine falcon. In the scale. ^ rogue. i-' The great white or gray Norway falcon. * Alluding to some popular saying like " who cannot 18 The male of a peregrine falcon. sing, let him ring." 19 One of the priest's vestments. 5 An Arabian of the ninth century. 20 A somewhat smaller falcon. • Of the celebrated Ptolemaic system. 21 large, short-winged hawk. 1 Another great Arabian astronomer of c 1100. 22 These are all lesser kinds of hawks and falcons. 8 bier. ^ censing, iucense-bunung. 10 perfume. 23 fetch. 236 JOHN SKELTON Domine, exaudi orationem meam ! To heaven he shall, from heaven he came ! Do mi nus vo bis cum ! Of all good prayers God send him some 1 Oremus. Deus, cuifproprium est misereri etparcere, On Philip's soul have pity ! For he was a pretty cock, And came of a gentle stock. And wrapt in a maiden's smock, 590 And cherished full daintily, Till cruel fate made him to die. Alas, for doleful destiny ! But whereto should I Lenger mourn or cry ? To Jupiter I call, Of heaven emperial. That Philip may fly Above the starry sky, To tread the pretty wren, 600 That is our Lady's hen: Amen, amen, ameni Yet one thing is behind. That now eometh to mind; An epitaph, I would have For Philip's grave: But for I am a maid. Timorous, half afraid. That never yet assayed Of Helicones well, 610 Where the Muses dwell; Though I can read and spell, Recount, report, and tell Of the Tales of Canterbury, Some sad stories, some merry As Palamon and Arcet, Duke Theseus, and Partelet; And of the Wife of Bath, That worketh much scath When her tale is told 630 Among husewives bold, How she controlled Her husbands as she wold, And them to despise In the homliest wise. Bring other wives in thought Their husbands to set at nought; And though that read have I Of Gawain and Sir Guy, And tell can a great piece 630 Of the Golden Fleece, How Jason it wan, Like a valiant man; Of Arthur's round table, With his knights commendable, And dame Gaynour,i his queen. Was somewhat wanton, I ween; How Sir Lancelot de Lake Many a spear brake For his lady's sake; 640 Of Tristram, and King Mark, And all the whole wark ^ Of Bele Isold his wife, From whom was much strife; Some say she was light. And made her husband knight Of the common hall. That cuckolds men call; And of Sir Lybius, Named Disconius ; ^ 650 Of Quater FUz Amund,^ And how they were summoned To Rome, to Charlemagne, Upon a great pain, And how they rode each one On Bayard Mountalbon ; ^ Men see him now and then In the forest of Arden : What though I can frame The stories by name 660 Of Judas Maccabeus, And of Caesar Julius; And of the love between Paris and Vienne; ^ And of the Duke Hannibal, That made the Romans all Fordread and to quake; How Scipion did wake ' The city of Carthage, Which by his unmerciful rage 670 He beat down to the ground: And though I can expound Of Hector of Troy, That was all their joy, Whom Achilles slew, Wherefore all Troy did me; And of the love so bote That made Troilus to dote Upon fair Cressid, And what they wrote and said, 68a And of their wanton wills Pandare bare the bills 1 Guinevere. ' work. s The English romance of //i&eaiw/>^^con«5 (The Fair Unknown) may be found in Eitson's Metrical BomanceSf vol. 2. ^ Les Quatre Pils Aimon is a thirteenth-century chart' son de geste, of which Caxton printed a prose version. s The celebrated steed Bayard of Montauban, who on this occasion carried all the four brothers at once. B Caxton printed this prose romance. ' watch. PHILIP SPARROW 237 690 700 From one to the other; His master's love to further, Sometime a precious thing, An ouche/ or else a ring; From her to him again Sometime a pretty chain, Or a bracelet of her hair, Prayed Troilus for to wear That token for her sake; How heartily he did it take, And much thereof did make. And all that was in vain. For she did but feign; The story telleth plain. He could not obtain, Though his father were a king. Yet there was a thing That made the male to wring; '' She made him to sing The song of lovers' lay;' Musing night and day, Mourning all alone, Comfort he had none. For she was quite gone; Thus in conclusion, She brought him in abusion; In earnest and in game She was much to blame; Disparaged is her fame, And blemished is her name. In manner half with shame ; Troilus also hath lost On her much love and cost. And now must kiss the post; ^ Pandare, that went between. Hath won nothing, I ween, But light for summer green; ^ Yet for a special laud He is named Troilus' bawd, Of that name he is sure Whiles the world shall dure: Though I remember the fable Of Penelope most stable To her husband most true Yet long time she ne knew Whether he were on live " or dead; Her wit stood her in stead. 1 jewel, ornament. 3 This popular expression appears to mean " cause trouble." 8 Lovers' law (Dyce), or lovers' tune — the lovers being of course jilted. * lose, fail — a popular saying. B Obscure. A light-f or-summer, green fabric ? Chau- cer's poorly clad Canon rode "all light for summer," Prologue to Canon's Yemnan's Tale, 1. 16. Green is the color of inconstancy. Q alive. 710 720 That she was true and just 730 For any bodily lust To Ulysses her make,' And never would him forsake: Of Marcus Marcellus ' A process' I could tell us; And of Antioohus;!" And of Josephus De Aiitiquitatihus ; " And of Mardocheus,'^ And of great Assuerus, 740 And of Vesca his queen. Whom he forsook with teen,^' And of Hester his other wife. With whom he led a pleasant life; Of king Alexander; And of king Evander;" And of Porsena 1^ the great. That made the Romans to sweat: Though I have enrolled A thousand new and old 750 Of these historious tales, To fill budgets and males ^^ With books that I have read, Yet I am nothing sped. And can but little skill Of Ovid or Virgil, Or of Plutarch, Or Francis Petrarch, Alceus or Sappho, Or such other poets mo," 760 As Linus and Homerus, Euphorion and Theocritus, Anacreon and Arion, Sophocles and Philemon, Pindarus and Simonides, Philistion and Phorocides;^ These poets of auuoienty, i' They are too diffuse for me: For, as I tofore have said, I am but a young maid, 770 And cannot in effect My style as yet direct With English words elect: Our natural tongue is rude, And hard to be enneude^" ' mate. 8 Ofttimes consul, conqueror of Syracuse, slain by Hannibal, 208 B.C. » story. " See Confessio Amantis, Bk. vin, 271 S., and Shake- speare's Pericles. 11 Tfi^ Jewish Aniiquitiesy Josephus's great chronicle. 12 Mordeeai, with Ahasuerus, Vashti, and Esther. 18 annoyance. » The friend of .ffineas in Bk. vni, 1. 51. 18 The Etruscan who conquered Rome. >• mails, i.e., bags. " more. « Pherecydes, early Greek philosopher. 1 ' antiquity. 88 adorned, from en- and Fr. nuer, to tint. 238 JOHN SKELTON Witli polished terms lusty; Our language is so rusty, So cankered, and so full Of frowards,^ and so dull, That if I would apply 780 To write ornately, I wot not where to find Terms to serve my mind Gower's Englisli is old, And of no value told; His matter is worth gold. And worthy to be enrolled. In Chaucer I am sped. His tales I have read: His matter is delectable, 790 Solacious,2 and commendable; His English well allowed,^ So as it is enprowed,^ For as it is employed, There is no English void,^ At those days much commended; And now men would have amended His English, whereat they bark, And mar all they wark: Chaucer, that famous clerk, 800 His terms were not dark. But pleasant, easy, and plain; No word he wrote in vain. Also John Lydgate Writeth after an higher rate; ' It is diffuse ' to find The sentence ' of his mind. Yet writeth he in his kind, No man that can amend Those matters that he hath penned; 810 Yet some men find a fault. And say he writeth too haut.' Wherefore hold me excused If I have not well perused Mine English half abused; Though it be refused. In worth 1° I shall it take. And fewer wordes make. But, for my sparrow's sake, Yet as a woman may, 820 My wit I shall assay An epitaph to write In Latin plain and light. Whereof the elegy FoUoweth by and by: ^^ 1 perversities. 2 Entertaining. > approved. * improved, i.e., made good use of, received and treated properly. 6 For as Chaucer employed it, no English is lacking, there is no flaw in the langua(?e. * Apparently, in a higher style. ' uncertain, difficult. 8 meaning. » loftily, lo Contentedly, ii straightway. vale! 830 840 Flos volucrum formose. Philippe, sub isto Marmore jam recubas, Qui mihi carus eras. Semper erunt nitido Badiantia sidera caelo; Impressusque meo Pectore semper eris. Per me laurigerum Britonum Skeltonida vatem Haec cecinisse licet Ficta sub imagine texta. Cujus eras volucris, Praestanti corpore virgo; Candida Nais erat, Formosior ista Joanna est; Docta Corinna fuit, Sed magis ista sapit. Bien men souient.^ THE TUNNING OF ELEANOR RUMMINGI8 Tell you I chill," If that ye will A while be still, Of a comely gill,^° That dwelt on a hill: But she is not grill,i' For she is somewhat sage And well worn in age ; For her visage It would assuage k A man's courage. Her loathly lere ^' Is nothing clear, But ugly of cheer. Droopy and drowsy. Scurvy and lousy ; Her face all bousy,^' Comely crinkled, Wondrously wrinkled. Like a roast pig's ear, 2< Bristled with lM,ir. " The Commendations and the Addition, about 500 lines in all, now follow ; but they mar the poem. 13 Tunning is brewing. For entertaining gossip con- cerning Eleanor see Dyce's notes. Such pictures of tav- ern-haunting women are common in the Middle Ages ; the most powerfully drawn are VTatriquet de Couvin's Trois Dames de Fai-is (c. 1320) in Montaiglon and Ray- naud's Fabliaux, III, 145 ; and Langland's Pzer.; Plow- Tnan, A text, V, 146 f ; the pleasantest is Dunbar's Ballad of Kind Kittok. 1* for Ich will, — with dia- lect form of the pronoun. is wench. i> cross. 1? face. IS as of one that boozes. THE TUNNING OF ELEANOR RUMMING 239 Her nose somedeal hooked, And eamously crooked,^ Never stopping, But ever dropping; 30 Her skin loose and slack, Grained like a sack; With a crooked back. Her eyen goundy ^ Are full unsoundy, For they are bleared; And she gray haired; Jawed like a jetty;' A man would have pity To see how she is gummed, 40 Fingered and thumbed, Gently jointed, Greased and anointed Up to the knuckles ; The bones of her buckles ^ Like as they were with buckles Together made fast: Her youth is far past: Footed like a plane,'" Legged like a crane; 50 And yet she will jet,' Like a jolly fet,' In her furred flocket,' And gray russet rocket,' With simper the cocket.^" Her huke ^i of Lincoln green. It had been hers, I ween, More than fourty year; And so doth it appear, For the green bare threads 60 Look like sere weeds. Withered like hay, The wool worn away; And yet I dare say She thinketh herself gay Upon the holy day. Whan she doth her array, And girdeth in her gytes 1^ Stitched and pranked with pleats; Her kirtle Bristow red, 70 With cloths upon her head That weigh a sow'^ of lead, Writhen " in wonder wise. After the Saracens' guise, With a whim wham, Enit with a trim tram, > pug. Skelton himBelf may have had auch a nose. See WorkSt vol. i, p. xlviii, n. 2. 2 gummy, bleared, s That is, projecting. * hips. ^ That is, flat-footed. 8 strut. ' smart young thing. 8 sleeved cloak. B mantle. ^0 Like a flirt. 11 cape. is dresses. 1' Weighingaboutthreehundred pounds, i* Twisted. Upon her brain pan. Like an Egyptian,^^ Capped about : Whan she goeth out 80 Herself for to shew, She driveth down tbe dew With a pair of heels As broad as two wheels; She hobbles as a goose With her blanket hose Over the fallow; Her shoon smeared with tallow, Greased upon dirt That baudeth ^^ her skirt. 90 Primus passus And this comely dame, I understand, her name Is Eleanor Humming, At home in her wonning;" And as men say She dwelt in Sothray,^' In a certain stead Beside Leatherhead. She is a tonnish gib ; ^' The devil and she be sib. 100 But to make up my tale. She breweth noppy ^^ ale. And maketh tlierof port sale ^ To travellers, to tinkers, To sweaters, to swinkers,^ And all good ale drinkers. That will nothing spare, But drink till they stare And bring themself bare. With, Now away the mare, no And let us slay care. As wise as an hare ! Come who so will To Eleanor on the hill. With, Fill the cup, fill, And sit there by still. Early and late ! Thither cometh Kate, Cicely, and Sare, With their legs bare, uo And also their feet Hardly "^ full unsweet; With their heels dagged,^* Their kirtles all to-jagged, Their smocks all to-ragged, " gipsy. i« dirties. i' dwelling. w Surrey, i» stout wench. '» nappy. 21 public sale. 22 workers. 28 Certainly. 24 dirtied. 240 JOHN SKELTON With titters and tatters, Brings dishes and platters, With all their mjght running To Eleanor Ramming, To have of her tunning: 130 She leneth ^ them on the same, And thus beginneth the game. Tertius passus Instead of coin and money, Some bring her a cony, And some a pot with honey. Some a salt, and some a spoon, Some their hose, some their shoon; Some ran a good trot With a skillet or a pot; 250 Some fill their pot full Of good Lemster ^ wool: An huswife of trust, When she is athrust,' Such a web can spin, Her thrift is full thin. Some go straight thider, Be it slaty or slider; ^ They hold the high way, They care not what men say, 260 Be that as be may; Some, loath to be espied. Start in at the back side, Over the hedge and pale. And all for the good ale. Some run till they sweat. Bring with them malt or wheat, And dame Eleanor entreat To birl ^ them of the best. Than cometh another guest; 270 She sweareth by the rood of rest. Her lips are so dry, Without drink she must die ; Therefore fill it by and by,^ And have here a peck of rye. Anon cometh another. As dry as the other, And with her doth bring Meal, salt, or other thing, Her harvest girdle, her wedding ring, To pay for her scot 281 As cometh to her lot. Some ' bringeth her husband's hood. Because the ale is good; Another brought her his cap 1 lendeth. 2 Leominster. 3 athirat. < miry or slippery. 6 pour out. s immediately. 7 Literally, a certain one ; Anglo-Saxon srara. To offer to the ale tap, With flax and with tow; And some brought sour dough ; ^ With hey and with how. Sit we down a row, 290 And drink till we blow, And pipe tyrly tyrlow 1 Some laid to pledge Their hatchet and their wedge. Their heckle ^ and their reel, Their rock,'" their spinning wheel ; And some went so narrow. They laid to pledge their wharrow,'! Their ribskiu '^ and their spindle, Their needle and their thimble: 300 Here was scant thrift Whan they made such shift. Their thrusf was so great, They asked never for meat, But drink, still drink, And let the cat wink. Let us wash our gums From the dry crumbs. Quintus passus But of all this throng One came them among. She seemed half a leech. And began to preach Of the Tuesday in the week Whan the mare doth kick; 450 Of the virtue of an unset leek; Of her husband's breek; " With the feathers of a quail She could to Bordeaux sail; And with good ale barm 1° She could make a charm To help withal a stitch. She seemed to be a witch. Another brought two goslings. That were naughty froslings;'^ 460 She brought them in a wallet. She was a comely callet: " The goslings w^ere untied; Eleanor began to chide, They be wretchcoeks '' thou hast brought. They are sheer shaking nought! '' 8 for leaven. ^ comb for dressing flax. 10 distaff. 11 whirl. 12 leather apron. 13 thirst. i* breech. 15 yeast. 1" worthless shrivelled or frostbitten things. 1' slut. 18 stunted creatures. i" absolutely worth- less. COLIN CLOUT 241 Septimus passus But some then sat right sad That nothing had There of their awn,i Neither gelt ^ nor pawn; 610 Such were there many That had not a penny, But, whan they should walk, Were fain with a chalk To score on the balk. Or score on the tail: " God give it ill hail! For my fingers itch ; I have written too mytch Of this mad mumming. 620 Of Eleanor Rumming, Thus endeth the gest Of this worthy fest. Quod^ Skelton, Laureate. COLIN CLOUT" What can it avail To drive forth a snail, Or to make a sail Of an herring's tail ? To rime or to rail, To write or to indite, Either for delight Or else for despite ? Or books to compile Of divers manner style, 10 Vice to revile And sin to exile ? To teach or to preach. As reason will reach ? Say this, and say that, His head is so fat, He wotteth never what Nor wherof he speaketh; He crieth and he creaketh, He pryeth and he peeketh, jo He chides and he chatters, He prates and he patters. He clitters and he clatters, He meddles and he smatters. He gloses and he flatters; Or if he speak plain, Than he lacketh brain, I own- 2 cash. ' tally. * Quoth. 6 In this worthiest of Skelton's satires Colin Clout is the vagabond spokesman of the oppressed folk against the upstart, worldly bishops and prelates ; the dissolute, irresponsible, cheating nuns, monks, and friars ; and even against the indifferent, slack people and nobles themselves. He is but a fool; Let him go to school. On a three-footed stool 30 That he may down sit, For he lacketh wit; And if that he hit The nail on the head. It standeth in no stead; The devil, they say, is dead, The devil is dead. It may well so be. Or else they would see Otherwise, and flee 40 From worldly vanity. And foul covetousness, And other wretchedness. Fickle falseness. Variableness, With unstableness. And if ye stand in doubt Who brought this rime about, My name is Colin Clout. I purpose to shake out ja All my cunning bag,^ Like a clerkly hag; For though my rime be ragged. Tattered and jagged. Rudely rain-beaten. Rusty and moth-eaten, If ye take well therewith. It hath in it some pith. For, as far as I can see. It is wrong with each degree : 60 For the temporally Accuseth the spiritualty; The spiritual again Doth grudge and complain Upon the temporal men : Thus each of other blether'' The t'one again the t'other: Alas, they make me shudder! For in hoder moder * The Church is put in faut; ' 70 The prelates ben so haut,^" They say, and look so high. As though they woidd fly Above the starry sky. Laymen say indeed How they take no heed Their silly " sheep to feed. But pluck away and pull The fleeces of their wool, Unethes ^ they leave a lock 80 " bag of learning. ? gabble. s hugger-mugger. 8 fault. 10 haughty, n innocent. 12 scarcely. 242 JOHN SKELTON Of wool amonges their flock; And as for their cunning, A glomming ^ and a mumming, And make therof a jape ; ^ They gaspe and they gape All to have promotion, There is their whole devotion, With money, if it will hap, To catch the forked cap : ^ Forsooth they are too lewd 90 To say so, all beshrew'd! What trow ye they say more Of the bishop's lore ? How in matters they be raw; They lumber forth the law. To hearken Jack and Gill, Whan they put up a bill. And judge it as they will, For other men's skill, Expounding out their clausea, 100 And leave their own causes: In their provincial cure. They make but little sure, And meddle '' very light In the Churches right. But ire and venire,^ And solfa so alamire,^ That the praemunire ' Is like to be set afire In their jurisdictions no Through temporal afflictions: ^ Men say they have prescriptions Against spiritual contradictions, Accompting them as fictions. And whiles the heads do this, The remnant is amiss Of the clergy all. Both great and small. I wot never how they wark, But thus the people bark; 120 And surely thus they say. Bishops, if they may. Small houses would keep, But slumber forth and sleep, And assay to creep Within the noble walls Of the king's halls, 1 looking glum. ^ joke. mitre. ^ meddels in the text. B Venire is a writ causing a jury to be summoned. fl the lowest note in a musical scale. ' The designation of a writ instituting proceedings against those who preferred papal jurisdiction to the king's. 8 The gist of these twenty lines appears to be : The bishops neglect their dioceses for private lawsuits, which circumstance is likely to make still more acute the quar- rel over jurisdiction between Henry VIII and the Pope. To fat their bodies full, Their souls lean and dull. And have full little care 130 How evil their sheep fare. The temporality say plain. How bishops disdain Sermons for to make. Of such labour to take; And for to say truth, A great part is for slouth,' But the greatest part Is for they have but small art And right slender cunning 140 Within their heads wonning.^" But this reason they take How they are able to make With their gold and treasure Clerks out of measure. And yet that is a pleasure. How be it some there be, Almost two or three. Of that dignity. Full worshipful clerks, 150 As appeareth by their werks, Like Aaron and Ure,^^ The wolf from the door To werrin '^ and to keep From their ghostly sheep, And their spiritual lambs Sequestered from rams And from the bearded goats With their hairy coats; Set nought by gold ne groats, 160 Their names if I durst tell. But they are loath to mell,^' And loath to hang the bell About the cat's neck, For dread to have a check; They are fain to play deuz deck,i* They are made for the beck.^^ How be it they are good men, Much hearted like an hen: Their lessons forgotten they have 170 That Becket them gave : Thomas manum mittit adfortia, Spernit damna, spernit opprobria. Nulla Thomam frangit injuria.'^ But now every spiritual father, Men say, they had rather 8 sloth. 10 dwelling. 11 "Hur" in Exodus rvii, 10, and not Uriah in 2 Sam. xi — as Dyce has it. 12 guard. 13 meddle. 14 a game of cards or dice. 15 to be at beck and call. 18 Thomas undertakes great things, thoughtless of contumely and injury. No hostility restrains him. COLIN CLOUT 243 Spend much of their share Than to be cumb'red with care: Spend! nay, nay, but spare; For let see who that dare 180 Shoe the mockish mare; They make her wince and kick, But it is not worth a leek: Boldness is to seek The Church for to defend. Take me as I intend. For loath I am to offend In this that I have penned: I tell you as men say ; Amend whan ye may, 190 For, usque ad montem Sare, Men say ye can not appare ; * For some say ye hunt in parks, And hawk on hobby larks," And other wanton warks, Whan the night darks. What hath lay men to do The gray goose for to shoe ? Like hounds of hell. They cry and they yell, 200 How that ye sell The grace of the Holy Ghost: Thus they make their boast Throughout every coast. How some of you do eat In Lenten season flesh meat, Pheasants, partridge, and crane?; Men call you therefor profanes; Ye pick no shrimps nor pranes,* Saltfish, stockfish, nor herring, 210 It is not for your wearing; Nor in holy Lenten season Ye will neither beans ne peasen,^ But ye look to be let loose To a pig or to a goose. Your gorge not endewed^ Without a capon stewed. Thus I, Colin Clout, As I go about. And wandering as I walk, I hear the people talk. 290 Men say, for silver and gold Mitres are bought and sold; 1 Dyce notes that the rime was probably Seir and appeire. For Seir see Joshua it, 10; appare is im- pair. 2 The sense appears to be to sport lasciviously with women. Cf . Magnificence, 1. 1582. A hobby is a small hawk used to chase larks and such. Perhaps we should read hobby-larks. 3 prawns. * peas. 6 Hawking term, " no digestion for you.*' There shall no clergy appose ' A mitre nor a crose,^ But a full purse: A straw for God's curse ! What are they the worse ? For a simoniae Is but a hermoniac ; ^ And no more ye make 300 Of simony, men say. But a child's play. Over this, the foresaid lay Report how the Pope may An holy anker ^ call Out of the stony wall. And him a bishop make. If he on him dare take To keep so hard a rule. To ride upon a mule 310 With gold all betrapped, In purple and pall belapped; Some hatted and some capped, Richly and warm bewrapped, God wot to their great pains, In rochets of fine Ranes,^'' White as morrow's milk; Their tabards ^^ of fine silk. Their stirrups of mixt gold begared ; '^ There may no cost be spared ; 320 Their moiles '^ gold doth eat. Their neighbours die for meat. What care they though Gill sweat, Or Jack of the Noke ? " The poor people they yoke With summons and citations And excommunications, About churches and market: The bishop on his carpet At home full soft doth sit. 330 This is a farly fit.i^ To hear the people jangle,^' How warily they wrangle: Alas, why do ye not handle And them all to-mangle ? " Full falsely on you they lie, And shamefully you ascry,!^ And say as untruly, As the butterfly A man might say in mock 340 Were the weathercock Of the steeple of Paul's; And thus they hurt their souls 6 learning challenge. ' crozier. s Armenian, i.e., heretic ? 8 anchorite, m Rennes linen. " sleeve- less outer garments. 12 adorned. i3 mules. 1* Com- mon men and women. is strange case. lo chatter. i!f thoroughly mangle. is attack. 244 JOHN SKELTON In slandering you for truth: Alas, it is great ruth ! Some say ye sit in thrones, Like princes aquilonis,^ And shrine your rotten bones With pearls and precious stones; But how the commons groans, 350 And the people moans Por prestes ^ and for loans Lent and never paid, But from day to day delayed. The common wealth decayed. Men say ye are tongue-tayd,' And thereof speak nothing But dissimuling and glosing. Wherfore men be supposing That ye give shrewd counsel 360 Against the common well, By polling * and pillage In cities and village, By taxing and tollage. Ye make monks to have the culerage For covering of an old cottage, That committed is a college In the charter of dotage,' Tenure par servyce de nottage, And not par servyce de socage, 370 After old seignieurs, And the learning of Littleton tenures;' Ye have so overthwarted,' That good laws are subverted, And good reason perverted. Now will I go 830 And tell of other mo, Semper protestando De non impugnando ^ The four orders of friars. Though some of them be liars; As limiters ' at large Will charge and discharge; As many a f rere, God wot, Preaches for his groat, Plattering for a new coat 840 And for to have his fees; 1 of the North, i.e., like Lucifer. 2 forced grants. 3 tongue-tied. * extortion. 5 This obscure passage possibly says : to have the pledge (mod. culrach or culreach?) for the recovery of an old cottage which was given to a religious body by some dotard, the tenure being by folly instead of by the usual socage. — Socage is holding in fee simple by the performance of some economic service, such as paying rent or doing agricultural labor. Littleton (fl. 1450) wrote a Treatise on Tenures. ' opposed (intransitive). 8 Always protesting about not bothering. 8 Friars who beg within a certain defined district. Some to gather cheese; Loath they are to lese i' Either corn or malt; Sometime meal and salt; Sometime a bacon flick,!^ That is three fingers thick Of lard and of grease. Their covent to increase. I put you out of doubt, 850 This can not be brought about But they their tongues file,^ And make a pleasant style To Margery and to Maud, How they have no fraud ; And sometime they provoke Both Gill and Jack at Noke" Their duties to withdraw. That they ought by the law Their curates to content 860 In open time " and in Lent: God wot, they take great pain To flatter and to feign; But it is an old said saw. That need hath no law. Some walk about in melottes,^^ In gray russet and hairy coats ; Some will neither gold ne groats; Some pluck a partridge in remotes,^' And by the bars of her tail 870 Will know a raven from a rail, A quail, the rail, and the old raven Sed libera nos a malo .' i' Amen. And by Dudum, their Clementine,*' Against curates they repine ; And say properly they are sacerdotes, To shrive, assoil, and release Dame Margery's soul out of Hell: But when the frere fell in the well. He could not sing himself thereout 880 But by the help of Christian Clout.^^ Another Clementine ^ also, How frere Pabian, with other mo,''* Exivit de Paradiso ; ^ Whan they again thither shal come, De hoc petimus consilium : ^' i» lose. " flitch. 12 polish. " Cf. 1. 324. 14 time that is not fast-time. 16 hair cloaks. I8 remote spots. 1' Deliver us from evil. IB A decretal of Pope Clement V, beginning " Dudum etc." grants friars the power of absolution and the like. See Dyce's note. 1" Alluding to a popular song which told how a clever maid ducked a lustful friar in a well. 20 Another decretal of Clement. 21 more. The allusion is not obvious. 22 Issued from Paradise. 23 Of this we seek counsel. COLIN CLOUT 24S And through all the world they go With Dirige and Placebo.''- But now my mind ye understand, For they must take in hand 890 To preach, and to withstand All manner of objections; For bishops have protections. They say, to do corrections. But they have no affections To take the said directions; In such manner of cases, Men say, they bear no faces To occupy such places. To sow the seed of graces: 900 Their hearts are so fainted,^ And they be so attainted With covetise ^ and ambition, And other superstition, That they be deaf and dumb. And play silence and glum. Can say nothing but mum. They occupy them so With singing Placebo,'^ They will no farther go: 910 They had lever to please. And take their worldly ease, Than to take on hand Worshipfully to withstand. Such temporal war and bate,^ As now is made of late Against holy Church estate. Or to maintain good quarrels. The lay men call them barrels Full of gluttony 920 And of hypocrisy. That counterfeits and paints As they were very saints: In matters that them like They shew them politic, Pretending gravity And seigniority. With all solemnity, For their indemnity; For they will have no loss 930 Of a penny nor of a cross Of their predial ^ lands. That Cometh to their hands. And as far as they dare set. All is fish that cometh to net; Building royally Their mansions curiously. With turrets and with towers, * With singing masBes for the dead, of which parts begin thus. 2 feigned. 3 covetousneas. * With playing the sycophant. ' debate, fighting. < farm. With halls and with bowers. Stretching to the stars, 940 With glass windows and bars; Hanging about the walls Cloths of gold and palls. Arras of rich array. Fresh as flowers iu May ; With dame Diana naked; How lusty Venus quaked. And how Cupid shaked His dart, and bent his bow For to shoot a crow 950 At her tirly tirlow;^ And how Paris of Troy Daunced a lege de moy,' Made lusty sport and joy With dame Helen the queen; With such stories bidene^ Their chambers well beseen; With triumphs of Caesar, And of Pompeius' war. Of renown and of fame 960 By them to get a name: Now all the world stares. How they ride in goodly chares,^" Conveyed by oliphants,^' With laureat garlands. And by unicorns With their seemly horns; Upon these beasts riding, Naked boys striding. With wanton wenches winking. 970 Now truly, to my thinking. That is a speculation And a meet meditation For prelates of estate. Their courage to abate From worldly wantonness, Their chambers thus to dress With such parfetness ^ And all such holiness ; Howbeit they let down fall 980 Their churches cathedral. Of no good bishop speak I, Nor good priest I escry,i* Good frere, nor good chanon, Good nun, nor good canon noo Good monk, nor good clerk. Nor yet of no good work: But my recounting is Of them that do amiss ^ Cf. Eleanor Rumming, 1.292. Here a wanton allusion. 8 A sort of dance, evidently. 9 withal. 10 chariots. ^ elephants. *2 perfection. 13 attack. 246 JOHN SKELTON In speaking and rebelling, In hindering and disavailing '■ Holy Church, our mother, One against another; To use such despiting Is all my whole writing; mo To hinder no man. As near as I can, For no man have I named: Wherefore should I be blamed ? Ye ought to be ashamed. Against me to be gramed,^ And can tell no cause why, But that I write truly. Then if any there be Of high or low degree 1120 Of the spiritualty, Or of the temporalty That doth think or ween That his conscience be not clean, And feeleth himself sick, Or touched on the quick. Such grace God them send Themself to amend. For I will not pretend Any man to offend. 1130 Wherefore, as thinketh me, Great idiots they be, And little grace they have, This treatise to deprave ; ' Nor will hear no preaching. Not no virtuous teaching, Nor will have no reciting Of any virtuous writing; Will know none intelligence To reform their negligence, U40 But live still out of fashion, To their own damnation. To do shame they have no shame. But they would no man should them blame : They have an evil name, But yet they will occupy the same. With them the word of God Is counted for no rod;'' They count it for a railing. That nothing is availing; 1150 The preachers with evil hailing: ' Shall they daunt us prelates, That be their primates ? Not so hardy on their pates ! Hark, how the losell ^ prates. With a wide wesaunt ! ^ * injuring. « rule? 3 angered. B rascal. 9 defame. B weaBand, throat. Avaunt, Sir Guy of Gaunt.' Avaunt, lewd priest, avaunt ! Avaunt, sir doctor Deuyas ! ^ Prate of thy matins and thy mass, 1160 And let our matters pass : How darest thou, dawcock, mell ? ' How darest thou, losell, AUegate '^ the gospel Against us of the counsel ? Avaunt to the Devil of Hell ! Take him, warden of the Fleet, Set him fast by the feet ! I say. Lieutenant of the Tower, Make this lurdeyne for to lour; 1170 Lodge him in Little Ease,^i Feed him with beans and pease ! The King's Bench ^^ or Marshalsy.i^ Have him thider by and by ! ^^ The villain preacheth openly, And declareth our villany; And of our free simpleness He says that we are reckless, And full of wilfulness. Shameless and merciless, ii8o Incorrigible and insatiate; And after this rate Against us doth prate. 'At Paul's Cross or elsewhere, Openly at Westminster, And Saint Mary Spital," They set not by us a whistle: At the Austin friars ^^ They count us for liars : And at Saint Thomas of Akers 1' 1190 They carp " us like crakers,^' How we will rule at all will Without good reason or skill; And say how that we be Full of partiality ; And how at a prong i' We turn right into wrong, Delay causes so long That right no man can fong;^' They say many matters be borne 1200 By the right of a ram's horn,^i Is not this a shameful scorn, To be teared thus and torn ' Possibly this is a certain Guy whose spirit haunted a town near Ghent. SeeDyce'snote, iii, p. 133. 8 Pos- sibly for deuce-ace, two-one, a poor throw, a worthless fellow. Perhaps devious. " meddle. 10 Allege. 11 A name for an uncomfortable cell as well as for the stocks. 12 All London prisons. i3 immediately. 1* This hospital was in Bishopsgate Ward. " In Broad-Street Ward. 18 Acre. This was a hospital in Cheapside. 17 scold. 18 noisy talkers. '^ pinch. 20 obtain, 21 Borne, i.e., carried out, crookedly. GARLAND OF LAUREL 247 ' How may we this endure ? Wherefore we make you sure, Ye preachers shall he yaw'd; ^ And some shall be saw'd, As noble Isaias, The holy prophet, was; And some of you shall die, 1210 Like holy Jeremy; Some hanged, some slain, Some beaten to the brain; And we will rule and reign. And our matters maintain Who dare say there again. Or who dare disdain At our pleasure and will: For, be it good or be it ill, As it is, it shall be still, 1220 For all master doctor of Civil, Or of Divine, or doctor Drivel, Let him cough, rough,^ or snivel; Run God, run devil, Run who may run best. And let take all the rest ! We set not a nutshell The way to Heaven or to Hell.' Lo, this is the guise nowadays ! It is to dread, men says, 1230 Lest they be Sadducees, As they be said sain ^ Which determined plain We should not rise again At dreadful doomsday; And so it seemeth they play. Which hate to be corrected Whan they he infected. Nor will suffer this book By hook ne by crook 1240 Printed for to be. For that no man should see Nor read in any scrolls Of their drunken noils. Nor of their noddy polls,* Nor of their silly souls. Nor of some witless pates Of divers great estates. As well as other men. Now to withdraw my pen, 1250 And now a while to rest. Me seemeth it for the best. The forecastle of my ship Shall glide, and smoothly slip Out of the waves wod ° Of the stormy flood; 1 hewn to bits. 3 called commonly. 2 For row/, i.e., snore 7 i silly pates. 6 mad. Shoot anchor, and lie at road,' And sail not far abroad, Till the coast be clear. And the lode star appear: 1260 My ship now will I steer Toward the port salu ' Of our Saviour Jesu, Such grace that he us send, To rectify and amend Things that are amiss. When that his pleasure is. Amen ! GARLAND OF LAUREL s To Mistress Isabell Pennell (1. 973) By Saint Mary, my lady. Your mammy and your daddy Brought forth a goodly baby ! My maiden Isabell, Beflaring ^ rosabell. The flagrant 1° camomel; The ruddy rosary," The sovereign rosemary, The pretty strawberry; The columbine, the nepte,*^ 10 The jeloffer ^^ well set, The proper " violet; Enuwid ^ your colour Is like the daisy flower After the April shower; Star of the morrow gray, The blossom on the spray. The freshest flower of May; Maidenly demure. Of womanhood the lure; 20 Wherefore I make you sure, It were an heavenly health. It were an endless wealth, A life for God himself. To hear this nightingale, Among the birdes small, Warbling in the vale. Dug, dug. Jug, jug, Good year and good luck, 30 With ohuk, chuk, chuk, chuk ! B at anchor. ? safe port. 8 The Garland of Laurel (c. 1600 11.) is an elaborate self'laudation, wherein Skelton, Laureate, communes with goddesses and departed worthies about himself and his works. The numerous little lyrical addresses are the pleasantest part of it. 8 Odorous. 10 fragrant. " rose. 12 mint ; also spelt nep, 18 pink, gillyflower. H modest. is Tinted. 248 JOHN SKELTON To Mistress Margaret Hussey (1. looi) Merry Margaret, As midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower; i With solace and gladness, Much mirth and no madness, All good and no badness, So joyously, So maidenly. So womanly Her demeaning In every thing, Far, far passing That I can endite. Or suffice to write Of merry Margaret, As midsummer flower. Gentle as a falcon Or hawk of the tower; As patient and as still, And as full of good will. As fair Isaphill;^ Coliander,^ Sweet pomander,^ Good cassander; ^ Steadfast of thought. Well made, well wrought; Far may be sought Erst ' that ye can find So courteous, so kind As merry Margaret, This midsummer flower, Gentle as falcon Or hawk of the tower. LULLABY With, LuUay, luUay, like a child, Thou sleepest too long, thou art beguiled. 1 high-flying, towering, hawk, 3 Hypsiphyle of Lemnoa, who succoured Jason, See Chaucer's Legend of Good Women. a Coriander. * perfume ball. 6 the herb Cassandra ? b Before. My darling dear, my daisy flower. Let me, quod he, lie in your lap. Lie still, quod she, my paramour, Lie still hardly,' and take a nap. His head was heavy, such was his hap, All drowsy dreaming, drowned in sleep. That of his love he took no keep, With, Hey, lullay, &c. lo With ba, ba, ba, and bas, bas, bas. She cherished^ him both cheek and chin, That he wist never where he was; He had forgotten all deadly sin. He wanted wit her love to win: He trusted her payment, and lost all his pay: She left him sleeping, and stale away. With, Hey, lullay, &o. The rivers rowth,° the waters wan,^" She spared not to wet her feet; 20 She waded over, she found a man That halsed ^'^ her heartily and kissed her sweet: Thus after her cold she caught a heat. My lief, 12 she said, rowteth ^^ in his bed; Iwis 1^ he hath an heavy head, With, Hey, lullay, &c. What dreamest thou, drunkard, drowsy pate ! Thy lust and liking is from thee gone; Thou blinkerd blowbowl,!^ thou wakest too late. Behold, thou liest, luggard, alone ! 30 Well may thou sigh, well may thou groan. To deal with her so cowardly: Iwis, powle-hachet,!^ she blear'd thine eye. Quod Skelton, laureat. ' boldly. 8 kissed him. » rough. '» Wan is a stock adjective with water. n embraced. 12 dear one. 13 snores. i< Certainly. is stupid sot. 16 Apparently " pole-hatchet," i.e., worthless fellow. Of. " hatchet-face." i' deceived you. STEPHEN HAWES THE PASTIME OF PLEASURE {Prom Cap. xiv, A commendation of Gower^ Chaucer^ and especially Lydgate) O THOUGHTFUL herte, tombled all aboute Upon the se of stormy ignoraunce, For to sayle f orthe thou arte in grete doute, Over the waves of grete encombraunce ; Wythout ony eomforte, sauf e of esperaunce, Whiehe the exhorteth hardely to sayle Unto thy purpose wyth diligent travayle. Afrycus' Auster bloweth frowardly Towarde the lande and habitacyon Of thy wel f averde and moost f ayre lady, lo For whose sake and deleetaoyou Thou hast take this occupacyon, Principally ryht well to attayne Her swete rewarde for thy besy payne. O pensyfe herte, in the stormy pery ^ Mercury northwest thou mayst se appere, After tempest to glad thyne emespery; ^ Hoyse ^ up thy sayle, for thou must drawe nere Towarde the ende of thy purpose so clere, Eemembre the of the trace and daunce ^ 20 Of poetes olde wyth all the purveyauuce. As morall Gower, whose sentenoyous dewe Adowne reflayreth^ with fayre golden hemes, And after Chancers all abrode doth shewe, Our vyces to dense; his depared ^ stremes Kyndlynge our hertes wyth the fyry lemes ' Of moral vertue, as is probable In all hys bokes so swete and profytable. The boke of fame, which is sentenoyous, He drewe hym selfe on hys own invencyon; And than the tragidyes so pytous si Of the xix. ladyes,^ was his translacyon; And upon hys ymaginacyon He made also the tales of Cannterbury; Some vertuous, and some glad and mery. 1 gale. 2 hemisphere, sphere, life. ^ The earlier form of our hoist. 4 example and practice. f> distills. » For depiired, i.e., refined? 'rays. * The Legend of Good Women. And of Troylus the pytous dolour For his lady Cresyde, ful of doublenes. He did bewayle ful well the langoure. Of all hys love and grete unhappiness. And many other bokes doubtles 40 He dyd oompyle, whose godly name In printed bokes doth remayne in fame. And, after him, my mayster Lydgate, The monke of Bury, dyd hym wel apply Both to contryve and eke to translate; And of vertue ever in especyally. For he dyd compyle than full nayally ' Of our blessed lady the conversacion, Saint Edmunde's life martred with treson.^" Of the fall of prynces, ryght wofully 50 He did endyte in all piteous wyse, Folowynge his auctoure Bocas rufully;^i A ryght greate boke he did truly compryse, A good eusample for us to dispyse This worlde, so ful of mutabilyte, In whiehe no man can have a certente. And thre reasons ryght greatly profytable Under coloure he cloked craf tely ; And of the chorle he made the fable That shutte the byrde in a cage so closely, 60 The pamflete sheweth it expressely; ^ He fayned also the Courte of Sapyence,^^ And translated wyth all his dylygenoe The grete boke of the last destruccyon Of the cyte of Troye, whylome so fatnous, How for woman was the conf usyon ; And betwene vertue and the lyfe vyoyous Of goddes and goddess, a boke solacyous He did compyle ; and the tyme to passe, Of love he made the bryght Temple of Glasse. 70 B Is this a corruption of some word like royally ? 10 Lydgate composed a Life of the Virgin and several other pieces about and to her and St. Edmund. See the complete list of his works in MacGracken's Minor Poems of Lydgate. 11 Lydgate's Fall of Princes is from Boccaccio^s (Bocas') />e Casihus Virorum lUttstrinm ; and he tells us that he set about his 36,000-line task ruefully. 1! The Churl and the Bird. " The Court of Sapi- ence and The Assembly of Gods (1. 67) maynot be retjly Lydgate's — see MacCraoken, p. xxxv. 25° STEPHEN HAWES Were uot these thre gretly to commende, Whyche them applyed such bokes to con- tryve, Whose famous draughtes ^ no man can amende ? The synne of slouth they dyd from them dryve, After theyr death for to abyde on lyve In worthy fame by many a nacyon, Their bokes theyr actes do make relaoyon. mayster Lydgate, the most dulcet sprynge Of famous rethoryke, wyth balade ryall, The ohefe orygynal of my lernyng, 80 What vayleth ^ it on you for to call Me for to ayde, now in espeoiall ; Sythen your body is now wrapte in chest, 1 pray God to gyve your soule good rest. O what losse is it of suche a one ! It is to grete truely for me to tell; Sythen the tyme that his lyfe was gone, In al this realms his pere did not dwell; Above al other he did so exeell. None sith his time in arte wolde succede, 90 After their death to have fame for their mede. But many a one is ryght well experte In this connyng, but upon auctoryte, They fayne no fables pleasaunt and covert, But spende theyr time in vaynful vanyte, Makynge balades of fervent amyte. As gestes and tryfles wythout frutefulness; Thus al in vayne they spende their besyues. I, lytell or nought expert in poetry, Of my mayster Lydgate wyll folowe the trace, 100 As evermore so his name to maguyfy Wyth suche lytle bokes, by Goddess grace, If in this worlde I may have the space ; The lytell connyng that his grace me sente In tyme amonge in suche wyse shall be spente. And yet nothinge upon presumpcyon My mayster Lydgate I wyll not envy, But all onely is mine entenoyon With suche labour my selfe to occupy; As whyte by blaeke doth shyne more clerely, no So shal theyr matters appeare more pleas- aunt Besyde my draughtes rude and ignoraunt. 1 delineations. s availeth. {From Cap. xvi, of music) She commaunded her mynstrelles right anone to play Mamours ^ the swete and the gentill daunce; With La Bell Pucell, that was fayre and gaye. She me recoramaunded, with all pleasuance. To daunce true measures without varyaunce. Lorde God ! how glad than was I, So for to daunce with my swete lady. % By her propre hande, soft as any sylke. With due obeysaunce I dyd her then take ; Her skymie was white as whales bone ^ or mylke. 10 My thought was ravysshed, I might not aslake ^ My brennynge hert, she the fyre dyd make; These daunces truely musyke hath me tought To lute or daunce, but it avayleth nought: For the fyre kyndled and waxed more and more. The dauncynge blewe it; wyth her beante olere My hert sekened and began to waxe sore ; A mynute vi. houres, and vi. houres a yere, 1 thought it was, so hevy was my chere; But yet for cover my great love aryght, 20 The outwarde couutenaunee I made glad and light. And for fere myne eyes should my hert be- wray, I toke my leve and to a temple wente, And all alone I to my selfe dyd saye: Alas ! what fortune hath me hyther sente. To devoyde * my joye and my hert torment; No man can tell howe great payne it is, But yf he vryll fele it, as I do yvrys. {From Cap. xviii. Of the dolorous and lowly disputacton betwene La Bel Pucell and Graund- amoure.) Than forth so went Good Counsell and I, At vi. a clocke, unto a garden fayre ; By Musykes toure walked most goodly. Where La Bell Pucell used to repayre In the swete mornyng for to take the ayre Among the floures of aromatyke fume, The mysty ayre to exyle and consume. 8 The name of a tune ? * ivory — originally from the tusks of the walrus. c quench, a lose. THE PASTIME OF PLEASURE 251 And at the gate we met the portresse, That was right gentill, aud called Cur- Whych salued ^ us wyth wordes of meke- nesse, 10 And axed us the veraye cause and why Of our comynge to the gardeine sothely ? Truly, saide we, for nothyng but well, A lytel to speke with La Bell Pucell. Truly, quod she, in the garden grene Of many a swete and sundry floure She maketh a garlonde that is veray shene; ^ Wyth true-loves ' wrought in many a col- oure, Replete with swetenes and dulcet odoure; And all alone, wythout company, 20 Amyddes an herber ^ she sitteth plesauntly. Nowe stande you styl for a lytle space, I wyll let her of you have knowledgynge. And ryght auone she went to her grace, Tellyng her than how we were comynge, To speke wyth her gretly desyrynge. Truly, she sayd, I am right well content Of theyr comyng to know the hole entent. Then good Curteysy, wythout taryenge, Came unto us wyth all her diligence, 30 Prayeng us to take our entryng And come unto the ladies preeeuce, To tell our erande to her excellence. Than in we wente to the garden gloryous, Lyke to a place of pleasure most solaoyous. Wyth Flora paynted and wrought cury- ously, In divers knottes of marvaylous gretenes; Eampande lyons stode up wondersly, Made all of herbes with dulcet swetenes, 39 Wyth many dragons of marvaylos likenes, Of dyvers floures made ful craftely, By Flora oouloured wyth colours sundry. Amiddes the garden so moche delectable There was an herber fayre and quadrante,^ To paradyse right well comparable. Set all about with flours fragraunt; And in the myddle there was resplendy- shaunte A dulcet spring and a marvaylous foun- taine, Of golde and asure made all certaine. 1 saluted. 2 splendid. s the plant so called i arbor or garden. ^ square. In wouderfuU and curious similitude 50 There stode a dragon, of f yne golde so pure, Upon his tayle of myghty fortitude. Wretched and skaled al wyth asure ; Havyng thre hedes divers in fygure, Whych in a bathe of the sylver grette Spouted the water that was so dulcette. Besyde whiche fountayne, the moost fayre lady La Bel Piicel was galy syttyng; Of many floures fayre and ryally A goodly chaplet she was in makynge. 60 Her heer was downe so clerely shynynge, Lyke to the golde late purifyed with fyre, Her heer was bryght as the drawne wyre. Lyke to a lady for to be moost trewe, She ware a fayre and goodly garment, Of most fyne velvet, al of Lidy blewe, Wyth armynes powdred bordred at the vent." On her fayre handes, as was convenient, A payre of gloves ryght sclender and softe. In approchyng nere I did beholde her oft. '" And whan that I came before her presence. Unto the ground I dyd knele adowne; Sayeng: O lady ! moost fayre of excellence, O store so clere of vertuous renowne ! Whose beaute fayre in every reabne and towne, Indued wyth grace and also wyth goodnes. Dame Fame the her selfe doth evermore expresse. Amour e Please it your grace for to gyve audyenoe Unto my wof uU and pitous complaynte ; How fervent love, wythout resystence, 80 My careful herte hath made low and faynte. And you therof are the hole oonstraynt; Your beauty truly hath me fettered faste, Wythout your helpe my life is nere-hand paste.' Pucell Stande up, quod she; I marvayle of this cace. What sodayne love hath you so arayde Wyth so great payne your heart to em- brace ? 6 Bordered at the openings with a line of the heraldic ermine tails; or perhaps better — dotted with heraldic ermine tails (sometimes white, but more properly black), and embroidered at the openings. I nearly passed. 252 STEPHEN HAWES And why for me ye should be so dismayde ? As of your lyfe ye nede not to be afrayde. For ye of me now have no greater awe, 90 But whan ye lyst ye may your love wyth- draw. Amoure Than stode I up, and right so did she, Alas ! I sayd than, my heart is so set. That it is yours, it may none other be; Your selfe hath caught it m so sure a net, That if that I may not your favour get, No doubt it is, the great payne of love May not aswage tyl death it remove. Pucell Truely, quod she, I am obedient Unto my frendes whych do me so guyde; They shal me rule as is convenient, loi In the snare of love I wyl nothyng slyde. My ehaunce or fortune I wyll yet abide. I thanke you for your love right humbly, But I your cause can nothing remedy. Amoure I knowe, madame, that your frendes all Unto me sure wyll be contraryous; But what for that ? your selfe in speciall Remembre there is no love so joyous As is your owne to you most precyous; no Wyll you gyve your youthe and your flour- ynge aege To them agaynst your mynde in maryage ? Pucell Agaynst my mynde, of that I were lothe, To wed for fere, as thera to obey; Yet had I lever they were somwhat wrothe, For 1 my selfe do here the locke and kaye Yet of my mynde, and wyll do many a Myne owne I am, what that I lyste to do I stand untyed, there is no joye therto. Amoure O swete lady ! the good perfyte sterre 120 Of my true herte, take ye now pyte; Thynke on my payne whiche am tofore you here, Wyth your swete eyes beholde you and se. How thought and wo, by great extremyte, Hath chaunged my hue into pale and wanne: It was not so whan 1 to love began. Pucell So, me thynke, it doth right well appere By your coloure that loye hath done you wo; Your hevy countenaunce and your doIefuU chere; 129 Hath love suche myght for to aray you so In so short a space ? I marvayle moche also That ye wolde love me so sure in oertayne. Before ye knewe that I wolde love agayne ? Amoure My good dere herte I it is no mervayle why; Your beaute cleare and lovely lokes swete My herte dyde perce with love so sodaynly At the fyrste tyme that I dyde you mete; In the olde temple whan I dyde you grete, Your beaute my herte so surely assayde, 139 That syth that tyme it hath to you obayde. {Prom Cap. xix. How La Bell Pucell Graunted Graund Amoure Love^ and of her Dispiteous Departage^) Your wo and payne, and all your languish- ynge. Continually ye shall not spende in vayne, Sythen I am cause of your great mornynge, Nothynge exyle you shall I by dysdayue; Youre hert and myne shall never parte in twayne : Though at the fyrste I wolde not conde- scende, It was for fere ye dyde some yll entende. A moure With thought of yll my minde was never myxte, To you, madame, but alway clene and pure, Bothe daye and nyght upon you hole per- fyxte.^ 10 But I my mynde yet durst nothynge dis- cure,* How for your sake I dyd suche wo endure, Tyll now this houre with dredfull hert so faynt To you, swete herte, I have made my oom- playnt. Pucell I domed ofte you loved me before. By your demenour I dyde it aspye, And in my mynde I juged evermore 1 merciless departure. t quite fixed. 3 diaclose. THE PASTIME OF PLEASURE 253 That at the laste ye wolde full secretly Tell me your mynde of love right gen- tilly; As ye have done, so my merey to crave, 20 In all worshyppe you shal my true love have. Amoure Lorde God ! than how joyfuU was I ! She loked on me wyth lovely contenaunce; 1 kyst her ones or twise right swetely; Her depured ^ vysage, replete with pleas- aunce, Rejoyeed my heart with amerous purve- aunce. O lady clere ! that perste "^ me at the rote, O floure of comforte, all my hele and bote! O gemnie of vertue, and lady excellent! Above all other in beauteous goodlynesse ! O eyen bright as sterre refulgent, 31 profounde cause of all my sekenesse, Now all my joye and all my gladues, Wolde God that we were joyned in one, In maryage, before this day were gone. Pucell A, a! sayd she, ye must take a payne a whyle; 1 must depart, by the compulcyon Of my frendes, I wyl not you begyle. Though they me led to a ferre ^ nacion, My heart shall be without variacion 40 Wyth you present, in perfite sykernes, As true and stable without doublenes. To me to come is harde and daimgerous, When I am there; for gyauntes ugly, Wyth two monstres also, blacke and tedy- ous. That by the waye awayte full cruelly For to distroye you yll and utterly. Whan you that way do take the passage, To attayne my love by hye advauutage. (Prom Cap, xxvii. King Melezius defines Knighthood^ Knighthode, he sayd, was first established The comenwelth in right to defende, That by the wrong it be not minished ; So every knight did truely oondiscende, For the eomynwelth his power to entende 1 pure, clear. ' pierced. 3 far. Ageynst all suche rebelles contrarious, Them to subdue with power victorious. For knighthode is not in the feates of warre, As for to flght in quarell right or wronge, But in a cause which trouth can not de- f arre ; * 10 He ought himselfe for to make sure and stronge Justice to kepe mixt with mercy amonge; And no quarell a knight ought to take, But for a trouth or for the coinins '' sake. For fyrst, good hope his legge barneys sholde be; His habergion of perfyte ryghtwysenes; Gyrde faste wyth the gyrdle of chastite, His riche placarde * should be good besi- nes, Brandred' with almes so full of larges; The helmet mekenes, and the shelde good fayth; 20 His swerde Goddes worde, as saynt Poule sayth. Also true wyddowes he ought to restore Unto their right for to attayne theyr dower. And to upholde and mainteyne evermore The welth of maydens with his myghty power. And to his soverayne, at every maner hower, To be redy, true, and eke obeysaunt. In stable love fixt and not variaunt. {Prom Cap, xxix, Howe he departed from Kynge Melyzyus, with his Grayhoundes and AU tendaunce, his Variety and met with false reporte^ that chaunged his name to Godfrey GoMlyve.^) And so forth we rode, tyll we sawe aferre To us came rydyng, on a lytell nagge, A folysshe dwarfe, nothynge for the warre. With a hood, a bell, a foxtayle, and a bagge; In a pyed cote he rode brygge a bragge ; ' And whan that he unto us drewe nye, I behelde his body and his visnamy.i" « defer. B commons'. 8 breastplate. T i^obably we should read braudred = embroidered, embossed, adorned. See branderer in the New English Dictionary. 8 Godfrey Hurry-Up or Quickstep. This vulgar, realistic genre-picture, reminding one of Langland and Skelton and the Moralities, occurs oddly in the gentle beauty of The Pastime, Notice the change of metre, on page 254, — from stanzas to couplets. " swaggeringly ? n> physiognomy, face. 254 STEPHEN HAWES His head was greate, beteled was his browes, Hys eyes holow, and his nose croked; His bryes ^ brystled truely lyke a sowes; lo His chekes here,^ and God wote he loked Full lyke an ape ; here and there he toted ' With a pyed berde and hangyng lyppes grete, And every tothe as blacke as ony gete.^ His necke shorte, his sholders stode awry, His breste fatte, and bolne^ in the wast: His armes great, with fyngers crokedly; His legges kewed;^ he rode to me fast, Full lyke a patron ' to be shaped in hast. ' Good even,' he sayd, ' and have good day, 20 If that it lyke you for to ryde merely.' ' Welcome,' I sayde; ' I praye the now tell Me what thou arte and where thou dost dwell.' ' Sothelyche,' quod he, ' whan Icham ' in Kent At home Icham; though I be hether sente, Icham a gentlyman of much noble kynne, Though Iche be clad in a knaves skynne. For there was one called Peter Pratefast, That in all hys lyfe spake no worde in waste ; He wedde a wyfe that was called Maude.' 30 ' I trowe,' quod I, ' she was a gorgious baude.' ' Thou lyest,' quod he, ' she was gentyl and good, She gave her husbande many a furde hode,° And at his melys, without any mys, She wolde him serve in clenly wyse ywys. God love her soule as she loved clennes. And kepe her dysshes from al foulnes. Whan she lacketh oloutes, without any fayle She wyped her disshes wyth her dogges tayle. And they had yssue Sym Sadie-gander, 40 That for a wyfe in all the worlde did wan- der, Tyll at the last, in the wynters nyght, By Temmes he sayled, aryved by ryght, Amonge the nunnes of the grene cote.^" He wente to land out of his prety bote, 1 eyebrows. 2 hairy. ' peered. * jet. s Bwollen, i.e., he was pot-bellied. 6 meaning uncertain, perhaps askew, bowed. 7 pattern. ^ I am. This is Kentish dialect. " furred hood, i.e., hoodwinked him. w courtesans. And wedde there one that was comen anewe: '^ He thought her stable, and fayfthf uU, and trewe. Her name was Betres, that so clenly was, That no fylthe by her in any wyse shoulde passe. And betwene them bothe they did get a Sonne, 50 Whiche was my father, that in Kente did wonne.^ His name was Davy Dronken-nole ; He never dranke but in a fayre blacke boule. He toke a wyfe that was very fayre, And gate me on her for to be his ayre. Her name was Alyson, she loved nought elles But ever more to rynge her blacke belles. '^ Now are they deade all, so mote I well thryve, Excepte my selfe Godfray Gobelive, Whiche rode aboute, a wyfe me to seke, 60 But I can finde none that is good and meke; For all are shrewes in the world aboute, I coude never mete with none other route; For some develles wyll their husbandes bete, And tho that can not, they wyll never let Their tongues cease, but gyve thre wordea for one, Fy on them all! I wyll of them have none: Who loveth any for to make hym sadde, I wene that he become worse than madde. They are not stedfast nothying in their mynde, 70 But alway tornyng lyke a Waste of wynde. For let a man love them never so wele, They will hym love agayne never a dele. For though a man all his lyfe oertayne Unto her sue to have release of payne, And at the last she on hym do rewe, If by fortune there come another newe, The first shall be clene out of her favoure. Reoorde of Creseyd and of Troylus the doloure. They are so subtyll and so false of kynde, 80 There can no man wade beyonde their mynde. II common enough. i3 dwell. ^^ Meaning doubtful. THE EXCUSATION OF THE AUCTOUR 25s {Prom Cap. xHi, Graund Amours Epitaph) O mortall folke ! you may beholde and se Howe I lye here, sometime a myghty knyghtj The eud of joye and all prosperite Is death at last, through his course and myght; After the day there eometh the derke night; For though the day be never so longe, At last the belles ringeth to evensonge. And my selfe called La Graunde Amoure, Seking adventure in the worldly glory. For to attayne the riches and honour, 10 Did thinke full lytle that I should here lye, Tyll deth dyde marke me full ryght pry- vely. Lo what I am ! and whereto you must ! Lyke as I am so shall you be all dust. Than in your mynde inwardly despyse The bryttle worlde, so full of doublenes. With the vyle flesshe, and ryght sone aryse Out of your slepe of mortall hevynes; Subdue the devUl with grace and meke- nes. That after your lyfe frayle and transitory, zo You may then live in joye perdurably. THE EXCUSATION OF THE AUCTOUR Unto all Poetes I do me excuse. If that I offende for lacke of science ; This lyttle boke yet do ye not refuse, Though it be de voyde of famous eloquence ; Adde or detra^ by your hye sapience; And pardon me of my hye enterpryse, Whiche of late this fable dyd fayne and devise. Go, little boke I I praye God the save From misse-metrying by wrong impression; And who that ever list the for to have, 10 That he perceyve well thyne intencion. For to be grounded without presumption, As for to eschue the synne of ydlenes; To make suohe bokes I apply my busines. Besechyng God for to geve me grace Bokes to compyle of moral vertue; Of my maister Lidgate to folowe the trace. His noble fame for laude and renue,^ Whiche in his lyfe the slouthe did eschue; Mafcyng great bokes to be in memory, 20 On whose soule I pray God have mercy. Finis 1 take away. z The line appears corrupt. One might supply to before laude. BALLADS LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF- KNIGHT 1 Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sew- ing, Aye as the gowans ^ grow gay; There she heard an elf-knight blawing his horn. The first morning in May. 2 'If I had yon horn that I hear blawing, And yon elf-knight to sleep in my bosom.' 3 This maiden had scarcely these words spoken. Till in at her window the elf-knight has luppen.^ 4 ' It 's a very strange matter, fair maiden,' said he, 9 ' I canna blaw my horn but ye call on me. 5 ' But will ye go to yon greenwood side ? If ye canna gang,^ I will cause you to ride.' 6 He leapt on a horse, and she on another, And they rode on to the greenwood to- gether. 7 ' Light down, light down, lady Isabel,' said he, 'We are come to the place where ye are to die.' 8 ' Hae mercy, hae mercy, kind sir, on me, Till ance my dear father and mother I see.' 9 ' Seven king's-daughters here hae I slain, And ye .shall be the eight o them.' ao 10 ' O sit down a while, lay your head on my knee, That we may hae some rest before that I die.' > daisies. ' leaped. > walk. 11 She stroak'd him sae fast, the nearer he did creep, Wi a sma charm she lulld him fast asleep. 12 Wi his ain sword-belt sae fast as she ban^ him, Wi his ain dag-durk^ sae sair as she dang ^ him. 13 ' If seven king's-daughters here ye hae slain, Lye ye here, a husband to them a'.' THE DOUGLAS TRAGEDY' 1 ' KlSE up, rise >ip, now, Lord Douglas,' she says, ' And put on your armour so bright, Let it never be said that a daughter of thine Was married to a lord under night. 2 ' Kise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, And put on your armour so bright, And take better care of your youngest sister, For your eldest 's awa the last night.' 3 He 's mounted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey, lo With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And lightly they rode away. 4 Lord William lookit oerhis left shoulder, To see what he could see, And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold, Come riding over the lee. 5 ' Light down, light down, Lady Mar- gret,' he said, ' And hold my steed in your hand, * bound. s dagger. o stabbed. ' Also called Earl Brand, THE TWA SISTERS 257 Until that against your seven brethren bold, And your father I mak a stand.' 20 6 She held hia steed in her milk-white hand, And never shed one tear. Until that she saw her seven brethren fa. And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear. 7 ' O hold your hand, Lord William I ' she said, ' For your strokes they are wondrous sair; True lovers I can get many a ane. But a father I can never get mair.' 8 O she 's taen out her handkerchief. It was o the hoUand sae fine, 30 And aye she dighted her father's bloody wounds. That were redder than the wine. 9 ' chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,' he said, ' O whether will ye gang or bide ? ' ' I '11 gang, I '11 gang. Lord William,' she said, ' For ye have left me no other guide.' 10 He 's lifted her on a milk-white steed, And himself on a dapple grey. With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, And slowly they baith rade away. 40 11 O they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon. Until they came to yon wan water, And there they lighted down. 12 They lighted down to tak a drink Of the spring than ran sae clear, And down the stream ran his gude heart's blood. And sair she gan to fear. 13 ' Hold up, hold up, Lord William,' she says, ' For I fear that you are slain; ' 50 "Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain.' 14 they rade on, and on they rade, And a' by the light of the moon. Until they cam to his mother's ha door, And there they lighted down. 15 ' Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, ' Get up, and let me in ! Get up, get up, lady mother,' he says, ' For this night my fair lady I 've win. 60 16 ' mak my bed, lady mother,' he says, ' O mak it braid and deep, And lay lady Margret close at my back. And the sounder I will sleep.' 17 Lord William was dead lang ere mid- night, Lady Margret lang ere day, And all true lovers that go thegither. May they have mair luck than they ! 18 Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk. Lady Margret in Mary's quire; 70 Out o the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose. And out the knight's a brier. 19 And they twa met, and they twa plat,i And fain they wad be near; And a' the warld might ken right weel They were twa lovers dear. 20 But bye and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough ! For he pulld up the bonny brier. And fiang 't in St. Mary's Loch. go THE TWA SISTERS 1 There was twa sisters in a bowr, Edinburgh, Edinburgh, There was twa sisters in a bowr, Stirling for ay. There was twa sisters in a bowr. There came a knight to be their wooer. Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay. 2 He courted the eldest wi glove an ring, But he lovd the youngest above a' thing. 1 pleated, entwined. 2s8 BALLADS 3 He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife, lo But lovd the youngest as his life. 4 The eldest she was vexed sair, An much envi'd her sister fair. 5 Into her bowr she could not rest, Wi grief an spite she almos brast.^ 6 Upon a morning fair an clear. She cried upon her sister dear: 7 ' O sister, come to yon sea stran, An see our father's ships come to Ian.' 8 She 's taen her by the milk-white ban. An led her down to yon sea stran. 21 9 The younges[t] stood upon a stane, The eldest came an threw her in. 10 She tooke her by the middle sma, An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.* 11 ' O sister, sister, tak my han. An Ise ' mack you heir to a' my Ian. 12 ' O sister, sister, tak my middle, An yes ^ get my goud and my gouden girdle. 13 ' O sister, sister, save my life, 30 An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife.' 14 ' Foul fa the han that I should tacke. It twin'd me an my wardles make.' 15 ' Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair Gars me gae maiden for evermair.' 16 Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam. Till she came down yon bonny milldam. 17 O out it came the miller's son. An saw the fair maid swimmin in. 18 ' O father, father, draw your dam, 40 Here 's either a mermaid or a swan.' 19 The miller quickly drew the dam. An there he found a drownd woman. 1 burst. < ye shall. s wares. > I shall. fi world's mate. 20 You coudna see her yallow hair For gold and pearle that were so rare. 21 You coudna see her middle sma For gouden girdle that was sae braw. 22 You coudna see her fingers white, For gouden rings that was sae gryte.' 23 An by there came a harper fine, 50 That harped to the king at dine. 24 When he did look that lady upon, He sighd and made a heavy moan. 25 He 'staen three locks o her yallow hair, An wi them strung his harp sae fair. 26 The first tune he did play and sing. Was, ' Farewell to my father the king.' 27 The nextin tune that he playd syne,' Was, ' Farewell to my mother the queen.' 28 The lasten tune that he playd then, 60 Was, ' Wae to my sister, fair EUeu.' THE CRUEL BROTHER 1 There was three ladies playd at the ba. With a hey ho and a liUie gay, There came a knight and played oer them a'. As the primrose spreads so sweetly. 2 The eldest was baith tall and fair. But the youngest was beyond compare. 3 The midmost had a graceful mien. But the youngest lookd like beautie's queen. 4 The knight bowd low to a' the three. But to the youngest he bent his knee. 10 5 The ladie turned her head aside. The knight he woo'd her to be his bride. 6 The ladie blushd a rosy red, And sayd, ' Sir knight, I 'm too young to wed.' ' great. ' aiter. EDWARD 259 7 * O ladie fair, give me your hand, And I '11 make you ladie of a' my land.' 8 ' Sir knight, ere ye my favor win, You maun get consent frae a' my kin.' 9 He 's got consent frae her parents dear, And likewise frae her sisters fair. 20 10 He 's got consent frae her kin each one. But forgot to spiek to her brother John. 11 Now, when the wedding day was come, The knight would take his bonny bride home. 12 And many a lord and many a knight Came to behold that ladie bright. 13 And there was nae man that did her see But wishd himself bridegroom to be. 14 Her father dear led her down the stair, And her sisters twain they kissd her there. 30 15 Her mother dear led her thro the closs,^ And her brother John set her on her horse. 16 She leand her oer the saddle-bow, To give him a kiss ere she did go. 17 He has taen a knife, baith lang and sharp, And stabbd that bonny bride to the heart. 18 She hadno ridden half thro the town, Until her heart's blude staind her gown. 19 'Ride softly on,' says the best young man, 'For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.' 40 20 ' O lead me gently up yon hill. And I '11 there sit down, and make my will.' 21 ' O what will you leave to your father dear ? ' 'The silver-shode steed that brought me here.' > close, court-yard. 22 ' What will you leave to your mother dear ? ' ' My velvet pall and my silken gear.' 23 ' What will you leave to your sister Anne ? ' 'My silken scarf and my gowden fan.' 24 ' What will you leave to your sister Grace?' • My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.' 50 25 ' What will you leave to your brother John?' ' The gallows-tree to hang him on.' 26 ' What will you leave to your brother John's wife ? ' ' The wilderness to end her life.' 27 This ladie fair in her grave was laid, And many a mass was oer her said. 28 But it would have made your heart right sair. To see the bridegroom rive his haire. EDWARD 1 ' Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid, Edward, Edward? Why dois your brand sae drap wi bluid. And why sae sad gang yee O ? ' 'O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my hauke sae guid, And I had nae mair hot hee O.' 2 ' Your hankis bluid was nevir sae reid, Edward, Edward, Your haukis bluid was nevir sae reid. My deir son I tell thee O.' 12 ' O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my reid-roan steid, That erst was sae fair and frie O.' 3 'Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair, Edward, Edward, Your steid was auld, and ye hae gat mair. Sum other dule ^ ye drie ' 0.' 20 I grief. ■ Buffer. 26o BALLADS ' O I hae killed my fadir deir, Mither, mither, O I hae killed my fadir deir, Alas, and wae is mee O 1 ' 4 ' And whatten penance wul ye drie for that, Edward, Edward? And whatten penance will ye diie for that? My deir son, now tell me O.' ' He set my f eit in yonder boat, Mither, mither, 30 lie set my feit in yonder boat, And He fare ovir the sea O.' 5 ' And what wul ye doe wi your towirs and your ha, Edward, Edward? And what wul you doe wi your towirs and your ha, That were sae fair to see O ? ' ' He let thame stand tul they doun fa, Mither, mither. He let thame stand till they down fa. For here nevir mair maun I bee O.' 40 6 ' And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward ? And what wul ye leive to your bairns and your wife. Whan ye gang ovir the sea O ? ' ' The warldis room, late them beg thrae life, Mither, mither, The warldis room, late them beg thrae life. For thame nevir mair wul I see O.' 7 'And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir, Edward, Edward ? And what wul ye leive to your ain mither deir ? 5, My deir son, now tell me O.' ' The curse of hell frae me sail ye beir, Mither, mither, The curse of hell frae me sail ye beir, Sic counseils ye gave to me O.' BABYLON; OR, THE BONNIE BANKS O FORDIE 1 There were three ladies lived in a bower, Eh vow bonnie. And they went out to pull a ilower, On the bonnie banks o Fordie. 2 They hadna pu'ed a flower but ane. When up started to them a banisht man. 3 He 's taen the first sister by her hand, And he 's turned her round and made her stand. 4 'It's whether will ye be a rank rob- ber's wife. Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ' 10 5 ' It 's I '11 not be a rank robber's wife. But I '11 rather die by your wee pen- knife.' 6 He 's killed this may, and he 's laid her For to bear the red rose company. 7 He 's taken the second ane by the hand. And he 's turned her round and made her stand. 8 'It's whether will ye be a rank rob- ber's wife, Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife ? ' 9 ' I '11 not be a rank robber's wife. But I '11 rather die by your wee pen- knife.' 20 10 He 's killed this may, and he 's laid her by. For to bear the red rose company. 11 He's taken the youngest ane by the hand. And he 's turned her round and made her stand. 12 Says, ' Will ye be a rank robber's wife. Or will ye die by my wee pen-knife 1 ' 13 ' I '11 not be a rank robber's wife. Nor will I die by your wee pen-knife. HIND HORN 261 14 ' For I hae a brother in this wood, Aud gin ye kill me, it 's he '11 kill thee.' 30 15 'What's thy brother's name? come tell to me.' • My brother's name is Baby Lon.' 16 ' O sister, sister, what have I done! O have I done this ill to thee! 17 ' O since I 've done this evil deed, Good sail never be seen o me.' 18 He 's taken out his wee pen-knife, And he's twyned^ himsel o his aiu sweet life. HIND HORN 2 1 In Scotland there was a babie born, And his name it was called young Hind Horn. Lilie lal, etc. With a fal lal, etc. 2 He sent a letter to our king That he was in love with his daughter Jean. 3 He 's gien to her a silver wand. With seven living lavrocks' sitting thereon, 4 She 's gien to him a diamond ring, With seven bright diamonds set therein. 5 ' When this ring grows pale and wan, 10 You may know by it my love is gaue.' 6 One day as he looked his ring upon. He saw the diamonds pale and wan. 7 He left the sea and came to land, And the first that he met was an old D'ar man. 8 'What news, what news,' said yoimg Hind Horn; ' No news, no news,' said the old beg- gar man. 1 deprived. 8 An ancient and widespread story having some connection with the Middle-English romance, The Gest of King Horn. See Professor Child's remarlis, Eng- lish arid Scottish Popular Ballads^ Part i, 201. • larks. 9 'No news,' said the beggar, 'no news at a'. But there 's a wedding in the king's ha. 10 ' But there is a wedding in the king's ha, >a That has halden these forty days and twa.' 11 ' Will ye lend me your begging coat ? And I '11 lend you my scarlet cloak. 12 ' Will you lend me your beggar's rung * ? And I 'U gie you my steed to ride upon. 13 ' Will you lend me your wig o hair, To cover mine, because it is fair ? ' 14 The auld beggar man was bound for the mill, But young Hind Horn for the king's hall. 15 The auld beggar man was bound for to ride, 30 But young Hind Horn was bound for the bride. 16 When he came to the king's gate, He sought a drink for Hind Horn's sake. 17 The bride came down with a glass of wine, When he drank out the glass, aud dropt in the ring. 18 ' O got ye this by sea or land ? Or got ye it off a dead man's hand 1 ' 19 ' I got not it by sea, I got it by land, And I got it, madam, out of your own hand.' 20 ' I '11 cast off my gowns of brown, 40 And beg wi you frae town to town. 21 ' O I '11 cast off my gowns of red. And I '11 beg wi you to win my bread.' 22 ' Ye needna cast off your gowns of brown. For I '11 make you lady o many a town. • staff. 262 BALLADS 23 ' Ye needna cast off your gowns of red, It's only a sham the beggingomy bread.' 24 The bridegroom he had wedded the bride, But young Hind Horn he took her to bed. KING ORFEQi 1 Deb lived a king inta da aste,'' Scowan iirla griin.* Der lived a lady in da wast.^ Whar giorten han griin oarlac' 2 Dis king he has a huntin gaen He 's left his Lady Isabel alane. 3 ' Oh I wis ye 'd never gaen away, For at your hame is dbl ^ an wae. 4 ' For da king o Ferrie we his daert, Has pierced your lady to da hert.' lo 5 And aifter dem da king has gaen, But whan he cam it was a grey atane. 6 Dan he took oot his pipes ta play, Bit sair his hert wi dol an wae. 7 And first he played da notes o noy, An dan he played da notes o joy. 8 An dan he played da god gabber reel,' Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. 9 ' Noo come ye in inta wir ' ha, An come ye in among wis ^ a'.' 20 10 Now he 's gane in inta der ha. An he 's gane in among dem a'. 11 Dan he took out his pipes to play, Bit sair his hert wi dol an wae. 12 An first he played da notes o noy. An dan he played da notes o joy. 13 An dan he played da god gabber reel, Dat meicht ha made a sick hert hale. 1 This ballad from the Shetland Islands tells the strangely modified story of Orpheus and Eurydice ; yet it is not so very unlike the medJEBval version, King Orpheo, a beautiful romance, printed in Ritson's Met- rical Romances, u, 248 ; and turned into modern verses by B. E. Hunt, Cambridge, Mass., 1909. 3 east. 3 The Scandinavian refrain is practically meaningless. * west. 6 grief. The good gabber reel is some lively tune. ' our. 8 us. 14 ' Noo tell to us what ye will hae : What sail we gie you for your play ? ' 30 16 ' What I will hae I will you tell, An dat 's me Lady Isabel.' 16 'Yees tak your lady, an yees gaeng hame, An yees be king ower a' your ain.' 17 He 's taen his lady, an he 's gaen hame. An noo he 's king ower a' his ain. ST. STEPHEN AND HEROD » 1 SETira Stevene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle. And servyd him of bred and clo}>,w as every kyng befalle. 2 Stevyn out of kechone ^^ cam, wyth boris hed on honde; He saw a sterre was fayr and bryjt over Bedlem stonde. 3 He kyst adoun Tpe boris hed and went in to }>e halle: ' I f orsak fe, kyng Herowdes, and f i werkes alle. 4 'I forsak ]>e, hjng Herowdes, and J>i werkes alle; per is a ohyld in Bedlem born is beter fan we alle.' 5 ' Quat eylyt ^ ye, Stevene ? quat is fe befalle ? Lakkyt Tpe ^' eyper mete or drynk in kyng Herowdes halle ? ' 10 6 ' Lakit me ney}>er mete ne drynk in kyng Herowdes halle; 'per is a ehyld in Bedlem born is beter fan we alle.' 7 Quat eylyt fe, Stevyn ? art fu wod," or f u gynnyst to brede ? ^^ Lakkyt J>e eyfer gold or f e, or ony ryche wede ? ' * This version is as old asthe fifteenth century. With it may be compared the eighteenth-century carol. The Camel (Crow) and the Crane, No. 55 in the Sargent- Kittredge volume. " cloth, th is written p through- out the ballad. " kitchen. " What aileth. " Do youlaclc. Id mad, " wan'^-^r, rave (probably). JUDAS 263 8 'Lakyt me neyjier gold ne fe, ne non ryche wede; per is a ohyld iu Jiedlem born xal 1 hel- pyn vs at our nede.' 9 ' pat is al so soJj,^ Steyyn, al so so J", iwys, As fis oapoure crowe xal pat lyj) here in vajH dysh.' 10 fat word was not so sone seyd, fat word in fat halle, \>e capoure crew Crisius natus estl among fe lordes alle. 20 11 ' Rysyt ^ vp, myn turmeretowres/ be to and al be on, And ledyt Stevyn out of f is town, and stonyt hym wyth ston ! ' 12 Tokyn he Stevene, and stonyd hym in the way. And f erf ore is his evy/i on Crystes owyn day. JUDAS = 1 Hit wes upon a Sceref orsday ' fat ure louerd aros; Fnl milde were f e wordes he spec ' to ludas. 2 ' ludas, f ou most to luiselem, oure mete for to bugge;8 Jritti platen of selver f ou here up of i rugge.' 3 ' pou comest f er if e ''■" brode stret, f er if e brode strete; Sujnme of fine tunesmen f er f ou meist i-mete.' 4 Imette wid is soster, f e swikele '''^ wimon r ' ludas, f ou were wrf e ^ me stende ^^ fe wid ston; 5 [' ludas, f ou were wrfe me stende fe wid ston,] For f e false prophete fat tou bilevest upon. 10 1 shall. 2 sooth, true. 8 Rise. 4 executioners. G The oldest of our hallad manuscripts, being from MS. B 14, 39, of the thirteenth century, library of Trinity College, Cambridge. " Sheer Thursday. ' spake. 8 buy. » upon thy back. lo in the, 11 treacherous. 12 worthy i3 one stoned. 6 ' Be stille, leve soster, fin herte f e to- breke!^* Wiste min louerd Crist, f ul wel he wolde be wreke.' ^^ 7 ' ludas, go f ou on f e roc, heie up-on f e ston; Lei fin heued i my barm,!'' slep f ou f e anon. ' 8 Sone so ludas of slepe was awake, Jritti platen of selver from hym weren itake. 9 He drou hym selue bi f e cop, fat al it lavede ablode ; i' fe lewes out of lurselem awenden^' he were wode.^' 10 Foret 2° hym com f e riche leu fat heiste ^ Pilatus : 'Wolte sulle22 fi louerd, fat betters le- sus?' 20 11 ' I nul ^* suUe my louerd for nones cunnes eiste,^* Bote hit be for f e f ritti platen fat he me bi-taiste.' ^ 12 ' Wolte sulle f i lord Crist for enes cunnes golde ? ' 'Nay, bote hit be for fe platen fat he habben wolde.' '^^ 13 In him com ur lord gon, as is postles seten at mete: ' Wou 2a sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ^ ye ete? 14 [' WoQ sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?] lo am iboust ™ ant isold to-day for oure mete.' 15 Vp stod him ludas: ' Lord, am I fat . . .? I nas ^ never of e stude ^^ f er me f e euel spec' ^ 30 w may thy heart break. ib avenged. I6 bosom. 17 He tore his hair (beat his head) till it all ran blood. 18 weened. 1" mad. 20 Before. 21 was called. M WUt thou sell. 28 is called. "> will not. 2s no kind of possession. 26 entrusted to. 27 wished to have. 28 bow. 28 why will not. 80 bought. 31 was not. 82 in the place. 33 where one sjpoke evil of you. 264 BALLADS 16 Vp him stod Peter, ant spec wid al ia niiste,^ J»au Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes,^ 17 [' fau Pilatus him com wid ten hundred cnistea,] Yet ic wolde, louerd, for fi loue flste.' ^ 18 'Still fou be, Peter, wel I fe i-cnowe; Jjou wolt fur-sake me f rien ^ ar fe coo him orowe.' THE THREE RAVENS 1 There were three ravens sat on a tree, Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe There were three ravens sat on a tree, With a downe There were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as blaoke as they might be. With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. 2 The one of them said to his mate, ' Where shall we our breakefast take? ' 3 ' Downe in yonder greene field, 10 There lies a knight slain under his shield. 4 ' His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well they can their master keepe. 5 ' His haukes they flie so eagerly. There 's no f owle dare him come nie.' 6 Downe there comes a fallow doe. As great with yong as she might goe. 7 She lift up his bloudy hed. And kist his wounds that were so red. 8 She got him up vpon her backe, 20 And carried him to earthen lake.' 9 She buried him before the prime. She was dead herself e ere even-song time. 10 God send every gentleman, Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.' > mi^ht. s knights. > fight. * thrice. s pit. Bweetheart. THE TWA CORBIES 1 Aa I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane '; The tane unto the t'other say, ' Where sail we gang and dine to-day? ' 2 ' In behint yon auld fail * dyke, I wot there lies a new slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. 3 ' His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 10 His lady 's ta'en another mate. So we may mak our dinner sweet. 4 ' Ye '11 sit on his white hause-bane,° And I '11 pike out his bonny blue een; Wi ae look o his gowden hair We'll theek^" our nest when it grows bare. 5 'Mony a one for him makes mane. But nane sail ken where he is gane; Oer his white banes, when they are bare. The wind sail blaw for evermair.' lo KING HENRY" 1 Lat never a man a wooing wend That laoketh thingis three; A routh ^2 o gold, an open heart, Ay fu o charity. 2 As this I speak of King Henry, For he lay burd-alone; '* An he 's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha,'* Was seven miles f rae a town. 3 He chas'd the deer now him before, An the roe down by the den, 10 Till the fattest buck in a' the flock King Henry he has slain. 4 O he has doen him to his ha. To make him beerly '* cheer; An in it came a griesly ghost. Steed stappin i the fleer.'* ' moan. 8 turf. 8 neck-bone. "> thatch. 11 A more polished version of this story is found in the mutilated ballad of The Marriage of Sir Gawain (No. 31 in Child). There are several Celtic analogues, some of great age. The whole set is discussed in G. H. May- nadier's Wije of Bath's Tale, London, 1901. 12 plenty. " quite solitary. H a jolly hunting, lodge. » great. " Stood hesitating on the floor. KEMP OWYNE 265 5 Her head hat the reef-tree ^ o the house, Her middle ye mot wel span ; He 's thrown to her his gay mantle, Says, ' Lady, hap your lingcan.' * 20 6 Her teeth was a' like teather stakes, Her nose like elub or mell ; * An I ken naething she 'peard to be. But the fiend that wons ^ in hell. 7 ' Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry, Some meat ye gi to me ! ' • An what meat 's in this house, lady, An what ha I to gie ? ' ' O ye do kill your berry-brown steed. An you bring hinn here to me.' 30 8 O whan he slew his berry-brown steed. Wow but his heart was sair ! Shee eat him [a'] up, skin an bane. Left neathing but hide an hair. 9 ' Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me ! ' ' An what meat 's in this house, lady. An what ha I to gi ? ' 'O ye do kill your good gray-bounds. An ye bring them a' to me.' 40 10 O whan he slew his good gray-honnds. Wow but his heart was sair ! She eat them a' up, skin an bane. Left naething but hide an hair. 11 ' Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry, Mair meat ye gi to me ! ' ' An what meat 's i this house, lady. An what ha I to gi ? ' ' O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks. An ye bring them here to me.' 50 12 O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks. Wow but his heart was sair ! She eat them a' up, skin an bane. Left naething but feathers bare. 13 ' Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry, Some drink ye bring to me ! ' ' O what driuk 's i this house, lady, That yon 're nae welcome ti ? ' ' O ye sew up your horse's hide. An bring in a drink to me.' 60 1 liit the roof-tree. i TTiftnl 1 wrap yonr body, i dwella. 14 And he 's sewd up the bloody hide, A puncheon o wine put in; She drank it a' up at a waught,^ Left na ae drap ahin.^ 15 'A bed, a bed, now. King Henry, A bed you mak to me ! For ye maun pu the heather green, An mak a bed to me.' 16 O pu'd has he the heather green, An made to her a bed, 70 An up has he taen his gay mantle. An oer it has he spread. 17 ' Tak afE your elaiths, now. King Henry, An lye down by my side ! ' • O God forbid,' says King Henry, ' That ever the like betide ; That ever the fiend that wons in heU Shoud streak" down by my side.' 18 Whan night was gane, and day was come. An the sun shone throw the ha, 80 The fairest lady that ever was seen Lay atween him an the wa. 19 ' O well is me ! ' says King Henry, ' How lang '11 this last wi me ? ' Then out it spake that fair lady, ' Even tUl the day you dee. 20 ' For I 've met wi mony a gentle knight That 's gien me sic a fill. But never before wi a courteous knight That ga me a' my wiU.' 90 KEMP OWYNE 8 1 Ser mother died when she was young. Which gave her cause to make great moan; Her father married the warst woman That ever lived in Christendom. 2 She served her with foot and hand. In every thing that she could dee,' Till once, in an unlucky time. She threw her in ower Craigy's sea. B draught. b behind. ? stretch. 8 Also called Kempion, Owyne is Owain or Twain, one of Artbur^s knights, who in the romances has many adyenturea, but not this. Disenchantment thus by a kiaa is a commonplace in romance. * do. 266 BALLADS 3 Says, ' Lie you there, dove Isabel, And all my sorrows lie with thee; lo Till Kemp Owyne come over the sea. And borrow ^ you with kisses three. Let all the warld do what they will, Oh borrowed shall you never be ! ' 4 Her breath grew Strang, her hair grew lang, And twisted thrice about the tree, And all the people, far and near. Thought that a savage beast was she. 5 These news did come to Kemp Owyne, Where he lived, far beyond the sea; He hasted him to Craigy's sea, 21 And on the savage beast lookd he. 6 Her breath was Strang, her hair was lang, And twisted was about the tree, And with a swing she came about: ' Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 7 ' Here is a royal belt,' she cried, ' That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on. Drawn shall your blood never be; 30 But if you touch me, tail or fin, I vow my belt your death shall be.' 8 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi; Her breath was Strang, her hair was lang. And twisted twice about the tree. And with a swing she came about: ' Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 9 ' Here is a royal ring,' she said, ' That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, 41 Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be.' 10 He stepped in, gave her a kiss, The royal ring he brought him wi; Her breath was Strang, her hair was lang, And twisted auce about the tree. And with a swing she came about: 'Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me. 50 1 ransom. 11 • Here is a royal brand,' she said, ' That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be ; But if you touch me, tail or fin, I swear my brand your death shall be.' 12 He stepped in, gave her a kiss. The royal brand he brought him wi; Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, And twisted nane about the tree, 60 And smilingly she came about. As fair a woman as fair could be. THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA 1 ' I WAS bat seven year alld Fan^ my mider she did dee. My father marred the ae ' warst woman The wardle * did ever see. 2 ' For she has made me the lailly ° worm That lays att the fitt ° of the tree, An o my sister Meassry The machrel of the sea. 3 ' An every Saterday att noon The machrl comes to me, 10 An she takes my layle head, An lays it on her knee. An keames it we a silver kemm,' An washes it in the sea. 4 ' Seven knights ha I slain Sane * I lay att the fitt of the tree; An ye war na my ain father, The eight an ye sud be.' 6 ' Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm, That ye sung tome;' 20 'I never sung that song But f att ' I wad sing to ye. 6 ' I was but seven year auU Fan my mider she [did] dee. My father marred the a warst woman The wardle did ever see. 2 When. 8 one. « world. b loathly, 8 foot. ' combs it with a silver comb. B Since. • what. THOMAS RYMER AND THE QUEEN OF ELFLAND 267 7 ' She changed me to the layel[y] worm That layes att the fitt of the tree, An my sister Messry [To] the makrell of the sea. 30 8 ' And every Saterday att noon The machrell comes to me, An she takes my layly head, An layes it on her knee, An kames it weth a siller kame, An washes it in the sea. 9 ' Seven knights ha I slain San I lay att the fitt of the tree; An ye war na my aiu father, The eight ye sud be.' 40 10 He sent for his lady As fast as sen cod ^ he : 'Far^ is my son, That ye sent fra me, And my daughter. Lady Messry ? ' 11 ' Ter son is att our king's court, Sarving for meatt an fee, And yer daugh[t]er is att our quin's court, A mary suit ^ an free.' 50 12 ' Ye lee,* ye ill woman, Sa loud as I hear ye lea. For my son is the layeUy worm That lays at the fitt of the tree, An my daughter Messry The machrell of the sea.' 13 She has tain a silver wan An giue him stroks three. An he started up the bravest knight Your eyes did ever see. 60 14 She has tane a small horn An loud an shill * blue she. An a' the fish came her tell* but the proud machrell. An she stood by the sea: Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape. An ye 's never mare shape me.' 15 He has sent to the wood For hathorn an fun,' An he has tane that gay lady. An ther he did her burne. 70 * send could. s Where. 3 maid-of-honor sweet. * lie. ^ shrill. ^ to. ' whin, gorse. THOMAS RYMER AND THE QUEEN OF ELFLAND 8 1 True Thomas lay oer youd grassy bank. And he beheld a ladie gay, A ladie that was brisk and bold. Come riding oer the fernie brae. 2 Her skirt was of the grass-green silk. Her mantel of the velvet fine, At ilka tett ' of her horse's mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine. 3 True Thomas he took off his hat. And bowed him low down till his knee: lo ' Al hail, thou mighty Queen of Heavenl For your peer on earth I never did see.' 4 ' no, O no. True Thomas,' she says, 'That name does not belong to me; I am but the queen of fair Elfiand, And I 'm come here for to visit thee. 5 ' But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas, True Thomas, ye maun go wi me, For ye maun serve me seven years. Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.' 2o 6 She turned about her milk-white steed And took True Thomas up behind. And aye wheneer her bridle rang. The steed flew swifter than the wind. 7 For forty days and forty nights He wade thro red blude to the knee, And he saw neither sun nor moon. But heard the roaring of the sea. 8 O they rade on, and further on. Until they came to a garden green : 30 •Light down, light down, ye ladie free. Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.' 9 ' no, O no. True Thomas,' she says, ' That fruit maun not be touched by thee, For a' the plagues that are in hell Light on the fruit of this countrie. 9 For a discussion of this typical other-world jour- ney and its relation to the fifteenth-century romance of Tkomas of Erceldoune, see Child, 1, 323. » tuft. 268 BALLADS 10 ' But I have a loaf here in my lap, Likewise a bottle of claret wine, And now ere we go farther on, 39 We '11 rest a while, and ye may dine.' 11 When he had eaten and drunk his fill, ' Lay down your head upon my knee,' The lady sayd, ' ere we climb yon hill. And 1 will show you fairlies ^ three. 12 ' O see not ye yon narrow road, So thick beset wi thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Tho after it but few enquires. 13 ' And see not ye that braid braid road, That lies across yon lillie leveu? ^ 50 That is the path of wickedness, Tho some call it the road to heaven. 14 ' And see not ye that bonnie road. Which winds about the fernie brae ? That is the road to fair Elfland, Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae. 15 ' But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever you may hear or see. For gin ae word you should chance to speak. You will neer get back to your ain countrie.' 60 16 He has gotten a coat of the even ^ cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green, And till seven years were past and gone True Thomas on earth was never seen. THE WEE WEE MAN 1 As I was wa'king all alone, Between a water and a wa,* And there I spy'd a wee wee man, And he was the least that ere I saw. 2 His legs were scarce a shathmont's ^ length, And thick and thimber* was his thigh ; Between his brows there was a span, And between his shoulders there was three. 1 wonders. < waU. 2 glade, lawn, G a palm, six inches. > smooth. B great. 3 He took up a meikle ' stane, And he flang't as far as I could see ; 10 Though 1 had been a Wallace wight, I couldna liften 't to my knee. 4 ' O wee wee man, but thou be Strang I O tell me where thy dwelling be?' My dwelling 's down at yon bonny bower ; O will you go with me and see? ' 5 On we lap,' and awa we rade. Till we came to yon bonny green; We lighted down for to bait our horse, And out there came a lady fine. 20 6 Four and twenty at her back, And they were a' clad out in green; Though the King of Scotland had been there. The warst o them might hae been his queen. 7 On we lap, and awa we rade, Till we came to yon bonny ha, Whare the roof was o the beaten gonld, And the floor was the cristal a'. 8 When we came to the stair-foot, Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma, 30 But in the twinkling of an eye. My wee wee man was clean awa. TAM LIN 10 1 FORBID you, maidens a'. That wear gowd on your hair, To come or gae by Carterhaugh, For young Tarn Lin is there. 2 There '3 nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad,' Either their rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead. 3 Janet has kilted ^^ her green kirtle A little aboon '' her knee, 10 And she has broded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree,i^ And she 's awa to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. ' great. 10 tucked up. 8 leaped. 11 above. > pledge. 12 brow. TAM LIN 269 4 When she came to Carterhaugh Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himsel. 5 She had na. pu'd a double rose, A rose but only twa, ao TUl np then started young Tam Lin, Says, ' Lady, thou 's pu nae mae.' 6 ' Why pn's thou the rose, Janet, And why breaks thou the wand ? Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh Withoutten my command ? ' 7 ' Carterhaugh, it ia my ain. My daddie gave it me ; I '11 come and gang by Carterhaugh, And ask nae leave at thee.' 30 8 Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee. And she has suooded ^ her yellow hair A little aboon her bree. And she is to her father's ha. As fast as she can hie. 9 Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the ba. And out then cam the fair Janet, Ance the flower amang them a', ^o 10 Four and twenty ladies fair Were playing at the chess, And out then cam the fair Janet, As gfreen as onie glass. 11 Out then spak an anld grey knight. Lay oer the castle wa, And says, ' Alas, fair Janet, for thee But we '11 be blamed a'.' 12 ' Haud your tongue, ye anld f ac'd knight. Some ill death may ye die ! 50 Father my bairn on whom I will, I '11 father nane on thee.' 13 Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meek and mild; ■ And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says, 'I think thou gaes wi child.' 14 'If that I gae wi child, father, Mysel maun bear the blame; 1 no more. > tied in a enood. There 's neer a laird about your ha Shall get the bairn's name. 6a 15 ' H my love were an earthly kmght. As he 's an elfin grey, I wad na gie my ain true-love For nae lord that ye hae. 16 ' The steed that my tme-love rides on Is lighter than the wind ; Wi siller he is shod before, Wi burning gowd behind.' 17 Janet has kilted her green kirtle A little aboon her knee, 70 And she has suooded her yellow hair A little aboon her bree. And she 's awa to Carterhaugh, As fast as she can hie. 18 When she cam to Carterhaugh, Tam Lin was at the well, And there she fand his steed standing, But away was himseL 19 She had na pu'd a double rose, A rose but only twa, 80 Till up then started young Tam Lin, Says, ' Lady, thou pn's nae mae. 20 ' Why pn's thou the rose, Janet, Amang the groves sae green. And a' to kill the bonie babe That we gat us between? ' 21 ' O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,' she says, ' For 's sake that died on tree, If eer ye was in holy chapel. Or Christendom did see ? ' 90 22 ' Koxbrugh he was my grandfather, Took me with him to bide. And ance it fell upon a day That wae did me betide. 23 ' And ance it fell upon a day, A cauld day and a snell,^ When we were frae the hunting come. That frae my horse I fell; The Queen o Fairies she caught me, In yon green hill to dwell. 100 24 'And pleasant is the fairy land; But, an eerie tale to tell, * keen. 270 BALLADS Ay at the end of seven years We pay a tiendi to hell; I am sae fair and fu o flesh, I 'm feared it be mysel. 25 ' But the night is Halloween, lady, The morn is Hallowday; Then win me, win me, an ye will, For weel I wat ye may. no 26 ' Just at the mirk and midnight hour The fairy folk will ride. And they that wad their true-love win. At Miles Cross they maun bide.' 27 'But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin, Or how my true-love know, Amang sae mony unco * knights The like I never saw ? ' 28 ' O first let pass the black, lady, And syne let pass the brown, 120 But quickly run to the milk-white steed, Pu ye his rider down. 29 ' For I '11 ride on the milk-white steed. And ay nearest the town; Because I was an earthly knight They gie me that renown. 30 ' My right hand will be glovd, lady, My left hand will be bare, Cookt up shall my bonnet be. And kaimd down shall my hair, 130 And thae 's the takens I gie thee, Nae doubt I will be there. 31 ' They 'U turn me in your arms, lady, Into an esk ' and adder; But hold me fast and fear me not, I am your bairn's father. 32 ' They '11 turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold; But hold me fast and fear me not, As ye shall love your child. 140 33 ' Again they '11 turn me in your arms To a red bet gaud of airn ; * But hold me fast, and fear me not, 1 '11 do to you nae harm. 34 'And last they '11 turn me in your arms Into the burning gleedj' 1 tithe. ^ strange. < red-hot bar of iron. 8 newt. e coal. Then throw me into well water, throw me in wi speed. 35 ' And then I '11 be your ain true-love, 1 '11 turn a naked knight; 150 Then cover me wi your green mantle, And cover me out o sight.' 36 Gloomy, gloomy was the night, And eerie was the way. As fair Jenny in her green mantle To Miles Cross she did gae. 37 About the middle o the night She heard the bridles ring; This lady was as glad at that As any earthly thing. 160 38 First she let the black pass by. And syne she let the brown; But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed, And pu'd the rider down. 39 Sae weel she minded what he did say. And young Tam Lin did win; Syne coverd him wi her green mantle, As blythe 's a bird in spring. 40 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, Out of a bush o broom: 170 ' Them that has gotten young Tam Lin Has gotten a stately groom.' 41 Out then spak the Queen o Fairies, And an angry woman was she: ' Shame betide her ill-far'd ^ face. And an ill death may she die, For she 's taen awa the boniest knight In a' my companie. 42 ' But had I kend, Tam Lin,' she says, ' What now this night I see, 180 I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een, And put in twa een o tree.' ' YOUNG AKIN OR HIND ETINS 1 Lady Margaret sits in her bower door, Sewing at her silken seam; She heard a note in Elmond's wood, And wishd she there had been. • ill-favored. 7 wood. B ThiB story of a mortal and her fairy husband has suffered in the handing down of it. YOUNG AKIN OR HIND ETIN 271 2 She loot 1 the seam fa frae her side, And the needle to her tae, And she is on to Elmond's wood As fast as she coud gae, 3 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but ane, 10 Till by it came a young hind chiel,* Says, ' Lady, lat alane. 4 ' O why pu ye the nut, the nut, Or why brake ye the tree ? For I am forester o this wood: Ye shoud spier 8 leave at me.' 5 ' I '11 ask leave at no living man, Nor yet will I at thee; My father is king oer a' this realm. This wood belongs to me,' jo 6 She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut, Nor broken a branch but three. Till by it came him Young Akin, And gard her lat them be. 7 The highest tree in Elmond's wood, He 's pu'd it by the reet ^ And he has built for her a bower. Near by a hallow ^ seat. 8 He 's built a bower, made it secure Wi carbuncle and stane; 30 Tho travellers were never sae nigh. Appearance it had nane. 9 He 's kept her there in Elmond's wood, For six lang years and one, Till six pretty sons to him she bear. And the seventh she 's brought home. 10 It fell ance upon a day, This guid lord went from home, And he is to the hunting gane. Took wi him his eldest son. 40 11 And when they were on a guid way, Wi slowly pace did walk, The boy's heart being something wae. He thus began to talk: 12 ' A question I woud ask, father, Gin ye woudna angry be; ' ' Say on, say on, my bonny boy. Ye 'se nae be quarrelld by me.' t let. s courteouB youth. * ask. * root. ^ hollow. 13 ' I see my mither's cheeks aye weet, I never can see them dry; 50 And I wonder what aileth my mither. To mourn continually.' 14 ' Your mither was a king's daughter. Sprung frae a high degree, And she might hae wed some worthy prince. Had she nae been stown ^ by me. 15 ' I was her father's cup-bearer. Just at that fatal time ; I catchd her on a misty night. Whan summer was in prime. 60 16 ' My luve to her was most sincere. Her luve was great for me, But when she hardships doth endure, Her folly she does see.' 17 ' I '11 shoot the buntin o the bush, The linnet o the tree, And bring them to my dear mither, See if she '11 merrier be.' 18 It fell upo another day, This guid lord he thought lang, 70 And he is to the hunting gane, Took wi him his dog and gun. 19 Wi bow and arrow by his side, He 's aff, single, alane, And left his seven children to stay Wi their mither at hame. 20 ' O I will tell to you, mither. Gin ye wadna angry be : ' ' Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy. Ye 'se nae be quarrelld by me.' 80 21 ■ As we came frae the hynd-hunting. We heard fine music ring: ' ' My blessings on you, my bonny boy, I wish 1 'd been there my lane.' ' 22 He '8 taen his mither by the hand, His six brithers also. And they are on thro Elmond's wood. As fast as they coud go. 23 They wistna weel where they were gaen, Wi the stratlins 8 o their feet; 90 They wist na weel where they were gaen, Till at her father's yate.' 6 stolen. 7 alone. & strldinge. B gate. 272 BALLADS 24 ' I hae nae money in my pocket, But royal rings hae three; I 'II gie them you, my little young son. And ye '11 walk there for me. 25 ' Ye 'U gie the first to the proud porter, And he will lat you in; Te '11 gie the next to the butler-boy. And he will show you ben ; 1 100 26 ' Ye '11 gie the third to the minstrel That plays before the king; He '11 play success to the bonny boy Came thro the wood him lane.' ^ 27 He gae the first to the proud porter. And he opend an let him in; He gae the next to the butler-boy, And he has shown him ben; 28 He gae the third to the minstrel That playd before the king; no And he playd success to the bonny boy Came thro the wood him lane. 29 Now when he came before the king. Fell low down on his knee; The king he turned round about. And the saut tear blinded his ee. 30 ' Win ^ up, win up, my bonny boy. Gang frae my companie; Ye look sae like my dear daughter. My heart will birst in three.' 120 31 ' If I look like your dear daughter, A wonder it is none ; If I look like your dear daughter, I am her eldest son.' 32 'Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy. Where may my Margaret be ? ' ' She 's just now standing at your yates, And my six brithers her wi.' 33 ' O where are all my porter-boys That I pay meat and fee, 130 To open my yates baith wide and braid ? Let her come in to me.' 34 When she came in before the king, Fell low down on her knee; ' Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye '11 dine wi me.' 1 in. 3 alone. > Get. 35 'Ae bit I canno eat, father, Nor ae drop can I drink, Till I see my niither and sister dear. For lang for them I think.' 140 36 When she came before the queen, Fell low down on her knee; ' Win up, win up, my daughter dear, This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 37 ' Ae bit I canno eat, mither. Nor ae drop can I drink. Until I see my dear sister, For lang for her I think.' 38 When that these two sisters met, She haild her courteouslie; 150 ' Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 39 ' Ae bit I canno eat, sister. Nor ae drop can I drink. Until I see my dear husband. For lang for him I think.' 40 ' O where are all my rangers bold That I pay meat and fee. To search the forest far an wide. And bring Akin to me ? ' 41 Out it speaks the little wee boy: ' Na, na, this maunna' be; Without ye grant a free pardon, 1 hope ye '11 nae him see.' 42 ' O here I grant a free pardon, Well seald by my own ban; Ye may make search for Young Akin, As soon as ever you can.' 43 They searchd the country wide and braid, The forests far and near, 170 And found him into Elmond's wood, Tearing his yellow hair. 44 ' Win up, win up now, Young Akin, Win up, and bonn' wi me; We 're messengers come from the court, The king wants you to see.' 46 ' O lat him take frae me my bead, Or hang me on a tree; For since I 've lost my dear lady. Life 's no pleasure to me.' 180 I must not. 6 go. CLERK COLVILL 273 46 ' Your head will nae be touohd, Akin, Nor hangd upon a tree; Your lady 's in her father's court, And all he wants is thee.' 47 Wlien he came in before the king, Fell low down on his knee; ' Win up, win up now. Young Akin, This day ye 'se dine wi me.' 48 But as they were at dinner set. The boy asked a boun: 190 ' I wish we were in the good church. For to get ehristendoun. 49 ' We hae lived in guid green wood This seven years and ane; But a' this time, since eer I mind. Was never a church within.' 50 ' Your asking 's nae sae great, my boy. But granted it shall be; This day to guid church ye shall gang, And your mither shall gang you wi.' 51 When unto the guid church she came. She at the door did stan; 202 She was sae sair sunk down wi shame, She coudna come farer ben. 52 Then out it speaks the parish priest. And a sweet smile gae he: ' Come ben, come ben, my lily flower. Present your babes to me.' 53 Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick, And likewise James and John; 210 They calld the eldest Young Akin, Which was his father's name. 54 Then they staid in the royal court. And livd wi mirth and glee. And when her father was deceasd, Heir of the crown was she. CLERK COLVILL 1 Clark Colven and his gay ladie. As they walked to yon garden green, A belt about her middle gimp,'^ Which cost Clark Colven crowns fif- teen: i slender. 2 ' hearken weel now, my good lord, O hearken weel to what I say; When ye gang to the wall o Stream, gang nae neer the well-fared may.' ^ 3 ' baud your tongue, my gay ladie, Tak nae sic care o me; id For I nae saw a fair woman 1 like so well as thee.' 4 He mounted on his berry-brown steed. And merry, merry rade he on. Till he came to the wall o Stream, And there he saw the mermaiden. 5 ' Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may. And ay 's ye wash your sark o silk: ' ' It 's a' for you, ye gentle knight. My skin is whiter than the milk.' 20 6 He 's taen her by the milk-white hand. He's taen her by the sleeve sae green, And he 's forgotten his gay ladie. And away with the fair maiden. 7 ' Ohon, alas ! ' says Clark Colven, ' And aye sae sair 's I mean my head ! ' And merrily lengh' the mermaiden, ' O win on till you be dead. 8 ' But out ye tak your little pen-knife. And f rae my sark ye shear a gare ; * Kow * that about your lovely head, 31 And the pain ye '11 never feel nae mair.' 9 Out he has taen his little pen-knife. And frae her sark he 's shorn a gare. Rowed that about his lovely head, But the pain increased mair and mair. 10 ' Ohon, alas ! ' says Clark Colven, ' An aye sae sair 's I mean my head ! ' And merrily laughd the mermaiden, ' It will ay be war ^ till ye be dead.' 40 11 Then out he drew his trusty blade. And thought wi it to be her dead,' But she 's become a fish again. And merrily sprang into the fleed. » well-favored maid, e RoU. ' laughed. 8 worse. ^ gore, strip. I death. 274 BALLADS 12 He 's mounted on his berry-brown steed, And dowy, dowy rade he home, And heavily, heavily lighted down When to his ladie's bower-door he 13 ' Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed. And, gentle ladie, lay me down; 50 Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow, 'TwUl never be bent by me again.' 14 His mither she has made his bed, His gentle ladie laid him down, His brither he has unbent his bow, 'T was never bent by him again. KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP^ 1 Off an ancient story He tell you anon, Of a notable prince that was called King lohn. In England was borne, with maine and with might; Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right. 2 This noble prince was vexed in veretye. For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury; Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere, Th^^ rode post for him, as you shall heare. 3 They rode post for him verry hastilye ; The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee: 10 A hundred men even, as I [have heard] say. The bishopp kept in his house everye day. And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt, In velvett coates waited the bishopp about. 4 The bishopp, he came to the court anon. Before his prince that was called Kin^ lohn. As soone as the bishopp the Tdng did see, ' 0,' quoth the king, ' bishopp, thow art welcome to mee. 1 This story appears to be of Oriental origin, and there are many versions of it East and West. > They. There is noe man soe welcome to towne As thou that workes treason against my crowne.' 30 5 ' My leege,' quoth the bishopp, ' I wold it were knowue I spend, your grace, nothing but that that 'a my owne ; I trust your grace will doe me noe deare * For spending my owne trew gotten geere.' 6 ' Yes,' quoth the kira^, ' bishopp, thou must needs dye, Eocept thou can answere mee questions three ; Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye, And all thy living remayne unto mee. 7 ' First,' quoth the kin^, ' tell me in this steade. With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head, 30 Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth, Lett me know within one pennye what I am worth. 8 ' Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt. How soone I may goe the whole world about; And thirdly, tell mee or ever I stinte, What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thiuke. Twenty dayes pardon thoust* have trulye. And come againe and answere mee.' 9 The bishopp bade the kin^r god night att a word ; He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxen- ford, 40 But never a doctor there was soe wise Cold shew him these questions or enter- prise. 10 Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd. But in his hart was heavy and sadd. And hyed him home to a house in the countrye. To ease some part of his melanchoUye. » harm. « thou Shalt. KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP 275 11 His halfe-brother dwelt there, was f eirce and fell, Noe better but a shepaid to the bish- oppe himsell; The shepard came to the bishopp anon, Saying, 'My Lord, you are welcome home 1 ' 50 12 ' What ayles you,' quoth the shepard, ' that you are soe sadd. And had wonte to have beene soe merry andgladd?' 'Nothing,' quoth the bishopp, 'I ayle att this time; Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.' 13 'Brother,' quoth the shepeard, 'you have heard itt, That a floole may teach a wisemaue witt; Say me therfore whatsoever you will, And if I doe you noe good, lie doe you noe ill.' 14 Quoth the bishop: ' I have beene att the court anon. Before my prince is called King lohn, 60 And there he hath charged mee Against his crowue with traitorye. 15 ' If I cannott answer his misterye, Three questions hee hath propounded to mee, He will have my land soe f aire and free, And alsoe the head from my bodye. 16 ' The first question was, to tell him in that stead. With the crowne of gold vpon his head. Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth. To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth. 70 17 ' And secondlye, to tell him with-out any doubt How soone he may goe the whole world about; And thirdly*, to tell him, or ere I stint. What is the thinge that he does thinke.' 18 ' Brother,' quoth the shepard, ' you are a man of learninge; What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge ? Lend me,' quoth the shepard, 'your ministers apparrell, He ryde to the court and answere your quarreU. 19 'Lend me your serving men, say me not nay, With all your best horsses that ryd on the way; 8a He to the court, this matter to stay; He speake with King lohn and heare what heele say.' 20 The bishopp with speed prepared then To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man; The shepard was lively without any doubt; I wott a royall companye came to the court. 21 The shepard hee came to the court anon Before [his] prince that was called King lohn. As soone as the kin^ the shepard did see. ' O,' qtioth the king, ' bishopp, thou art welcome to me.' go The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother. The kin^ cold not know the one from the other, 22 Quoth the hing, ' Bishopp, thou art wel- come to me I£ thou can answer me my questions three.' Said the shepeard, ' If it please your grace. Show mee what the first quest[i]on was.' 23 ' First,' quoth the king', ' tell mee in this stead, With the crowne of gold vpon my head, Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth, Within one pennye what I am worth.' 100 24 Quoth the shepard. 'To make your grace noe offence, I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence; For our Lord lesus, that bought vs all, For thirty pence was sold into thrall 276 BALLADS Amongst the cursed lewes, as I to you doe showe; But I know Christ was one penye bet- ter then you.' 25 Then the Tiing laught, and swore by St Andrew He was not thought to bee of such a small value. ' Secondlye, tell mee with-out any doubt How soone I may goe the world round about.' no 26 Sales the sbepard, ' It is noe time with your grace to scorne, But rise betime with the sun in the morne, And follow his course till his uprising, And then you may know without any leasing.i 27 ' And this [to] your grace shall prove the same, You are come to the same place from whence you came; [In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt. Your grace may the world goe round about; The world round about, even as I doe say. If with the sun you can goe the next way.' 120 28 ' And thirdlye tell me or ever I stint, What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe thinke.' ' That shall I doe,' quoth the shepeardj ' for veretye. You thinke I am the bishopp of Canter- burye.' 29 ' Why, art not thou ? the truth tell to me; For I doe thinke soe,' qwoth the kin^, 'by StMarye.' 'Not soe,' quoth the shepeard; 'the truth shalbe knowne, I am his poore shepeard ; my brother is att home.' 30 'Why,' quoth the kin^, 'if itt soe bee, lie make thee bishopp here to mee.' 130 1 lying. ' Noe, Sir,' quoth the shepard, ' I pray you be still, For He not bee bishop but against my will; For I am not fltt for any such deede, For I can neither write nor reede.' 31 ' Why then,' quoth the kin^, ' He give thee cleere A pattent of three himdred pound a yeere; That I will give thee franke and free; Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me. 32 ' Free pardon He give,' the kin^s grace said, ' To save the bishopp, his land and his head ; 140 With him nor thee He be nothing wrath; Here is the pardon for him and thee both.' 33 Then the shepard he had noe more to say. But tooke the pardon and rode his way: When he came to the bishopps place, The bishopp asket anon how all things was. 34 'Brother,' quoth the shepard, 'I have well sped. For I have saved both your land and your head; The king with you is nothing wrath. For heere is the pardon for you and mee both.' 150 35 Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere: 'Brother, thy paines He quitt them cleare ; For I will give thee a patent to thee and to thine Of fifty pound a yeere, laad good and fine.' 36 ' I will to thee noe longer croche ^ nor creepe, Nor He serve thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.' ' cioucli. YOUNG BICHAM 277 37 Whereever wist you shepard before, That had in his head witt such store To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case, To answer three questions to the kings grace ? 160 Whereever wist you shepard gett cleare Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere ? 38 I never hard of his fellow before. Nor I never shall : now I need to say noe more. I never knew shepeard that gott such a livinge But David, the shepeard, that was a Mng. YOUNG BICHAM 1 1 In London city was Bicham born. He longd strange countries for to see, But he was taen by a savage Moor, Who handld him right cruely. 2 For thro his shoulder he put a bore,** An thro the bore has pitten a tree,' An he 's gard * him draw the carts o wine. Where horse and oxen had wont to be. 3 He 's casten [him] in a dungeon deep, 9 Where he ooud neither hear nor see; He 's shut him up in a prison strong. And he 's handld him right cruely. 4 O this Moor he had but ae daughter, I wot her name was Shusy Pye ; She 's doen her to the prison-house, And she 's calld Young Bicham one word by. 5 ' O hae ye ony lands or rents, Or citys in your ain country, Coud free you out of prison strong. An coud mantain a lady free? ' 20 6 ' O London city is my own, An other citys twa or three Coud loose me out o prison strong, An coud mantain a lady free.' 7 O she has bribed her father's men Wi meikle goud ' and white money, She 's gotten the key o the prison doors. An she has set Young Bicham free. 1 LordSateman is a later version of this popular theme. > hole. 3 put a stick. * compelled. ^ much gold. 8 She 's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread. But an a flask o Spanish wine, 30 An she bad him mind on the ladie's love That sae kindly freed him out o pine. 9 ' Go set your foot on good ship-board. An haste you back to your ain coun- try. An before that seven years has an end. Come back again, love, and marry me.' 10 It was long or seven years had an end She longd f u sair her love to see ; She's set her foot on good ship-board, An turud her back on her ain coun- try. 4D H She 's saild up, so has she doun, Till she came to the other side; She 's landed at Young Bicham 's gates, An I hop this day she sal be his bride. 12 ' Is this Young Bicham's gates ? ' says she, ' Or is that noble prince within ? ' ' He 's up the stairs wi his bonny bride, An monny a lord and lady wi him.' 13 ' has he taen a bonny bride. An has he clean forgotten me I ' 50 An sighing said that gay lady, ' I wish I were in my ain country ! ' 14 But she 's pitten her han in her pocket, An gin^ the porter guineas three; Says, ' Take ye that, ye proud porter. An bid the bridegroom speak to me.' 15 O whan the porter came up the stair. He 's fa'n low down upou his knee: ' Won ' up, won up, ye proud porter. An what makes a' this courtesy ? ' 60 16 ' O I 've been porter at your gates This mair nor seven years an three, But there is a lady at them now The like of whom I never did see. 17 ' For on every finger she has a ring. An on the mid-finger she has three. An there 's as meikle goud ' aboon her brow As woud buy an earldome o Ian to me.' ' given. 1 Get. ' much gold. 278 BALLADS 18 Then up it started Young Bicham, An sware so loud by Our Lady, ' It can be nane but Shushy Pye, That has come oer the sea to me.' 70 19 quickly ran he down the stair, O' fifteen steps he has made but three ; He 's tane his bonny love in his arms, An a wot he kissd her tenderly. 20 ' O hae you taen a bonny bride ? An hae you quite forsaken me ? An hae ye quite forgotten her That gae you life an liberty ? ' 80 21 She 's lookit oer her left shoulder To hide the tears stood in her ee; ' Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,' she says, ' I '11 strive to think nae mair on thee.' 22 ' Take back your daughter, madam,' he says, ' An a double dowry I '11 gi her wi ; For I maun marry my first true love, That 's done and suffered so much for 23 He 's take his bonny love by the han. And led her to yon fountain stane ; 90 He 's changd her name frae Shusy Pye, An he 's eald her his bonny love. Lady Jane. THE CHERRY-TREE CAROL ^ 1 Joseph was an old man, and an old man was he, When he wedded Mary, in the land of Galilee. 2 Joseph and Mary walked through an orchard good. Where was cherries and berries, so red as any blood. 3 Joseph and Mary walked through an orchard green, 10 Where was berries and clierries, as thick as might be seen. 1 This story is founded on the gospel of the Pseudo* Matthew, xz. 4 O then bespoke Mary, so meek and so mild : ' Pluck me one cherry, Joseph, for I am with child.' 5 O then bespoke Joseph, with words most unkind: 'Let him pluck thee a cherry that brought thee with child.' 20 6 O then bespoke the babe, within his mother's womb: ' Bow down then the tallest tree, for my mother to have some.' 7 Then bowed down the highest tree unto his mother's hand; Tlien she cried, 'See, Joseph, I have cherries at command.' 8 O then bespake Joseph: ' I have done Mary wrong; 30 But cheer up, my dearest, and be not cast down.' 9 Then Mary plucked a cherry, as red as the blood, Then Mary went home with her heavy load. 10 Then Mary took her babe, and sat him on her knee. Saying, ' My dear son, tell me what this world will be.' 40 11 ' O I shall be as dead, mother, as the stones in the wall; O the stones in the streets, mother, shall mourn for me all. 12 ' Upon Easter-day, mother, my uprising shall be; O the sun and the moon, mother, shall both rise with me.' SIR PATRICK SPENCE" 1 The king sits in Dumf erling toune. Drinking the blude-reid wine: ' O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine ? ' ^ One of the best ballads, historical sounding, but not historical in any strict s KING ESTMERE 279 2 Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the kings richt kne : ' Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That sails upon the se.' 3 The king has written a braid ' letter, And signd it wi his hand, 10 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. 4 The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch ^ lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. 5 ' O wha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me, To send me out this time o' the yeir. To sail upon the se ! 20 6 ' Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men aU, Our guid schip sails the morne: ' 'O say na sae, ray master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. 7 ' Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, Wi the aiild moone in hir arme, And I fair, I fair, my deir master, That we will cum to harme.' 8 O our Scots nobles war richt laith To weet their cork-heild schoone; 30 Bot lang owre ^ a' the play wer playd, Thair hats they swam aboone.* 9 O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi thair fans into their hand. Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. 10 O lang, lang may the ladies stand, Wi thair gold kems " in their hair. Waiting for thair ain deir lords. For they '11 se thame na mair. 40 11 Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, It 's fiftie fadom deip, And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi the Scots lords at his f eit. 1 broad. 4 above. 3 laugh. 6 comba. 3 before. KING ESTMERE 8 1 Hearken to me, gentlemen. Come and you shall heare; lie tell you of two of the boldest bre- ther That ever borne were. 2 The tone of them was Adler Yonnge, The tother was Kyng Estmere; The were as bolde men in their deeds As any were, farr and neare. 3 As they were drinking ale and wine Within his brother's hall, 10 ' When will ye marry a wyf e, brother, A wyf e to glad us all ? ' 4 Then bespake him Kyng Estmere, And answered him hartilye : ' I know not that ladye in any land. That 's able to marrye with mee.' 5 ' Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Man call her bright and sheene; If I were kyng here in your stead. That ladye shold be my queene.' 20 6 Sales, ' Reade ' me, reade me, deare bro- ther, Throughout merry England, Where we might find a messenger Betwixt us towe to sende.' 7 Saies, ' You shal ryde yourselfe, brother, lie beare yon companye; Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived, And I feare lest soe shold wee.' 8 Thus the renisht^ them to ryde. Of twoe good renisht steeds, 30 And when the came to King Adlands halle. Of redd gold shone their weeds. 9 And when the came to Kyng Adlands hall, Before the goodlye gate. There they found good Kyng Adland Rearing himselfe theratt. 8 We possess this spirited ballad, unfortunately, only as touched up by Bishop Percy. Adler and Estmere occur again in the Percy Folio MS., ed. Hales and Fumivall, n, 296, and there Adler gets a fine wife. ' Advise. s they prepared. 28o BALLADS 10 'Now Christ thee save, good Kyng Adland; Now Christ you save and see:' Sayd, ' You be welcome, King Estmere, Eight hartilye to mee.' 40 11 'You have a daughter,' said Adler Younge, ' Men call her bright and sheens ; My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene.' 12 ' Yesterday was att my deere daughter The king his sonne of Spayn, And then she nicked him of naye,^ And I doubt sheele do you the same.' 13 ' The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim, And 'leeveth on Mahound,^ 50 And pitye it were that fayre ladye Shold marry a heathen hound.' 14 ' But grant to me,' sayes Kyng Estmere, ' For my love I you praye, That I may see your daughter deere Before I goe hence awaye.' 15 ' Although itt is seven yeers and more Since my daughter was in halle. She shall come once downe for your sake, To glad my guestes alle.' 60 16 Downe then came that mayden fayre. With ladyes laced in pall. And halfe a hundred of bold knightes. To bring her [from] bowre to hall, And as many gentle squiers, To tend upon them all. 17 The talents of golde were on her head sette Hanged low downe to her knee. And everye ring on her small finger Shone of the chrystall free. 70 18 Saies, ' God you save, my deere madam,' Sales, ' God you save and see : ' Said, ' You be welcome, Kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee. 19 ' And, if you love me, as you saye, Soe well and hartilee. All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt shal bee.' 1 said him nay. ^ Mahomet. 20 Then bespake her father deare : ' My daughter, I saye naye ; 80 Remember well the kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye. 21 'He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave me of my lyf e ; I cannot blame him if he doe. If I reave him of his wyfe.' 22 ' Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute, And therefore of the king his sonnc of Spaine Wee neede not stande in doubt. go 23 'Plight me your troth, nowe, Kyng Estmere, By heaven and your righte hand. That you will marrye me to your wife, And make me queene of your land.' 24 Then Kyng Estmere he plight his troth, By heaven and his righte hand. That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his land. 25 And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne cotmtree, 100 To fetehe him dukes and lordes and knightes. That marryed the might bee. 26 They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle forthe of the towne. But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With kempes ' many one. 27 But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone. Tone day to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carrye her home, no 28 Shee sent one after Kyng Estmere, In all the spede might bee. That he must either turne againe and fighte. Or goe home and loose his ladye. 29 One whyle then the page he went, Another while he ranne; Till he had oretaken King Estmere, I-wis he never blanne.^ * champions. < stopped. KING ESTMERE 281 30 ' Tydings, tydings, Kyng Estmere ! ' ' What tydings nowe, my boye ? ' 120 ' O tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye. 31 'You had not ridden scant a mile, A mile out of the towne, But in did come the kyng of Spaynej With kempes many a one. 32 ' But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold barone. Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry her home. 130 33 ' My ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee ; You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose your ladye. ' 34 Sales, 'Reade me, reade me, deere bro- ther, My reade shall ryse at thee,i Whether it is better to turne and fighte, Or goe home and loose my ladye.' 35 ' Nowhearkentome,' sayes Adler Yonge, ' And your reade must rise at me ; 140 I quicklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free. 36 ' My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramarye,^ And when I learned at the schole, Something shee taught itt mee. 37 ' Theregrowesanhearbewithiuthisfield, And ifi it were but knowne. His color, which is whyte and redd, It will make blaoke and browne. 150 38 ' His color, which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte; That sworde is not in all Englande Upon his coate will byte. » 39 ' And you shal be a harper, brother, Out of the north countrye, And He be your boy, soe faine of fighte, And beare your harpe by your knee. 40 ' And you shal be the best harper That ever tooke harpe in hand, 160 2 My counfiel Bhall come from you. s magic. And I wil be the best singer That ever sung in this lande. 41 ' Itt shal be written in our forheads, All and in graminarye, That we towe are the boldest men That are in all Christentye.' 42 And thus they renisht them to ryde. Of tow good renisht steedes, And when they came to King Adlands hall. Of redd gold shone their weedes. 170 43 And whan the came to Kyng Adlands hall Until the fayre hall-yate, There they found a proud porter. Rearing himselfe thereatt. 44 Sayes, 'Christ thee save, thou proud porter,' Sayes, ' Christ thee save and see: ' ' Nowe you be welcome,' sayd the porter, ' Of what land soever ye bee.' 45 ' Wee beene harpers,' sayd Adler Younge, ' Come out of the northe countrye; 180 Wee beene come hither untill this place This proud weddinge for to see.' 46 Sayd, ' And your color were white and redd. As it is blacke and browne, I wold saye King Estmere and his brother Were comen untill this towne.' 47 Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porters arme: 'And ' ever we will thee,^ proud porter, Thou wilt saye us no harme.' 190 48 Sore he looked on Kyng Estmere, And sore he handled the ryng. Then opened to them the fayre hall-yates, He lett 5 for no kind of thyng. 49 Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede Soe fayre att the hall-bord; The froth that came from his brydle bitte Light in Kyng Bremors beard. 60 Saies, 'Stable thy steed, thou proud harper,' Saies, ' Stable him in the stalle ; 200 If. * thrive. B delayed. 282 BALLADS It doth not beseeme a proud harper To stable his steede in a kyngs halle.' 51 'My ladde he is so lither,'* he said, ' He will doe nought that's meete; And is there any man in this hall Were able him to beate ? ' 52 ' Thou speakst proud words,' sayes the king of Spaine, 'Thou harper, here to mee; There is a man within this halle Will beate thy ladd and thee.' sio 53 ' O let that man come downe,' he said, ' A sight of him wold I see; And when hee hath beaten well my ladd. Then he shall beate of mee.' 54 Downe then came the kemperye^ man, And looked hira in the eare; For all the gold that was under heaven, He durst not neigh ' him neare. 65 ' And how nowe, kempe,' said the kynge of Spaine, ' And how, what aileth thee ? ' 220 He sales, ' It is writt in his f orhead, All and in gramarye. That for all the gold thatis under heaven, I dare not neigh him nye.' 66 Then Kyng Estmere puUd forth his harpe, And plaid a pretty thinge; The ladye upstart from the horde, And wold have gone from the king. 67 ' Stay thy harpe, thou proud harper, For Gods love I pray thee; 230 For and thou playes as thou beginns. Thou 'It till * my bryde from mee.' 68 He stroake upon his harpe againe, And playd a pretty thinge; The ladye lough a loud laiighter. As shee sate by the king. 69 Saies, 'Sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper, And thy stringes all; For as many gold nobles thou shalt have. As heere bee ringes in the hall.' 240 1 rascally. 8 nlgb, approach. s fighting. ' toll, entice. 60 ' What wold ye doe with my harpe,' he sayd, ' If I did sell itt yee ? ' ' To playe my wiffe and me a fitt, When abed together wee bee,' 61 ' Now sell me,' quoth hee, ' thy bryde soe gay. As shee sitts by thy knee; And as many gold nobles I will give As leaves been on a tree.' 62 ' And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay. Iff I did sell her thee ? 250 More seeraelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee then thee.' 63 Hee played agayne both loud and shrille, And Adler he did syng, ' O ladye, this is thy owne true love, Noe harper, but a kyng. 64 ' O ladye, this is thy owne true love, As playnlye thou mayest see. And He rid thee of that foul paynim Who partes thy love and thee.' 260 65 The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne. While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the sowdan slayne. 66 Up then rose the kemperye men, And loud they gan to crye: ' Ah ! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye.' 67 Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde. And swith ^ he drew his brand, 270 And Estmere he and Adler Yonge Kight stiff e in stour^ can stand. 68 And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Throughe help of gramarye. That soone they have slayne the kem- pery men. Or forst them forth to flee. 69 Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladye, And marryed her to his wifife. And brought her home to mery Eng- land, With her to lead his life. j8o I quickly. > bold in battle. FAIR ANNIE 283 FAIR ANNIE 1 1 ' It 's narrow, narrow, make your bed, And learn to lie your lane;'' For I 'm ga'n oer the sea, Fair Annie, A braw bride to bring hame. Wi her I will get gowd and gear; Wi you I neer got nane. 2 ' But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale ? And wha will welcome my brisk bride. That I bring oer the dale ? ' 10 3 ' It 's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale. And I will welcome your brisk bride. That you bring oer the dale.' 4 ' But she that welcomes my brisk bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,' And braid her yellow hair.' 5 ' But how can I gang maiden-like. When maiden I am nane ? 20 Have I not born seven sons to thee, And am with child again ? ' 6 She 's taen her young son in her arms. Another in her hand. And she 's up to the highest tower, To see him come to land. 7 ' Come up, come up, my eldest son, And look oer you sea-strand. And see your father's new-come bride, Before she come to land.' 30 8 'Come down,oomedown, my motherdear. Come frae the castle wa ! I fear, if langer ye stand there. Ye '11 let yoursell down fa.' 9 And she gaed down, and farther down, Her love's ship for to see. And the topmast and the mainmast Shone like the silyer free. 10 And she 's gane down, and farther down. The bride's ship to behold, 40 1 The twelfth century Lai le Fraime (Lay 0/ the Ash- Tree) of Marie de France is a version of this ancient tale: it may be found translated in Eugene Mason's French Mediseval Bomances, in Everyman^s Libraiy. B alone. ^ close-fittings And the topmast and the mainmast They shone just like the gold. 11 She 's taen her seven sons in her hand, I wot she didna fail; She met Lord Thomas and his bride. As they came oer the dale. 12 ' You 're welcome to your house. Lord Thomas, You 're welcome to your land; You 're welcome with your fair ladye, That you lead by the hand. 50 13 ' You 're welcome to your ha's, ladye. You 're welcome to your bowers; You 're welcome to your hame, ladye. For a' that 's here is yours.' 14 'I thank thee, Annie; I thank thee, Annie, Sae dearly as I thank thee; You 're the likest to my sister Annie, That ever I did see. 15 ' There came a knight out oer the sea, And steald my sister away; 60 The shame scoup^ in his company, And land whereer he gae 1 ' 16 She hang ae napkin at the door, Another in the ha, And a' to wipe the trickling tears, Sae fast as they did fa. 17 And aye she served the lang tables, With white bread and with wine, And aye she drank the wan water. To had ' her colour fine. 70 18 And aye she served the lang tables. With white bread and with brown ; And ay she turned her round about, Sae fast the tears fall down. 19 And he 's taen down the silk napkin, Hung on a silver pin, And aye he wipes the tear trickling A' down her cheik and chin. 20 And aye he turn'd him round about, And smil'd amang his men ; 80 Says, ' Like ye best the old ladye. Or her that 's new come hame ? ' ' fiy. > hold, maintalD. 284 BALLADS 21 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed, Lord Thomas and his new-come bride To their chamber they were gaed. 22 Annie made her bed a little forbye,^ To hear what they might say; ' And ever alas ! ' Fair Annie cried, ' That I should see this day ! 90 23 ' Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, Running on the castle wa. And 1 were a grey cat mysell, I soon would worry them a'. 24 ' Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, Running oer yon lilly lee. And I were a grew hound^ mysell, Soon worried they a' should be.' 25 And wae and sad Fair Annie sat. And drearie was her sang, 100 And ever, as she sobbd and grat,^ ' Wae to the man that did the wrang !' 26 'My gown is on,' said the new-come bride, ' My shoes are on my feet, And I will to Fair Annie's chamber, And see what gars ^ her greet. 27 ' What ails ye, what ails ye. Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan ? Has your wine barrels cast the girds,^ Or is your white bread gone ? no 28 ' O wha was 't was your father, Annie, Or wha was 't was your mother ? And had ye ony sister, Annie, Or had ye ony brother ? ' 29 ' The Earl of Wemyss was my father. The Countess of Wemyss mymother; And a' the folk about the house To me were sister and brother.' 30 ' If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; 120 And it shall not be for lack o gowd That ye your love sail tine.' I nearby. s greyhound. B hoops. 8 wept, s lose. 31 ' For I have seven ships o mine ain, A' loaded to the brim. And I will gie them a' to thee, Wi four to thine eldest son : But thanks to a' the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame I ' CHILD WATERS 1 Childb Watters in his stable stoode. And stroaket his mUke-white steede ; To him came a ffaire young ladye As ere did weare womans wee[de]. 2 Saies, 'Christ you save, good Chyld Wa- ters I ' Sayes, 'Christ you save and see ! My girdle of gold, which was too longe, Is now to short fEor mee. 3 ' And all is with one chyld of yours, I ffeele sturre att my side; 10 My gowne of greene, it is to strayght;' Before it was to wide.' 4 ' If the child be mine, Faire Ellen,' he sayd, ' Be mine, as you tell mee. Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both. Take them your owne to bee. 5 ' If the child be mine, Ffaire Ellen,' he said, ' Be mine, as you doe sweare. Take you Cheshire and Lancashire both. And make that child your heyre.' 20 6 Shee saies, ' I had rather have one kisse. Child Waters, of thy mouth, Then I wold have Cheshire and Lanca- shire both, That lyes by north and south. 7 ' And I had rather have a twinkling, Child Waters, of your eye. Then I wold have Cheshire and Lanca- shire both. To take them mine oune to bee. 8 ' To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde Soe ffarr into the north countrye; 30 The ffairest lady that I can fQnd, Ellen, must goe with mee.' ' narrow. CHILD WATERS 285 ' And ever I pray you, Child Walters, Your £Eootpage let me bee ! ' 9 ' If you will my ffootpage be, Ellen, As you doe tell itt mee, Then you must eutt your gownne of greene An inche above your knee. 10 ' Soe must you doe your yellow lockes. Another inch above your eye ; 40 You must tell noe man what is my name; My ffootpage then you shall bee.' 11 All this long day Child Waters rode, Shee ran bare ffoote by his side; Yett was he never soe ourteous a kni^it To say, 'EUen, will you ryde ? ' 12 But all this day Child Waters rode, Shee ran barffoote thorow the broome ; Yett he was never soe ourteous a kni^At As to say, 'Put on your shoone.' 50 13 ' Ride softlye,' shee said, ' Child Waters; Why doe you ryde soe ffast ? The child which is no mans but yours My bodye itt will burst.' 14 He sayes, ' Sees thou yonder water, Ellen, TTiat fflowes from banke to brim ? ' 'I trust to God, Child Waters,' shee said, ' You will never see mee swime.' 15 But when shee came to the waters side, Shee sayled to the chinne : 60 ' Except the lord of heaven be my speed, Now must I learne to swime.' 16 The salt waters bare vp Ellens clothes. Our Ladye bare vp he[r] chinne, And Child Waters was a woe man, good Lorrf, To ssee Faire Ellen swime. 17 And when shee over the water was, Shee then came to his knee: He said, ' Come hither, Ffaire Ellen, Loe yonder what I see ! 70 18 ' Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen ? Of redd gold shine the yates ; There 's four and twenty ffayre ladyes, The fEairest is my wordlye make.^ 19 ' Seest thou not yonder haU, EUen ? Of redd gold shineth the tower ; There is four and twenty ffaire ladyes, The fairest is my paramoure.' 20 ' I doe see the hall now. Child Waters, That of redd gold shineth the yates ; God give good then of your self e, 81 And of your wordlye make ! 21 'I doe see the hall now, Child Waters, That of redd gold shineth the tower ; God give good then of your selfe. And of your paramoure 1 ' 22 There were four and twenty ladyes, Were playing att the ball, And Ellen, was the ffairest ladye. Must bring his steed to the stall. 90 23 There were four and twenty faire ladyes Was playing att the chesse ; And EUen, shee was the ffairest ladye, Must bring his horsse to grasse. 24 And then bespake Child Waters sister. And these were the words said shee : You have the prettyest ffootpage, bro- ther. That ever I saw with mine eye ; 25 ' But that his belly it is soe bigg. His girdle goes wonderous hye ; 100 And euer I pray you, ChUd Waters, Let him goe into the chamber with mee.' 26 'It is more meete for a little ffoot- page. That has rim through mosse and mire. To take his supper vpon his knee And sitt downe by the kitchin fyer, Then to goe into the chamber with any ladye That weares soe [rich] attyre.' 27 But when they had supped euery one. To bedd they took the way ; no He sayd, 'Come hither, my little foot- page, Hearken what I doe say. 1 worldly mate. 286 BALLADS 28 'And jjoe thee downe into yonder towne, And low into the street; The ffairest ladye that thou can find, Hyer her in mine arines to sleepe, And take her up in thine armes two, For filinge ^ of her ffeete.' 29 Ellen is gone into the towne, And low into the streete; 120 The fairest ladye that shee cold find Shee hyred in his armes to sleepe, And tooke her in her armes two, For filing of her ffeete. 30 ' I pray you now, good Child Waters, That I may oreepe in att your bedds ffeete ; For there is noe place about this house Where I may say ^ a sleepe.' 31 This [night] and itt drove on affter- ward Till itt was neere the day: 130 He sayd, ' Rise vp, my little ff oote-page. And give my steed come and hay; And soe doe thou the good blacke oates, That he may carry me the better away.' 32 And up then rose Ffaire Ellen, And gave his steed come and hay. And soe shee did and the good blacke oates. That he might carry Tii'tti the better away. 33 Shee layned' her backe to the manger side, And greivouslye did groane; 140 And that beheard his mother deere, And heard her make her moane. 34 Shee said, ' Rise vp, thou Child Waters, I thinke thou art a cursed man; For yonder is a ghost in thy stable, That greivouslye doth groane, Or else some woman laboures of child, Shee is soe woe begone.' 35 But vp then rose Child Waters, And did on his shirt of silke; 150 Then he put on his other clothes On his body as white as milke. » assay. » leaned. 36 And when he came to the stable-dore, Full still that hee did stand. That hee might heare now Faire Ellen, How shee made her monand.^ 37 Sheesaid, 'Lullabye,myownedeerecliildl Lullaby e, deere child, deere! I wold thy father were a king. Thy mother layd on a beere I ' 160 38 ' Peace now,' he said, • good Faire Ellen, And be of good cheere, I thee pray. And the bridall and the churching both, They shall bee upon one day.' LADY MAISRY 1 The young lords o the north country Have all a wooing gone. To win the love of Lady Maisry, But o them she woud hae none. 2 O they hae courted Lady Maisry Wi a' kin kind of things ; ^ An they hae sought her Lady Maisry Wi brotches an wi rings. 3 An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae father and frae mother; 10 An they ha sought her Lady Maisry Frae sister an frae brother. 4 An they ha followd her Lady Maisry Thro chamber and thro ha; But a' that they coud say to her. Her answer still was Na. 5 ' O had 8 your tongues, young men,' she says, ' An think nae mair o me; For I 've gien my love to an English lord. An think nae mair o me.' 20 6 Her father's kitchy-boy heard that, An ill death may he dee! An he is on to her brother, As fast as gang coud he. 7 'O is my father an my mother well. But an my brothers three ? Gin my sister Lady Maisry be well, There 's naething can ail me.' < moaning, 8 things of every conceivable kind. > bold. LADY MAISRY 287 8 ' Your father and your mother is well, But an your brothers three; 30 Your sister Lady Maisry 's well, So big wi bairn gangs she.' 9 ' Gin this be true you tell to me. My mailison^ light on thee I But gin it be a lie you tell, You sal be hangit hie.' 10 He 's done him to his sister's bowr, Wi meikle doole an care; An there he saw her Lady Maisry, Kembing her yallow hair. 40 11 'O wha is aught ^ that bairn,' he says, ' That ye sae big are wi ? And gin ye winna own the truth. This moment ye sail dee.' 12 She turnd her right an roun about. An the kem fell f rae her hau ; A trembling seizd her fair body. An her rosy cheek grew wan. 13 ' O pardon me, my brother dear, An the truth I'll tell to thee; 50 My bairn it is to Lord William, An he is betrothed to me.' 14 ' O coud na ye gotten dukes, or lords, Intill your ain country, That ye draw up wi an English dog, To bring this shame on me ? 15 ' But ye maun gi up the English lord, Whan youre young babe is born; For, gin you keep by him an hour langer, Your life sail be forlorn.' 6° 16 ' I will gi up this English blood. Till my young babe be born; But the never a day nor hour langer, Tho my life should be forlorn.' 17 ' O whare is a' my merry young men. Whom I gi meat and fee, To pu the thistle and the thorn, To burn this wile ' whore wi ? ' 18 ' O whare will I get a bonny boy. To help me in my need, To rin wi hast to Lord William, And bid him come wi speed ? ' 1 curse. 2 who is it owns. ' Tila 19 O out it spake a bonny boy, Stood by her brother's side: ' O I would rin your errand, lady, Oer a' the world wide. 20 ' Aft have I run your errands, lady. Whan blawn baith win and weet; * But now I '11 rin your errand, lady, Wi sat ^ tears on my cheek.' 80 21 O whan he came to broken briggs,' He bent his bow and swam. An whan he came to the green grass growin, He slackd his shoone and ran. 22 O whan he came to Lord William's 70 He baed na to chap or ca,' But set his bent bow till his breast, An lightly lap the wa;' An, or the porter was at the gate. The boy was i the ha. 90 23 ' O is my biggins' broken, boy? Or is my towers won ? Or is my lady lighter yet, Of a dear daughter or son ? ' 24 ' Your biggin is na broken, sir. Nor is your towers won; But the fairest lady in a' the Ian For you this day maun burn.' 25 ' O saddle me the black, the black, Or saddle me the brown; 100 O saddle me the swiftest steed That ever rade f rae a town.' 26 Or he was near a mile awa. She heard his wild horse sneeze: ' Mend up the fire, my false brother, It 's na come to my knees.' 27 O whan he lighted at {he gate, She heard his bridle ring: 'Mend up the fire, my false brother, It 's far yet frae my chin. no 28 ' Mend up the fire to me, brother, Mend up the fire to me; For I see him comin hard an fast Will soon men 't up to thee. < blowing both wind and wet. 6 salt. 8 bridges. ' bided not to rap or call. ^ leaped the wall. ^ buildings. BALLADS 29 ' O gin my hands had been loose, Willy, Sae hard as they are boun, I would have turnd me frae the gleed,i And castin out your young son.' 30 ' O I '11 gar bum for you, Maisry, Your father au your mother; 120 An I '11 gar burn for you, Maisry, Your sister an your brother. 31 ' An I '11 gar burn for you, Maisry, The chief of a' your kin; An the last bonfire that I come to, Mysel I will cast in.' GLASGER10N2 1 Glasgerion was a kings owne Sonne, And a harper he was good; He harped in the kings chamber. Where cuppe and candle stoode. And soe did hee in the queens chamber. Till ladies waxed wood.* 2 And then bespake the king's daughter. And these words thus sayd shee. 3 Saide, ' Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion, Of thy striking doe not blinne;* 10 There 's never a stroke comes over thin harpe But it glads my hart within.' 4 'Faire might you fall, lady ! ' quoth hee; ' Who taught you now to speake. I have loved you, lady, seven yeere; My hart I durst neere breake.' 5 ' But come to my bower, my Glasger- ryon. When all men are att rest; As I am a ladie true of my promise, Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.' 20 6 But hom then came Glasgerryon, A glad man. Lord, was hee: ' And come thou hither, lacke, my boy. Come hither unto mee. 1 brand. 3 It is an interesting circumstance that one of the great harpers mentioned by Cbaucer in his House of Fame (m, 118) is the "Bret," or British, Glascurion. 3 frantic. < cease. 7 ' For the king's daughter of Normandye, Her love is gfrauted mee. And beffore the cocke have crowen, Att her chamber must I bee.' 8 ' But come you hither, masicr,' quoth hee, ' Lay your head downe on this stone; For I will wakeu you, master deere, 31 Afore it be time to gone.' 9 But upp then rose that lither " ladd, And did on hose and shoone; A coller he cast upon his necke, Hee seemed a gentleman. 10 And when he came to that ladies cham- ber. He thrild vpon a pinn;^ The lady was true of her promise, Kose up and lett him in. 40 11 He did not take the lady gay To boulster nor to bedd, But downe upon her chamber-flore Full soone he hath her layd. 12 He did not kisse that lady gay When he came nor when he youd;' And sore mistrusted that lady gay He was of some churles blood. 13 But home then came that lither ladd. And did of his hose and shoone, 50 And cast that coller from about his necke; He was but a churles sonne: ' Awaken,' quoth hee, ' my masteT deere, I hold it time to be gone. 14 ' For I have sadled your horsse, master, Well bridled I have your steed; Have not I served a good breakfast, When time comes I have need.' 15 But up then rose good Glasgerryon, And did on both hose and shoone, 60 And cast a coller about his necke; He was a kinoes sonne. 16 And when he came to that ladies cham- ber. He thrild vpon a pinn; The lady was more then true of promise, Kose up and let him in. » nicked. « rattled at the door-fastening. ' went. CLERK SAUNDERS 289 17 Saies, ' Whether have you left with me Your braclett or your glove ? Or are you returned baeke againe To know more of my love ?' 70 18 Glasgerryon swore a full great othe, By oake and ashe and thorne, ' Lady, 1 was never in your chamber Sith the time that I was borne.' 19 ' O then it was your litle f oote-page Falsly hath beguiled me : ' And then shee puUd forth a litle pen- kniffe, That hanged by her knee, Says, 'There shall never noe churles blood Spring within my body.' 80 20 But home then went Glasgerryon, A woe man, good [Lord], was hee; ' Sayes, ' Come hither, thou lacke, my boy. Come thou hither to mie. 21 ' Ffor if I had kiUed a man to-night, lacke, I wold tell it thee ; But if I have not killed a man to-night, lacke, thou hast killed three ! ' 22 And he puld out his bright browne sword, And dryed it on his sleeve, 90 And he smote off that lither ladds head, And asked noe man noe leave. 23 He sett the swords poynt till his brest. The pumill till a stone; Thorrow ' that falsenese of that lither ladd These three lives werne all gone. CLERK SAUNDERS 1 Clark Sanders and May Margret Walkt ower yon graveld green, And sad and heavy was the love, I wat, it fell this twa between. 2 ' A bed, a bed,' Clark Sanders said, 'A bed, a bed for you and I;' •Fye no, fye no,' the lady said, ' Until the day we married be. » Through, 3 ' For in it will come my seven brothers, And a' their torches burning bright; 10 They '11 say, " We hae but ae sister. And here her lying wi a knight." ' 4 'Ye'l take the sourde fray my scab- bord. And lowly, lowly lift the gin. And you may say, your oth to save. You never let Ckirk Sanders in. 5 ' Yele take a napken in your hand. And ye '1 ty up baith your een. An ye may say, your oth to save. That ye saw ua Sandy sen late yes- treen. 20 6 ' Yele take me in your armes twa, Yele Carrey me ben ^ into your bed, And ye may say, your oth to save. In your bower-floor I never tread.' 7 She has taen the sourde fray his scab- bord, And lowly, lowly lifted the gin; She was to swear, her oth to save. She never let Clerk Sanders in. 8 She has tain a napkin in her hand. And she ty'd up baith her eeen; 30 She was to swear, her oth to save, She saw na him sene late yestreen. 9 She has taen him in her armes twa, And carried him ben into her bed; She was to swear, her oth to save. He never in her bower-floor tread. 10 In and came her seven brothers, And aU their torches burning bright; Says thay, ' We hae but ae sister. And see there her lying wi a knight.' 11 Out and speaks the first of them, 41 ' A wat ^ they hay been lovers dear; ' Out and speaks the next of them, ' They hay been in love this many a year.' 12 Out an speaks the third of them, ' It wear great sin this twa to twain ; ' * Out an speaks the fourth of them, 'It wear a sin to kill a sleeping man.' s within. s i ween. ' sunder. 290 BALLADS 13 Out an speaks the fifth of them, ' A wat they '11 near be twained by me;' 50 Out an speaks the sixt of them, ' We '1 tak our leave an gae our way.' 14 Out an speaks the seventh of them, ' Altho there wear no a man but me, I bear the brand, I 'le gar him die.' 15 Out he has taen a bright long brand, And he has striped it throw the straw, And throw and throw Clarke Sanders' body A wat he has gard ^ cold iron gae. 16 Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt, Intill his arras whare she lay, 61 And well and wellsom was the night, A wat it was between these twa. 17 And they lay still, and sleeped sound, Untill the day began to daw ; ' And kindly till him she did say 'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.' 18 They lay still, and sleeped sound, Until the sun began to shine; She lookt between her and the wa, 70 And dull and heavy was his eeen. 19 She thought it had been a loathsome sweat, A wat it had fallen this twa between; But it was the blood of his fair body, A wat his life days wair ua lang. 20 ' O Sanders, I 'le do for your sake What other ladys would na thoule ; ^ When seven years is come and gone, There 's near a shoe go on my sole. 21 ' O Sanders, 1 'le do for your sake 80 What other ladies would think mare; When seven years is come an gone, Thar '3 nere a comb go in my hair. 22 ' O Sanders, I 'le do for your sake What other ladies would think lack; When seven years is come an gone, I 'le wear nought but dowy ^ black.' 1 I wot he has made. 3 endure. 2 dawn. * dismal. 23 The bells gaed clinking throw the towne. To carry the dead corps to the clay, An sighing says her May Margret, 90 ' A wat I bide a doulfou day.' 24 In an come her father dear. Stout steping on the floor; 25 ' Hold your toung, ray doughter dear, Let all your mourning a bee; I 'le carry the dead corpse to the clay. An I 'le come back an comfort thee.' 26 ' Comfort well your seven sons, For comforted will I never bee; For it was neither lord nor loune joo That was in bower last night wi mee.' LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET 1 Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a' day on a hill ; Whan night was cum, and sun was sett, They had not talkt their fill. 2 Lord Thomas said a word in jest, Fair Annet took it Ul: ' A, I will nevir wed a wife. Against my ain friends' will.' 3 ' Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife, A wife wull neir wed yee: ' 10 Sae he is hame to tell his mither, And knelt upon his knee. 4 ' O rede, O rede, mither,' he says, ' A gude rede * gie to mee ; O sail I tak the mit-browne bride. And let Faire Annet bee ? ' 5 ' The nnt-browne bride haes gowd and gear. Fair Annet she has gat nane; And the little beauty Fair Annet haes O it wull soon be gane.' 20 6 And he has till his brother gane: ' Now, brother, rede ye mee ; A, sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, And let Fair Annet bee ? ' LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET 291 7 ' The nuf^browne bride has oxen, brother, The nut-browne bride has kye ; ^ I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride, And cast Fair Annet bye.' 8 ' Her oxen may dye i the house, billie. And her kye into the byre,^ 30 And I sail hae nothing to mysell Bot a fat fadge ^ by the fyre.' 9 And he has till his sister gane: 'Now, sister, rede ye mee; O sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, And set Fair Annet free ? ' 10 ' I 'se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the brown e bride alane; Lest ye sould sigh, and say, " Alace, What is this we brought hame! " ' 40 11 ' No, I will tak my mither's counsel. And marrie me owt o hand; And I will tak the nut-browne bride, Fair Annet may leive the land.' 12 Up then rose Fair Annet's father, Twa hours or it wer day. And he is gane into the bower Wherein Fair Annet lay . 13 ' Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,' he says, ' Put on your silken sheene; ^ 50 Let us gae to St. Marie's kirke. And see that rich weddeeu.' 14 ' My maides, gae to my dressing-roome. And dress to me my hair; Whaireir yee laid a plait before. See yee lay ten times mair. 15 ' My maids, gae to my dressing-room. And dress to me my smock; The one half is o the hoUand ° fine. The other o needle-work.' 60 16 The horse Fair Annet rade upon, He amblit like the wind; Wi siller he was shod before, Wi burning gowd behind. 17 Four and twanty siller bells Wer a' tyed till his mane. 1 kine. * splendor. 2 cow-shed. 3 dumpy woman. ^ linen. And yae tiff o the norland wind. They tinkled ane by ane. 18 Four and twanty gay gude kniehts Rade by Fair Annet's side, 70 And four and twanty fair ladies, As gin she had bin a bride. 19 And whan she cam to Marie's kirk. She sat on Marie's stean : ' The cleadiug* that Fair Annet had on It skinkled ' in their een. 20 And whan she cam into the kirk. She shimraerd like the sun; The belt that was about her waist Was a' wi pearles bedone. 80 21 She sat her by the nut-browne bride, And her een they wer sae clear. Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride. Whan Fair Annet drew near. 22 He had a rose into his hand. He gae it kisses three. And reaching by the nut-browne bride. Laid it on Fair Annet's knee. 23 Up than spak the nut-browne bride. She spak wi meikle spite: 90 ' And whair gat ye that rose-water. That does mak yee sae white ? ' 24 ' O I did get the rose-water Whair ye wuU neir get nane. For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither's wame.' i" 25 The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear. And strake Fair Annet unto the heart. That word spak nevir mair. 100 26 Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale. And marvelit what mote bee ; But whan he saw her dear heart's blude, A' wood-wroth ^ wexed bee. 27 He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp. That was sae sharp and meet, And drave it into the nut-browne bride. That fell deid at his feit. " one gust. * shone. 7 stone. 10 womb. 8 clothing. 11 mad-angry. 292 BALLADS 28 ' Now stay for me, dear Annet,' lie sed, 'Now stay, my dear,' he cry'd; no Then strake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her side. 29 Lord Thomas was buried without kirkwa, Fair Annet within the quiere. And o the tane thair grew a birk,^ The other a bonny briere. 30 And ay they grew, and ay they threw,^ As they wad faine be neare; And by this ye may ken right weU They were twa luvers deare. 120 LOVE GREGORY 1 ' O WHA will shoe my fn fair foot ? And wha will glove my hand ? And wha will lace my middle jinip,^ Wi the new made London band ? 2 ' And wha will kaim my yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim ? And wha will father my young son, Till Love Gregor come hame ? ' 3 ' Your father will shoe your f u fair foot, Your mother will glove your hand ; lo Your sister will lace your middle jimp Wi the new made London band. 4 'Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, Wi the new made silver kaim ; And the king of heaven will father your bairn. Till Love Gregor come haim.' 5 ' But I will get a bonny boat. And I will sail the sea. For I maun gang to Love Gregor, Since he canno come hame to me.' 20 6 O she has gotten a bonny boat. And sailld the sa't sea fame ; She langd to see her ain true-love, Since he could no come hame. 7 ' O row your boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land. 1 birch. ^ twisted. > Also known as The Lass ofRoch Boyal. i email. For yonder I see my love's castle, Closs by the sa't sea strand.' 8 She has taen her young son in her arms, And to the door she 's gone, 30 And lang she 's knocked and sair she ca'd, But answer got she none. 9 ' O open the door, Love Gregor,' she says, ' O open, and let me in; For the win blaws thro my yellow hair. And the rain draps oer my chin.' 10 ' Awa, awa, ye ill woman , You 'r nae come here for good ; You 'r but some witch, or wile warlock,' Or mer-maid of the flood.' 40 11 ' I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock, Nor mer-maid of the sea, I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal; O open the door to me.' 12 'Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal — And I trust ye are not she — Now tell me some of the love-tokens That past between you and me.' 13 ' dinna you mind now. Love Gregor, When we sat at the wine, 50 How we changed the rings frae our fingers ? And I can show thee thine. 14 ' O yours was good, and good enneugh, But ay the best was mine ; For yours was o the good red goud. But mine o the diamonds fiue. 15 ' But open the door now. Love Gregor, Open the door I pray, For your young son that is in my arms Will be dead ere it be day.' 60 16 ' Awa, awa, ye ill woman, For here ye shanno win in; Gae drown ye in the raging sea. Or hang on the gallows-pin.' 17 When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn. And the sun began to peep. Then it raise him Love Gregor, And sair, sair did he weep. B wizard. SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST 293 18 ' O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear, The thoughts o it gars me greet,^ 70 That Fair Annie of Bough Royal Lay cauld dead at my feet.' 19 ' Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal That ye make a' this din, She stood a' last night at this door, But I trow she wan no in.' 20 ' O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill dead may ye die I That ye woudno open the door to her, Nor yet woud waken me.' 80 21 O he has gone down to yon shore-side, As fast as he could fare; He saw Fair Annie in her boat. But the wind it tossed her sair. 22 And'Hey, Annie! 'and 'How, Annie! O Annie, winna ye bide ? ' But aye the mair that he cried Annie, The braider grew the tide. 23 And'Hey, Annie!'and'How, Annie! Dear Annie speak to me ! ' go But ay the louder he cried Annie, The louder roard the sea. 24 The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dashd the boat on shore; Fair Annie floats on the raging sea. But her young son raise no more. 25 Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, And made a heavy moan; Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet. But his bonny young son was gone. 26 O cherry, cherry was her cheek, loi And gowden was her hair. But clay cold were her rosey lips, Nae spark of life was there. 27 And first he 's kissd her cherry cheek. And neist he 's kissed her chin ; And saf tly pressed her rosey lips. But there was nae breath within. 28 ' O wae betide my cruel mother, And an ill dead may she die ! no For she tumd my true-love frae my door, When she came sae far to me.' 1 makes me cry. SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST 1 Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, A wat a' man ^ to bed were gone, Clark Sanders came to Margret's win- dow. With mony a sad sigh and groan. 2 ' Are ye sleeping, Margret,' he says, ' Or are ye waking, presentUe ? Give me my faith and trouthe again, A wat, trew-love, I gied to thee.' 3 ' Your faith and trouth ye 's never get. Nor our trew love shall never twain,^ Till ye come with me in my bower, u And kiss me both cheek and chin.' 4 ' My mouth it is full cold, Margret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I kiss thy comely mouth, Thy life-days will not be long. 5 ' Cocks are crowing a merry mid-larf, * I wat the wild fule ^ boded day ; Gie me my faith and trouthe again, And let me fare me on my way.' 20 6 ' Thy faith and trouth thou shall na get. Nor our trew love shall never twin. Till ye tell me what comes of women A wat that dy's in strong traveling.' 7 'Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee. Well set about wi gilly-flowers, A wat sweet company for to see. 8 ' O cocks are crowing a merry midd- larf, A wat the wilde f oule boded day ; 30 The salms of Heaven will be sung, And ere now I 'le be misst away.' 9 Up she has tain a bright long wand. And she has straked* her trouth thereon ; She has given (it) him out at the shot- window, Wi many a sad sigh and heavy groan. 2 Surely all men. b part. * A doubtful word. 6 fowl, 8 atroked, i.e., tranaferred it to the wand. 294 BALLADS 10 ' I thank you, Margret, I thank you, Margret, And I thank you hartilie ; Gine ever the dead come for the quick, Be sure, Margret, I '11 come again for thee.' 40 11 It 's hose an shoon an gound ^ alane She clame the wall and followed him, Untill she came to a green forest. On this she lost the sight of him. 12 ' Is there any room at your head, San- ders ? Is there any room at your feet ? Or any room at your twa sides ? Whare fain, fain woud I sleep.' 13 ' There is na room at my head, Margret, There is na room at my feet; 50 There is room at my twa sides, For ladys for to sleep. 14 ' Cold meal ^ is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; My hed it is full low, I say, Down among the hongerey worms I sleep. 15 ' Cold meal is my covering owre, But an my winding sheet; The dew it falls na sooner down Than ay it is full weet.' 60 THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL 1 There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons And sent them oer the sea. 2 They hadna heen a week from her, A week but barely ane, Whan word came to the carline wife ^ That her three sons were gane. 3 They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, 10 Whan word came to the carlin wife That her sons she 'd never see. 4 ' I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes ^ in the flood, 1 gown. 3 mould. a old woman. ^ troubles. Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood.' 5 It fell about the Martinmass, When nights are lang and mirk,^ The carlin wife's three sons came hame, And their hats were o the birk.^ 20 6 It neither grew in syke ' nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh ' ; But at the gates o Paradise, That birk grew fair eneugh. 7 ' Blow up the fire, my maidens, Bring water from the well; For a' my house shall feast this night. Since my three sous are well.' 8 And she has made to them a bed. She 's made it large and wide, 30 And she 's taen her mantle her about. Sat down at the bed-side. 9 Up then crew the red, red cock. And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, ' 'T is time we were away.' 10 The cock he hadna orawd but once, And clappd his wings at a'. When the youngest to the eldest said, ' Brother, we must awa. 40 11 'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin' worm doth chide; Gin we be mist out o our place, A sair pain we maun bide. 12 'Fare ye weel, my mother dear ! Fareweel to barn and byre i" ! 13 And fare ye weel, the bonny lass That kindles my mother's fire 1 ' LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD 1 As it fell one holy-day, Hay downe. As many be in the yeare. When young men and maids together did goe. Their mattins and masse to heare, s dark. « birch. ^ gnunbling. ' trench. 8 furrow. 10 cow-house. LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD 295 2 Little Musgrave came to the churcli- dore; The preist was at private masse; But he hadmore miude of the f aire women Than he had of our lady['s] grace. 3 The one of them was clad in green, 10 Another was clad in pall/ And then came in my Lord Bernard's wife, The fairest amonst them all. 4 She cast an eye on Little Musgrave, As bright as the summer sun ; And then bethought this Little Musgrave, This lady's heart have I woonu. 5 Quoth she, 'I have loved thee. Little Musgrave, Full long and many a day ; ' ' So have I loved you, fair lady, 20 Yet never word durst I say.' 6 ' I have a bower at Buckelsf ordbery. Full daintyly it is deight; If thou wilt wend thither, thou Little Musgrave, Thou 's lig 2 in mine armes all night.' 7 Quoth he, ' I thank yee, faire lady. This kindnes thou showest to me; But whether it be to my weal or woe. This night I will lig with thee.' 8 With that he heard, a little tyne page. By his lady e's coach as he ran : 3 1 ' All though I am my ladye's foot-page. Yet I am Lord Barnard's man. 9 ' My lord Barnard shall knowe of this, Whether I sink or swim ; ' And ever where the bridges were broake He laid him downe to swimme. 10 ' A sleepe or wake, thou Lord Barnard, As thou art a man of life. For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesford- bery, 40 A bed with thy own wedded wife.' 11 ' If this be true, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me, Then all the land in Bucklesfordbery I freely will give to thee. I purple. 3 Thou Bhalt lie. 12 ' But if it he a ly, thou little tinny page, This thing thou tellest to me. On the hyest tree in Bucklesfordbery Then hanged shalt thou be.' 13 He called up his merry men all: 50 ' Come saddle me my steed; This night must I to Buckellsfordbery, For I never had greater need.' 14 And some of them whistld, and some of them snng. And some these words did say. And ever when my lord Barnard's horn blew, ' Away, Musgrave, away ! ' 15 ' Methinks I hear the thresel-cock, Methinks I hear the jaye; Methinks I hear my lord Barnard, 60 And I would I were away.' 16 'Lye still, lye still, thou Little Musgrave, And huggell me from the cold; 'Tis nothing but a shephard's boy, A driving his sheep to the fold. 17 ' Is not thy hawke upon a perch ? Thy steed eats oats and hay; And thou a fair lady in thine armes, And wouldst thou bee away ? ' 18 With that my lord Barnard came to the dore, ■ja And lit a stone upon; He plucked out three silver keys. And he opened the dores each one. 19 He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheet: ' How now, how now, thou Littell Mus- grave, Doest thou find my lady sweet ? ' 20 'I find her sweet,' quoth Little Mus- grave, ' The more 'tis to my paine; I would gladly give three hundred pounds 80 That I were on yonder plaine.' 21 ' Arise, arise, thou Littell Musgrave, And put thy clothes on; It shall nere be said in my country I have killed a naked man. 296 BALLADS 22 ' I have two swords in one scabberd, Fvdl deere they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse.' 23 The first stroke that Little Musgrave stroke, 90 He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard stroke, Little Musgrave nere struck more. 24 With that bespake this faire lady, In bed whereas she lay: ' Although thou 'rt dead, thou Little Musgrave, Yet I for thee will pray. 25 ' And wish well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life ; So win I not for thee, Barnard, 100 Although I am thy wedded wife.' 26 He cut her paps from ofE her brest; Great pity it was to see That some drops of this ladle's heart's blood Ran trickling downe her knee. 27 ' Woe worth you, woe worth, my mery men all, You were nere borne for my good; Why did you not ofEer to stay my hand, When you see me wax so wood ? 28 ' For I have slaine the bravest sir knight That ever rode on steed; in So have I done the fairest lady That ever did woman's deed. 29 ' A grave, a grave,' Lord Barnard cryd, ' To put these lovers in ; But lay my lady on the upper hand. For she came of the better kin.' BONNY BARBARA ALLAN 1 It was in and about the Martinmas time. When the green leaves were a falling, That Sir John Grseme, in the West Country, Fell in love with Barbara Allan. 2 He sent his man down through the town. To the place where she was dwelling: ' O haste and come to my master dear, Gin ye be Barbara Allan.' 3 O hooly,' hooly rose she up. To the place where he was lying, 10 And when she drew the curtain by, ' Young man, I think you 're dying.' 4 ' it 's I 'm sick, and very, very sick, And 't is a' for Barbara Allan ; ' ' O the better for me ye 's never be, Tho your heart's blood were a spill- ing. 5 'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she, ' When ye was in the tavern a drink- ing, That ye made the healths gae round and round, And slighted Barbara Allan ? ' 20 6 He turned his face unto the wall. And death was with him dealing: 'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all. And be kind to Barbara Allan.' 7 And slowly, slowly raise she up. And slowly, slowly left him. And sighing said, she coud not stay. Since death of life had reft him. 8 She had not gane a mile but twa. When she heard the dead-bell ring- ing, 30 And every jow '^ that the dead-bell geid,8 It cry'd, ' Woe to Barbara Allan ! ' 9 ' O mother, mother, make my bed ! make it saft and narrow ! Since my love died for me to-day, 1 '11 die for him to-morrow.' LAMKIN 1 It 's Lamkin was a mason good as ever built wi stane ; He built Lord Wearie's castle, but payment got he nane. 1 slowly. 2 stroke. " struck. LAMKIN 297 2 ' O pay me, Lord Wearie, come, pay me my fee : ' ' I canna pay you, Lamkin, for I maun gang oer the sea.' 3 ' O pay me now, Lord Wearie, come, pay me out o hand: ' 10 ' I canna pay you, Lamkin, unless I sell my land.' 4 ' O gin ye winna pay me, I here sail mak a vow. Before that ye come hame again, ye sail hae cause to rue.' 5 Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, to sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, ay till he should come hame. 20 6 But the nourice was a fause limmer ^ as eer hung on a tree ; She laid a plot wi Lamkin, whan her lord was oer the sea. 7 She laid a plot wi Lamkin, when the servants were awa, Loot him in at a little shot-window,^ and brought him to the ha. 8 ' O whare 's a' the men o this house, that ca me Lamkin ? ' 30 ' They 're at the barn-well thrashing; 't will be lang ere they come in.' 9 ' And whare 's the women o this house, that ca me Lamkin ? ' ' They 're at the far well washing; 't will be lang ere they come in.' 10 ' And whare '3 the bairns o this house, that ca me Lamkin ? ' 'They 're at the school reading; 39 't will be night or they come hame.' 11 ' O whare 's the lady o this house, that ca's me Lamkin ? ' ' She 's up in her bower sewing, but we soon we can bring her down.' 12 Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, that hang down by his gaire,* And he has gien the bonny babe a deep wound and a sair. 1 wretch. s top-hinged window. s gore. 13 Then Lamkin he rocked, and the fause nourice sang, 50 Till frae ilkae bore * o the cradle the red blood out sprang. 14 Then out it spak the lady, as she stood on the stair: ' W^hat ails my bairn, nourice, that he 's greeting sae sair ? 15 ' O still my bairn nourice, O still him with the pap ! ' ° 'He winna still, lady, for this nor for that.' 60 16 ' O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi the wand I ' ' He winna still, lady, for a' his father's land.' 17 'O still mv bairn, nourice, O still him wi the bell ! ' ' He winna still, lady, till ye come down yoursel.' 18 O the firsten step she steppit, she steppit on a stane ; 70 But the neisten step she steppit, she met him Lamkin. 19 ' mercy, mercy, Lamkin, hae mercy upon me ! Though you 've taen my young son's life, ye may let mysel be.' 20 ' O sail I kill her, nourice, or sail I lat her be ? ' ' O kill her, kill her, Lamkin, for she neer was good to me.' 80 21 ' O scour the bason, nourice, and mak it fair and clean. For to keep this lady's heart's blood, for she '3 come o noble kin.' 22 ' There need nae bason, Lamkin, lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood o the rich than o the poor ? ' 23 But ere three months were at an end. Lord Wearie came again; 90 But dowie,^ dowie was his heart when first he came hame. < hole. B breast, o gad. 298 BALLADS 24 ' O wha's blood is this,' he says, that lies in the chanier ? ' ^ ' It is your lady's heart's blood; 't is as clear as the lamer.' ^ 25 ' And wha's blood is this,' he says, ' that lies in my ha ? ' 'It is your young son's heart's blood; 't is the clearest ava.' ^ k 26 O sweetly sang the black-bird that sat upon the tree; But sairer grat ^ Lamkin, when he was condemnd to die. 27 And bonny sang the mavis,* out o the thorny brake; But sairer grat the nourice, when she was tied to the stake. YOUNG WATERS 1 About Yule, when the wind blew oule, And the round tables ' began, A there is cum to our king's court Mony a well-favord man. 2 The queen luikt owre the castle-wa. Beheld baith dale and down, And there she saw Young Waters Cum riding to the town. 3 His footmen they did rin before. His horsemen rade behind; 10 And mantel of the burning gowd Did keip him frae the wind. 4 Gowden-graithd ' his horse before, And siller-shod behind; The horse Young Waters rade upon Was fleeter than the wind. 5 Out then spack a wylie lord, Unto the queen said lie, 'O tell me wha 's the fairest face Kides in the company ? ' 20 6 ' I 've sene lord, and I 've sene laird, And knights of high degree, Bot a fairer face than Young Waters Mine eyne did never see.' 1 chamber. B thrush. 2 amber, a game. 8 Of all. ' Gold-8hocl. wept. 7 Out then spack the jealous king. And an angry man was he: ' O if he had bin twice as fair. You micht have excepted me.' 8 ' You 're neither laird nor lord,' she says, _ 29 'Bot the king that wears the crown ; There is not a knight in fair Soot- land But to thee maun ^ bow down.' 9 For a' that she coud do or say, Appeas'd he wad nae bee, Bot for the words which she had said. Young Waters he maun die. 10 They hae taen Young Waters, And put fetters to his feet; They hae taen Young Waters, And thrown him in dungeon deep. 40 11 ' Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and^ the weit; But I neir rade thro Stirling town Wi fetters at my feet. 12 ' Aft I have ridden thro Stirling town In the wind bot and the rain ; Bot I neir rade thro Stirling town Neir to return again.' 13 They hae taen to the heiding-hill His young son in his craddle, 50 And they hae taen to the heiding-hill His horse bot and his saddle. 14 They hae taen to the heiding-hill His lady fair to see. And for the words the queen spoke Young Waters he did die. had THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS 10 1 'O GOOD Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while ! Methinks I see my own father, Come riding by the stile. ' must. 9 and also. '» This ballad is often cited as an example of genuine ballad structure. THE GAY GOSS-HAWK 299 2 ' Oh father, oh father, a little of your gold. And likewise of your fee ! To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.' 3 ' None of my gold now you shall have, Nor likewise of my fee; 10 For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be. 4 ' Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a httle while ! Methiuks I see my own mother, Come riding by the stile. 5 * Oh mother, oh mother, a little of your gold. And likewise of your fee, 18 To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree ! ' 6 ' None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee ; For I am come to see you hangd, And hanged you shall be.' 7 ' Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while ! Methinks I see my own brother. Come riding by the stile.' 8 ' Oh brother, oh brother, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, 30 To keep my body from yonder grave. And my neck from the gallows-tree ! ' 9 ' None of my gold now shall you have. Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd. And hanged you shall be.' 10 ' Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while ! Methinks I see my own sister. Come riding by the stile. 40 11 • Oh sister, oh sister, a little of your gold, And likewise of your fee, To keep my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree 1 ' 12 ' None of my gold now shall you have, Nor likewise of my fee; For I am come to see you hangd And hanged you shall be.' 13 ' Oh good Lord Judge, and sweet Lord Judge, Peace for a little while 1 50 Methinks I see my own true-love, Come riding by the stile. 14 ' Oh true-love, oh true-love, a little of your gold. And likewise of your fee. To save my body from yonder grave, And my neck from the gallows-tree.' 15 ' Some of my gold now you shall have, And likewise of my fee. For I am come to see you saved, And saved you shall be.' 60 THE GAY GOSS-HAWK 1 ' O WBLL 's me o my gay goss-hawk, That he can speak and flee; He '11 carry a letter to my love, Bring back another to me.' 2 ' O how can I your true-love ken,' Or how can I her know ? Whan f rae her mouth I never heard couth,^ Nor wi my eyes her saw.' 3 ' O well sal ye my true-love ken. As soon as you her see; 10 For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan, The fairest flowr is she. 4 ' At even at my love's bowr-door There grows a bowing birk, An sit ye down and sing thereon, As she gangs to the kirk. 6 ' An f our-and-twenty ladies fair Will wash and go to kirk. But well shall ye my true-love ken. For she wears goud on her skirt. 20 6 ' An four and twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair, But well sal ye my true-love ken. For she wears goud on her hair.' 1 know, 2 sound, word. 300 BALLADS 7 O even at that lady's bowr-door, There grows a bowin birk, An he set down and sang thereon, As she ged to the kirk. 8 ' O eet and drink, my marys ^ a'. The wine flows you among, 30 Till I gang to my shot-window. An hear yon bonny bird's song. 9 ' Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang the streen,^ For I ken by your sweet singin You 're frae my true-love sen.' 10 O first he sang a merry song, An then he sang a grave, An then he peckd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave. 40 11 ' Ha, there 's a letter frae your love, He says he sent you three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he '11 die. 12 ' He bids you write a letter to him ; He says he 's sent you five; He canno wait your love langer, Tho you 're the fairest woman alive.' 13 ' Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread, And brew his bridal-ale, 50 An I '11 meet him in fair Scotlan Lang, lang or it be stale.' 14 She 's doen her to her father dear, Fa'n low down on her knee: ' A boon, a boon, my father dear, I pray you, grant it me.' 15 ' Ask on, ask on, my daughter. An granted it sal be; Except ae squire in fair Scotlan, An him you sail never see.' 60 16 ' The only boon, my father dear, That I do crave of the. Is, gin I die in southin lands. In Scotland to bury me. 17 ' An the firstin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the bells be rung, An the nextin kirk that ye come till. Ye gar the mess be sung. 1 maids. 2 yester evening. 18 'And the thirdin kirk that ye come till, You deal gold for my sake, 70 An the fourthin kirk that ye come till, You tarry there till night.' 19 She is doen her to her bigly ' bowr, As fast as she coud fare, An she has tane a sleepy draught, That she had mixed wi care. 20 She '3 laid her down upon her bed, An soon she 's fa'n asleep, And soon oer every tender limb Cauld death began to creep. 80 21 Whan night was flown, an day was come, Nae ane that did her see But thought she was as surely dead As ony lady coud be. 22 Her father an her brothers dear Gard make^ to her a bier; The tae half was o guide red gold, The tither o silver clear. 23 Her mither an her sisters fair Gard work for her a sark; * The tae half was o eambrick fine, The tither o needle wark. 90 24 The firstin kirk that they came till, They gard the bells be rung, And the nextin kirk that they came till, They gard the mess be sung. 25 The thirdin kirk that they came till, They dealt gold for her sake. An the fourthin kirk that they came till, Lo, there they met her make ! ° 100 26 ' Lay down, lay down the bigly bier. Lat me the dead look on ; ' Wi cheery cheeks and ruby lips She lay an smil'd on him. 27 ' O ae sheave' o your bread, true-love. An ae glass o your wine. For I hae fasted for your sake These fully days is nine. • fine. < Had made, e mate, lover. E shirt, shroud. 7 slice. THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY 301 28 ' Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, Gang hame and sound your horn; no An ye may boast in southin lans Your sister 's playd you scorn.' THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OP ISLINGTON 1 There was a youth, and a well belovd youth, And he was a esquire's son. He loved the bayliff's daughter dear, That lived in Islington. 2 She was coy, and she would not believe That he did love her so. No, nor at any time she would Any countenance to him show. 3 But when his friends did understand His foud and foolish mind, 10 They sent him up to fair London, An apprentice for to bind. 4 And when he had been seven long years, And his love he had not seen, ' Many a tear have I shed for her sake When she little thought of me.' 5 All the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play; All but the bayliff's daughter dear; She secretly stole away. 20 6 She put off her gown of gray, And put on her puggish^ attire; She '3 up to fair London gone, Her true-love to require. 7 As she went along the road. The weather being hot and dry. There was she aware of her true-love, At length came riding by. 8 She stept to him, as red as any rose. And took him by the bridle-ring: 30 ' I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny. To ease my weary limb.' 9 ' I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born ? ' 1 ragged? tramp's? At Islington, kind sir,' said she, * Where I have had many a scorn.' 10 'I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know The bailiff's daughter of Islington ? ' ' She 's dead, sir, long ago.' 40 11 ' Then will I sell my goodly steed. My saddle and my bow; I will into some far countrey. Where no man doth me know.' 12 ' O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth ! She 's alive, she is not dead; Here she standeth by thy side. And is ready to be thy bride.' 13 ' O farewel grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more ! 50 For now I have seen my own true-love. That I thought I should have seen no more.' THE GREAT SILKIE OF SULE SKERRY 2 1 An eartly nourrls sits and sings. And aye she sings, ' Ba, lUy wean ! Little ken I mybairnis father. Far less the land that he staps in.' 2 Then ane arose at her bed-fit, An a grumly ^ guest I 'm sure was he: ' Here am I, thy bairnis father. Although that I be not coinelie. 3 ' I am a man, upo the Ian, An I am a silkie in the sea; 10 And when I 'm far and far frae Ian, My dwelling is in Sule Skerrie.' 4 'It was na weel,' quo the maiden fair, ' It was na weel, indeed,' quo she, ' That the Great Silkie of Sule Skerrie Suld hae come and aught ^ a bairn to me.' 5 Now he has taen a purse of goud. And he has pat it upo her knee, ! "The Great Seal of Sule Reef." This fine ballad, re- minding one of Arnold's Forsaken Merman^ waa ob- tained from an old lady in the Shetland Islands in 1852. 8 fierce. i owed. 302 BALLADS Sayiu, ' Gie to me my little young son, An tak thee up thy nourris-fee. 20 6 ' An it sail come to pass on a simmer's day, Whenthesin shines het on evera stane, That I will tak my little young son. An teach him for to swim the faem. 7 ' An thu sail marry a proud gunner. An a proud gunner I 'm sure he '11 be, An the very first schot that ere he sohoots. He '11 sohoot baith my young son and me.' JOHNIE COCK 1 JoHNY he has risen up i the morn, Calls for water to wash his hands; But little knew he that his bloody hounds Were bound in iron bands.^ bands Were bound in iron bands. 2 Johny's mother has gotten word o that. And care-bed ^ she has taen : ' O Johny, for my benison, I beg you '1 stay at hame ; For the wine so red, and the well baken bread, 10 My Johny shall want nane. 3 ' There are seven f orsters at Piokeram Side, At Pickeram where they dwell, And for a drop of thy heart's bluid They wad ride the fords of hell.' 4 Johny he 's gotten word of that. And he 's turnd wondrous keen; He 's put off the red Scarlett, And he 's put on the Lincolm green. 5 With a sheaf of arrows by his side, 20 And a bent bow in his hand, He 's mounted on a prancing steed, And he has ridden fast oer the strand. 6 He 's up i Braidhouplee, and down i Bradyslee, And under a buss ^ o broom. And there he found a, good dun deer. Feeding in a buss of ling.^ 1 Because it was the close season? But cf. stanza 9. s sick-bed. 3 bush. * heather. 7 Johny shot, and the dun deer lap, And she lap wondrous wide. Until they came to the wan water, 30 And he stemd her of her pride. 8 He 'as taen out the little pen-knife, 'T was full three quarters ^ long, And he has taen out of that dun deer The liver bot and ^ the tongue. 9 They eat of the flesh, and they drank of the blood. And the blood it was so sweet. Which caused Johny and his bloody hounds To fall in a deep sleep. 10 By then came an old palmer, 40 And an ill death may he die ! For he 's away to Pickram Side, As fast as he can drie.' 11 ' What news, what news ? ' says the Seven Forsters, ' What news have ye brought to me ? ' 'I have noe news,' the palmer said, ' But what I saw with my eye. 12 'High up i Bradyslee, low down i Bradisslee, And under a buss of soroggs,^ O there I spied a well-wight ' man, 50 Sleeping among his dogs. 13 ' His coat it was of Light Lincolm, And his breeches of the same. His shoes of the American leather, And gold buckles tying them.' 14 Up bespake the Seven Forsters, Up bespake they ane and a' : • O that is Johny o Cockleys Well, And near him we will draw.' 15 O the first yi" stroke that they gae him, They struck him off by the knee; 61 Then up bespake his sister's son: ' O the next '11 gar him die ! ' 16 ' O some they count ye well-wight men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha wakend me. And askd gin I wad " be taen. s Of a yard. " and also. ' stand it. ' shrubs. " right doughty. w one. " if I would. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE 303 17 ' The wildest wolf in aw this wood Wad not ha done so by me ; She 'd ha wet her foot ith wan water, 70 And sprinkled it oer my brae,i And if that wad not ha wakend me, She wad ha gone and let me be. 18 ' O bows of yew, if ye be true. In London, where ye were bought. Fingers five, get up belive, Manhuid shall fail me nought.' 19 He has killd the Seven Forsters, He has killd them all but ane, 79 And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side, To carry the bode-words ^ hame. 20 ' Is there never a boy ^ in a' this wood That will tell what I can say; That will go to Cockleys Well, Tell my mither to fetch me away ? 21 There was a boy into that wood, That carried the tidings away. And many ae ^ was the well-wight man At the fetching o Johny away. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE « 1 When shawes ^ beene sheene, and shradds ' full fayre. And leeves both large and longe, Itt is merry, walking in the fayre ffor- rest, To heare the small birds songe. 2 The woodweele " sang, and wold not cease. Amongst the leaves a lyne : " And it is by two wight yeomen, By deare God, that I meane. 1 brow, ' news. 3 It is a bird in the other rerBiona. -4 a one. 6 There are some two score ballads of Kobin Hood, the oldest in a MS., of about 1450; and one of these, printed about 1500. is the Gest of Robyn Uode in 456 stanzas — apparently nothing less than a little popular epic, wrought from separate, episodic ballad^. The material is of course much older, fOT in Piers Plowman, composed about 1377, we learn that Sloth knew " rhymes of Robin Hood and Randolf Earl of Chester" better than he did his paternoster. Robin is a ballad creation, the ideal champion of the common people against their secular and spiritual oppressors, and the embodiment of the old English love of fair play and the open air. 6 thickets. 'coppices. s thrush? * of linden. 3 'Me thought they did mee beate and binde. And tooke my bow mee froe; lo If I bee Robin a-live in this lande, I 'le be wrocken i" on both them towe.' " 4 'Sweavens^ are swift, mas/er,' quoth lohn 'As the wind that blowes ore a hill; Ffor if itt be never soe lowde this night, To-morrow it may be still.' 5 'Buske'* yee, bowne" yee, my merry men all. Ffor lohn shall goe with mee ; For 1 'le goe seeke yond wight yeomen In greenwood where the bee.' 20 6 The cast on their gowne of greene, A shooting gone are they, Untill they came to the merry green- wood. Where they had gladdest bee; There were the ware of [a] wight yeo- man. His body leaned to a tree. 7 A sword and a dagger he wore by his side. Had beene many a mans bane,^^ And he was cladd in his capuU-hyde, 1* Topp, and tayle, and mayne. 30 8 ' Stand you stiU, master,' quoth Litle lohn, ' Under this trusty tree. And I will goe to yond wight yeoman, To know his meaning trulye.' 9 ' A, lohn, by me thou setts noe store. And that 's a fParley " thinge; How offit send I my men belfore, And tarry my-seUe behinde ? 10 ' It is noe cunning a knave to ken. And '8 a man but here him speake; 40 And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, lohn, I wold thy head breake.' 11 But often words they breeden bale, ^^ That parted Robin and lohn; M revenged. " two. « dreams. " Equip. " prepare. is destruction. >• horse-hide " strange. " If. 19 make trouble. 3°4 BALLADS lohn is gone to Barn [e] sdale,^ The gates ^ he knowes eche one. 12 And when hee came to Barnesdale, Great heavinesse there hee hadd; He ffoiind two of his fellowes Were slaine both in a slade,^ 50 13 And Scarlett a ffoote flyinge was, Over stockes and stone, For the sherifBe with seven score men Fast after him is gone. 14 ' Yett one shoote I 'le shoote,' sayes Litle lohn, 'With Crist his might and mayne; I 'le make yond fellow that flyes soe fast To be both glad and fBaine.' 15 lohn bent vp a good veiwe ^ bow. And ffetteled* him to shoote; 60 The bow was made of a tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. 16 'Woe worth thee, wicked wood,' sayd Lltle lohn, ' That ere thou grew on a tree ! Ffor this day thou art my bale. My boote ' when thou shold bee ! ' 17 This shoote it was but looselye shott, The arrowe flew in vaine, And it mett one of the sherifEes men ; Good Williajn a Trent was slaiue. 70 18 It had beene better for WUliam a Trent To hange upon a gallowe Then for to lye in the greenwoode, There slaine with an arrowe. 19 And it is sayd, when men be mett, Six can doe more then three: And they have tane Litle lohn. And boimd him fBast to a tree. 20 'Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,' quoth the sherifPe, ' And hanged hye on a hill: ' 80 ' But thou may ffayle,' quoth Litle lohn, ' If itt be Christs owne will.' 21 Let us leave talking of Litle lohn. For hee is bound fast to a tree, 1 In Yorkshire. * yew. 3 ways. 6 prepared. 3 valley, s salvation. And talke of Guy and Robin Hood, In the green woode where they bee. 22 How these two yeomen together they mett, Under the leaves of lyne. To see what marehandise they made Even at that same time. 90 23 'Good morrow, good fellow,' quoth Sir Guy; ' Good morrow, good ffellow,' quoth hee; ' Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand, A good archer thou seems to bee.' 24 ' I am wilf uU of my way,' ' quoth Sir Guye, ' And of my morning tyde ; ' ^ ' I 'le lead thee through the wood,' quoth Kobin, ' Good ffellow, I 'le be thy guide.' 25 ' I seeke an outlaw,' quoth Sir Guye, ' Men call him Robin Hood; 100 I had rather meet with him upon a day Then forty pound of golde.' 26 'If you tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were better Afore yee did part awaye; Let us some other pastime find, Good ffellow, I thee pray. 27 'Let us some other masteryes' make, And wee will waike in the woods even ; Wee may chance mee[t] with Robin Hoode Att some unsett Steven.' ^^ no 28 They outt them downe the summer Which grew both under a bryar. And sett them three score rood in twinn,i2 To shoote the prickes ^' full neare. 29 ' Leade on, good ffellow,' sayd Sir Guye, ' Lead on, I doe bidde thee : ' ' Nay, by my faith,' quoth Robin Hood, ' The leader thou shalt bee.' ' i.e., am lost, b Possibly he wants to know the time, as well as the road. • trials of skill. >° unexpected time. " shrubs. " rods distant. " targets. ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE 3°S 30 The first good shoot that Robin ledd Did not shoote an inch the pricke fBroe ; 120 Guy was an archer good enoughe, But he cold neere shoote soe. 31 The second shoote Sir Guy shott, He shott within the garlande ; ^ But Robin Hoode shott it better then hee, For he clove the good pricke-wande. 32 ' Gods blessing on thy heart ! ' sayes Guye, ' Goode ffellow, thy shooting is goode ; For an thy hart be as good as thy hands, Thou were better then Robin Hood. 33 'Tell me thy name, good fEellow,' quoth Guy, 131 ' Under the leaves of lyne : ' 'Nay, by my faith,' quoth good Robin, ' Till thou have told me thine.' 34 'I dwell by dale and downe,' quoth Guye, And I have done many a curst turne; And he that calles me by my right name CaUes me Guye of good Gysborne.' 35 'My dwelling is in the wood,' sayes Robin; 'By thee I set right nought; 140 My name is Robin Hood of Bamesdale, A ffellow thou has long sought.' 36 He that had neither beene a kithe nor kin Might have seene a full fayre sight, To see how together these yeomen went. With blades both browne and bright. 37 To have seene how these yeomen to- gether foug[ht]. Two bowers of a summers day; Itt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood That fBettled them to flye away. 150 38 Robin was reacheles on ^ a roote, And stumbled at that tyde. And Guy was quicke and nimble withall, And hitt him ore the left side. 1 Of leaves hung on the rod ? 3 heedless of. 39 ' Ah, deere Lady I ' sayd Robin Hoode, ' Thou art both mother and may 1 ^ I thinke it was never mans destinye To dye before his day.' 40 Robin thought on Our Lady deere, And soone leapt up againe, i6a And thus he came with an awkwarde ^ stroke; Good Sir Guy hee has slayne. 41 He tooke Sir Guys head by the hayre, And sticked itt on his bowes end: ' Thou hast beene traytor all thy liffe, WAich thing must have an ende.' 42 Robin pulled forth an Irish knijEfe, And nicked Sir Guy in the fEace, That hee was never on a woman borne Cold tell who Sir Guye was. 170 43 Sales, ' Lye there, lye there, good Sir Guye, And with me be not wrothe; If thou have had the worse stroakes at my hand, Thou shalt have the better cloathe.' 44 Robin did off his gowne of greene, Sir Guy hee did it throws; And hee put on that capull-hyde, That oladd him topp to toe. 45 ' The bowe, the arrowes, and litle home, And with me now I'le beare; 180 Ffor now I will goe to Barn[e]3dale, To see how my men doe ffare.' 46 Robin sett Guyes home to his mouth, A lowd blast iu it he did blow; That beheard the sherifEe of Notting- ham, As he leaned under a lowe.^ 47 ' Hearken ! hearken ! ' sayd the sherifEe, ' I heard noe tydings but good; ForyonderlheareSirGuyeshornehlowe, For he hath slaine Robin Hoode. 190 48 ' For yonder I hears Sir Guyes home blow, Itt blowes soe well in tyde. For yonder comes that wighty yeoman, Cladd in his capull-hyde. » maid. « backhand. ' hiU. 3o6 BALLADS 49 ' Come hither, thou good Sir Guy, Aske of mee what thou wilt have ' •- ' I 'le none of thy gold,' say es Robin Hood, ' Nor I 'le none of itt have. 50 ' But now I have slaine the master,' he ' Let me goe strike the knave ; 200 This is all the reward I aske. Nor uoe other will I have.' 51 ' Thou art a madman,' said the shirifPe, ' Thou sholdest have had a knights £Eee; Seeing thy asking [hath] beene soe badd. Well granted it shall be.' 52 But Litle lohn heard his master speake, Well he knew that was his steven; 1 ' Now shall I be loset,' quoth Litle lohn, ' With Christs might in heaven.' 210 53 But Robin hee hyed him towards Litle lohn, Hee thought hee wold loose him belive ; The sheriffe and all his eompanye Fast after him did drive. 54 'Stand abacke ! stand abaeke!' sayd Robin; ' Why draw you mee soe neere ? Itt was never the use in our countrye One's shrift another shold heere.' 55 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knifEe, And losed lohn hand and ffoote, 220 And gave him Sir Guyes bow in his hand. And bade it be his boote. 56 But lohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand — His arrowes were rawstye by the roote ^ — ; The sherrifEe saw Litle lohn draw a bow And ffettle him to shoote. 57 Towards his house in Nottingam He ffled full fast away, And soe did all his eompanye. Not one behind did stay. 230 58 But he cold neither soe fast goe, Nor away soe fast runn. But Litle lohn, with an arrow broade. Did cleave his heart in twinn. 1 voice. * rusted on the end ? ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL 1 When Robin Hood and Little John — Down a down a down a down — Went oer yon bank of broom. Said Bobiu Hood bold to Little John, ' We have shot for many a pound.' Hey down, a down, a down. 2 ' But I am not able to shoot one shot more, My broad arrows will not flee; But I have a cousin lives down below. Please God, she will bleed me.' 10 3 Now Robin he is to fair Kirkly gone. As fast as he can win ; ^ But before he came there, as we do hear, He was taken very ill. 4 And when he came to fair Kirkly-hall, He knockd all at the ring, But none was so ready as his cousin her- self For to let bold Robin in. 5 'Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin,' she said, ' And drink some beer with me ? ' jo • No, I will neither eat nor drink, Till I am blooded by thee.' 6 'Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,' she said, ' Which you did never see, And if you please to walk therein. You blooded by me shall be.' 7 She took him by the lily-white hand, And led him to a private room. And there she blooded bold Robin Hood, While one drop of blood would run down. 30 8 She blooded him in a vein of the arm. And locked him up in the room ; Then did he bleed all the live-long day. Until the next day at noon. 9 He then bethought him of a casement there. Thinking for to get down ; But was so weak he could not leap. He could not get him down, s manage. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS 307 10 He then bethought him of his bugle-horn, Which hung low down to his knee; 40 He set his horn unto his mouth, And blew out weak blasts three. 11 Then Little John, when hearing him. As he sat under a tree, ' I fear my master is now near dead. He blows so wearily.' 12 Then Little John to fair Kirkly is gone. As fast as he can dree; ' But when he came to Kirkly-hall, He broke locks two or three : 50 13 Until he came bold Robin to see, Then he fell on his knee; ' A boon, a, boon,' cries Little John, ' Master, I beg of thee.' 14 ' What is that boon,' said Robin Hood, ' Little John, [thou] begs of me ? ' ' It is to burn fair Kirkly-hall, And all theu' nunnery.' 15 ' Now nay, now nay,' quoth Robin Hood. ' That boon I '11 not grant thee ; 60 I never hurt woman in all my life. Nor men in woman's company. 16 ' 1 never hurt fair maid in all my time. Nor at mine end shall it be ; But give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I '11 let flee And where this arrow is taken up, There shall my grave digged be. 17 ' Lay me a green sod under my head. And another at my feet; 70 And lay my bent bow by my side. Which was my music sweet; And make my grave of gravel and green. Which is most right and meet. 18 ' Let me have length and breadth enough. With a green sod under my head; That they may say, when I am dead. Here lies bold Robin Hood.' 19 These words they readily granted him. Which did bold Robin please: 80 And there they buried bold Robin Hood, Within the fair Kirkleys. 1 endure, go. ROBIN HOOD RESCUING THE WIDOW'S THREE SONS 1 There are twelve months in aU the year As I hear many men say. But the merriest month in all the year. Is the merry month of May. 2 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone. With a link a down and a day, And there he met a silly old woman. Was weeping on the way. 3 ' What news ? what news, thou silly old woman ? What news hast thou for me ? ' 10 Said she, ' There 's three squires in Not- tingham town To-day is condemned to die.' 4 ' have they parishes burnt ? ' he said, ' Or have they ministers slain ? Or have they robbed any virgin, Or with other men's wives have lain?' 5 ' They have no parishes burned, good sir, Nor yet have ministers slain. Nor have they robbed any virgin. Nor with other men's wives have lain.' * 20 6 ' O what have they done ? ' said bold Robin Hood, ' I pray thee tell to me : ' ' It 's for slaying of the king's fallow deer. Bearing their long bows with thee.' 7 ' Dost thou not mind, old woman,' he said, ' Since thou made me sup and dine ? By the truth of my body,' quoth bold Robin Hood, ' You could not tell it in better time.' 8 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link a down and a day, 30 And there he met with a silly old palmer. Was walking along the highway. 9 ' What news ? what news, thou silly old man ? What news, I do thee pray ? ' Said he, ' Three squires in Nottingham town Are condemned to die this day.' 3o8 BALLADS 10 ' Come change thy apparel with me, old man, Come change thy apparel for mine ; Here is forty shillings in good silver. Go drink it in beer or wine.' 40 11 ' thine apparel is good,' he said, ' And mine is ragged and torn ; Wherever you go, wherever you ride. Laugh neer an old man to scorn.' 12 ' Come change thy apparel with me, old churl, Come change thy apparel with mine ; Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold. Go feast thy brethren with wine.' 13 Then he put on the old man's hat. It stood full high on the crown : 50 ' The first bold bargain that I come at, It shall make thee come down.' 14 Then he put on the old man's cloak, Was patohd black, blew, and red ; He thought no shame all the day long To wear the bags of bread. 15 Then he put on the old man's breeks,^ Was patchd from ballup ^ to side ; 'By the truth of my body,' bold Robin can say, ♦ This man lovd little pride.' «o 16 Then he put on the old man's hose, Were patched from knee to wrist ; ' By the truth of my body,' said bold Robin Hood, ' I 'd laugh if I had any list.' " 17 Then he put on the old man's shoes. Were patched both beneath and aboon ; Then Robin Hood swore a solemn oath, ' It 's good habit that makes a man.' 18 Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone. With a link a down and a down, 70 And there he met with the proud sheriff, Was walking along the town. 19 ' O save, O save, O sheriff,' he said, ' O save, and you may see 1 And what will you give to a silly old man To-day will your hangman be ? ' 1 breeches. 2 front flap. ' Inclination. 20 ' Some suits, some suits,' the sheriff he said, ' Some suits I 'U give to thee ; Some suits, some suits, and pence tbii. teen To-day 's a hangman's fee.' 80 21 Then Robin he turns him round about, And jumps from stock to stone ; ' By the truth of my body,' the sheriff he said, 'That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man.' 22 ' I was neer a hangman in all my life. Nor yet intends to trade ; But curst be he,' said bold Robin, ' That first a hangman was made. 23 I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt, And a bag for barley and corn ; 90 A bag for bread, and a bag for beef, And a bag for my little small horn. 24 ' I have a horn in my pocket, I got it from Robin Hood, And still when I set it to my month For thee it blows little good.' 25 ' O wind thy horn, thou proud fellow, Of thee I have no doubt; I wish that thou give such a blast Till both thy eyes fall out.' 100 26 The first loud blast that he did blow. He blew both loud and shrill ; A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men Came riding over the hill. 27 The next loud blast that he did give, He blew both loud and amain. And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men Came shining over the plain. 28 ' O who are you,' the sheriff he said ' Come tripping over the lee ? ' , no ' The 're my attendants,' brave Robin did say, ' They '11 pay a visit to thee.' 29 They took the gallows from the slack,* They set it in the glen. They hangd the proud sheriff on that, Releasd their own three men. * low place. THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN 3°9 HUGH OF LINCOLN.i 1 Four and twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came bim sweet Sir Hugh, And be playd oer them a'. 2 He kicked the ba with his right foot, And catchd it wi his knee, And throuoh-and-thro the Jew's window He gard ^ the bonny ba flee. 3 He 's doen him to the Jew's eastell, And walked it round about; lo And there he saw the Jew's daughter. At the window looking out. 4 ' Throw down the ba, ye Jew's daugh- ter. Throw down the ba to me I ' ' Never a bit,' says the Jew's daughter, ' Till up to me come ye.' 5 • How will I come up ? How can I come up ? How can I come to thee ? For as ye did to ray auld father. The same ye '11 do to me.' 20 6 She 's gane till her father's garden. And pu'd an apple red and green ; 'T was a' to wyle him sweet Sir Hugh, And to entice him in. 7 She 's led him in through ae dark door. And sae has she thro nine ; She 's laid him on a dressing-table. And stickit him like a swine. 8 And first came out the thick, thick blood, And syne ° came out the thin, 30 And syne came out the bonny heart's blood ; There was nae mair within. 9 She 's rowd ^ him in a cake o lead. Bade hira lie still and sleep ; She 's thrown him in Our Lady's draw- well. Was fifty fathom deep. 1 Or 77ie Jp.w''3 Daughter. The thirteenth century chroniclers tell the story. Such fabrications directed agalnat the Jews have persieted ever since, especially In Russia. Cf. Ohaucer^s Prioresa''8 Tate. ' made. ■ then. ' rolled. 10 When bells were rung, and mass was sung. And a' the bairns came hame. When every lady gat hame her son. The Lady Maisry gat nane. 40 11 She 's taen her mantle her about. Her coffer by the hand. And she 's gane out to seek her son. And wanderd oer the land. 12 She 's doen her to the Jew's eastell. Where a' were fast asleep : ' Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.' 13 She 's doen her to the Jew's gar- den, 49 Thought he had been gathering fruit : ' Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh, 1 pray you to me speak.' 14 She neard Our Lady's deep draw-well. Was fifty fathom deep : ' Whareer ye be, my sweet Sir Hugh, I pray you to me speak.' 15 ' Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear. Prepare my winding sheet. And at the back o merry Lincoln The morn' I will you meet.' 60 16 Now Lady Maisry is gane hame, Made him a winding sheet. And at the back o merry Lincoln The dead corpse did her meet. 17 And a' the bells o merry Lincoln Without men's hands were rung, And a' the books o merry Lincoln Were read without man's tongue, And neer was such a burial Sin Adam's days begun. 70 THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN' 1 It fell about the Lammas time. When the muir-men won their hay. That the doughty Earl Dotigla.s went Into England to catch a prey. 8 tomorrow. • This battle wa« fought In 1388, and Froiesart has a fine account of it in his Chronicles for that year. The ballad grew up presumably soon aft^r. Our version is that supplied by James Hogg to Sir Walter Scott. 310 BALLADS 2 He chose the Gordons and the Graemes, With the Lindsays light and gay; But the Jardines wadna wi him ride, And they rued it to this day. 3 And he has bornt the dales o Tine And part of Almonshire, lo And three good towers on Koxbrugh fells He left them all on fire. 4 Then he marched up to Newcastle, And rode it round about: ' O whae 's the lord of this castle. Or whae 's the lady o 't ? ' 6 But up spake proud Lord Pieroy then, And O but he spak hie ! ' I am the lord of this castle, And my wife 's the lady gaye.' 20 6 ' If you are lord of this castle, Sae weel it pleases me; For ere I cross the border again The ane of us shall die.' 7 He took a lang speir in his hand. Was made of the metal free, And for to meet the Douglas then He rode most furiously. 8 But O how pale his lady lookd, Frae off the castle wa, 30 When down before the Scottish spear She saw brave Piercy fa ! 9 How pale and wan his lady lookd, Frae off the castle hieght. When she beheld her Piercy yield To doughty Douglas' might 1 10 ' Had we twa been upon the green, And never an eye to see, I should have had ye flesh and fell; But your sword shall gae wi me.' 40 11 'But gae you up to Otterburn, And there wait dayes three. And if I come not ere three days' end A fause lord ca ye me.' 12 ' The Otterburn 's a bonny burn, 'Tis pleasant there to be. But there is naught at Otterburn To feed my men and me. 13 ' The deer rins wild owr hill and dale. The birds fly wild frae tree to tree, 50 And there is neither bread nor kale To fend my men and me. 14 ' But I will stay at Otterburn, Where you shall welcome be; And if ye come not ere three days' end A coward I '11 ca thee. 15 ' Then gae your ways to Otterburn, And there wait dayes three; And if I come not ere three days' end A coward ye's ca me.' 60 16 They lighted high on Otterburn, Upon the bent ^ so brown. They lighted high on Otterburn, And threw their pallions - down. 17 And he that had a bonny boy Sent his horses to grass. And he that had not a bonny boy His ain servant he was. 18 But up then spak a little page, Before the peep of the dawn; 70 ' O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Piercy 's hard at hand ! ' 19 ' Ye lie, ye lie, ye loud liar, Sae loud I hear ye lie ! The Piercy hadna men yestreen To dight ^ my men and me. 20 ' But I have seen a dreary dream, Beyond the isle o Sky; I saw a dead man won the flght, And I think that man was L' 80 21 He belted on his good broad-sword And to the field he ran, Where he met wi the proud Pieroy, And a' his goodly train. 22 When Piercy wi the Douglas met, I wat he was right keen; They swakked their swords till sair they swat, And the blood ran them between. 23 But Piercy wi his good broad-sword. Was made o the metal free, go Has wounded Douglas on the brow Tin backward he did flee. X moor. 8 pavilions. b clean up. CHEVY CHASE 3" 24 Then he oalld on his little page, And said, 'Run speedily, And bring my ain dear sister's son, Sir Hugh Montgomery.' 25 Who, when he saw the Douglas bleed, His heart was wonder wae: ' Now, by my sword, that haughty lord Shall rue before he gae.' mo 26 ' My nephew hauld,' the Douglas said, ' What boots the death of ane ? Last night I dreamed a dreary dream. And I ken the day 's thy ain.i 27 ' I dreamd I saw a battle fought Beyond the isle o Sky, When lo ! a dead man wan the field, And I thought that man was I. 28 ' My wound is deep, I fain wad sleep, Nae mair I '11 fighting see; no Gae lay me in the breaken bush That grows on yonder lee. 29 'But tell na ane of my brave men That I lye bleeding wan, But let the name of Douglas still Be shouted in the van. 30 ' And bury me here on this lee, Beneath the blooming briar. And never let a mortal ken A kindly Soot lyes here.' 120 31 He liftit up that noble lord, Wi the saut tear in his ee, And hid him in the breaken bush, On yonder lUy lee. 32 The moon was clear, the day drew near. The spears in flinters flew. But mony gallant Englishman Ere day the Scotsman slew. 33 Sir Hugh Montgomery he rode Thro all the field in sight, 130 And loud the name of Douglas still He urgd wi a' his might. 34 The Gordons good, in English blood They steeped their hose and shoon, The, Lindsays flew like fire about, Till a' the fray was doon. 35 When stout Sir Hugh wi Pieroy met, I wat he was right fain; They swakked their swords till sair they swat. And the blood ran down like rain. 140 36 ' O yield thee, Pierey,' said Sir Hugh, ' O yield, or ye shall die ! ' ' Fain wad I yield,' proud Pierey said, ' But neer to loun " like thee.' 37 'Thou shalt not yield to knave nor loun. Nor shalt thou yield to me ; But yield thee to the breaken bush That grows on yonder lee.' 38 ' I will not yield to bush or brier. Nor will I yield to thee; 150 But I will yield to Lord Douglas, Or Sir Hugh Montgomery.' 39 When Pierey knew it was Sir Hugh, He fell low on his knee. But soon he raisd him up again, Wi mickle courtesy. 40 He left not an Englishman on the field That he hadna either killd or taen Ere his heart's blood was cauld. CHEVY CHASES 1 God prosper long our noble king, our lifles and saf tyes all I A woefuU hunting once there did in Chevy Chase befall. 2 To drive the deere with hound and borne Erie Pearcy took the way: The child may rue that is unbome the hunting of that day ! 2 fellow. 3 Probably founded remotely on the same happening as Otterbum. This is the ballad that stirred Sir Philip Sidney in his Defence of Poesie to remark: " Certeinly I must confesse my own harbarousness. I never heard the olde song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moovedmore than with a trumpet ; and yet it is sung but by some blind crouder [fiddler], with no rougher voyce then rude stile ; which, being so evill ap- parrelled in the dust and cob-webbea of that uncivill age, what would it worke trymmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar ! " Addison's appreciation of it is in Nos. 70 and 74 of the Spectator, 312 BALLADS 3 The stout Erie of Northumberland a vow to God did make lo His pleasure in the Scottish woods three sommers days to take, 4 The cheefest harts in Chevy C[h]ase to kill and beare away: These tydings to Erie Douglas came in Soottland, where he lay. 5 Who sent Erie Pearcy present word he would prevent his sport; The English erle, not fearing that, did to the woods resort, jo 6 With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew ffuU well in time of neede to ayme their shafts arright. 7 The gallant greyhound[s] swiftly ran to chase the fallow deere ; On Munday they began to hunt, ere daylight did appeare. 8 And long before high noone the had a hundred fat buckes slaine ; 30 Then having dined, the drovyers went to rouze the deare againe. 9 The bowmen mustered on the hills, well able to endure ; Theire backsids all with speciall care that day were guarded sure. 10 The hounds ran swiftly through the woods the nimble deere to take. That with their cryes the hills and dales an eccho shrill did make. 40 11 Lord Pearcy to the querry went to veiw the tender deere; Quoth he, ' Erie Douglas promised once this day to meete me heere; 12 • But if I thought he wold not come, noe longer wold I stay.' With that a brave younge gentlman thus to the erle did say: 13 ' Loe, yonder doth Erie Douglas come, hys men in armour bright; 50 Full twenty hundred Scottish speres all marching in our sight. 14 ' All men of pleasant Tivydale, fast by the river T weede : ' ' O ceaze your sportts I ' Erie Pearcy said, ' and take your bowes with speede. 15 ' And now with me, my countrymen, your courage forth advance ! For there was never champion yett, in Scottland nor in Ffranoe, 60 16 ' That ever did on horsbaoke come, [but], and if my hap it vfere, I durst encounter man for man, with him to break a spere.' 17 Erie Douglas on his milke-white steede, most like a baron bold. Rode formost of his company, whose armor shone like gold. 18 ' Shew me,' sayd hee, ' whose men you bee that hunt soe boldly heere, 70 That without my consent doe chase and kill my fallow deere.' 19 The first man that did answer make was noble Pearcy hee. Who sayd, ' Wee hst not to declare nor shew whose men wee bee ; 20 'Yett wee will spend our deerestblod thy cheefest harts to slay.' Then Douglas swore a solempne oathe, and thus in rage did say: 80 21 'Ere thus I will outbraved bee, one of us tow shall dye; I know thee well, an erle thou art; Lord Pearcy, soe am I. 22 'But trust me, Pearoye, pittye it were, and great offence, to kill Then any of these our guiltlesse men, for they have done none ill. 23 ' Let thou and I the battell trye, and set our men aside: ' 90 •Accurst bee [he !] ' Erie Pearcye sayd, ' by whome it is denyed.' 24 Then stept a gallant squire forth — Witherington was his name — Who said, ' I wold not have it told To Henery our kin^, for shame, CHEVY CHASE 313 25 ' That ere my captaine fought on foote, aud I stand looking on. You bee two Erles,' quoth Withering- ton, ' and I a sqnier alone ; 100 26 ' I 'le doe the best that doe I may, while I have power to stand; WhUe I have power to weeld my sword, I 'le fight with hart and hand.' 27 Our English archers bent their bowes; their harts were good and trew ; Att the first flight of arrowes sent, full foure score Scotts the slew. 28 To drive the deere with hound and horne, Dauglas bade on the bent; no Two captaines moved with mickle might, their speres to shivers went. 29 They closed full fast on everye side, noe slacknes there was found, But many a gallant gentleman lay gasping on the ground. 30 O Christ ! it was great greeve to see how eche man chose his spere, And how the blood out of their brests did gush like water cleare. 120 31 At last these two stout erles did meet, like captaines of great might; Like lyons woode 1 they layd on lode; '^ the made a cruell fight. 32 The fought untill they both did sweat, with swords of tempered Steele, Till blood downe their cheekes like raine the trickling downe did f eele. 33 ' O yeeld thee, Pearcye ! ' Douglas sayd, ' And in faith I will thee bringe 130 Where thou shall high advanced bee by lames our Scottish kinj. 34 ' Thy ransome I vnll freely give, and this report of thee. Thou art the most conragious Tonight [that ever I did see.] ' I mad, I load, i.e., the; laid on heartily. 35 ' Noe, Douglas ! ' quoth Erie Percy then, ' thy prefer I doe scorne ; I will not yeelde to any Scott that ewer yett was borne ! ' 140 36 With that there came an arrow keene, out of an English bow, Which stroke Erie Douglas on the brest a deepe and deadlye blow. 37 Who never sayd more words than these; ' Fight on, my merry men all ! For why, my life is att [an] end, lord Pearcy sees my fall.' 38 Then leaving lifFe, Erie Pearcy tooke the dead man by the hand ; 150 Who said, ' Erie Dowglas, for thy life, wold I had lost my land ! 39 ' O Christ ! my verry hart doth bleed for sorrow for thy sake. For sure, a more redoubted hnight mischance cold* never take.' 40 A \inight amongst the Scotts there was wAich saw Erie Douglas dye, Who streight in hart did vow revenge upon the Lord Pearcye. 160 41 Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called, who, with a spere full bright. Well mounted on a gallant steed, ran feircly through the fight, 42 And past the English archers all, without all dread or f eare. And through Erie Percyes body then he thrust his hatf ull spere, 43 With such a vehement force and might his body he did gore, 170 The staff ran through the other side a large cloth-yard and more. 44 Thus did both those nobles dye, whose courage none cold staine; An English archer then perceived the noble erle was slame. 45 He had [a] good bow in his hand, made of a trusty tree ; An arrow of a cloth-yard long to the hard head haled bee. 180 314 BALLADS 46 Against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye his shaft full right he sett; The grey-goose-winge that was there-on in his harts bloode was wett. 47 This fight from breake of day did last till setting of the sun, For when the rung the evening-bell the battele soarse was done. 48 With stout Erie Percy there was slaine Sir lohn of Egerton, 190 Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William, Sir lames, that bold barren. 49 And with Sir George and Sir lames, both hnights of good account. Good Sir Raphe Rebbye there was slaine, whose prowesse did surmount. 50 For Witherington needs must I wayle as one in doleful! dumpes. For when his leggs were smitten of, he fought upon his stimipes. 200 51 And with Erie Dowglas there was slaine Sir Hugh Mountgomerye, And Sir Charles Morrell, that from feelde one foote wold never flee; 52 Sir Roger Hever of HarclifEe tow, his sisters sonne was hee; Sir David Lamwell, well esteemed, but saved he cold not bee. 53 And the Lore? Maxwell, in like case, with Douglas he did dye; 210 Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres, scarce fifty-flve did flye. 54 Of fifteen hundred Englishmen went home but fifty-three; The rest in Chevy Chase were slaine, under the greenwoode tree. 55 Next day did many widdowes come their husbands to bewayle; They washt their wounds in brinish teares, but all wold not prevayle. 220 56 Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood, the bore with them away; They kist them dead a thousand times ere the were oladd in clay. 67 The newes was brought to Eddenbor- row, where Scottlands hing did rayne. That brave Erie Douglas soddainlye was with an arrow slaine. 58 ' O heavy newes ! ' King lames can say; ' Scottland may wittenesse bee 230 I have not any eaptaine more of such aocouat as hee.' 59 Like tydings to K.ing Henery came, within as short a space. That Pearcy of Northumberland was slaine in Chevy Chase. 60 ' Now God be with him ! ' said our kinjr, ' sith it will noe better bee; I trust I have within my realme five hundred as good as hee. 240 61 'Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say but I will vengeance take, And be revenged on them all for brave Erie Percyes sake.' 62 This vow the kin^r did well performs after on Humble-downe; In one day fifty knijrAts were slayne, with lords of great renowne. 63 And of the rest, of small account, did many hundreds dye: 250 Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy Chase, made by the Erie Pearcye. 64 God save our hing, and blesse this land with plentye, ioy, and peace. And grant hencforth that f oule debate twixt noble men may ceaze 1 JOHNIE ARMSTRONG! 1 There dwelt a man in faire Westmer- land, lonne Armestrong men did him call, He had nither lands nor rents coming in, Yet he kept eight score men in his hall. 1 This ballad is historical. In 1630 James V of Scot- land cleaned up the Border, and among other outlaws hanged John Armstrong. This English version shifts Johnie's residence to Westmoreland, MARY HAMILTON 315 2 He had horse and harness for them all, Goodly steeds were all milke-wbite; O the golden bands an about their necks, And tbeir weapons, they were all alike. 3 Newes then was brought unto the king That there was sicke a won ^ as bee, 10 That lived lyke a bold out-law, And robbed all the north country. 4 The king he writt an a letter then, A letter which was large and long; He signed it with his owne baud, And be promised to doe him no wrong. 5 When this letter came lonne untill. His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree: ' Never was I sent for before any king. My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee. 20 6 ' And if wee goe the king hefore, I would we went most orderly; Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak, Laced with silver laces three. 7 ' Every won of you shall have his vel- vett coat, Laced with sillver lace so white; O tbe golden bands an about your necks, Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.' 8 By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock, 29 Towards Edenburough gon was hee, And with him all his eight score men; Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see ! 9 When lonne came befower the king, He fell downe on his knee; ' O pardon, my soveraine leige,' he said, 'O pardon my eight score men and 10 ' Thou shalt have no pardon, thou tray- tor strong. For thy eight score men nor thee; For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock. Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow-tree.' 40 1 such a one. 11 But lonne looke'd over his left shoulder. Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee ! Saying, ' Asking grace of a graeeles face — Why there is none for you nor me.' 12 But lonne had a bright sword by his side And it was made of the mettle so free, That had not the king stept his foot aside, He had smitten his head from his faire bodde. 13 Saying, ' Fight on, my merry men all. And see that none of you be taine ; 50 For rather than men shall say we were hange'd. Let them report how we were slaine.' 14 Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose, And so besett poore lonne rounde, That fowerscore and tenn of lonnes best men Lay gasping all upon the ground. 15 Then like a mad man lonne laide about. And like a mad man then fought hee, Untill a f alee Scott came lonne behinde. And runn him through the faire boddee. 60 16 Saying, ' Fight on, my merry men all. And see that none of you be taine ; For I will stand by and bleed but awhile. And then will I come and fight againe.' 17 Newes then was brought to young lonne Armestrong, As he stood by his nurses knee. Who vowed if ere he live'd f orto be aman, O tbe treacherous Scots revengd hee 'd be. MARY HAMILTON 2 1 Word 's gane to the kitchen, And word 's gane to the ha. That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn To the hichest Stewart of a'. « There may be some slight historical foundation to this famous ballad. See the discussion by Child, m, 381, and Andrew Lang, Blachwoocfs Magazine^ Sept. 1, 1895, p. 381. This version, the oldest, was first printed in 1824. 3i6 BALLADS 2 He 's courted her in the kitchen, He 's courted her in the ha, He 'a courted her in the laigh i cellar, And that was warst of a'. 3 She 's tyed it in her apron And she 's thrown it in the sea; lo Says, ' Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe! You '1 neer get mair o me.' 4 Down then cam the auld queen, Goud tassels tying her hair: ' O Marie, where 's the bonny wee babe That I heard greet sae sair ? ' 5 'There was never a babeintill my room. As little designs to be; It was but a touch o my sair side, Come oer my fair bodie.' 20 6 ' O Marie, put on your robes o black. Or else your robes o brown. For ye maun gang wi me the night, To see fair Edinbro town.' 7 ' I winna put on my robes o black, Nor yet my robes o brown ; But I '11 put on my robes o white. To shine through Edinbro town.' 8 When she gaed up the Cannogate, She laugTid loud laughters three; 30 But whan she cam down the Cannogate The tear blinded her ee. 9 When she gaed up the Parliament stair, The heel cam afE her shee; And laug or she cam down again She was condemnd to dee. 10 When she cam down the Cannogate, The Cannogate sae free, Many a ladie lookd oer her window. Weeping for this ladie. 40 11 ' Ye need nae weep for me,' she says, ' Ye need nae weep for me ; For had I not slain mine own sweet babe. This death I wadna dee. 12 ' Bring me a bottle of wine,' she says, ' The best that eer ye hae, That I may drink to my weil-wishers. And they may drink to me. » low. 13 • Here 's a health to the jolly sailors. That sail upon the main ; 50 Let them never let on to my father and mother But what I 'm coming hame. 14 • Here 's a health to the jolly sailors. That sail upon the sea; Let them never let on to my father and mother That I cam here to dee. 15 ' Oh little did my mother think. The day she cradled me. What lands I was to travel through. What death I was to dee. 60 16 • Oh little did my father think. The day he held up me. What lands I was to travel through. What death I was to dee. 17 ' Last night I washd the queen's feet, And gently laid her down; And a' the thanks I 've gotten the nicht To be hangd in Edinbro town 1 18 ' Last nicht there was four Maries, The nicht there '1 be but three; 70 There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, And Marie Carmichael, and me.' CAPTAIN CAR2 1 It befell at Martynmas, When wether waxed colde, Captaine Care said to his men, We must go take a holde. Syck, sike, and to-towe sike,' And sike and like to die ; The sikest nighte that ever I abode, God lord have mercy on me ! 2 ' Haille, master, and wether •* you will, And wether ye like it best ' ; 10 ' To the castle of Crecrynbroghe, And there we will take our reste.' 2 Also called Edom Gordon from the historical original, Adam Gordon, who in 1571 as deputy-lieu- tenant for Mary Queen of Scots thus burnt the Forbes (not Hamilton) hold of Towie. 8 too too sick. 4 whither. CAPTAIN CAR 317 3 ' I knowe wher is a gay castle, Is builded of lyme and stone; Within their is a gay ladie, Her lord is riden and gone.' 4 The ladie she lend on her castle-walle, She loked upp and downe; There was she ware of an host of men, Come riding to the towne. 20 5 ' Se yow, my meri men all, And se yow what I see ? Yonder I see a host of men, I muse who they bee.' 6 She thought he had ben her wed lord. As he comd riding home ; Then was it traitur Captaine Care, The lord of Ester-towne. 7 They wer no soner at supper sett. Then after said the grace, 30 Or Captaine Care and all his men Wer lighte aboute the place. 8 ' Gyve oner thi howsse, thou lady gay. And I win make the a bande ; ^ To-nighte thou shall ly witAin my armes, To-morrowe thou shall ere ^ my lande.' 9 Then bespacke the eldest Sonne, That was both whitt and redde : ' O mother dere, geve orer jour howsse. Or elks we shalbe deade.' 40 10 'I will not geve over my hous,' she saithe, ' Not for feare of my lyfBe; It shalbe talked throughout the land. The slaughter of a wyfEe. 11 ' Fetch me my pestilett,' And charge me my gonne, That I m ay shott at yonder bloddy butcher. The lord of Easter-towne.' 12 Styfly vpon her wall she stode. And lett the pellettes flee; 50 But then she myst the blody bueher. And she slew other three. 13 '[I will] not geve overmyhous,' she saithe, ' Netheir for lord nor lowne ; Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care, The lord of Easter-towne. L compact. 2 inlierit. ' pistolet. 14 ' I desire of Captine Care, And all his bloddye band, That he would save my eldest Sonne, The eare of all my lande.' 60 15 'Lap him in a shete,' he sayth, ' And let him downe to me, And I shall take him in my armes, His waran ^ shall I be.' 16 The captayne sayd unto him selfe: Wyth sped, before the rest. He out his tonge out of his bead. His hart out of his brest. 17 He lapt them in a handkerchef. And knet it of knotes three, 70 And oast them over the castell-wall. At that gay ladye. 18 ' Fye vpon the, Captayne Care, And all thy bloddy band ! For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne, The ayre of all my land.' 19 Then bespake the yongest Sonne, That sat on the nurses knee, Sayth,'Mother gay, geveoveryour house; It smoldereth me.' 80 20 ' I wold geve my gold,' she saith, ' And so I wolde my ffee. For a blaste of the westryn wind. To dryve the smoke from thee. 21 ' Fy vpon the, John Hamleton, That ever 1 paid the hyre ! For thou hast broken my castle-wall, And kyndled in the ffyre.' 22 The lady gate * to her close parler, The fire fell aboute her head ; 90 She toke vp her children thre, Seth, ' Babes, we are all dead.' 23 Then bespake the hye steward. That is of hye degree ; Saith, ' Ladie gay, you are in close,' Wether ye fighte or flee.' 24 Lord Hamleton dremd in his dream, In Carvall where he laye, His halle were all of fyre. His ladie slayne or daye.' loo * warrant. » got, went. « enclosed. ' before day. 3i8 BALLADS 25 ' Busk and bowne/ my mery men all, Even and go ye with me ; For I dremd that my haal was on fyre, My lady slayue or day.' 26 He buskt him and bownd hym, And like a worthi kuighte; And when he saw his hall burning, His harte was no dele lighte. 27 He sett a trumpett till his mouth. He blew as it plesd his grace; no Twenty score of Hamlentons Was light aboute the place. 28 ' Had I knowne as much yesternighte As I do to-daye, Captaine Care and all his men Should not have gone so quite. 29 ' Fye vpon the, Captaine Care, And all thy blody bande ! Thou haste slayne my lady gay, More wurth then all thy lande. 120 30 ' If thou had ought ^ eny ill will,' he saith, ' Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe, And have saved my children thre. All and my lovesome wyfBe.' THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY^ 1 Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands, Oh where have you been ? They have slain the Earl of Murray, And they layd him on the green. 2 ' Now wae be to thee, Huntly ! And wherefore did you sae ? I bade you bring him wi you, But forbade you him to slay.' 3 He was a braw gallant, And he rid at the ring; 10 And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh he might have been a king ! 4 He was a braw gallant. And he playd at the ba; And the bonny Earl of Murray Was the flower amang them a'. 1 Arm and prepare. 2 owed. 8 The handsome James Stewart, Earl of Murray, was slain in 1592. 5 He was a braw gallant. And he playd at the glove; And the bonny Earl of Murray, Oh he was the Queen's love I 6 Oh lang will his lady Look oer the castle Down, Eer she see the Earl of Murray Come sounding thro the town I Eer she, etc. KINMONT WILLIE « 1 HAVE ye na heard o the f ause Sakelde ? have ye na heard o the keen Lord Scroop ? How they hae taen bauld Kinmont Willie, On Hairibee to hang him up ? 2 Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont taen, Wi eight score in his companie. 3 They band his legs beneath the steed. They tied his hands behind his back; 10 They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddel- rack. 4 They led him thro the Liddel-rack, And also thro the Carlisle sands; They brought him to Carlisle castell. To be at my Lord Scroope's com- mands. 5 ' My hands are tied, but my tongue is free. And whae will dare this deed avow ? Or answer by the border law ? Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch ? ' 20 6 'Now baud thy tongue, thou rank reiver ! * There 's never a Scot shall set ye free; Before ye cross my castle-yate, 1 trow ye shall take farewell o me.' * This ballad, founded on actual events of about 1586, has been much touched up by Sir Walter Scott. 6 robber. KINMONT WILLIE 319 7 ' Fear na ye that, my lord,' quo Willie; 'By the faith o my bodie, Lord Scroop,' he said, ' I never yet lodged in a hostelrie But I paid my la wing ^ before I gaed.' 8 Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha ^ where that he lay, That Lord Soroope has taen the Kin- mout Willie, 31 Between the hours of night and day. 9 He has taen the table wi his hand. He garrd the red wine spring on hie; 'Now Christ's curse on my head,' he said, ' But avenged of Lord Scroop I 'U be ! 10 'O is my basnet' a widow's ourch? * Or my lance a wand of the willow- tree? Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand ? That an English lord should lightly^ 11 ' And have they taen him Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide, And forgotten that the bauld Baeleuch Is keeper here on the Scottish side ? 12 • And have they een taen hiTn Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear. And forgotten that the bauld Baeleuch Can back a steed, or shake a spear ? 13 ' O were there war between the lands. As well I wot that there is none, 50 I would slight ^ Carlisle castell high, Tho it were builded of marl)le-stone. 14 ' I would set that castell in a low,' And sloken ^ it with English blood; There 's nevir a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castell stood. 15 ' But since nae war 's between the lands, And there is peace, and peace should be, I '11 neither harm English lad or lass, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be ! ' 60 1 reckoning. s Hall. 8 helmet. * kerchief, headdress. scorn, s destroy. ? Same. ^ quench. 16 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. 17 He has calld him forty marchmen bauld. Were kinsmen to the baidd Buc- cleuch. With spur on heel, and splent on spauld,^ And gleuves of green, and feathers Wae. 18 There were five and five before them a', Wi hunting-horns and bugles bright ; 70 And five and five came wi Buccleueh, Like Warden's men, arrayed for fight. 19 And five and five like a mason-gang. That carried the ladders lang and hie ; And five and five like broken men; ^^ And so they reached the Woodhouse- lee. 20 And as we crossed the Bateable Land, When to the English side we held. The first o men that we met wi, Whae sould it be but fause Sakelde ! 80 21 ' Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen ? ' Quo fause Sakelde; 'come tell to me ! ' ' We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespassd on the Scots countrie.' 22 ' Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men ? ' Quo fause Sakelde; ' come tell to me true ! ' ' We go to catch a rank reiver. Has broken faith wi the bauld Buc- cleueh.' 23 ' Where are ye gaun, ye mason-lads. Why a' your ladders lang and hie ? ' ' We gang to herry ^^ a corbie's nest, 91 That wons^ not far frae Woodhouse- lee.' 24 ' Where be ye gaun, ye broken men ? ' Quo fause Sakelde ; ' come tell to me!' Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band. And the never a word o lear ^^ had he. 8 armor on shoulder. 12 dwells. 10 outlaws. II harry, rob. 13 learning, instruction. 320 BALLADS 25 ' Why trespass ye on the English side ? Kow^ -footed outlaws, stand ! ' quo he; The neer a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance thro hisfaulse bodie. i°o 26 Then on we held for Carlisle toun. And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossd ; The water was great, and meikle of spait,^ But the nevir a horse nor man we lost. 27 And when we reached the Staneshaw- bank, The wind was rising loud and hie ; And there the laird garrd ^ leave our steeds, For fear that they should stamp and nie. 28 And when we left the Staneshaw-bank, The wind began full loud to blaw ; no But 't was wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castelwa. 29 We crept on knees, and held our breath. Till we placed the ladders against the wa; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first before us a'. 30 He has taen the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead: ' Had there not been peace between our lands, 119 Upon the other side thou hadst gaed. 31 ' Now sound out, trumpets ! ' quo Buc- cleuch ; 'Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie 1 ' Then loud the Warden's trumpets blew ' O whae dare meddle wi me ? ' 32 Then speedilie to wark we gaed, And raised the slogan ane and a'. And cut a hole thro a sheet of lead. And so we wan to the oastel-ha. 33 They thought King James and a' his men ug Had won the house wi bow and speir: It was but twenty Soots and ten That put a thousand in sic a stear ! ^ > Bough. ' in high flood. ' caused us to. * stir- 34 Wi coulters^ and wi forehammers, We garrd the bars bang merrilie, Untill we came to the inner prison. Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie. 36 And when we cam to the lower prison. Where Willie o Kinmont he did lie, ' O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou 's to die ? ' 36 ' O I sleep saf t, and I wake aft, 141 It's lang since sleeping was fleyd^ frae me; Gie my service back to my wyfe and bairns, And a' gude fellows that speer ' for me.' 37 Then Red Rowan has hente ' him up, The starkest men in Teviotdale : ' Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I take fare- well. 38 ' Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope 1 My gude Lord Scroope, farewell I ' he cried ; 150 ' I '11 pay you for my lodging-maill * When first we meet on the border- side.' 39 Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him down the ladder lang ; At every stride Red Rowan made, I wot the Kinmont's airns^ playd clang. 40 ' O mony a time,' quo Kinmont Wil- lie, ' I have ridden horse baith wild and wood ; 11 • But a rougher beast than Red Rowan I ween my legs have neer bestrode. 41 'And mony a time,' quo Kinmont Willie, 161 ' I 've pricked a horse out onre the furs; 12 But since the day I backed a steed I nevir wore sic cumbrous spurs.' B the blade before the share of a plough. 8 frightened. ' inquire. a taken. " rent. 10 irons. ix mad. " over the furrows. THE BARON OF BRACKLEY 321 42 We scarce had won the Staneshaw- bank, When a' the Carlisle bella were rung, And a thousand men, in horse and foot, Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along. 43 Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, Even where it flowd frae bank to brim, 170 And he has plunged in wi a' his band, And safely swam them thro the stream. 44 He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he: ' If ye like na my visit in merry Eng- land, In fair Scotland come visit me ! ' 45 All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, He stood as still as rock of stane; He scarcely dared to trew^ his eyes When thro the water they had gane. 46 ' He is either himsell a devil frae hell, i8i Or else his mother a witch maun be; I wad na have ridden that wan water For a' the gowd in Christentle.' THE BONNIE HOUSE O AIRLIE^ 1 It fell on a day, and a bonny summer day, When corn grew green and yellow. That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyll and Airly. 2 Argyll has raisd an hundred men, An hundred men, and so many, And he is away by the back of Dun- keld, For to plunder the bonny house of Airly. 3 Lady Margaret looks oer her bower- window. And O but she looks weary ! 10 And there she spied the great Argyll, Coming to plunder the bonny house of Airly. 1 trust. 2 The Earl of Argyle sacked and burnt Airlie in 1640. 4 ' Come down, come down, Lady Mar- gret,' he said, ' Come down, and kiss me fairly : ' ' O I will not kiss the great Argyll, If he should not leave a standing stone in Airly.' 5 He hath taken her by the left shoulder. Says, ' Lady, where lyes thy dowry ? ' 'It's up and it's down by the bonny bank-side, Amongst the planting of Airly.' 20 6 They have sought it up, they have sought it down. They have sought it both late and early, And they have found it in the bonny plumb-tree That shines on the bowling-green of Airly. 7 He hath taken her by the middle so small, And O but she lookd weary ! He hath laid her down by the bonny bum-side. Till he hath plundered the bonny house of Airly. 8 ' If my good lord were at home this night, As he is with Prince Charly, 30 Nouther you nor no Scottish lord Durst have set a foot on the bowling- green of Airly. 9 ' Ten bonny sons I have born unto him, The eleventh neer saw his daddy; Although I had an hundred more, I would give them all to Prince Charly.' THE BARON OF BRACKLEY » 1 Invekey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin. He was at brave Braikley's yett * ere it was dawin.^ 2 He rappit fu loudly an wi a great roar, Cried, ' Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door. > Various tragedies in the history of the Brackley family have supplied the material for this. * gate. 6 dawning. 323 BALLADS 3 'Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakiu ? There 's sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin. 4 ' Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.' 5 Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa ; ' Are ye cum to spulyie ^ and plunder mi ha ? lo 6 ' But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in: Gin ye drink o my wine, ye '11 nae gar ^ my bluid spin. 7 ' Gin ye be hir'd widif as,' ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky.^ 8 ' Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld ket- trin clan,^ Who plunder unsparing baith houses and Ian. 9 'Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in], Ther 's meat an drink i my ha for every man. 10 ' Gin ye be hir'd widifus, ye may gang by, Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.' 20 11 Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay, ' Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid ; The 'r but young hir'd widifus wi belted plaids.' 12 ' Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I 'le nae lan- ger stay. For I will go out and meet Inverey. 13 ' But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir'd widifus will prove themselves men.' 1 spoil. 2 make. ' gallows-birds. * kine. 6 steal like thieves of the wild robber clanB. 14 She called on her marys,^ they cam to her hand; Cries, ' Bring me your rocks,' lassies, we will them command. 15 ' Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, 30 Or me an mi women will them defy. 16 ' Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; We 'II ficht them, aud shortly the cow- ards will fly. 17 'Gin I had a husband, whereas Ihaenane, He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taeu. 18 ' Ther 's four-and-twenty milk-whit calves, twal ' o them ky. In the woods o Glentanner, it 's ther thei a' ly. 19 ' Ther 's goat i the Etnach, and sheep the brae. An a' will be plunderd by young Inverey.' 20 ' Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun, 40 Ye '11 see me gae furth, but I '11 never cum in. 21 ' Call mi brother William, mi unkl also. Mi cousin James Gordon; we '11 mount and we '11 go.' 22 When Braikley was ready aud stood i the closs. He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse. 23 When all wer assembld o the castell green. No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen. 24 ' Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom; 25 ' Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill; O sichin ' and sobbin she '11 soon get her fill.' so " maids. ' distaffs. > twelve. > sighing. BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 323 26 ' I 'm no coward, brother, 't is kend I 'm 38 ' Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in a man; there. I 'U fioht i your quarral as lang 's I can And there [saw] his ladie braiding her stand. hair. 27 ' I '11 ficht, my' dear brother, wi heart 39 ' She was rantin, and dancin, and singin and gude will, for joy. And so will young Harry that lives at And vowin that nicht she woud feest the mill. Inverey. 28 'But turn, mi dear brother, and nae 40 ' She eat wi him, drank wi him, weloomd langer stay: him in. What '11 cum o your ladie, gin Braikley Was kind to the man that had slayn her thei slay ? baronne.' 80 29 ' What '11 cum o your ladie and bonnie 41 Up spake the son on the nourice's knee. young son ? ' Gin I live to be a man, revenged I '11 be.' O what '11 cum o them when Braikley is gone ? ' 58 42 Ther 's dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha. 30 ' I never will turn : do you think I will fly? The Baronne Braikley is dead and awa. But here I will ficht, and here I will die.' 31 'Strik dogs,' crys Inverey, 'and ficht BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL till ye 're slayn, For we are four hundered, ye are but 1 Hie upon Hielands, four men. and laigh ^ upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell 32 'Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your rode out on a day. honour is gone, Your lands we will plunder, your castell 2 He saddled, he bridled, we '11 burn.' and gallant rode he. And hame cam his guid horse, 33 At the head the Etnach the battel began. but never cam he. At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man. 3 Out came his mother dear, greeting fu sair,^ ,0 34 First thei killd ane, and soon they killd And out cam his bonnie bryde. twa. riving her hair. Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour them a'. 4 ' The meadow lies green, the corn is unshorn. 35 Thei killd William Gordon, and James But Bonnie George Campbell the Knox, will never return.' And brave Alexander, the flour Glen- muick. 70 5 Saddled and bridled and booted rode he, 36 What sichin and moaning was heard i A plume in his helmet. the glen, a sword at his knee. so For the Baronne Braikley, who basely was slayn ! 6 But toom ' cam his saddle, all bloody to see. 37 ' Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in Oh, hame cam his guid horse. there ? but never cam he ! Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair ? ' ' low. > Weeping full sore. > empty. 324 BALLADS BEWICK AND GRAHAM i 1 Old Grahame [he] is to Carlisle gone, Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he; In arms to the wine they are gone, And drank till they were both merry. 2 Old Grahame he took up the cup, And said, ' Brother Bewick, here 's to thee ; And here 's to our two sons at home, For they live best in our country.' 3 ' Nay, were thy son as good as mine, And of some books he could but read, lo With sword and buckler by his side. To see how he could save his head, 4 ' They might have been calld two bold brethren Where ever they did go or ride; They might [have] been calld two bold brethren. They might have crackd the Border- side. 5 ' Thy son is bad, and is but a lad, And bully ^ to my son cannot be ; For my son Bewick can both write and read. And sure I am that cannot he.' 20 6 ' I put him to school, but he would not learn, I, bought him books, but he would not read; But my blessing he 's never have Till I see how his hand can save his head.' 7 Old Grahame called for an account. And he askd what was for to pay; There he paid a crown, so it went round, Which was all for good wine and hay. 8 Old Grahame is into the stable gone, Where stood thirty good steeds and three ; 30 He '3 taken his own steed by the head, And home rode he right wantonly. 1 In Bpite of incongruous touches in the spirit of the eighteenth century — the date of the oldest copy — this is a proper ballad. 3 brotber-iu-arms. 9 When he came home, there did he espy, A loving sight to spy or see, There did he espy his own three sons. Young Christy Grahame, the fore- most was he. 10 There did he espy his own three sons. Young Christy Grahame, the fore- most was he: ' Where have you been all day, father. That no counsel you would take by me ? ' 40 11 ' Nay, I have been in Carlisle town. Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me; He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad. And a baffled man by thou I be, 12 ' He said thou was bad, and calld thee lad. And bully to his son cannot be; For his son Bewick can both write and read, And sure I am that cannot thee. 13 '1 put thee to school, but thou would not learn, I bought thee books, but thou would not read; 50 But my blessing thou 's never have Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.' 14 ' Oh, pray forbear, my father dear; That ever such a thing should be ! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that 's faith and troth to me?' 15 ' What 's that thou sayst, thou limmer ' loon ? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.' 16 Christy stoopd low unto the ground, 61 Unto the ground, as you '11 under- stand: ' O father, put on your glove again, The wind hath blown it from your hand.' 8 rascally. BEWICK AND GRAHAM 325 17 ' What 's that thou sayst, thou limmer loon ? Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.' 18 Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone, And for to study, as well might be, 70 Whether to fight with his father dear, Or with his bully Bewick he. 19 ' If it be [my] fortune my bully to kill. As you slmil boldly understand, In every town that I ride through. They'll say. There rides a brother- less man ! 20 ' Nay, for to kill my bully dear, I think it will be a deadly sin; And for to kill my father dear. The blessing of heaven I neer shall win. 80 21 'O give me your blessing, father,' he said, ' And pray well for me for to thrive; If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I '11 neer come home alive.' 22 He put on his back a good plate-jack, And on his head a cap of steel, With sword and buckler by his side; gin ^ he did not become them well ! 23 ' O fare thee well, my father dear ! And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town ! 90 If it be my fortune my bully to kill, 1 swear I '11 neer eat bread again.' 24 Now we 'U leave talking of Christy Grahame, And talk of him again belive ; ' But we will talk of bonny Bewick, Where he was teaching his scholars five, 25 Now when he had learned them well to fence. To handle their swords without any doubt, He 's taken his own sword under his arm, 99 And walkd his father's close about. 1 if . 3 BOOIL 26 He lookd between him and the sun. To see what farleys' he could see; There he spy'd a man with armour on, As he came riding over the lee. 27 ' I wonder much what man yon be That so boldly this way does come; I think it is my nighest friend, I think it is my bully Grahame. 108 28 ' O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame ! O man, thou art my dear, welcome ! man, thou art miy dear, welcome ! For I love thee best in Christendom.' 29 ' Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bully ship let me be ! The day is come I never thought on; Bully, I 'm come here to fight with thee.' 30 ' O no ! not so, O bully Grahame ! That eer such a word should spoken be! 1 was thy master, thou was my scholar: So well as I have learned thee.' 120 31 ' My father he was in Carlisle town. Where thy father Bewick there met he ; He said I was bad, and he calld me a lad, And a baffled man by thou I be.' 32 ' Away, away, O bully Grahame, And of all that talk, man, let us be 1 We '11 take three men of either side To see if we can our fathers agree.' 33 • Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be ! 130 But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art. Come overt his ditch and fight with me.' 34 ' O no ! not so, my bully Grahame ! That eer such a word should spoken be ! Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that 's faith and troth to me?' 35 ' Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of all that care, man, let us be ! If thou be a man, a.s I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.' 140 I strange sights. 326 BALLADS 36 'Now, if it be my fortune thee, Gra- hame, to kill, As God's will 's, man, it all must be; But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, 'T is home again I '11 never gae.' 37 ' Thou art of my mind then, bully Be- wick, And sworn-brethren will we be ; If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.' 38 He flang his cloak from [off] his shoul- ders, His psalm-book out of his hand flang he, i^o He olapd his hand upon the hedge, And oer lap he right wantonly. 39 When Grahame did see his bully come. The salt tear stood long in his eye : ' Now needs must I say that thou art a man. That dare venture thy body to flght with me. 40 ' Now I have a harness on my back ; I know that thou hath none on thiue; But as little as thou hath on thy back. Sure as little shall there be on mine.' 41 He flang his jack from off his back, i6i His steel cap from his head flang he; He 's taken his sword into his hand. He 's tyed his horse unto a tree. 42 Now they fell to it with two broa[d swords], For two long hours fought Bewick [and he]; Much sweat was to be seen on them both, But never a drop of blood to see. 43 Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward^ stroke, 169 An ackward stroke surely struck he; He struck him now under the left breast. Then down to the ground as dead fell he. ^ awkward, backhand. ' 44 ' Arise, arise, O bully Bewick, Arise, and speak three words to me I Whether this be thy deadly wound, Or God and good surgeons wUl mend thee.' 45 ' O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And pray do get thee far from me ! Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart. And so no further can I gae. 180 46 ' O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, And get thee far from me with speed! And get thee out of this country quite ! That none may know who 's done the deed.' 47 ' O if this be true, my bully dear, The words that thou dost tell to me, The vow I made, and the vow I'll keep; I swear I '11 be the first that die.' 48 Then he stuck his sword in a moody- hill,2 Where he lap thirty good foot and three; 190 First he bequeathed his soul to God, And upon his own sword-point lap he. 49 Now Grahame he was the first that died, And then came Robin Bewick to see; ' Arise, arise, O son I ' he said, ' For I see thou 's won the victory. 60 ' Arise, arise, O son ! ' he said, ' For I see thou 's won the victory r ' [Father, co] uld ye not drunk your wine at home, igg [And le]tten me and my brother be? 51 ' Nay, dig a grave both low and wide, And in it us two pray bury; But bury my bully Grahame on the sunside, For I 'm sure he won the victory.' 52 Now we '11 leave talking of these two brethren, In Carlisle town where they lie slain, And talk of these two good old men, Where they were making a pitiful moan. : mole-hill. THE DOWY HOUMS O YARROW 327 53 With that bespoke now Robin Bewick: ' mau was I not much to blame? I have lost one of the liveliest lads 211 That ever was bred unto my name.' 54 With that bespoke my good lord Gra- hame: ' O man, I have lost the better block; I have lost my comfort and my joy, I have lost my key, I have lost my lock. 55 ' Had I gone through all Ladderdale, And forty horse had set on me, Had Christy Grahame been at my back. So well as he woud guarded me.' 220 56 I have no more of my song to sing. But two or three words to you I '11 name; But 't will be talk'd in Carlisle town That these two [old] men were all the blame. THE DOWY HOUMS O YARROWi 1 Late at een, drinkln the wine, Or early in a mornin, The set a combat them between. To fight it in the dawniu. 2 ' O stay at hame, my noble lord ! O stay at hame, my marrow ! ^ My cruel brother will you betray, On the dowy houms o Yarrow.' 3 ' O fare ye weel, my lady gaye ! fare ye weel, my Sarah ! 10 For I maun gae, tho I neer return Frae the dowy banks Yarrow.' 4 She kissed his cheek, she kaimd his hair, As she had done before, O; She belted on his noble brand. An he 's awa to Yarrow. 5 O he 's gane up yon high, high hill — 1 wat he gaed wi sorrow — And in a den spied nine armd men, I the dowy houms o Yarrow. 20 ! The doleful banks o£ Yarrow. Also called The Braes 0/ Yarrow. 2 sweetheart. 6 ' O ir ^ ye come to drink the wine, As ye hae doon before, O? Or ir ye com to wield the brand, On the bonny banks o Yarrow? ' 7 'I im no come to drink the wine. As I hae don before, O, But I im come to wield the brand. On the dowy houms o Yarrow.' 8 Four he hurt, an five he slew, On the dowy houms o Yarrow, 30 Till that stubborn knight came him be- hind, An ran his body thorrow. 9 ' Gae hame, gae hame, good-brother John, An tell your sister Sarah To come an lift her noble lord. Who '3 sleepin sound on Yarrow.' 10 'Yestreen I dreamd a dolefu dream; I kend^ there wad be sorrow; I dreamd I pu'd the heather green. On the dowy banks o Yarrow.' 40 11 She gaed up yon high, high hill — I wat she gaed wi sorrow — An in a den spy'd nine dead men, On the dowy houms o Yarrow. 12 She kissed bis cheek, she kaimed his hair. As oft she did before, O; She drank the red blood frae him ran, On the dowy houms o Yarrow. 13 ' O baud your tongue, my douchter dear. For what needs a' this sorrow ? 50 I '11 wed you on a better lord Than him you lost on Yarrow.' 14 ' O baud your tongue, my father dear, And dinna grieve your Sarah; A better lord was never born Than him I lost on Yarrow. 15 'Tak hame your ousen,' take hame your kye,' For they hae bred our sorrow; I wiss ' that they had a' gane mad Whan they cam first to Yarrow.' 60 i are. ^ Imew. e oxen. t kine. s wish. 328 BALLADS THE D^MON LOVERi 1 ' O WHERE have you been, my long, long love. This long seven years and mair ? ' 'O I 'm come to seek my former vows Ye granted me before.' 2 'O hold your tongue of your former vows. For they will breed sad strife; hold your tongue of your former vows, For I am become a wife.' 3 He turned him right and round about, Aud the tear blinded his ee: lo ' I wad never hae trodden on Irish ground, If it had not been for thee. 4 ' I might hae had a king's daughter, Far, far beyond the sea; 1 might have had a king's daughter. Had it not been for love o thee.' 5 ' If ye might have had a king's daughter, Yer sel ye had to blame; Ye might have taken the king's daughter, For ye kend that I was nane. 20 6 ' If I was to leave my husband dear. And my two babes also, O what have you to take me to, If with you I should go ? ' 7 ' I hae seven ships upon the sea — The eighth brought me to land — With four-and-twenty bold mariners, And music on every hand.' 8 She has taken up her two little babes, Kissd them baith cheek and chin: 30 ' O fair ye weel, my ain two babes. For I '11 never see you again.' 9 She set her foot upon the ship. No mariners could she behold; But the sails were o the taffetie. And the masts o the beaten gold. 10 She had not sailed a league, a league, A league but barely three, When dismal grew his countenance, And drumlie ^ grew his ee. 40 1 Often called James Harris. 2 gloomy. 11 They had not saild a league, a league, A league but barely tljree, Until she espied his cloven foot. And she wept right bitterlie. 12 ' O hold your tongue of your weeping,' says he, ' Of your weeping now let me be; I will shew you how the lilies grow On the banks of Italy.' 13 ' O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills, That the sun shines sweetly on ? ' 50 ' O yon are the hills of heaven,' he said, ' Where you will never win.' ^ 14 ' O whaten a mountain is yon,' she said, ' All so dreary wi frost and snow ? ' ' O yon is the mountain of hell,' he cried, ' Where you and I will go.' 15 He strack the tap-mast wi his hand. The fore-mast wi his knee. And he brake that gallant ship in twain, And sank her in the sea. 60 OUR GOODMAN 1 Hame came our goodman. And hame came he, And then he saw a saddle-horse, Where nae horse should be. 2 ' What 's this now, goodwite ? What 's this I see ? How came this horse here. Without the leave me ? ' Recitative. ' A horse ? ' quo she. 'Ay, a horse,' quo he. 3 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 111 mat ^ ye see ! 'T is naething, but a broad sow. My minnie * sent to me.' ' A broad sow ? ' quo he. 'Ay, a sow,' quo shee. 4 ' Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane. But a sadle on a sow's back I never saw nane.' 8 come. ' mot, i.e., may. G mother. OUR GOODMAN 329 6 Hame came our goodman, There he spy'd a powderd wig. And hame came he; Where nae wig shoud be. He spy'd a pair of jack-boots, Where nae boots should be. 14 ' What 's this now, goodwife ? What 's this I see ? 6 ' What 's this now, good wife 7 How came this wig here, What's this I see? Without the leave me ? ' How came these boots here. Without the leave o me ? ' ' A wig ? ' quo she. ' Ay, a wig,' quo he. 70 ' Boots ? ' quo she. 'Ay, boots,' quo he. 30 15 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, And ill mat you see 1 7 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 'T is naething but a clooken-hen,' And ill mat ye see ! My minnie sent to me.' It 's but a pair of water-stoups,^ My minnie sent to me.' ' Cloeken hen ? ' quo he. ' Ay, clooken hen,' quo she. ' Water-stoups ? ' quo he. ' Ay, water-stoups,' quo she. 16 ' Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, 8 ' Far hae I ridden, But powder on a clocken-hen And farer hae I gane. I saw never nane.' go But siller spurs on water-stoups I saw never nane.' 40 17 Hame came our goodman. And hame came he. 9 Hame came our goodman, And there he saw a muekle coat. And hame came he, Where nae coat shoud be. And he saw a sword, Whare a sword should na be. 18 ' What 's this now, goodwife ? What 's this I see ? 10 ' What 's this now, goodwife ? How came this coat here. What 's this I see ? Without the leave me ? ' How came this sword here, Without the leave o me ? ' ' A coat ? ' quo she. ' Ay, a coat,' quo he. 90 ' A sword ? ' quo she. ' Ay, a sword,' quo he. 5° 19 ' Shame fa your cuckold face, 111 mat ye see ! 11 ' Shame fa your cuckold face. It 's but a pair blankets. 111 mat ye see ! My minnie sent to me.' It 's but a porridge-spurtle,^ My minnie sent to me.' ' Blankets ? ' quo he. ' Ay, blankets,' quo she. • A spurtle ? ' quo he. • Ay, a spurtle,' quo she. 20 ' Far hae I ridden. And farer hae I gane. 12 ' Far hae I ridden, But buttons upon blankets And farer hae I gane. I saw never nane.' 100 But siller-handed spurtles I saw never nane.' 60 21 Ben * went our goodman. And ben went he, 13 Hame came our goodman, And there he spy'd a sturdy man, And hame came he; Where nae man shoud be. 1 water-pitchers. ' porridge stirrer. I sitting hen. ' Into the inner room. 33° BALLADS 22 ' What 'a this now, goodwife ? What 's this I see ? How came this man here, Without the leave o me ? ' ' A man ? ' quo she. ' Ay, a man,' quo he. 23 ' Poor blind body, And blinder mat ye be I It 's a new milking-maid. My mither sent to me.' ' A maid ? ' quo he. ' Ay, a maid,' quo she. 24 ' Far hae I ridden, And farer hae I gane, But lang-bearded maidens I saw never nane.' GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR 1 It fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was then. When our good wife got puddings ^ to make. And she 's boild them in the pan. 2 The wind sae cauld blew south and north, And blew iuto the floor; Quoth our goodman to our goodwife, ' Gae out and bar the door.' 3 ' My hand is in my hussyf skap,^ Goodman, as ye may see; m An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year. It 's no be barrd for me.' 4 They made a paction tween them twa. They made it firm and sure. That the first word whaeer shoud speak, Should rise and bar the door. 5 Then by there came two gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night. And they could neither see house nor hall, Nor coal nor candle-light. 20 6 ' Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor ? ' 2 housewileiy. But neer a word wad ane o them speak, For barring of the door. 7 And first they ate the white puddings, And then they ate the black; Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel, Yet neer a word she spake. 8 Then said the one unto the other, ' Here, man, tak ye my knife; 30 Do ye tak afB the auld man's beard, And I '11 kiss the goodwife.' 9 ' But there '3 nae water in the house. And what shall we do than ? ' What ails thee at the puddiug-broo,' That boils into the pan ? ' 10 O up then started our goodman, An angry man was he: ' Will ye kiss my wife before my een. And scad ^ me wi pudding-bree ? ' 40 11 Then up and started our goodwife, Gied three skips on the floor: ' Goodman, you 've spoken the foremost word, Get up and bar the door.' THE WIFE WRAPT IN WETHER'S SKIN 1 She wadna bake, she wadna brew, HoUin,^ green hollin, For spoiling o her comely hue. Bend your bow, Robin. 2 She wadna wash, she wadna wring, For spoiling o her gay goud ring. 3 Robin he 's gane to the fald And catched a weather by the spauld.' 4 And he has killed his weather black And laid the skin upon her back 10 5 ' I darena pay ^ you, for your kin, But I can pay my weather's skin. 6 ' I darena pay my lady's back. But I can pay my weather black.' 1 holly. 8 brew, juice. 6 shoulder. * scald. ' beat. THE BITTER WITHY SS^^ 7 ' O Robin, Kobiii, lat me be, And I '11 a good wife be to thee. 8 ' It 's I will wash, and I will wring, And never mind my gay goud ring. 9 ' It's I wUl bake, and I will brew, And never mind my comely hue. jo 10 ' And gin ye thiukna that enough, I'se tak the goad and I 'se ca^ the plough. 11 ' Gin ye ca for mair whan that is doon, I '11 sit i the neuk ^ and I '11 dight ' your shoon.' THE BITTER WITHY ^ 1 As it fell out on a Holy day, The drops of rain did fall, did fall, Our Saviour asked leave of His mother Mary If He might go play at ball. 2 ' To play at ball, my own dear Son, It 's time you was going or gone. But be sure let me hear no complaint of You At night when You do come home.' 3 It was upling scorn and downling scorn, Oh, there He met three jolly jerdins : ^ Oh, there He asked the three jolly jer- dins II If they would go play at ball. I call, drive. 2 nook, corner. 3 clean. * TheBUterWithy , probably a genuine popular ballad, waa first recorded in 18GS, and printed by Mr. Frank Sidgwick m Notes and Queries^ Series 10, iv, 84/., July, 1905. See Pub. Mod. Lang. Ass. Am., Tol. 23, p. 141, for a discussion of it by G. H. Gerould. It is representative of many medJEeval tales of the Saviour'a childhood. 6 An inexplicable word. 4 ' Oh, we are lords' and ladies' sons. Born in bower or in hall. And You are but some poor maid's child Born'd in an ox's stall.' 5 ' If you are lords' and ladies' sons, Born'd in bower or in hall, Then at the very last I '11 make it ap- pear That I am above you all.' 20 6 Our Saviour built a bridge with the beams of the sun. And over He gone, He gone He, And after followed the three jolly jer- dins, And drownded they were aU three. 7 It was upling scorn and downling scorn, The mothers of them did whoop and call. Crying out, ' Mary mild, call home your Child, For ours are drownded all.' 8 Mary mild, Mary mild, called home her Child, And laid our Saviour across her knee, 30 And with a whole handful of bitter withy ' She gave Him slashes three. 9 Then He says to His Mother, ' Oh ! the withy, oh ! the withy, The bitter withy that causes me to smart, to smart, Oh ! the withy it shall be the very first tree That perishes at the heart.' 8 willow twig. JOHN BARBOUR THE BRUCE INTRODUCTION (h 1-36) Storyss to rede ar delitabill, Supposs that thai be nocht hot fabill; Than suld storyss that suthfasfc wer, And ^ thai war said on gud maner, Hawe doubill plesance in heryng. The fyrst plesance is the carping,' And the tothir the suthfastnes, That schawys the thing rycht as it wes; And suth thyngis that ar likand ^ Tyll ^ mannys heryng, ar plesand. 10 Tharfor I wald fayne set my will, Giff my wyt mycht suffice thartill,^ To put in wryt ^ a suthfast story, That it lest ay furth in memory, Swa that na lenth of tyme it let,' Na ger ' it haly ^ be forget. For aulde storys that men redys, Represeutis to thaim the dedys Of stalwart folk that lywyt ar,!" Rycht as thai than in presence war. 20 And, certis, thai suld weill hawe pryss, That in thar tyme war wycht ^^ and wyss, And led thar lyff in gret trawaill,^ And oft in hard stour i' off bataill Wan richt gret price off chewalry, And war woydyt " off cowardy ; As wes king Robert off Scotland, That hardy wes off hart and hand; And gud Schyr lames off Douglas, That in his tyme sa worthy was, 30 That off hys price and hys bounte In far landis renownyt wes he. Off thaim I thynk this buk to ma; '^ Now God gyff grace that I may swa Tret it, and bryng it till endyng. That I say nocht bot suthfast thing! ^ If. ' narrative. 3 pleasing. * To. b thereto. 8 writing. 7 binder, destroy. 8 malce. " wliolly. 10 lived before. " powerful. 12 labor. w shock. 1* cleared. ib make. HOW SCOTLAND LEARNED TO LOVE LIBERTY (1, 179-246) QlTHEN 1' sehir Edward, the mychty king, Had on this wyss i' done his likyng ^^ Off Ihone the BalleoU, that swa sone Was all defawtyt ^^ and undone, To Scotland went he than in hy, And all the land gan occupy: So hale,^" that bath castell and toune War in-till^i his possessioune, Era Weik anent Orknay To MuUyr-snwk in Gallaway: 10 And stufflyt all with Ingliss men. Schyrreffys and bailyheys maid he then; And alkyn ^ othir offioeris, That for to gowern land afferis,^' He maid off Inglis nation; That worthyt ^^ than sa ryth f ellone,^ And sa wykkyt and cowatouss, And swa hawtane ^° and dispitouss. That Scottis men mycht do na thing That evir mycht pleyss to thar liking.^' 20 Thar wyffis wald thai oft forly,''^ And thar dochtrys dispitusly; And gyffi-^ oiiy thar-at war wrath, Thai watyt '" hym wele with gret scaith, For thai suld fynd sone enchesone^* To put hym to destructione. And gyff that ony man thaim by Had ony thing that wes worthy. As horss, or hund, or othir thing, That plesand war to thar liking, 30 With rycht or wrang it have wald thai. And gyf ony wald thaim withsay, Thai suld swa do, that thai suld tyne '^ Othir land or lyff, or leyff ^^ in pyne. 18 In middle Scots giih=wh. i^ wise, fashion. 18 pleasure. '» defaulted. »« wholly. 2' into, in. '2 all kinds of. " belong. 2* became. 2S very cruel. 28 haughty. 27 pleasure. 28 outrage. 2fl if^ ao lay in wait for. >i reason. 32 lose. 83 live. HOW THE KING READ FERUMBRAS 333 For thai dempt ^ thaim ef tir thar will, Takand ^ na kep ^ to ryolit na skill.^ A ! quhat thai dempt thaim felonly 1 ^ For gud knyehtis that war worthy, For litill enehesoune or than nane, Thai hangyt be the nekke bane. 40 Alas ! that folk, that evir wes fre, And in fredome wount for to be, Throw thar gret myschance and foly, War tretyt than sa wykkytly, That thar fays* thar iugis was; Quhat wrechitnes may man have mar ? A! fredome is a noble thing! Fredome mayss ' man to haiff liking; Fredome all solace to man giffis: He levys at ess that f rely levys ! 50 A noble hart may haifB nane ess, Na ellys nocht that may him pless, GyfB fredome f ailyhe ; * for fre liking Is yharnyt ' our i" all othir thing. Na 1^ he, that ay hass levyt fre, May nocht knaw weill the propyrte, The angyr, na the wreohyt dome, That is cowplyt to foule thyrldome. Bot gyfB he had assayit it, Than all perquer '^ he suld it wyt ; "^ 60 And suld think fredome mar to pryss Than all the gold in warld that is. Thus oontrar thingis evir-mar Discoweryngis off the tothir ar. And he that thryll 1^ is has nocht his, All that he hass enbandownyt^^ is Till hys lord, quhat euir he be. HOW THE KING READ FERUMBRAS (III, 405-67) The king, ef tir that he was gane, To Lowehlomond the way has tane,^' And come thar on the thrid day. Bot thar-about na bait i' f and thai. That mycht thaim our the watir ber: Than war thai wa i^ on gret maner : For it wes fer about to ga; And thai war in-to dout alsua. To meyt thar fayis ^^ that spred war wyd. Tharfor, endlang the louchhis^" syd, 10 Sa besyly thai socht, and fast, Tyll lamys of Dowglas, at the last, 1 judged. 2 taking. ' heed. * nor reason. 6 How wickedly they condemned them! 8 foes. ' makes. 8 fail. • yearned for. 10 over. n nor. 12 by heart. 13 know. 1* thrall. 18 aubjected. i" taken. " boat. J8 woeful. « foes. »« lake's. Fand a litill sonkyn bate,^! And to the land it drew, fut-hate.'^'' Bot it sa litill wes, that it Mycht our the wattir bot thresum '^ flyt.'" Thai send thar-off word to the king, That wes ioyfull off that fyudiug; And fyrst iu-to the bate is gane, With him Dowglas; the thrid wes ane ao That rowyt thaim our deliverly,'* And set thaim on the land all dry: And rowyt sa of-syss ^^ to and fra, Fechand 2' ay our 2* twa and twa. That, in a nycht and in a day, Curarayn owt-our ^ the louoh ar thai. For sum off thaim couth swome ^ full weill. And on his bak ber a fardele.'^ Swa with swymmyng, and with rowyng. Thai brocht thaim our, and all thar thing. The king, the quhilis,^ meryly 31 Red to thaim, that war him by, Romanys off worthi Ferambraoe, That worthily our-oummyn *' was Throw the rycht douchty Olywer; And how the duk-peris *^ wer Assegyt ^ in-till Egrymor, Quhar king Lawyne lay thaim befor. With may ^ thowsandis then I can say. And bot eleven within war thai, 40 And a woman: and war sa stad, That thai na mete thar-within had, Bot as thai fra thar fayis ^' wan. Yheyte '^ sua contenyt thai thaim than, That thai the tour held manlily. Till that Rychard off Normandy, Magre ^^ his fayis, wamyt the king, That wes ioyfull off this tithing;* For he wend *^ thai had all bene slayne. Tharfor he tumyt in by *^ agayne, 50 And wan Mantrybill and passit FJagot; And syne Lawyne and all his flot ^' Dispitusly discumfyt he: And deliveryt his men all fre, And wan the naylis, and the sper. And the croune, that lesu couth " ber; And off the eroice a gret party ^^ He wan throw his chewalry. The gud king, apon this maner, Comfortyt thaim that war him ner; 60 And maid thaim gamyn ** and solace, Till that his folk all passyt was. 21 boat. 22 hot-foot, hastily. 2= three at a time. 2* transport. 25 quickly, za oft-times. 27 Fetching. 23 over. 29 across, so swim. 81 burden. 8z mean- while. 83 overcome. 3i (^ouge^aiVjj the Twelve Peers of France. 3b Besieged. 33 more. 37 foes. 38 yet. 3B In spite of. " tidings. *i weened. " haste. 48 fleet. di did. ^3 piece. 33 mirth 334 JOHN BARBOUR THE BATTLE OF BANNOCK- BURN (XII, 407-588) The Soottis men, quhen it we3 day, Thair mess devotly herd thai say, Syne tuk a sop, and maid thame yar.i And quhen, thai all assemblit war, And in thair battalia ^ all purvait, With thair braid baneris all displayit, Thai maid knyehtis, as it efferis ^ To men that oysis * thai mysteris. The kyng maid Walter Stewart knyoht, And lames of Douglass, that wes wicht,^ 10 And othir als of gret bouiite He maid, ilkane ^ in thair degre. Quhen this wes done, that I you say, Thai went all furth in gud aray, And tuk the playne full apertly,' Mony wicht man, gud and hardy, That wer fiilfiUit of gret bounte. In-till * thair rowtis ' men mycht se The Ynglis men, in othir party, That richt as angelis sehane brichtly, 20 War nocht arayit on sio maner; For all thair battalia sammyn ^^ wer In a schiltrum; '^ bot quhethir it wes Throu the gret stratnes ^^ of the plass, That thai war rad i^ till byd ^* flehting, Or that it wes for abaysing,i^ I wat 1' nocht; bot in a schiltrum It semyt thai war, all and some, Outane " the vaward anerly. That with ane rioht gret cumpany 30 Be thame-selvin arayit war. And till the battale maid thame yar. That folk our-tuk i^ ane mekill i^ f eld On breid, quhar mony a schynand scheld. And mony a burnyst bricht armour. And mony man of gret valour. And mony a baner, bricht and soheyne, Mieht in that gret schiltrum be seyne. And quhen the kyng of Yngland Saw Seottis men sa tak on hand 40 To tak the hard feild so planly. And apon fut, he had ferly,'"' And said, ' Quhat ? will yon Seottis ficht ? ' ' Yaa, sekirly, schir,' than said a knycht, Schir Ingerame Vmphrevell hat ^^ he, And said, ' Forsuth, schir, now I se 1 rei- 6 stout. a battalions. 8 belongs. s each one. ' openly. 8 in. < use. 9 bands. 18 afraid. 6 stout. 8 each one. ' openly. » in. e bands. 10 together, n squadron. 12 narrowness. 18 afraid, n bide. IS dismay. 1" know. " Except. 18 covered. !• large. 20 wonder, 21 was called. All the mast ferlifuU 22 syoht That evir I saw, quhen for to flcht The Seottis men has tane on hand Agane ^^ the gret mycht of Yngland, 50 In plane hard feUd to gif battale. Bot and yhe ^^ will trow my consale, Yhe sail discomfit thame lichtly. Yhe sal vithdraw hyne ^ suddanly. With battalis, baneris, and pennownys, Quhill that we pass our palyeownys;^ And ye sail se als soyne at ^' thai, Magre thair lordis, sail brek aray. And scale ^ thame, our harness to ta.^ And quhen we se thame scalit swa, 60 Prik we than on thame hardely. And we sail haf thame weill lichtly. For than sail nane be knyt ^ to ficht, That may withstand our mekill mycht.' ' I will nocht,' said the king, ' perfay,'^ Do sa; for ther sail no man say That I siild eschewe the battale, Na withdraw me for sic rangale.' ^ Quhen this wes said that er ^* said I, The Seottis men full devotly 70 Knelyt all doune, till God to pray. And a schort prayer thair maid thai Till God, till help thame in that ficht. And quhen the Yngliss king has sicht Of thame kneland, he said in hy — ^* ' Yon folk knelis till ask mercy.' Schir Yngerame said, ' Ye say suth now; Thai ask mercy, bot nocht at yow. For thair trespass to God thai cry. I tell yow a thing sekirly, 80 That yon men will wyn all or de. For doubt of ded ^ thar sail nane fle.' ' Now be it swa,' than said the kyng, ' We sail it se but ^ delaying.' He gert " trump up to the assemble; On athir^^ syd than men mycht se Full mony wicht men and worthy. All ready till do ohevelry. Thus war thai boune" on athir syde; And Yngliss men, with mekill prid, 90 That war in-till thar awaward,* Till the battall that schir Eduard Gouernyt and led, held straucht thair way. The horss with spuris hardnyt^^ thai. And prikit apon thame sturdely; And thai met thame richt hardely, 22 wonderful. 23 Against. 24 if you. 25 hence. 28 pavilions. 27 as soon that. 2b scatter. 2fl take. " joined together. « in faith. '2 rabble. " before. 8* haste. 36 fear of death. 38 without. " caused. «a either. " ready. *' vanguard. «i emboldened. THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN 335 Swa that, at the assemble thair, Sic a frusohmg i of speris wair That fer away men mycht it her. At thar metyng, for-outen wer," loo Wer stedis stekit^ mony ane, Mony gud man borne doune and slane, And mony ane hardyment douehtely Wes thair eschewit^ full hardely. Thai dang on othir with wapnys ser; ^ Sum of the horss, that stekit wer, Ruschit and relit rioht roydly.^ Bot the remanant, noeht-for-thi,' That mycht cum to the assembling,' For that lat^ maid rycht no styuting,^" no But assemblit full hardely. And thai met thame full sturdely With speris that war scharp to scher, And axis that weill grundyn wer, Quhar-with wes roueht full mony rout.^' The ficht wes thair so fell and stout, That mony worthy men and wicht, Throu forss, wes iellit in that ficht, That had no mycht to ryss agane. The Scottis men fast can thame payne '^ 120 Thair fais raekill mycht to russ.^' I trow thai sail no payne refuss, Na perell, quhill thar fais be Set in-till herd proplexite. And quhen the erll of Murref sa 1* Thair avaward saw stoutly ta^^ The way to schir Eduard all straucht. That met thame with full mekill maucht, He held his way with his baner Till the gret rout,^* quhar sammyn " wer 130 The nyne battales that wes so braid. That so feill baneris with thame had. And of men sa gret quantite, That it war wonder for to se. The gud erll thiddir tuk the way With his battale in gud aray. And assemblit so hardely, Quhill men mycht her, that had beyn by, A gret frusche of the speres that brast. For thair fais assalyeit^' fast, 140 That on stedis, with mekill prid, Com prikand as thai wald our-ryd ^^ The erll and all his cumpany. Bot thai met thame so sturdely. That mony of thame till erd thai bar. . Aiid mony a steid wes stekit thar, 1 breaking. 2 without doubt. 8 stabbed. * achieved. g various weapons. ^ reeled right rudely. 7 nevertheless. 8 encounter. ^ hindrance. 10 stopping. 11 dealt full many a blow. 12 exert, n overthrow. 1* saw. 15 take. i" band, crowd. 1^ together. iB assailed. ib over-ride. And mony gud man fellit undir feit. That had no power to riss yeit. Ther men mycht se ane hard battale, Aud sum defend and sum assale, 150 And mony a riall rymmyll^" ryde^' Be roueht ^^ thair apon aithir syde, Quhill throu the byrneiss^ brist^^ the blud, That till the erd doune stremand yud.^ The erll of MurrefE and his men So stoutly thame contenit^" then. That thai wan plass ^ ay mair and mair On thair fais, the quhethir^s thai war Ay ten for ane, or ma,^^ perfay; Swa that it semyt weill that thai 160 War tynt^" emang so gret menghe,^^ As thai war plungit in the se. And quhen the Yngliss men has seyne The erll and all his men be-deyne ^^ Fecht sa stoutly, but effraying,^^ Eieht as thai had nane abaysing,^^ Thai pressit thame with all thar mycht. And thai, with speris and suerdis*^ brycht, And axis that rycht scharply schar,^ In-myd the visage ^ met thame thar 170 Thar men mycht se ane stalwart stour,^^ And mony men of gret valour With speris, macyss,^ and with knyvis, And othir wapnys vissill* thair lyvis, Swa that mony fell doune all ded; The gyrss wox^^ with the blude all red. The erll, that wicht wes and worthy, And his men faiicht so manfully. That, quha sa ^ had seyne thaim that day, I trow, forsuth, that thai suld say, 180 That thai suld do thair devour''^ wele, Swa that thair fayis suld it feill. (XIII, 1-408) Qwhen that thir two first hatellia wer Assemblit, as I said yow er. The Steward, Walter that than wes, And the gud lord als of Dougless, In a battale quheu that thai saw The erll, f orouten ^^ dreid or aw, Assemmyll *^ with his cumpany On all the folk so sturdely, igo For till help him thai held thar way With thar battale in gud aray, M royal blow. 21 severe. 22 reached, struck. 28 breast-plate. 24 burst. 2s went. ^e conducted. 2' gained ground. 2b although. 29 more. so lost. 81 numbers. 82 forthwith. 3a without being afraid. 84 dismay. 86 swords. 88 cut. 87 Face to face. 88 severe shock. 89 maces. « exchange. 4i grass grew. *2 whosoever. « duty. 44 without. 4b attack. 336 JOHN BARBOUR And assemmyllit so hardely Besyd the erll a litill by, Thair f ais f eld ' thair cummyng weill ; For with wapnys stalwart of steill Thai dang 2 on thanie with all thar mycht. Thair fais resavit thame weill, I hycht,^ With swerdis, speris, and with maoyas. The battale thair so felloune ^ was, 200 And sua richt gret spilling of blud. That on the erd the fluss ° it stud. The Scottis men so weill thame bar, And sua gret slauchtir maid thai thar, And fra so feill^ the livis revit,' That all the feild was bludy levit.^ That tym thir ' thre battalis wer All syde be syde fechtand weill neir. That mycht man her richt mony dynt And wapnys apon armour stynt,!" 210 And se tummyll ^^ knychtis and stedis, With mony rich and ryoll wedis Defoulit roydly under feit. Sum held on loft, sum tynt the suet.^'* A long quhill thus fechtand ^^ thai wer, That men no noyis na cry mycht her; Men herd noeht ellis bot granys '■* and dyntis That slew ^° fire, as men dois on flyntis; Sa faucht thai ilkane '^ egirly That thai maid nouthir noyis no cry, 220 Bot dang on othir at that mycht, With wapnys that war burnyst brycht. The arrowis als so thik thai flaw,^' That thai mycht say weill, at ^^ thaim saw. That thai ane hydwiss ^^ sohour can ma; For quhar thai fell, I undirta, Thai left eftir thame taknyng 2" That sail neid, as I trow, lechyng.^i The Yngliss archeris schot so fast. That, mycht thar schot haf had last,^ 230 It had beyne hard to Scottis men. Bot king Robert, that weill can ken That the archeris war perelouss. And thar schot hard and richt grevouss, Ordanit forrouth ^^ the assemble His marschall with a gret menghe,^^ FifB hundreth armyt weill in steill, That on licht horss war horsyt weill, For to prik emang the archeris. And sua assailye thame with speris 240 That thai no laser haf to schute. This marschall that I of mut,^* 1 felt. 2 hammered. s promise. * wicked, bitter. s marsh. many. ? bereft. s left. 9 these. ^0 struck. ii tumble. ^2 lost their life- blood (lit., sweat). 13 fighting. " groans, is struck. 18 each one. 1^ flew. '8 that, w hideous. 20 token. 21 doctoring. 22 continuance. 2a commanded out from. 34 number. 25 tell. That schir Bobert of Keth wes cald. As I befor hass to yow tald, Quhen that he saw the battalis swa Assemmyll and to-giddir ga. And saw the archeris schut stoutly, With all thame of his cumpany In hy apon thame can ^^ he ryde. And our-tuk thame at a syde, 250 And ruschit emang thaim so roydly, Strikand thame sua dispitfuUy, And in sic fusioune ^' beraud doune And slayand thame without ransoune,^' That thai thame scalit euirilkane ; ^ And fra that tyme furth ther wes nane That assemlit sic schot till nia.^" Quhen Scottis archeris saw at swa Thai war rebutit,^i thai wox hardy, With all thar mycht schot egirly 260 Emang the horss-raen that thar raid. And woundis wyde to thame thai maid. And slew of thame a wele gret dele; Thai bar hame hardely and weill. For fra '^ thair fais archeris were Scalit, as I have said yhow ere. That ma than thai war be gret thing,^' Swa that thai dred nocht thar schuting, Thai wox so hardy that thame thouoht Thai suld set all thair fais at noucht. 270 The marschall and his cumpany Wes yeit,*^ as to yow ere said I, Amang the archeris, quhar thai maid With speris rowme quhar at ^ thai raid. And slew all that thai mycht ourta.^ And thai weill liehtly mycht do swa. For thai had nocht a strak to stynt, Na for to hald agane a dynt; And agane armyt men to ficht May nakit ^^ men hafE litill mycht. 280 Thai scalit thame on sic maner, That sum to thar gret battelis wer Withdrawin thHim in full gret hy. And sum war fled all utrely.^^ Bot the folk that behynd thame was. That for thair awne folk had no space "Yeit than to cum to the assemblyng. In agane smertly can thai dyng.^ The archeris that thai met fleand,^' That than war maid so recryand,^' 290 That thair hertis war tynt ^ cleirly, I trow thai sail nocht scath *^ gretly 28 did. 27 confusion. 28 ransom, quarter. 29 scat- ;ered everyone. 3o make. 21 repulsed. 22 after. 2 Who were many more than thev. 24 gone. 26 room tered everyone. 3o make. 'i repulsed. '^ after. 33 "Who were many more than they. ^4 gone. 3"* room wherever. 38 overtake. si unarmed. ^8 utterly. 39 diH f.hniRf. 40 ftooinrr 41 vanraan^. fZ lo&t. 89 did thrust. «» injury. 40 fleeing. ^i recreant. THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN 337 The Scottis men with schot that day. And the gud king Robert, that ay Was tiUit of full gret bounte, Saw how that his battelis thie So hardely assemblit thar, That so Weill in the ficht thame bar, And sa fast on thair fais can dyng That him thoucht nane had abaysing, joo And how the archeris war scalit then; He was all blith, and till his men He said, " Lordingis, now luk that yhe Worthy and of gud covyue ' be At this assemble, and hardy ; And assemmyll so sturdely That no thing may befor yow stand. Our men so fresolily ar feehtand, That thai thair fais has cumrait ^ swa That, be thai presit, I undirta,^ 310 A litill fastar, yhe sail se That thai discumfit soyn * sail be. Now ga we on them so hardely. And ding on them sa doughtely, That they may feele, at our oomming, That we them hate in meekle thing: For great cause they have us made, That occupied our landis brade. And put all to subiectioun: Your goodis made all theirs commoun: 320 Our kyn and friendis, for their awne, Despitteously hanged and drawiie: And wald destroy us gif ^ they might. Bot, I trow, God, through his foresight. This day hes grented ns his grace To wrek' us on them in this place." Quhen this wes said, thai held thar way, And on a syde assemblit thai So stoutly, that at thar cummyng Thair fais wer ruschit' a gret thing. 330 Ther men mycht se men freschly ficht, And men that worthy war and wycht Do mony worthy vassalage ; ^ Thai faucht as thai war in a rage. For qiihen the Scottis ynkirly ^ Saw thair fais sa sturdely Stand in-to battale thame agane,'" With all thar mycht and all thar mayne Thai layd on, as men out of vrit; For quhar thai withf nil strak mycht hit, 340 Thair mycht no armyug stynt thar strak ; 11 Thai to-fruschit '^ thame thai mycht our-tak, And with axis sic duschis gaff '* That thai helmys and hedis clafE " 1 counsel. 2 harassed. ^ undertake. * soon. B if. 6 avenge. ' driven far back. s prowess, s specially. 10 against. 11 check their stroke. 13 smashed to pieces. w blows gave. " cleft. And thair fais richt hardely Met thame, and dang on douchtely With wapnys that war stith ^^ of steill. Thar wes the battell strikyn weill ; So gret dynnyng ther wes of dyutis As wapnys apon armor styntis, 35a And of speris so gret bristing,^^ With sic thrawing " and sic tliristing,!^ Sic gyrnyng, granyng,!' and so gret A noyis, as thai can othir bet,^ And cryit ensengheis ^^ on everilk ^^ syd, Gifand and takand woundis wyd, That it wes hydwiss for till her All four the battelis, wicht ^ that wer, Feehtand in-till a ^ front baly. Almychty God ! full douchtely 360 Schir Edward the Bryss and his men Amang thair fais eontenyt thame then, Feehtand in-to sa gud covyne ^ So hardy, worthy, and so fyne. That thar awaward ^ riischit was. And, magre thairis,''' left the plais. And to thar gret rowt to warrand ^^ Thai went, that than had apon hand, So gret not,^^ that thai war effrait, For Scottis men thame hard assait,^" 370 That than war in ane schiltrum ^^ all. Quha hapnit in that ficht to fall, I trow agaue he suld nocht riss. Ther men mycht se on mony wiss Hardyment eschewit ^ douchtely, And mony that wicht war and hardy Doune under feit lyand all dede, Quhar all the feild of bind wes red. Armoris and quyntis ^^ that thai bare With blud wes swa defowllt thar, 380 That thai mycht nocht discrivit^^ be. A ! mychty God ! quha than mycht se The Steward Walter and his rout And the gud Dowglas that wes stout Feehtand iu-to the stalward stour,^' He suld say that till all honour Thai war worthy, that in that ficht Sa fast presit thave fais mycht, That thai thame ruschit ^ quhar thai yeid.^' Thair mycht men se mony a steid 390 Fleand on stray, that lord had nane. A ! lord 1 quha than gud tent ^' had tane 18 strong. 15 breaking. ^^ twisting. 18 thrusting. 1" grinning, groaning, ao did beat others. 21 battle- cries. 22 every. 23 stout. 21 one. 25 with so good a plan. 28 vanguard. 27 in spite of themselves. 28 shelter. 29 business. so assailed. 3i squadron. 82 achieved. 33 Coats of armor and badges. 3J dis- cerned, made out. 36 shock of battle. 3fl bore back. 3? went. 38 notice. 338 JOHN BARBOUR To the gud erll ofC MurrefE, And his, that swa gret rowtis i gaf, And faucht so fast in that battale, Tholand ^ sic payne and sic travale, That thai and thairis maid sie debat, That quhar thai com, thai maid thaim gat ! ' Than mycht men heir ensengheis cry, And Scottis men cry hardely, 400 ' On thame ! On thame ! On thame I thai fail!!' With that so hard thai can assaill, And slew all that thai mycht our-ta,^ And the Scottis archeris alsua Sehot emang thame so sturdely, Ingrevand * thame so gretumly,^ That quhat for' thame that with thame faucht. And swa gret rowtis to thame rauoht,^ And presit thame full egirly, And quhat for arrowes that felly 410 Mony gret woundis can thame ma,^ And slew fast of thair horss alsua, That thai vayndist a litell we 1° ; Thai dred so gretly thane till de ^^ That thair covyne was war than eir.^^ For thai that with thame feehtand weir Set hardyment, and strynth, and will. With hart and oorage als thar-till,i' And all thair mayne and all thar mycht, To put thame f ouly to the flyoht. 420 In this tyme that I tell of her, That the battall on this maner Wes strikin,!'' quhar on athir party Thai war feehtand richt manfully, Yhemen, swanys, and poveraill,!^ That in the pare to yheyme '° vittale War left ; quhen thai wist, but lesing," That thair lordis with fell fichtyng On thair fais assemblit war, Ane of them-selwyne that wes thar 430 Capitane of thame all thai maid ; And schetis that war sum-deill braid Thai festnyt in steid of baueris Apon lang treis and on speris. And said that thai wald se the flcht, And help thar lordis at thar mycht. Quhen her-till all assentit war, And in a rowt assemblit ar, Fiften thousand thai war and ma. And than in gret hy thai can ga ^^ 440 I blows. 2 Enduring. ' yield ground. * overtake. 6 Injuring. « severely. ^ what with. a reached them so great blows. ^ did cause, i" gave way a little. 11 to die. ^2 their plight was worse than before, is also thereto, n stricken, fought. ib Yeomen, rustics, and poor people, is guard, i^ without mistake. ^^ did go. With thair baneris all in a rout. As thai had men beyn stith 1^ and stout. Thai com with all that assemble Richt qu hill 2° thai mycht the battale se. Than all at anys ^^ thai gaf ane cry — ' Apon thame ! on thame hardely 1 ' And tljar-with-all cumand ^^ ar thai. Bot thai war yeit weill fer away. And Yngliss men, that ruschit war Throu forss of ficht, as 1 said air,^^ 450 Quhen thai saw cum with sic a cry Toward thame sic ane oumpany. That thai thoucht weill als mony war As at ^^ war feehtand with thame thar, And thai befor had thame uocht seyne, Than, wit yhe weill, withouten weyne,^ Thai war abasit so gretumly,^^ That the best and the mast hardy That wes in-till the oost ^' that day Wald, with thar meusk,^^ have beyn away. The king Robert be thair relyng ^9 461 Saw thai war neir discomfyting, And his ensenghe can hely ^^ cry. Tlian with thame of bis cumpany His fais presit so fast, that thai War than in-till sa gret effray,^^ That thai left place ay mar and mar. For all the Scottis men that war thar, Quhen thai saw thame eschew ^ the ficht, Dang on thame swa with all thar mycht, That thai scalit in tropellis ser,^^ 471 And till discumfitur war ner; And sum of thame fled all planly. Bot thai that wicht war and hardy, That sehame letit till ta s* the flioht. At gret myschef mantemyt ^ the ficht, And stithly in the stour can stand. And quhen the king of Ingland Saw his men fle in syndry place. And saw his fais rout,^^ that was 480 Worthyu so wicht ^ and so hardy. That all his folk war halely "^ Swa stonayit,*^ that thai had no mycht To stynt thair fais in the ficht, He was abasit so gretumly. That he and all his cumpany, Fif hundreth armyt weill at rycht, In-till a frusehe * all tuk the flycht, And till the castell held ther way. And yeit, as I herd sum men say, 490 18 able. 20 till. 21 once. 22 coming. 28 before. 24 that. 2s doubt. 26 so greatly dismayed. 27 host. 28 honor. 29 reeling, wavering. 3f loudly. '1 in Buch a fright. ^2 avoid. 3^ scattered in several small bands. ^* hindered from taking. s^ maintained. 20 host. 27 Become so powerful. 88 completely. 32 dismayed. 4o in broken ranks. THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN 339 That of Vallanch schir Amer Quhen he the feld saw veneusti ner, By the renye ^ led away the king, Agane his will, f rathe fichting. And quhen schir Gelis de Argente Saw the king thus and his menghe ' Scliape thame to fle so spedely, He com rioht to the kyng in hy, And said, ' Schir, sen that is swa, That ye thusgat * your gat will ga,* 500 Haffis ^ gud day 1 for agane will I ; Yheit fied I nevir sekirly,' And I cheiss heir to byde and de Than till lif heir ' and schamf ully fle.' His brydill than but mair abaid * He turnyt, and agane he raid. And on schir Eduard the Brysis rout That wes so sturdy and so stout, As dreid of nakyn ^^ thing had he, He prikit, cryand ' Argente ! ' 510 And thai with speris swa him met. And swa feill ^^ speris on hym set. That he and horss war chargit swa That bath doiine to the erd can ga; And in that place than slayne wes he. Of his ded wes rycht gret pite ; He wes the thrid best knycht, perfay, That men wist lifEand in his day ; He did mony a fair iourne.^^ On Sarisenis thre dereny eis ^' did he ; 520 And in-till ilk derenye of thai He vencust Sarisenis twa; His gret worschip tuk thar ending. And fra ^^ schir Amer with the king Wes fled, wes nane that durst abyde, Bot fled, s^alit on ilka syde. And thair fais thame presit fast, Thai war, to say suth, all agast. And fled swa richt effrayitly ^^ That of thame a full gret party 530 Fled to the wattir of Forth ; and thar The mast part of them drownit war. And Bannokburu, betuix the braiss,'* Of horss and men so chargit wass, That apon drownit horss and men Men mycht pass dry atour ^^ it then. And laddis, swanys, and rangall/* Quhen thai saw vencust the battall, Ran emang thame and swa can sla Thai folk, that no defens mycht ma, 540 1 Tanquished. 2 rein. 3 retinue. * in this fashion. 6 will go your way. 6 Have. ' certainly. 8 to live here. "* without more delay. 10 no kind of. 11 many. 12 feat of arms. 13 conflicts. " after, is in a panic. IB banks. 1 7 across, la peasants and rabble. That it war pite for to se. I herd nevir quhar, in na cuntre. Folk at swa gret myschef war stad ^'; On a 2" syde thai thair fais had. That slew thame doune without mercy, And thai had on the tothir party Bannokburne, that sa cummyrsum ^^ was Of slyk,22 and depnes for till pas. That thair mycht nane atour it ryde. Thame worthit,^^ magre thairis,^* abyde: 550 Swa that sum slayne, sum drownit war; Micht nane eschap that evir com thar. The quhethir ^ mony gat away. That ellis-whar fled, as I herd say. The kyng, with thame he with him had, In a rout till the castell raid. And wald have beyn tharin, for thai Wist nocht quhat gat ^ to get away. Bot Philip the Mowbray said him till 'The castell, schir, is at yhour will; 560 Bot, cum yhe in it, yhe sail se That yhe sail soyne assegit be. And thar sail nane of all Yngland To mak yow rescourss ^ tak on hand. And but rescours may no castele Be haldin lang: yhe wat this wele; Tharfor confort yow, and relye ^s Your men about yow richt straitlye, And haldis about the Park the way. Knyt yow als sadly ^ as yhe may, 570 For I trow that nane sail haf mycht That chassis, with so feill to ficht.' And as he consalit, thai have done; Beneth the castell went thai soyne,80 Eicht by the Rownde Tabill thair way, And syne the Park enveronyt ^^ thai. And toward Lithkew held in hy. Bot, I trow, thai sail hastely Be convoyit with folk, that thai, I trow, mycht suffer weill away ! ^^ jj,. For schir lames, lord of Douglass, Com till his kyng and askit the clmss, And he gaf him lef but abaid.^^ Bot all to few of horss he hade; He had nocht in his rowt sexty. The quhethir he sped him hastely The way eftir the kyng to ta. Now let him on his wayis ga. And eftir this we sail weill tell Quhat till hym in his chass byfell. jgo ■9 placed. 20 one. 21 difficult to cross. 2> mud. 23 It behooved them. 24 in spite of themselves. 25 Nevertheless. 26 way. 27 rescue. 28 rally. 22 close your ranks as closely. 30 soon. 3i wentround. 32 would gladly have absent. 33 without delay. 'BLIND HARRY' THE WALLACE THE FISHING ADVENTURE (I, 367-433) So on a tym he desyrit to play. In Aperill the three and twentieth day, Till Erevyn wattir fysche to tak he went; Sic fantasye fell in his entent.^ To leide ^ his net, a child furth with him yeid ; " . But he, or nowne,'' was in a feUowne ^ dreid. His suerd he left, so did he nevir agayne; It dide him gud, suppos ^ he sufferyt payne. OfE that labour as than he was nocht sle : ' Happy he was, tuk fysche haboundanle. 10 Or * of the day ten hours our couth pas,' Ridand thar come, ner by quhar Wallace was. The lorde Persye, was captane than off Ayr; Fra thine ^^ he turnde and couth to Glas- kow fair.ii Part of the court had Wallace labour seyne. Till him raid five cled into ganand greyne,!^ And said sone ; ' Soot, Martyns fysche ^^ we wald have.' Wallace meklye agayne ansuer him gave; ' It war resone, me think, yhe suld haif part: Waith 1^ suld be delt, in all place, with fre hart.' 20 He bad his child, 'GyfB thaim of our waithyng.' ^^ The Sothroun said; 'As now of thi delyng We will nocht tak, thow wald giff us our ^^ small.' He lychtyt doun, and fra the child tuk all. Wallas said than ; ' Gentill men gif ^^ y e be, Leiff us sum part, we pray for cheryte. An agyt knycht servis our Lady to day; Gud f rend, leiff part and tak nocht allaway.' ' Thow sail haifE leiff " to fysche, and tak the ma,^^ All this forsuth sail in our flyttyngi' ga. 1 Such a fancy he conceived. 2 carry. 3 a young fellow went with him. * ere noon. e extreme. « although. ' skillful. a Ere. " did pass by. 10 thence, ^i did go to Glasgow. ^ in comely green. i« Unexplained. " Spoil. " too. " if. n have leave. i^ more for thyself. We serff a lord; thir^" fysches all till him gang.' 31 Wallace ausuerd, said; 'Thow art in the wrang.' ' Quham thowis ^^ thow, Scot ? in faith thow servis ^ a bla w. ' Till him he ran, and out a suerd can^' draw. Willy ham was wa'^ he had na wappy nis thar, Bot the poutstaff,^^ the quhUk ^^ in band he bar. Wallas with it fast on the cheik him tuk Wyth so gud will, quhilP' of his feit he schuk. The suerd flaw fra him a fur breid ^^ on the land. Wallas was glaid, and hynt^ it sone in hand; 40 And with the swerd awkwart^" he him gave Undyr the hat, his crage ^^ in sondre drave. Be that the layfE^^ lychtyt about Wallas; He had no helpe, only bot Goddis grace. On athir side full fast on him thai dang ; ^ Gret perell was giff thai had lestyt lang. Apone the hede in gret ire he strak ane; The soherand** suerd glaid ^^ to the colar bane. Ane othir on the arme he hitt so hardely, Quhill hand and suerd bathe on the feld can ly. 50 The tothir twa fled to thar hors agayne; He steklt him was last apon the playne. Thre slew he thar, twa fled with all thair myeht Ettir thar lord; bot he was out off sicht, Takand the mure,^ or he and thai couth twyne.^ Till him thai raid onon, or thai wald blyne," And cry it; 'Lord, abide; your men ar martyrit doun ^ Rycht cruelly, her in this fals regioun. 2» these. " Sayeet'thou' to. MS.doOTJ. >' de- serves. 23 did. 21 woeful. 25 pole (with a net on the end). 28 which. 27 till, 28 a furrow's length away. 29 seized. 20 with a backward stroke. 21 neck. 32 By that time the rest. 23 struck. 3* cutting. SB glided. 26 Crossing the moor. " separate. 88 cease. 2" cut down. WALLACE AND THE ENGLISH QUEEN 341 Five of our court her at the wattir baid,^ Fysohe for to bryng, thocht it na profyt maid. 60 We ar chapyt,^ hot in feyld slayne are thre.' The lord speryt; ^ ' How mony myoht thai be?' ' We saw hot ane that has disoumfyst us Thanlewch^ he lowde,and said; ' Foule mot yow fall;^ Sen * ane yow all has putt to conf usioun. Quha menys' it maist, the devyll of hell him droun; This day for me, in faith, he beis noeht socht.' WALLACE AND THE ENGLISH QUEEN (viii, 1213-1496) Adam Waliace and Bold f urth with him yeid,8 By a revir, throu out a floryst' meid. And as thai walk atour i" the f eyldis greyn, Out off the south thai saw quhar at '■''■ the queyn, Towart the ost,^ come ridand sobyrly; And fyfty ladyis was in hyr company, Wallyt off 1^ wit, and demyt " off renoun ; Sum wedowis war, and sum off religioun; And seven preistis that entrit^* war in age. Wallace to sic did nevir gret owtrage, 10 Bot gyff 1^ till him thai maid a gret offens. Thus prochyt^' thai on towart tharpresens. At the palyoun,^^ quhar thai the lyoun saw, To ground thai lycht, and syne^^ on kneis can faw;^" Prayand for pece thai cry with petous cher. Erll Malcom said; ' Our chyftayn is nocht her.' He bad hyr rys, and said it was nocht rycht, A queyn on kneis till ony lawar^' wycht. Up by the hand the gud erll has hyr tayn ; Atour the bent ^ to Wallace ar thai gayn. Quhen scho him saw, scho wald haiff knelyt doune; 21 In armys sone he caucht this queyn with croun. 1 abode. ^ escaped. ' asked. * laughed. B Curse on you. " Since. ' Who bemoans. ^ went. 8 blooming. w across. i^ where that. 12 host. 13 Chosen for. 1* judged. 16 advanced, i^ Unless. 17 approached. ^ pavilion. 10 then. 20 did fall. " lower. " plain. And kyssythyr withoutyn wordis mor; Sa dyd he nevir to na Sotheron befor. ' Madem,' he said, 'rycht welcum mot ye be; How plessis yow our ostyng -^ for to se? ' ' Rycht weyll,' scho said, ' off frendschip haiff we neid ; God grant ye wald off our nessis ^^ to speid. Suffyr we mon,^ suppos it lik^^ us ill; Bot trastis weyll,^' it is contrar our will.' 30 ' Ye sail remayn, with this lord I mon gang; Fra your presens we sail nocht tary lang.' The erll and he on to the palyon yeid. With gud avys to deym mar^' off this deid. Till consell son Wallace gart^ call thaim to: ' Lordys,' he said, ' ye wait ™ quhat is ado. Off thar cummyng my selfE has na ples- ance ; Herfor mon we wyrk with ordinance.^^ Weraen may become tempnyng in to wer,'^ Amang fullis'^ that can thaim nocht for- ber. 40 I say nocht this be thir,'^ nor yeit the queyn; I trow it be bot gud that scho will meyn. Bot sampyll*^ tak off lang tym passit by; At RownsywailP' the tresoun was playnly Be wenien maid, that Ganyelon with him brocht. And Turke wyn;" forber thaim couth thai nocht. Langws ^' in wer gert thaim desyr thair will, Qnhilk brocht Charlis tofellon^loss and ill. The flour off France, withoutyn redemp- cioun, Throuch that foull deid, was brocht to con- fusioun. 50 Commaund your men tharfor in privay wys,*" Apayn ^^ off lyff thai wyrk nocht on sic wys, Nane spek with thaim, bot wysmen off gret waill,*! At^^ lordis ar, and sworn to this consaill.' Thir chargis thai did als wysly as thai mocht; This ordynance throw all the ost was wrocht. He and the erll bathe to the queyn thai went, Rasavyt hyr fayr, and brocht hyr till a tent; 23 array. 3* Perhaps corruption of needs. 26 must. 23 please. 27 believe well. 28 with good advice to judge more. 29 caused. 3o know. 3i order. 32 Women may become tempting in war. MS. be con- tempnyng. 33 fools. 31 concerning these. 36 exam- ple. 33 Roncesvalles. >' Turkish wine. 3b tedium (?). •» deadly. " privately. " On pain. « avail, weight. <3 That. 342 'BLIND HARRY' To dyner bownyt^ ala gudly as thai can; And servit was with mony likly^ man. 60 Gud purvyance the queyn had with hyr wrooht; A say^ soho tuk ofE all thyng at thai brooht. Wallace persavyt, and said; 'We haiffi no dreid: I can nocht trow ladyis wald do sic deid, To poysouu men, for all Ingland to wyn.' The queyn anauerd; 'GyfB poysoun be tharin, Off ony thyng quhilk is brocht her with me, Apou my selS fyrst sorow sail ye se.' Sone eftir meit, a marohell gart all absent, Bot lordis, and thai at suld to oonsaUl went. Ladyis apperyt in presens with the queyn. Wallace askyt, quhat hyr cummyng raycht meyn. 72 ' For pes,' scho said, ' at we haifE to yow socht; This byrnand^ wer in bailP has mony brocht. Ye grant us pees, for him that deit on tre.' Wallace ansuerd; ' Madeym, that may nocht be. Ingland has doyne sa gret.harmys till us. We may nocht pass, and lychtly leifE it thus.' ' Yeis,' said the queyne, ' for crystyn folk we ar. For Goddis saik, sen we desyr no mar, 80 We awcht pess.' * ' Madeym, that I deny. The perfyt caus I sail yow schawfor qiihy; Ye seke na pes bot for your awn availl.' Quhen your fals king had Scotland grippyt haill. For nakyn ^ thing that he befor him fand. He wald nocht thoill ^ the rycht blud in our land; Bot reft thar rent, syne put thaim selfE to dede;!" Kansoun off gold mycht mak us na remed. His fell fals wer^i sail on him selfE be seyn.' Than sobyrly till him ansuerd the queyn; 90 ' Off thir wrangis^ amendis war most fair.' ' Madeym,' he said, ' off him we ask no mar, Bot at he wald byd^^ us in to battaill; And God be juge, he keunys " the mater haill.' I prepared. 2 suitable. ' tasfce. * burning. B harm, e ought to have peace by right, 'advantage. 8 no kind of. ■ endure. 10 death. n terrible, unjust war. i^ these wrongs. i3 await, i* kuowa. ' Sie mendis,' scho said, ' war nocht rycht gud, think me; Pes now war best, and ^^ it mycht purchest be. Wald yhe grant pes, and truys '" with us tak, Throuch all Ingland we suld gar prayeris mak For yow, and thaim at in the wer war lost.' Thau Wallace said; ' Quhar sic thing cum- mys throuch bost,^' loo Prayer off fors,^"* quhar so at it be wrocht. Till us helpis othyr litill or ellis nocht.' Warly ^^ scho said ; ' Thus wysmen has us kend,™ Ay eftir wer pees is the flnall end. Quharfor ye suld off your gret malice ees; The end off wer is cheryte and pes. Pees is in hevyn, with blyss and lestand- nas.21 We sail beseke the Pape, off his hie grace, Till commaund pes, sen we may do na mar.' ' Madeym,' he said, ' or your porches ^^ cum thar, no Mendys we think off Ingland for to haiff.' ' Quhat set yow thus,' scho said, ' so God yow saifB, Fra violent wer at ye lik nocht to duell ? ' ^ ' Madem,' he said, 'the suth I sail yow tell. Eftir the dayt off Alexandris ryng,^* Our land stud thre yer desolate but'^^ king, Kepyt full weyll at concord in gud stait. Throuch twa clemyt,^^ thar hapnyt gret de- bait. So ernystf ully, accord thaim nocht thai can. Your king thai ast for to be thair ourman.^ SIely28 he slayd^s throuch strenthis^o off Scotland: 121 The kynryk ^^ syne he tuk in his awn hand. He maid a kyng agayn our rychtwys law; For he of him suld hald the regioun aw.'^ Contrar this band was all the haill barn- age, ^^ For Scotland was yeit nevir in to thrill- age.^^ Gret Julius, that tribute gat off aw, His wynnyng was in Scotland bot full smaw. Than your fals king, undyr colour but mar,^ Throuch band ^ he maid till Bruce that is our ayr,^' 130 15 if. 16 truce. " threat. 18 perforce. " Warily. 20 shown. 21 lastingness. 22 solicitation. 2! stop. 24 reign. 25 without. 28 Because two claimed the crown. 27 umpire. 28 cunningly. 29 giid. ao strong- holds. 31 liingdom. 22 all. >s baronage. '< thralldom. 88 under pretense without more. 8s bond. 8? heir. WALLACE AND THE ENGLISH QUEEN 343 Throuch all Scotland with gret power thai raid, Undyr that king quhilk he befor had maid. To Bruce sen syne i he kepit na connand: ^ He said, he wald noeht ga and conquess land Till othir men; and thus the cas befell. Thau Scotland throuch he demayned^ him- sell; Slew our elderis, gret pete was to se. In presone syne lang tyme thai pynit ^ me, Quhill I fra thaim was castyn out for ded. Thaukit be God he send me sum remed ! 140 Vengyb to be I prevyt^ all my niyeht; Feyll' off thair kyn to dede syn I haifE dyoht.' The rage off youth gert me desyr a wyff ; That rewit I sayr,' and will do all my liffi. A tratour knycht but mercy gert hyr de, Ane Hessilryg, bot^ for despit off me. Than rang i" I furth in cruell wer and payn, Quhill we redemyt part off our land agayn. Than your curst king desyryt off us a trew; " Quhilk maid Scotland full rathly ^ for to rew. 150 In to that pess thai set a suttell ayr,i' Than xviij scor to dede thai hangit thar. At noblis war, and worthi off renoun; Off cot armys ^* eldest in that regioun. Thar dede i^ we think to veng in all our mycht. The woman als, that dnlfully was dycht,^^ Out off my mynd that dede will nevir bid, Quhill God me tak fra this fals warld so wid. Off Sotheroun syn I can no pete haiff ; Your men in wer I think nevir mor to saiff.' The breith" teris, was gret payn to behald, Bryst fra his eyn, be^* he his taill had tald. The queyn wepyt for pete off Wallace. 163 ' AUace,' soho said, ' wa worth the curssyt cace I In waryit '^ tym that Hesilryg was born I Mony worthi throuch his deid ar forlorn. He suld haiff payn, that saikles ^ sic ane sleiich ; ^ Ingland sen syn has bouoht it der enewch, Thocht seho had beyn a queyn or a pryn- sace.' 'Madem,' he said, 'as God giff me gud grace, 170 1 since then. 2 covenant, s domineered. * tor- tured. 6 proved, tried. " Many. ' done to deatli. B I rued sorely. ^ only. ^° raged. ^^ truce. 12 soon. 13 In that peace they held a crafty court of justice. 1* coat-armor. is Their death. 1^ grievously was treated. " angry. 18 before. 1' cursed. 20 jn, nocent. si slew. Prynsace or queyn, in quhat stait so thai be, In till hir tym scho was als der to me.' ' Wallace,' soho said, ' off this talk we will ces; The mendis^ heroff is gud prayer and pes.' ' I grant,' he said, ' off me as now na mayr; This is ryoht nooht hot ekyng^^ off our cayr.' The queyn fand weyll, langage no thing hyr bet; M Scho trowit with gold that he mycht be our set.26 Thre thousand pound, off fynest gold so red, Scho gert ^ be brocht to Wallace in that sted. 180 ' Madeym,' he said, ' na sic tribut we craiff: A nothir mendis we wald oft' Ingland haiff, Or 21 we raturn fra this regioun agayn, Off your fals bind that has our elderis slayn. For all the gold and ryclies ye in ryng,^' Ye get no pes, bot® desir off your king.' Quhen scho saw weill gold mycht hyr noeht releiff, Sum part in sport scho thoucht him for to preiff. 'Wallace,' scho said, 'yhe war clepyt my luff : 80 Mor baundounly 'i I maid me for to pruff ; S2 Traistand ^ tharfor your rancour for to slak; 191 Me think ye suld do sum thing for my saik.' Rycht wy sly he maid ansuer to the queyn ; 'Madem,' he said, 'and 8'' verite war seyn. That ye me luffyt, I awcht^ yow luff agayn. Thir wordis all ar no thing hot in vayn. Sic luff as that is nothing till avance. To tak a lak,'* and syne get no plesanee. In speeh off luff suttell ye Sotheroun ar ; Ye can ws mok, suppos ye se no mar.' 200 'In London,' scho said, 'for yow I suf- feryt blaym ; Our consall als will lauch quhen we cum haym. So may thai say, women ar fers 8' off thocht To seke frendschip, and syne can get rycht noeht! ' 22 amends, remedy. 23 increase. 24 helped. 2S won over. 28 caused. 2? ere. 28 reign in. 29 without. 28 called my love. 21 recklessly. 22 caused myself to try. 22 trusting. 24 jf. 35 should owe. »8 play- thing. 87 eager. 344 'BLIND HARRY' 'Madem,' he said, 'we wait^ how ye ar send; Yhe trow we haifE hot litill for to spend. Fyrst with your gold, for ye ar rych and wys, Yhe wald us blynd, sen Scottis ar so nys; ^ Syn plesand wordis off you and ladyis fayr. As quha suld dryfE the byrdis till a swar ' 2IO With the small pype, for it most fresche will call. Madem, as yit ye ma nocht tempt us all. Gret part off gud is left amang our kyn ; In Ingland als we fynd enewch to wyn.' Abayssyt ^ scho was to mak ansuer him till. ' Der sehyr,' scho said, ' sen this is at your will; Wer or pes, qiihat so yow likis best, Lat your hye witt and gud eonsaill degest.' ° ' Madem,' he said, ' now sail ye undirstand The resoune quhy that I will mak na band. 220 With yow, ladyis, I can na trewis bynd ; For your fals king her eftir sone wald fynd, Quhen he saw tyme, to brek it at his will; And playnly say, he grantyt^ nocht thar- till. Than had we nayn hot ladyis to repruff. That sail he nocht, be God that is abuff. Upon wemen I will no wer begyn ; On you in faith no worschip is to wyn.' All the haill pass * apon him selff he sail tak. Off pees or wer quhat hapnyt we to mak.' 230 The queyn grantyt his ansuer sufficient; So dyd the layff ^ in place that was present. His delyveranee 1° thai held off gret availl. And stark enewch to schaw to thair eon- saill. Wa was the qweyn hyr travaill helpyt nocht. The gold scho tuk, that thai had with hyr brocht. In to the ost rycht f rely scho it gayff, Till euirylk man that likyt for till haiff. Till menstraillis, harroldis, scho delt ha- boundanle, Besekand 11 thaim hyr frend at thai wald be. 240 1 know, 2 foolish. 3 snare. * Abashed. ^ settle. B agreed. ? no honor is to be won, a responsibility. 9 rest. 10 speech. 1^ beseeching. Quhen Wallace saw the fredomi^ off the queyn. Sadly he said ; ' The suth weyll has beyn seyn, Wemen m ay tempt the wysest at is wrocht.^' Your gret gentrice it sail nevir be for nocht. We yow assure, our ost sail muff na thing," Qiihyll 1^ tym ye may send message fra your king, Gyff it be sa at he accord and we, Than for your saik it sail the bettir be. Your Harroldys als sal saiffly cum and ga ; For your fredom we sail trowbill na ma.' 250 Scho thankit him off his grant mony sys,^^ And all the ladyis apon a gudly wys. Glaidly thai drank, the queyn and gud Wallace ; Thir ladyis als, and lordis in that place. Hyr leyff scho tuk with out langar abaid ; Fyve myile that nycht south till a nonry " raid. Apon the morn till London passit thai, In Westmenster, quhar at the eonsaill lay : Wallace ansuer scho gart schaw to the king. It nedis nocht her rahers^' mar off this thing. 260 The gret commend that scho to Wallace gaifif, Befor the king, in presens off the laiff. Till trew Scottis it suld gretly apples,^' Thocht Inglismen tharoff had litill es;^" Off worschip, wyt, manheid, and governans, Off fredom, trewth; key off remembrans Scho eallyt him thar in to thair hye presens ; Thocht contrar thaim he stud at his defens. ' So chyftaynlik,' scho said, ' as he is seyn. In till Inglande, I trow, has nevir beyn. 270 Wald ye off gold gyff him this rewmys ^^ rent, Fra honour he will nocht turn his entent. Sufferyt we ar, quhill ye may message mak; Off wys lordis sum part I reid ^ yow tak. To pnrches pees, with outyn wordis mar ; For all Ingland may rew bis raid full sayr. Your harroldys als^ to pass to him has leyff. In all his ost thar sail no man thaim greiff.' 1* generosity. i> that is made. i* our host aliall not move at all. ^s jiu. lo times. i' nunnery. 18 repeat, lo please. lo ease, comfort, ^i realm'8. 13 adrise. 13 also. THE DEATH OF WALLACE 34S Than thankit thai the queyn for hir tra- vail! ; The king, and lordis that was off his con- saill. 280 Off hy r ansuer the king applessit was ; Than thre gret lordys thai ordand for to pass. Thar consaill haill has f ownd it was the best Trewis to tak, or ellis thai get no rest. LAMENT FOR WALLACE'S CAPTURE (XI, 1109-2S) Allace, Scotland, to quhom sail thow compleyn ! Allace, fra payn quha sail the now re- streyn ! Allace, thi help is fastlie brocht to ground, Thi best chyftane in braith^ bandis is bound ! Allace, thow has now lost thi gyd off lyeht I Allace, quha sail defend the in thi rycht ? Allace, thi payn approchis wondyr ner, With sorow sone thow inon bene ^ set in feyr 1 Thi gracious gyd, thi grettast governoar, Allace, our ^ neir is cumyn his f atell hour ! 10 Allace, quha sail the beit^ now off thi baUl?5 Allace, quhen sail off harmys thow be haill ? Quha sal the defend ? quha sail the now mak fre ? Allace, in wer quha sail thi helpar be ? Quha sail the help? quha sail the now radem ? ^ Allace, quha sail the Saxons fra the flem ? ' I can no mar, bot besek God off grace The to restor in haist to rychtwy snace ; ^ Sen gild Wallace may succour the no mar. The loss off him encressit mekill cair. 20 THE DEATH OF WALLACE (XI, 1305-1406) On Wednysday the fals Sotheroun furth brocht. Till martyr him as thai befor had wrocht. Kycht suth it is, a martyr was Wallace, Als Osauold, Edmunt, Eduuard, and Thomas. I violent. 3 must be. ' too. * cure thee. ^ harm. B redeem. ' banish. 8 righteousness. Off men in armes led him a full gret rout. With a bauld spreit gud Wallace blent ^ about: A preyst he askyt, for God at deit 1° on tre. King Eduuard than cummandyt his clerge. And said ; 'I charge, apay n 11 off loss off lyve, Nane be sa bauld yon tyrand for to sehryve. 10 He has rong^^ j^ng in contrar my hienace.' ^^ A blyst byschop sone, present in that place. Off Canterbery he than was ryohtwys lord, Agayn the king he maid this rycht record; And said; 'My selff sail her his confes- sioun, Gyff I haiff mycht, in contrar off thi croun. And'* thou throu force will stop me off this thing, I vow to God, quhilk is my rychtwys king. That all Ingland I sail her enterdyt, 19 And mak it knawin thou art ane herretyk. The sacrement of kyrk I sail him geifl; Syni^ tak thi chos, to sterve'^ or lat him leiff.i' It war mar waill,^* in worsehip off thi croun, To kepe sic ane in lyff in thi bandoun,i^ Than all the land and gud at thow has refyd.^D Bot covatice the ay fra honour drefyd.^i Thow has thi lyff rongyn^ in wrangwis deid; That sail be seyn on the, or on thi seid.' The king gert^^ charge thai suldthe byschop ta;24 Bot sad^ lordys consellyt to lat him ga. 30 All Inglismen said, at his desyr was rycht; To Wallace than he rakyt^^ in thar sicht, And sadly hard his confessioun till ane end. Humbly to God his spreyt he thar comend, Lawly him servyt with hartlye devocioun Apon his kneis, and said ane orysoun. His leyff he tuk, and to West monastyr ^ raid. The lokmen^s than thai bur Wallace but baid29 On till a place, his martyrdom to tak; For till his ded he wald no f orthyr ^o mak. 40 Fra the fyrst nycht he was tane in Scotland, Thai kepyt him in to that sammyn ^i band. > looked. 11 on pain. ^2 reigned. — o — - «.ien. 10 perish, i? give him permission. 18 avail, advantage. >» at thy mercy. 20 robbed. !i drove. « reigned. 23 gave. " take. 2> serious. 28 went. 27 Westminster. zs execu- tioners. 2» bore Wallace without delay. 10 help. '1 same. " 346 •BLIND HARRY' Na thing he had at suld haifE doyn ' him gild; Bot Inglismen him servit off carnaill fud. Hys warldly lyflB desyrd the sustenance, Thooht he it gat in contrar off plesance. Thai thirty dayis his band thai durst noeht slaik, Quhill he was bundyn on a skamyll off ayk,2 With irn chenyeis ^ that was bath stark and keyn. A clerk thai set to her quhat he wald meyn.* 50 ' Thow Scot,' he said, ' that gret wrangis has don, Thi fatell hour, thow seis, approchis son. Thow suld in mynd remembyr thi mysdeid. At clerkis may, quhen thai thair psalmis reid For Crystyn sauUis, that makis thaim to pray, In thair nowmyr ° thow may be ane off thai; For now thow seis on fors thou mon de- cess.' ^ Than Wallace said; ' For all thi roid rar herss,' Thow has na charge,^ snppos at I did myss; Yon blyst byschop has hecht ^ I sail haiff blis; 60 And I trew weill, at God sail it admyt: Thi febyll wordis sail noeht my conscience smyt. Conford I haiff off way that I suld gang, Maist payn I feill at I bid her our lang.' '" Than said the clerk; 'Our king oft send the till; Thow mycht haiff had all Scotland at thi will, To bald off him, and cessyt off thi stryff; So as a lord rongyn ^^ furth all thi lyff.' Than Wallace said; 'Thou spekis off mychty thing. Had I lestyt,^^ and gottyn my rychtwys king, 70 1 that should have done. 2 bench of oak. 8 iron chains. * moan. ^ number. 8 decease. ' rude speech. B authority. " promised. 10 that I abide here too long. " reigned, 12 continued. Fra worthi Bruce had rasavit his croun, I thocht haiff maid Ingland at his bandouu.w So uttraly it suld beyn" at his will, Quhat plessyt him, to sauff thi king or spill.' 15 ' Weill,' said the clerk, ' than thow repentis noeht: Off wykkydness thow has a felloun thocht. Is nane in warld at has sa mony slane; Tharfor till ask, me think thow suld be bane,!^ Grace off our king, and syn at his barnage.' i' Than Wallace smyld a litill at his langage. 80 ' I grant,' he said, ' part Inglismen I slew In my quarrel, me thocht noeht halfl euew. I mowyt^' na wer bot for to win our awin;^' To God and man the rycht full weill is knawin. Thi frustyr '^ wordis dois noeht bot taris me, I the commaund, on Goddis haiff,''' lat me be.' A schyrray gart ^ this clerk son fra him pass; Rycht as thai durst, thai grant quhat he wald as.2^ A Psaltyr buk Wallace had on him evir; Fra his childeid fra it wald noeht desevir.^ 90 Bettyr he trowit in viage for to speid. Bot than he was dispalyeid ^ off his weid. This grace he ast at lord Clyffurd that knyeht, To lat him haiff his Psaltyr buk in sycht. He gert a preyst it oppyn befor him hauld, Quhill thai till him had done all at thai wauld. Stedfast he red, for ocht thai did him thar: Fey 11 2^ Sotheroun said, at Wallace feld na sayr.^ Gud devocioun sa was his begynnyng, Couteynd tharwith, and fair was his end- yng; loo Quhill spech and spreyt at anys all can fayr ^^ To lestand ^^ blyss, we trow, for evirmayr. 13 in his power. " should have been. " destroy. 18 ready. it then from his baronage. 18 moved, "own. 28 vain. 21 for God's sake. 22 sheriff caused. 23 ask. 21 part. 26 despoiled, 2fl many. 27 felt no pain. 23 did go. 29 lasting. JAMES I OF SCOTS THE KING'S QUAIRi Heigh in the hevynnis figure circulere ^ The rody sterres twynklyng as the fyre ; And, in Aquary,^ Cinthia * the olere, Rynsid hir tressis like the golden wyre, That late tofore, in faire and fresche atyre, Through Capricorn heved hir hornis hright, North northward approchitthe myd-nyght;^ Quhen, as I lay in hed allone waking, New partit ^ out of slepe a lyte tofore,' Fell me to mynd of many diverse thing, lo Off this and that ; can I noght say quhar- fore, Bot slepe for craft in erth ^ myght I no more ; For quhich as tho' eoude I no better wyle,"^" Bot toke a boke to rede apou a quhUe : Offl quhich the name is clepit ^^ properly Boece,eftere him that was the compiloure, Sehewing [the] counsele of philosophy e, CompUit by that noble senatoure Off Rome, quhilom ^ that was the warl- dis floure, And from estate by fortune [for] a quhile 20 Forjugit '' was to povert ^'' in exile ; And there, to here this worthy lord and clerk. His metlr suete, full of moralitee ; His flourit pen so fair he set a-werk, Discryving ^^ first of his prosperitee. And out of that his infelicitee ; And than how he, in his poetly report,^^ In philosophy can him to conf ort.^' For quhich, (thogh'^ I, in purpose, at my boke, To borowe a slepe at thilke'^ tyme be- gan), 30 1 book. ^ dome, firmament. ^ Aquarius. ^ MS. Cifherea. s meridian. 6 roused. ^ a little before. 8 by any earthly means. 9 then. 10 knew I no better device, n called. 12 once. *3 Condemned. 1* pov- erty. 15 Describing, ifl narrative. 1' did comfort. " though. i» that. Or ever I stent,^" my best was more to loke Upon the writing of this noble man, That in him-self the full recover wan Off his infoi-tune, povert, and distresse. And iu tham set his verray sekernesse.^^ And so the vertew of his youth before Was in his age the ground of his delytis : Fortune the bak him turnyt, and therfore He maketh joye and comfort, that he quit is Off thir unsekir ^ warldis appetitis ; 40 And so aworth ^ he takith his penance, And of his vertew maid it suffisance : With mony a noble resoun, as him likit, Enditing in his faire Latyne tong. So full of fruyte, and rethorikly pykit,^* Quhich to declare my scole ^ is ouer yong; Therefore I lat him pas, and, iu my tong,^ Precede I will agayn to my sentence Off my mater, and leve all incidence. The longe nyght beholding, as I saide, 50 Myn eyen gan to smert for studying ; My biike I schet, and at my hede it laide ; And doun I lay bot ^ ony tarying. This matere newe in my mynd rolling ; This is to seyne ^° how that eche estate. As Fortune lykith, thame will [oft] trans- late. For sothe it is, that, on hir tolter ^ quhele, Every wight cleverith iu his stage,™ And failyng f oting oft, quhen hir lest rele,'i Sum up, sum doun, is non estate nor age 60 Ensured, more the prynoe [nor] than the page: So uneouthly hir werdes '^ sche devidith, Namly 83 in youth, that seildin^* ought pro- vidith. 20 stopped. 21 security. 22 these uncertain. 23 at its value. 24 chosen. 26 skull, brain. 26 own lan- guage. 27 without. 28 gay. 29 unstable. 39 clambers in his rank. ai when she pleases to reel. 22 Sq strangely her fates. 93 Especially. 94 seldom. 348 JAMES I OF SCOTS Among thir thoughtis rolling to and fro, Fell me to mynd o£ my fortune and lire ; '■ In tender youth how sche was first my fo, And eft 2 my frende, and how I gat reeure Off my distresse, and all myn aventure I gan oure-hayle,^ that langer slepe ne rest Ne myght I nat, so were my wittis wrest.* 70 For-waklt and for-walowit,* thus musing, Wery, forlyin,^ I lestnyt sodaynlye. And sone I herd the bell to matyns ryng. And up I rase, no langer wald I lye: Botnow, howtrowe ye ? suich a f antasye Fell me to mynd, that ay methoght the bell Said to me, ' Tell on, man, quhat the be- fell.' Thoght I tho ' to my-self , ' Quhat may this be? This is myn awin ymagynacioun; It is no lyf * that spekis unto me ; 80 It is a bell, or that impressioun Off my thoght causith this illusioun. That dooth me think so nycely^ in this wise ;' And so befell as I schall you devise.^" Determyt f urth therewith in myn entent. Sen I thus have ymagynit of this soun. And in my tyme more ink and paper spent To lyte effect, I tuke conclusioun Sum newe thing to write ; I set me doun. And furth-with-all my pen in hand I tuke. And maid a >{•, and thus begouthii my buke. 91 Thou [sely] ^^ youth, of nature indegest,^' Unrypit fruyte with windis variable; Like to the bird that fed is on the nest. And can noght flee; of wit wayke and unstable, To fortune both and to inf ortune hable ; ^* Wist thou thy payne to cum and thy tra- vaille, For sorow and drede wele myght thou wepe and waille. 1 luck. 2 afterwards. > recalled. * tortured. B Worn out with waking and toseing. fl tired with lying. ' then. 8 person. • maketh me think so foolishly. 10 describe. " began. " Innocent. " crude. i* liable. Thus stant ^^ thy confort in unsekernesse. And wantis it that suld the reule and gye : ^^ loo Ryght as the schip that sailith stereles " Upon the rok[kis] most to harmes hye,^^ For lak of it that suld bene hir sup- plye;i3 So standis thou here in this warldis rage. And wantis that suld gyde all thy viage.^ I mene this by my-self, as in partye; ^ Though nature gave me suffisance ^^ in youth. The rypenesse of resoun lak[it] I To governe with my will ; so lyte I couth,^ Quhen stereles to travaile I begouth,^^ Amang the wawis of this warld to drive ; And how the case, anon I will discrive. 112 With doubtfull hert, amang the rokkis blake. My f eble bote full fast to stere and rowe, Helples allone, the wynter nyght I wake. To wayte the wynd that furthward suld me throwe.^ O empti saile ! quhare is the wynd suld blowe Me to the port, quhar gynneth all my game ? Help, Calyope, and wynd, in Marye name I The rokkis clepe ^^ I the prolixitee 120 Off doubilnesse that doithl*' my wittis pall : The lak of wynd is the deflcultee In enditing of this lytill trety small : The bote I clepe the mater hole of all: My wit, unto the saile that now I wynd^' To seke connyng,^^ though I bot lytill fynd. At my begynnyng first I clepe and call To yow, Cleo, and to yow, Polymye, With Thesi phone,'" goddis and sistris all, In nowmer ix., as bokis specifye; 130 In this processe my wilsum '^ wittis gye; And with your bryght lauternis wele con- voye My pen, to write my turment and my joye ! IE stands, is guide, i' helmless. i^ must hasten to harm. i^ help. 20 voyage. 21 mean this re- garding myself, partly. 83 suflBcient rank and means. 23 To govern my will with; so little I could. 24 began. 2» drive. 2" call. 27 maketh. 2> unfurl. (?) 2' skill. On this whole passage of. Chaucer's Troilua, Bk. n., Proem. M TisiphonOj a Fury. James, misled by a passage in Chaucer's Troiliu, takes her for a Muse, 'i wilful. THE KING'S QUAIR 349 In vere.i that full of vertu is and gude, Quben Nature first begynneth hir enprise, That quhilum was be cruell frost aud flude And schouris soharp opprest in many wy se, And Synthius ^ [be]gynneth to aryse Heigh in the est — a morow' soft and suete — Upward his course to drive in Ariete: 140 Passit mydday hot foure greis evin,* Off lentb and brede bis angel wingis bryght He spred upon the ground doun fro the hevin ; That, for gladuesse and confort of the sight, And with the tiklyng of bis hete and light, The tender flouris opnyt thame and sprad; And, in tbaire nature, tbankit him for glad. Noght fere passit the state of innocence, Bot nere about the nowmer of yeris tbre,^ Were it causit throu hevinly influence 150 Off Goddis will, or othir casualtee, Can I noght say; bot out of my contree, By thaire avise that bad of me the cure. Be see to pas, tuke I myn aventure. Purvait of all that was us necessarye, With wynd at will, up airly by the morowe, Streight unto sohip, no longere wold we tarye. The way we tuke, the tyme I tald to- forowe ; ^ With mony ' fare wele ' and ' Sanct lobne to borowe ' ' Off falowe and frende; and thus with one assent 160 We pullit up saile, and furth oure wayis went. Upon the wawis weltering to and fro. So infortunate was us that f remyt ' day, That maugre, playnly, qubetbir we wold or no. With strong hand [as] by forse, schortly to say. Off inymyis takin and led away We weren all, and broght in thaire contree; Fortune it sohupe ^ non othir wayis to be. 1 spring. 2 Cynthius, the sun. s in the morning. * degrees exactly (i.e. one hour). b i.e., about ten years old. 6 before. ^ for your protection. 8 strange, hostile. ' destined. Quhare as in strayte ward and in strong prisoun, So f er-f orth,w of my lyf the bevy lyne, 170 Without confort, in sorowe abandoun. The secund sistere lukit hath to twjnep-^ Nere by the space of yeris twise nyne ; Till lupiter his merci list advert,!^ And send confort in relesohe ^^ of my smert. Quhare as in ward full oft I wold bewaille My dedely lyf, full of peyne and penance, Saing ryght thus, ' Quhat have I gilt, to faille" My fredome in this warld and my ple- sanoe ? Sen every wight has thereof suffisance, That I behold, and I a creature 181 Put from all this — hard is myn aventure! ' The bird, the bests, the flsch eke in the see, Tbey lyve in fredome, everich^^ in bis kynd; And I a man, and lakkith libertee; Quhat soball I seyne,i^ quhat resoun may I fyud. That Fortune suld do so ? ' Thus in my mynd My folk I wold argewe,i' bot all for noght; Was non that myght, that on my peynes rought.^^ Than wold I say, ' Gif ^^ God me had de- visit 190 To lyve my lyf in thraldome thus and pyne, Quhat was the cause that he [me] more comprisit 2" Than otbir folk to lyve in suich ruyne ? I suffer allone amang the figuris nyne,^^ Ane wof ull wreccbe that to no wight may spede,^'' And yit of euery lyvis ^3 help hath nede.' The longe dayes and the nygbtis eke I wold bewaille my fortune in this wise, For qubich, agane distresse confort to seke, My custum was on mornis for to ryse 200 Airly as day ; bappy exercise ! By the come I to joye out of turment. Bot now to purpose of my first entent : — w far forward. n i.e., Lachesis, spinner of life's thread, has seen to the spinning of mine. 12 pleased to turn. 13 relief. 1* How have I sinned so as to lose. 15 every one. 18 aay. 17 argue with. 18 recked. 18 If. so included me more. 21 i.e., I am like a cipher, of no value to others and needing the help of every one. 22 give help. 23 person's. 35° JAMES I OF SCOTS Bewailing in my chamber thus alloue, Despeired of all joye and remedye, For-tirit of my thoght,^ and wo begone, [Un]to the wyndow gau I walk in hye, To se the warld and folk that went f orby ; ^ As for the tyme, though I of mirthis fude Myght have no more, to luke it did me gude. 2IO Now was there maid fast by the touris wall A gardyn faire, and in the corneris set Ane herbere^ grene: — with wandis long and small Railit about; and so with treis set Was all the place, and hawthorn hegis knet, That lyf ^ was none walking there forby. That myght within scarse ony wight aspye. So thik the be wis ^ and the leves grene Besehadit all the aleyes that there were, And myddis every herbere myght be sene 220 The scharpe grene suetij jenepere,^ Growing so faire with branchis here and there. That, as it semyt to a lyf ' without. The bewis spred the herbere all about; And on the smalle grene twistis* sat The lytill suete nyghtingale, and song So loud and clere, the y mpnis ' consecrat Off lufis use,^" nowsoft,nowlowd among, That all the gardyng and the waUis rong Ryght of thaire song and of the copilU^ next 230 Off thaire suete armony, and lo the text: CANTUS ' Worschippe, ye that loveris bene, this May, For of your blisse the kaleudis are be- gonne, And sing with us. Away, winter, away ! Cum, somer, cum, the suete sesoun and Sonne ! Awake for sehame ! that have your hev- yunis wonne. And amorously lift up your hedis all, Thank lufe that list^ you to his merci call.' Quhen thai this song had song a lytill thrawe,!^ Thai stent 1^ a quhile, and therewith un- affraid, 240 1 Tired out with brooding. 2 past. > shrubbery. * person. ^ boughs. ■> juniper. ' person, b twigs. • hymns, ic liturgy, n couplet, Terse. 12 is pleased. 18 time. 1* stopped. As I beheld and kest myn eyne a-lawe,^^ From bengh to beugh thay hippit^ and thai plaid. And freschly in thaire birdis kynd arraid Thaire f etheris new, and fret " thame in the Sonne, And thankit lufe, that had thaire makis^' wonne. This was the plane ditee of thaire note. And there-with-all unto my-self I thoght, ' Quhat lyf '' is this that makis birdis dote ? Quhat may this be, how cummyth it of ought? 20 Quhat nedith it to be so dere ybought ? 250 It is nothing, trowe I, bot feynit chere. And that men list to oounterfeten chere.' Eft ^ wald I think; ' O Lord, quhat may this be? That Lufe is of so noble myght and kynde, Lufing his folk, and suich prosperitee Is it of him, as we in bukis fynd? May he oure hertes setten -^ and unbynd ? Hath he upon oure hertis suich maistrye ? Or all this is bot feynyt fantasye ! For gif he be of so grete excellence, 260 That he of every wight hath cure and charge, Quhat have I gilt^s to him or doon offense, That I am thrall, and birdis gone at large. Sen 2* him to serve he myght set my corage ? And gif he be uoght so, than may I seyne,^ Quhat makis folk to jangill of him in veyne? Can I noght elles fynd, bot gif that he Be lord, and as a god may lyve and regne. To bynd and louse, and maken thiuUis free, Than wold I pray his blisfuU grace benigne, 270 To hable^^ me unto his service digne;^' And evermore for to be one of tho Him trewly for to serve in wele and wo. And there-with kest I doun myn eye ageyne, Quhare as I sawe, walking under the toure, Full secretly, new cummyn hir to pleyne,^' The fairest or the freschest yonge floure That ever I sawe, me thoght, before that houre, IS below. 18 hopped. 17 adorned. ^^ mates. IB person. ao at all. 21 Again. 22 make fast. 23 How have T sinned. 24 Since. 26 say. 2fl fit. 27 worthy. 28 play. THE KING'S QUAIR 351 For quhich sodayn abate,i anon astert ' The blude of all my body to my hert. 280 And though I stude abaisit tho a lyte, No wouder was; for-quhy my wittis all Were so overcom with plesance and delyte, Ouely throu latting of myn eyen fall, That sudaynly my hert became hir thrall For ever, of free will; for of manace There was no takyn in hir suete face. And in my hede I drewe ryght hastily. And eft-sones^ I lent it forth ageyne, And sawe hir walk, that verray womanly, 290 With no wight mo, bot onely wommen tueyne. Than gan I studye in my-self, and seyne, ' A ! suete, ar ye a warldly creature, Or hevinly thing in likenesse of nature? ' Or ar ye god Cupidis owiu princesse. And cummyu are to louse me out of band? Or ar ye verray Nature the goddesse. That have depaynted with your heviuly hand This gardyn full of flouris, as they stand ? Quhat sail I think, allace ! quhat reverence Sail I min[i]ster to your excellence ? 301 ' Gif ye a goddesse be, and that ye like To do me payne, I may it noght astert;^ Gif ye be warldly wight, that dooth me sike,° Quhy lest^ God mak you so, my derrest hert, To do a sely'^ prisoner thus smert. That lufls yow all, and wote^ of noght bot wo? And therefor, merci, suete ! sen it is so.' Quhen I a lytill thrawe' had maid my moon, 309 Bewailling myn inf ortune and my chance, Unknawin[g] how or quhat was best to doou. So ferre I fallen [was] in lufis dance. That sodeynly my wit, my contenance. My hert, my will, my nature, and my mynd, Was changit elene ryght in an-othir kynd. Off hir array the form gif I sail write Toward, hir goldiu haire and rich atyre 1 Shock. 2 ruflhed. - ^•^'^ — .«-^. - ....--,-... 7 iimocent. * SHOCK. 2 r B maketh me sigh, s knows. B while. lu. 3 soon after. ' Why pleased. < escape. In fret-wise couchiti" [were] with perllis quhite And grete balas lemyng" as the fyre, With mony ane emeraut and faire saph- ire; 32° And on hir hede a chaplet f resch of hewe, Off plumys partit^^ rede, and quhite, and blewe; Full of quaking spangis bryght as gold, Forgit of schap like to the amorettis,!^ So new, so fresch, so plesant to behold. The plumys eke like to the floure- jonettis,^^ And othir of schap like to the [round crokettis],^^ And, above all this, there was, wele I wote, Beautee eneuch to mak a world to dote. About hir nek, quhite as the fyre amaille,i^ A gudely eheyne of smale orfeverye," 331 Quhareby there hang a ruby, without faille, Lyke to ane herte schapin verily. That, as a sperk of lowe,i^ so wantonly Semyt birnyng upon hir quhyte throte ; Now gif there was gud partye,'^ God it wote ! And forto walk that f resche Mayes morowe, Anhuke^sche had upon hir tissew^'^quhite, That gudeliare had noght bene sene to- forowe,^ As I suppose ; and girt sche was a lyte. 340 Thus halflyug^^ louse for haste, to suich delyte It was to see hir youth in gudelihede. That for rudenes to speke thereof I drede. In hir was youth, beautee, with humble aport,2^ Bountee, richesse, and wommanly fac- ture,26 (God better wote than my pen can report) Wisedome, largesse, estate, and cou- nyngss gm-e. In every poynt so guydit hir mesure,'^' In word, in dede, in schap, in contenance. That nature myght no more hir childe avance. 350 10 ornamentally trimmed. n rubies glowing. 12 variegated. i3 tJncertain. Perhaps loTe-knots. " great St. John'swort. i6 skeat's conjecture : " a sort of curled tuft." MS. repeats " iloure-ionettis." 18 enamel made by fire. i? goldsmith's work. 18 flame. 18 a good match. 20 loose upper dress. 21 garment of rich stuff. 22 before. 23 partly. 2* demeanor. 25 fashioning. 2fl skill. 27 moderation guided her. 352 JAMES I OF SCOTS Throw qubieh anon I knew and understude Wele, that sche was a warldly creature; On qubom to rest myn eye, so micb gude It did ray wof uU hert, I yow assure, That it was to me joye without mesure; And, at the last, my luke unto the hevin I threwe furthwith, and said thirl yersis sevin: ' O Venus clere ! of goddis stellifyit ! ^ To quhom I yelde homage and sacrifise, Fro this day forth your grace be mag- nifyit, 360 That me ressavit have in suich [a] wise, To lyve under your law and do servise; Now help me furth, and for your merei lede My herte to rest, that deis nere for drede.' Quhen I with gude entent this orisoun Thus endit had, I stynt a lytill stound;^ And eft^ niyn eye full pitously adoun I kest, behalding unto hir lytill hound, That with his bellis play it on the ground ; Than wold I say, and sigh there-with a lyte, _ _ 370 ' A ! wele were him that now were in thy plyte!' An othir quhile the lytill nyghtingale. That sat apon the twiggis, wold I chide, And say ryght thus, ' Quhare are thy notis smale. That thou of love has song this morowe- tyde? Seis thou noght hire that sittis the be- syde? For Venus sake, the blisfuU goddesse clere. Sing on agane, and mak my lady chere. ' And eke I pray, for all the paynes grete. That, for the love of Proigue ^ thy sister dere, 380 Thou sufferit quhilom,^ quhen thy brestis wete Were with the teres of thyne eyen clere All bludy ronne ; that pitee was to here The crueltee of that unknyghtly dede, Quhare was fro the bereft thy maidenhede, ' Lift up thyne hert, and sing with gude entent; And in thy notis suete the treson telle, 1 these. 2 made a star. 8 stopped a little space, * afterwards. B Progne, wife of Tereus, changed to a swallow. B once upon a time. That to thy sister trewe and innocent Was kythit' by hir husband false and fell; For quhois gilt, as it is worthy wel, 390 Chide thir husbandis that are false, I say, And bid thame mend, in the twenty devil way.^ ' O lytill wrecch, allaoe! maist thou noght se Qubo com myth yond? Is it now tyme to wring?' Quhat sory thoght is f alliu upon the 7 Opy n tby throte ; hastow no lest i" to sing? Allaee ! sen thou of reson had felyng. Now, suete bird, say ones to me " pepe "; I dee for wo; me think thou gynnis slepe. ' Hastow no mynde of lufe ? Quhare is thy make ? ^^ 400 Or artow seke, or smyt with jelousye? Or is sche dede, or hath sche the forsake? Quhat is the cause of thy malancolye That thou no more list maken melodye ? Sluggart, for sohame! lo here thy goldiu houre, That worth were hale ^ all thy ly vis labours ! ' Gyf thou snld sing wele ever in thy lyve, Here is, in fay,^^ the tyme, and eke the space : Quhat wostow than ? 1* sum bird may cum and stryve 409 In song with the, the maistry to purehaoe. Suld thou than cesse, it were grete schame, allaee ! And here, to wyn gree i^ happily for ever, Here is the tyme to syng, or ellis never.' I thoght eke thus, gif I my handis clap. Or gif I east,!^ than will sche flee away; And gif I hald my pes, than will sche nap; And gif I crye, sche wate " noght quat I say: Thus, quhat is best, wate I nought be this day: Bot blawe wynd, blawe, and do the levis schake. That sum twig may wag, and make hir to wake. 420 With that anon ryght sche toke up a sang, Quhare come anon mo^' birdis and alight; ' shown. 8 in every possible way. ' grieve. 10 desire. " mate. « wholly. " in faith. » What knowest thou then ? is degree, superiority. 18 throw (anything). " knows. " more. THE KING'S QUAIR 353 Bot than, to here the mirth was tbam amang, Over that to,^ to see the suete sicht Off hyr ymage, my spirit was so light, Me thoght I flawe ^ for joye without arest. So were my wittis bouudin all to fest.' And to the notis of the philomene, Quhilkis sehe sang, the ditee there I maid Direct to hire that was my hertis quene, 430 Withoutin quhom no sougis may me glade ; And to that sanct, [there] walking in the schade, My bedis* thus, with humble hert entere, Devotly [than] I said on this manere. ' Quhen sail your merci rew upon your man, Quhois service is yit uncouth ^ unto yow ? Sen,® quhen ye go, ther is noght ellis than Bot, " Hert ! quhere as '' the body may noght throu,^ Folow thy hevin 1 Quho suld be glad bot thou. That suich a gyde to folow has under- take ? 440 Were it throu hell, the way thou noght forsake 1" '9 And ef ter this, the birdis everichone ^^ Tuke up an othir sang full loud and clere, And with a^^^ voce said, ' Wele is us begone,!^ That with oure makis are togider here ; We proyne ^^ and play without dout and dangere. All clothit in a soyte" full freschand newe. In lufis service besy, glad, and trewe. ' And ye, f resche May, ay mereif ull to bridis,i* Now welcum be ye, floure of monethis all ; 450 For noght onely your grace upon us bydis, Bot all the warld to witnes this we call. That strowit hath so playnly over all With newe fresche suete and tender grene, Oure lyf , oure lust,i® oure governoure, oure queue.' This was thalr song, as semyt me full heye," With full mony uncouth suete note and schill," 1 Above that too. 2 flew. > bound all too fast. * prayers. ^ unknown. ^ Since. ^ that. 3 go through. 8 refuse thou not. ^° every one. n one. 12 Well is it with us. 1' preen. " one suit. « brides. " delight. " loud. " shriU. And therewith-all that faire^' upward hir eye Wold cast amang,^ as it was Goddis will, Quhare I myght se, standing allaue full still, 460 The faire facture ^^ that nature, for mais- trye,=2 In hir visage wroght had full luflngly. And, quhen sehe walkit had a lytill thrawe Under the suete grene bewis bent, Hir faire fresche face, as quhite as ony snawe, Scho turny t has, and f urth hir wayis went ; Bot tho began myn axis ^ and turment. To seue hir part,''^ and folowe I na myght; Me thoght the day was turnyt into nyght. Thau said I thus, ' Quhare[un]to lyve I langer ? 470 Wof ullest wicht, and subject unto peyne ! Of peyne ? no I God wote, ya: for thay no stranger May wirken^ ony wight, I dare wele seyne. How may this be, that deth and lyf, bothe tueyne. Sail bothe atonis ^^ in a creature Togidder duell, and turment thus natm-e ? ' I may noght ellis done bot wepe and waile, With-in thir calde wallis thus i-lokin ; ^ From hennesfurth my rest is my travaile; My dry e thrist with teris sail I slokin,^^ 480 And on my-self bene al my harmys wrokiu : ^ Thus bute'" is none; bot'^ Venus, of hir grace. Will schape '^ remede,or do my spirit pace.'^ ' As Tantalus I travaile, ay but-les,^^ That ever ylike hailith at the well Water to draw with buket botemles, And may noght spede; quhois penance is an hell: So by ^ my-self this tale I may wele telle, For unto hir that herith noght, I pleyne; Thus like to him my travaile is in veyne.' 490 So sore thus sighit I with my-self allone, That turnyt is my strenth in febilnesse, i« fair one. "> at times. 21 feature, aspect. '! as a masterpiece. " access of fever, a see her depart. 25 affect. 2B at once. 27 locked. 28 slake. 28 wreaked. ao remedy. ai unless. 32 prepare. 33 make my spirit pass. 3* bootless. >t regarding. 354 JAMES I OF SCOTS My wele in wo, my frendis all in fone,^ My lyf in deth, my lyght into dirknesse, My hope in feere, in dout my sekirnesse; Sen sohe is gone : and God mote ^ hir oon- voye, That me may gyde to turment and to joye ! The long[e]day thus gan I prye and poure, Till Phebus endit had bis hemes bryght, And bad go f arewele every lef and floure, 500 This is to say, approch[eu] gan the nyght, And Esperus his lampis gan to light; Quhen in the wyndow, still as any stone, I bade ^ at lenth, and, kneling, maid my mone. So lang till evin, for lak of myght and mynd, For-wepit and for-pleynit * pitously, Ourset so sorow had bothe hert and mynd, That to the colde stone my hede on wrye ^ I laid, and lent, amaisit verily, Half sleping and half suoun, in suioh a wise: 510 And quhat I met,^ I will you now devise. Me thoght that thus all sodeynly a lyght In at the wyndow come quhare that I lent. Off quhich the chambere-wyndow schone full bryght. And all my body so it hath ouerwent. That of my sioht the vertew hale ibient; ^ And that with-all a voce imto me saide, ' I bring the confort and hele,^ be noght affrayde.' And furth anon it passit sodeynly, Quhere it come in, the ryghte way ageyne, 520 And sone, me thoght, furth at the dure in hye9 I went my weye, nas nothing me ageyne;!" And hastily, by bothe the armes tueyne, I was araisit up in-to the aire, Clippit" in a cloude of cristall olere and faire. Ascending upward ay fro spere to spere. Through aire and watere and the bote fyre, 1 foea. 2 may. ' abode. * Worn out with weeping and complaining. 6 awry. fl dreamed. ^ wholly blinded. 8 healing. ^ haste. lo there was nothing hindering me. 11 Enclosed. Till that I come unto the circle clere Off Signifere,^ quhare faire, bryght, and schire,!^ The signis schone; and in the glade em- pire 530 Oflf blisf uU Venus, [quhar] ane cryit now So sudaynly, almost I wist noght how. Off quhich the place, quhen [as] I com there nye, Was all, me thoght, of cristall stonis wroght. And to the port I liftit was in hye, Quhare sodaynly, as qubo sais ^* at a thoght. It opnyt, and 1 was anon in broght Within a chamber, large, rowva,^' and faire; And there I fand of peple grete repaire.'* This is to seyne, that present in that place Me thoght I sawe of every uacioun 541 Loveris that endit [had] thaire lyfis space In lovis service, mony a mylioun. Off quhois chancis " maid is mencioun In diverse bukis, quho thame list to se; And therefore here thaire namys lat I be. The quhois aventure and grete labouris Aboue thaire hedis writin there I fand; This is to seyne, martris and confessouris, Ech in his stage,!^ and his make '' in his hand; 550 And therewith-all thir peple sawe I stand. With mony a solemp[ni]t contenance. After 2" as lufe thame lykit to avanoe. Off gude folkis, that faire in lufe beflll,^' There saw I sitt in order by thame one ^ With hedis here; and with thame stude Gude-will To talk and play; and after that anon Besydis thame aud next there saw I gone ^ Curage, amang the fresohe folkis yoiig. And with thame playit full meiily and song. 560 And in ane othir stage, endlong 2* the wall, There saw I stand, in capis wyde and lang, A full grete nowmer; hot thaire hudis all, Wist I noght quhy, atoure ^ thair eyen hang; And ay to thame come Repentance amang,^' 13 i.e., the sphere of the zodiac. i3 clear. 1* as one may say. ^ spacious. ^8 throng. i' fortunes. IS place. 18 mate. 20 According. 21 were fortunate in love. 22 by themselves. 23 go. 24 along. 2i over. 26 at times : or perhaps here in modern sense. THE KING'S QUAIR 355 And maid thame chere, degy sit in his wede : ^ And dounward ef ter that yit I tuke hede ; Kyght overth wert ^ the chamber was there drawe A trevesse " thin and quhite, all of ples- ance, 569 The quhich behynd, standing, there I sawe A warld of folk, and by thaire contenance Thaire hertis semyt full of displesance, With billis ^ in thaire handis, of one assent Unto the juge thaire playntis to present. And there-with-all apperit nnto me A voce, and said, ' Tak hede, man, and behold: Yonder thou seis the hiest stage and gree*" Off agit folk, with hedis hore and olde; Yone were the folke that never change wold In lufe, bot trewly servit him alway, 580 In every age, unto thaire ending-day. 'For fro the tyme that thai coud understand The exercise,^ of lufis craft the cure, Was non on ly ve ^ that toke so moch on hand For lufis sake, nor langer did endure In lufis service; for, man, I the assure, Quhen thay of youth ressavit had the fill, Yit in thaire age tham lakkit no gude will. ' Here bene also of suich as in counsailis 589 And all thar dedis, were to Venus tre we ; Here bene the princis, faucht the grete ba- tailis. In mynd ^ of quhom ar maid the bukis newe; Here ben the poetis that the soiencis knewe, Throwout the warld, of lufe in thaire suete Suich as Ovide and Omere in thaire dayes. And ef ter thame down in the nexte stage. There as ^ thou seis the yonge f olkis pleye: Lo ! thise were thay that, in thaire myddill age, Servaiidis were to lufe in mony weye. And diversely happinnlt for to deye; 600 Sum sorouf ally , for wanting of thare makis,^" And sum in amies for thaire ladyes sakis. 1 disguised in dress. 2 across. 3 curtain. 4 petitions. ^ degree. 8 practice. 7 alive. 8 mem- ory. B Where. 10 mates. ' And othir eke by othir diverse chance. As happin folk all day, as ye may se; Sum for dispaire, without recoveranoe; Sum for desyre, surmounting thaire de- gree; _ Sum for dispite and othir inmytee; Sum for unkyndenes without a quhy;ii Sum for to moch, and sum for jelousye. ' And efter this, upon yone stage adoun, 610 Tho that thou seis stond in capis wyde; Yone were quhilum^ folk of religioun. That from the warld thaire governance " did hide, And frely servit lufe on every syde In secrete, with thaire bodyis and thaire gudis. And lo ! quhy so thai hingen doun thaire hadis: ' For though that thai were hardy at assay ,1^ And did him service quhilum prively, Yit to the warldis eye it semyt nay ; 619 So was thaire service half[del] cow- ardy;!^ And for thay first forsnke him opynly, And efter that thereof had repenting. For sohame thaire hudis oure thaire eyne thay hyng. 'And seis thou now yone multitude, on rawe,^^ Standing, behynd yone traverse of delyte? Sum bene of thami thathaldin were full la we. And take by frendis, nothing thay to wyte," In youth from lufe into the cloistere quite ; Andfor that cause are cummyn recouusilit,^^ On thame to pleyne that so tham had be- giUt. 630 ' And othir bene amongis thame also, That cummyn ar to court, on lufe to pleyne,^' For he thaire bodyes had bestowit so, Quhare bothe thaire hertes gruch[en] ther-ageyne ; "" For qiihieh, in all thaire dayes, soth to seyne,2i Quhen othir ly vit in joye and [in] pleasance, Thaire lyf was noght bot care and repent- ance; 11 a why, a reason. 12 once, i' conduct. 1* stout in trial, is half cowardice. is in a row. i' blame. 18 restored (to their mates), i^ complain. 20 repined against it. 21 truth to say. 3S6 JAMES I OF SCOTS ' And, quhare ^ thaire hertis gevin were and set, Coplit with othir thatcoud noght accord; Thus were thai wrangit that did no forfet,^ Departing 3 thame that never wold dis- cord; 641 Off yonge ladies falre, and mony lord. That thus by maistry were fro thair chose dryve,^ Full redy were thaire playntis there to gyve.' And othir also I sawe compleynyng there Upon Fortune and hir grete variance, That quhere in love so wele they coplit were, With thaire suete makis coplit in ples- ance, Sche sodeynly maid thaire disseverance. And tuke thame of this warldis com- panye, 650 Withoutin cause, there was non othir quhy.^ And in a ohiere of estate besyde, With wingis bright, all plumyt bot his face, There sawe I sitt the blynde god Cupide, With bow in hand, that bent full redy was. And by him hang thre arowis in a cas, Off quhich the hedis grundyn were full ryght, Off diverse metals forgit faire and bryght. And with the first, that hedit is of gold, He smytis soft, and that has esy cure ; 660 The secund was of silver, mony fold Wers than the first, and harder aven- ture ; ^ The thrid, of stele, is schot vrithout re- cure;' And on his longe yalow lokkis sehene ' A chaplet had he all of levis grene. And in a retrete lytill of compas, Depeyntit" all with sighis wonder sad, Noght suich sighis as hertis doith man- ace i" Bot suich as doothi^ lufaris to be glad, Fond I Venus upon hir bed, that had 670 A mantill cast over hir schuldris quhite: Thus clothit was the goddesse of delyte. 1 whereas. 8 misdeed. s Separating. < driven from their choice. 6 reason, s fortuoe. ? recovery. 8 hright. 9 Fainted. ^0 doth menace hearts. 11 causeth. Stude at the dure Fair-calling, hir uschere, That coude his office doon in conny ng wise, And Secretee, hir thrifty chamberere. That besy was in tyme to do servise. And othir mo^ that I can noght (on) avise ; ^* And on hir hede, of rede rosis full suete, A chapellet sche had, faire, frescb, and mete." With quaking hert astonate of that sight, Unnethis ^^ wist I quhat that I suld seyue ; Bot at the laste febily, as I myght, 682 With my handis on bothe my kneis tueyne. There I begouth '^ my caris to oompleyne ; With ane humble and lamentable chere Thus salute I that goddesse bryght and clere : 'Hye Queue of Lufe! sterre of benevolence! Pitouse princes, and planet merciable!" Appesare of malice and violence! 689 By vertew pure of your aspectis hable,'' Unto youre grace lat now ben acceptable My pure request, that can no forthir gone To seken help, bot unto yow allone! ' As ye that bene the socoure and suete well Off remedye, of carefull hertes cure. And, in the huge weltering wawis fell Off lufis rage, blisfuU bavin and sure; O anker and keye of our gude aventure. Ye have your man with his gude will con- quest ;i^ 699 Merci, therefore, and bring his hert to rest ! 'Ye knaw the cause of all my peynes smert Bet than my-self, and all myn aventure Ye may convoye, and as yow list, convert The hardest hert that formyt hath nature: Sen in your handis all hale ™ lyith my cure. Have pitee now, O bryght blisf ull goddesse. Off your pure man,^^ and rew on his dis- tresse! 'And though I was unto your lawis strange, By ignorance, and noght by felonye. And that your grace now likit hath to change 710 My hert, to serven yow perpetualye. Forge ve all this, and shapith'^ remedye To saven me of your benigne grace. Or do me sterven^^ furth-with in this place. 12 more. ^3 describe. ^* becoming, ^b Scarcely. 10 began. " merciful. ^ powerful, i^ conquered. 20 wholly. 21 poor servant. 22 prepare. 23 make me die. THE KING'S QUAIR 357 ' And with the stremes of your percyng lyght Convoy ray hert, that is so wo-begone, Ageyne unto that suete hevinly sight, That I, within the wallis cald as stone, So suetly saw on morow ^ walk and gone, Law in the gardyn, ryght tofore myn eye : Now, meroi, Quene ! and do me noght to deye.' Thir wordis said, my spirit in dispaire, 722 A quhile I stynt, abiding ef ter grace : ^ And there-with-all hir cristall eyen faire Sche kest asyde, and efter that a space, Benignely sche turnyt has hir face Towardis me full pleasantly conveide ; And unto me ryght in this wise sche seide: ' Yong man, the cause of all thyne inward sorowe Is noght unknawin to my deite, 730 And thy request, bothe now and eke to- forowe,^ Quhen thou first maid professioun to me; Sen of my grace I have inspirit the To knawe my lawe, contynew f urth, for oft, There as I mynt * full sore, I smyte bot soft. ' Paciently thou tak thyne aventure, This wilP my sone Cupide, and so will I. He can the stroke, to me langis^ the cure Quhen I se tyme; and therefor hiimily Abyde, and serve, and lat Gude Hope the gye:' 74° Bot, for I have thy forehede here present, I will the sehewe the more of myn entent. ' This is to say, though it to me pertene In lufis lawe the septre to governe, That the efBectis of my hemes schene Has thaire aspectis by ordynance eterne. With otheris byndand menes, to discerne Quhilum in thingis bothe to cum and gone. That langis noght to me to writh allone ; ' ' As in thyne awin case now may thou se, 750 For-quhy^ lo, that [by] otheris influence Thy persone standis noght ia libertee ; Quharefore, though I geve the benevo- lence. It standis noght yit in myn advertence.^" * in the morning. 2 stopped, waiting to find grace. 3 formerly. ^ Where I make show of striking. B wishes. ^ belongs, ' guide thee. 8 The effects of my shining beams have, by eternal ordinance, their influences bound up with others ; it is mine to discern at times things both future and past, which yet it is not my function to direct alone. B Because. ^0 control. Till certeyne oonrsis endit be and ronne, QuhiU^i of trew servis thow have hir graice i-wone. ' And yit, considering the nakitnesse Bothe of thy wit, thy persone, and thy myght. It is no raach, of thyne nnworthynesse To hir hie birth, estate, and beautee bryght: 760 Als like ye bene as day is to the nyght ; Or sek-cloth is unto fyne cremesye,!^ Or doken^^ to the fresche dayesye. ' Unlike the mone is to the sonne schene ; Eke lanuarye is [un]like to May; Unlike the cukkow to the phylomene;^^ Thaire tabartis^^ ar noght bothe maid of array ;^^ Unlike the crow is to the pape-iay;i' 768 Unlike, in goldsmythis werk, a fisehis eye To preise^s with peril, or maked be so heye. ' As I have said, [now] unto me belangith Specialy the cure of thy seknesse ; Bot now thy matere so in balance hangith, That it requerith to thy sekernesse i" The help of othir mo that bene goddes, And have in thame the menes and the lore, In this matere to schorten with thy sore.^" ' And for thou sail se wele that I entend Un-to thy help, thy welefare to preserve, The streighte weye thy spirit will I send 780 To the goddesse that clepit is Mynerve, And se that thou hir hestis wele oon- serve,^! For in this case sche may be thy supplye,*^ And put thy hert in rest, als wele as I. ' Bot, for the way is uncouth ^3 unto the. There as hir duelling is and hir sojurne, I will that Gude Hope servand to the be, Youre alleris ^* f rend, to let the to murn,^ Be thy condyt and gyde till thou returne. And hir besech that sche will, in thy nede, Hir eounsele geve to thy welefare and spede; 791 ' And that sche will, as langith hir office. Be thy gude lady, help and couuseiloure, 11 Until. 12 crimson cloth. 13 dock, i* nightingale. " coats. IB of one pattern. i' parrot. is value. MS. prerese. is security. 20 to shorten thy woe with. 21 keep her commands well. 22 help. 23 unknown. 2* Of you all. 26 to prevent thy mourning. 3S8 JAMES I OF SCOTS And to the schewe hir rype and gude avise, Throw quhich thou may, be processe and laboure, Atteyne unto that glad and goldyn floure, That thou wald have so fayu with all thy hart. And forthir-more, sen thou hir servand art, ' Quhen thou desoendis doun to ground ageyne. Say to the men that there bene resident. How long think thay to stand in my dis- deyne, Soi That in my lawis bene so negligent From day to day, and list tham noght repent, Bot breken louse, and walken at thaire large ? ^ Is nocht eft none that thereof gevis charge ? ^ ' And for,' quod sohe, ' the angir and the smert Off thaire unkyndenesse dooth me eon- streyne My femynyne and wofiiU tender hert, That than I wepe; and, to a token pleyne. As of my teris curamyth all this reyne, That ye se on the ground so fast ybete 8ii Fro day to day, my turment is so grete. ' And quhen I wepe, and stynt anothir quhile,' For paeienoe that is in womanhede. Than all my wrath and rancoure I exile; And of my oristall teris that bene schede. The hony flouris growen up and sprede. That preyen men, [as] in thaire flouris wise,^ Be trewe of lufe, and worschip my servise. ' And eke, in takin of this pitouse tale, 820 Quhen so my teris dropen on the ground. In thaire nature the lytill birdis smale Styntith thaire song, and murnyth for that stound;^ And all the lightis in the hevin round Off my grevance have suich compacienee,^ That from the ground they hiden thaire presence. 1 at large. 2 Ib there not even one that gives heed to this ? Per- haps eft (= again) should be left. 3 again cease. * in their flower fashion. 6 space of time. ^ compassion. ' And yit in tokenyng forthir of this thing, Quhen flouris spriugis and freschest bene of hewe. And that the birdis on the twistis sing, At thilke tyme ay gynnen folk renewe That servis unto love, as ay is dewe, 831 Most ' commonly has ay his observance, And of thaire sleuth tofore ^ have repent- ance. ' Thus maist thou seyne, that myn effectis grete. Unto the quhich ye aughten maist weye,' No lyte^" offense, to sleuth is [al] forget^: And therefore in this wise to tham seye. As I the here have bid [den], and con- veye The matere all the better tofore '^ said ; Thus sail on the my charge bene ilaid. 840 ' Say on than, " Quhare is becummyn, for schame ! The songis new, the fresch carolis and dance. The lusty lyf, the mony change of game, The fresche array, the lusty contenance. The besy awayte," the hertly observ- ance. That quhilum was amongis thame so ryf ? " Bid tham repent in tyme, and mend thare lyf: ' Or I sail, with my fader old Saturne, And with al hale^^ oure hevinly alliance, Oure gladaspectis from thame writh^* and turne, 850 That all the warld sail waile thaire gov- ernanee.i^ Bid thame betyme that thai have re- pentance. And [with] thaire liertis hale renew my lawe; And I my hand fro beting sail withdrawe. ' This is to say, contynew in my servise, Worschip my law, and my name mag- nifye. That am your hevin and your paradise; And I your confort here sail multiplye, And, for your meryt here, perpetualye Ressave I sail your saulis, of my grace, S60 To lyve with me as goddis in this place.' ' Supply who before most. 8 former. " ought most to pay regard. 10 little. n for sloth is all forgotten. 12 before. i3 eager service. ^* all whole. IB direct. 18 bewail their conduct. THE KING'S QUAIR 359 With humble thank, and all the reverence That feble wit and connyng^ may at- teyne, I tuke my leve; and from hir [hy] presence, Gude Hope and I to-gider, bothe tueyne, Departit are, and, sohortly for to seyne,'' He hath me led [the] redy wayis ryght Unto Minervis palace, faire and bryght. Quhare as I fand, full redy at the yate,' The maister portare, callit Pacience, 870 That frely lete us in, unquestionate ; And there we sawe the perfyte excel- lence. The said renewe,* the state, the rever- ence. The streuth, the beautee, and the ordour digne ^ 0£E hir court riall, noble, and benigne. And straught unto the presence sodeynly Off dame Minerve, the pacient goddesse, Gude Hope my gyde led me redily; To quhom anon, with dredef ull humyl- nesse,^ Off my cummyug the cause I gan ex- presse, 880 And all the prooesse hole, unto the end, Off Venus charge, as likit hir to send. Off quhich ryght thus hir ansuere was in href: ' My son, I have wele herd, and under- stond, Be thy reherse, the matere of thy gref, And thy request to procure, and to f onde '' Off thy pennance ^ sum confort at my bond, Be counsele of thy lady Venus olere. To be with hir thyne help in this matere. ' Bot in this case thou sail wele knawe and witt, 890 Thou may thy herte ground on suich a wise. That thy laboure will be bot lytill quit ; " And thou may set it in [an]othir wise, That wil be to the grete worschip and prise ; And gif thou durst unto that way enelyne, I will the geve my lore and disciplyne. 1 akin. 2 shortly to say. > gate. 4 Unsatisfactorily explained as " grave renewal." 6 digniiied. ^ timorous humility. ^ aeel£. B Buffering. ^ requited. ' Lo, my gude sone, this is als mich to seyne,!" As, gif thy luf e [be] sett all uterly On nyce lust,ii thy travail is in veyne; And so the end sail turne of thy f olye 900 To pay lie and repentance; lo, wate thou quhy?i2 Gif the ne list thy lufe on ^^ vertew set, Vertu sail be the cause of thy forfet." ' Tak him before in all thy governance. That in his hand the stere 1^ has of you all ; And pray unto his hye purveyance i' Thy lufe to gye, and on him traist and call. That corner-stone and ground is of the wall That failis noght; and trust, withoutin drede, Unto thy purpose sone he sail the lede. 910 ' For lo, the werk that first is foundit sure, May better here a pace " and hyare be Than othir wise, and langere sail endure Be raonyfald, this may thy resouu see, And stronger to defend ^^ adversitee : Ground [thou] thy werk, therefore, upon the stone, And thy desire sail forthward with the gone. ' Be trewe, and meke, and stedfast in thy thoght, And diligent hir merci to procure, 919 Noght onely in thy word ; for word is noght, Bot gif ^^ thy werk and all thy besy cure ^^ Accord thereto, and utrid be mesure ^^ The place, the houre, the maner, and the wise; Gif Mercy sail admitten thy servise. '"All thing has tyme," thus sais Ecclesiaste ; And wele is hirn that his tyme wel abit.^ Abyde thy time; for he that can bot haste Can noght of hap,23 the wise man it writ; And oft gude fortune flourith with gude wit: Quharefore, gif thou will [ay] be wele for- tunyt, 930 Lat wisedom ay [un]to thy will be junyt.^^ ' Bot there be mony of so brukill ^ sort. That feynis treuth in lufe for a quhile, 10 as mucli as to say. " on foolish desire. 12 know thou why. " MS. on lufe thy. " disaster, is con- trol. " providence. " step, stage (1). " resist. "Unless. . » care. " and let the place, etc., be stated with moderation. 22 abideth. Z3 Controls not fortune. " joined. ^s brittle, unreliable. 360 JAMES I OF SCOTS And setten all thaire wittis and disport ^ The sely innocent woman to begyle, And so to Wynne thaire lustis with a wile ; Suich feynit treuth is all hot tieuhorye, Under the umbre ^ of hid ypocrisye. 'For as the foulere quhistlith in his throte Diversely, to counterfete the brid, 940 And feynis mony a siiete and strange note, That in the bxisk ^ for his desate * is hid, Till scbe be fast lokin his net amyd ; Ryght so the fatoure,* the false theif, I say, With suete tresoun oft wynnith thus his pray. ' Fy on all suich ! f y on thaire doubilnesse ! Fy on thaire lust and bestly appetite ! Thaire wolfis hertis, in lam bis liknesse ; Thaire thoughtis blak, hid under wordis qiihite; 'J^ Fy on thaire laboure ! f y on thaire delyte ! That f eynen outward all to hir honour, And in thaire hert hir worschip ^ wold de- ' So hard it is to trusten now on dayes The warld, it is so double and inconstant, Off quhich the suth is kid be mony assayes ; ' More pitee is ; for quhich the remanant That menen wele and ar noght variant For otheris gilt ar ^ suspect of untreuth, And hyndrit oft, and treuely that is reuth. 'Bot gif the hert be groundit ferm and stable In Goddis law, thy purpose to atteyne. Thy laboure is to me [ful] agreable; "^^ And my full help, with counsele trew and pleyne, I will the schewe, and this is the certeyne ; Opyn thy hert, therefore, and lat me se Gif thy remede be pertynent to me.' ^ ' Madame,' quod I, ' sen it is your plesance That I declare the kynd of my loving, Treuely and gude, withoutin variance, I'" lufe that floure abufeall othir thing; And wold bene he that to hir worschip- ping ''1 Myght ought availe, be Him that starf on rude,'i And nouthir spare for travaile, lyf, nor gude.^ ^ delight. 3 shade. ^ hush. ^ deceit. G deceiver. " honor. ' the truth is shown by many proofs. » MS. and. ' is my affair. '« MS. In. " died on cross. i^ goods. ' And forthirmore, as touching the nature Off my lufing, to worschip or to blame, I darre wele say, and there-in me assure. For ony gold that ony wight can name Nald 1^ I be he that suld of hir gude fame Be blamischere in ony point or wyse, For wele nor wo, quhill my lyf e may suffise." ' This is theffect ^^ trewly of myn entent, ^^^ Touching the suete that smertis me so sore, Giff this be faynt,^^ I can it noght repent. All though my lyf suld forfaut be there- fore. Blisful princes I I can seye you no more; Bot so desire my wittis dooth compace," More joy in erth kepe i^ I noght bot your grace.' ' Desire,' quod sche, ' I nyl it noght deny,'' So thou it ground and set in Cristin wise; And therefore, son, opyn thy hert playnly.' ' Madame,' quod I, ' trew withoutin fan- tise,^" 991 That day sail never be I sail up-rise For my delyte to covate the plesance That may hir worschip^' putten in balance.^ ' For ovre all thing, lo, this were my glad- nesse. To sene the fresche beautee of hir face; And gif I myght deserve, be processe,^ For my grete lufe and treuth, to stond in grace, Hir worschip sauf,^^ lo, here the blisfull eace^ That I wold ask, and there [un]to at- tend ,2' 1000 For my most joye unto my lyfis end.' ' Now wele,' quod sche, ' and sen ^ that it is so. That in vertew thy lufe is set with treuth. To helpen the I will be one of tho From henesforth, and hertly without sleuth. Off thy distresse and excesse to have reuth; That has thy hert , I will [hir] pray full faire, That Fortune be no more thereto contraire. IS Would not. MS. Wald. " endure. " gist. i« feigned (fault ?). "overwhelm. is care for. 19 say it nay. 20 truly without deceit. 21 honour. 82 jeopardy. 28 in course of time. 24 Her honour I safe. 26 lot. 26 expect, wait for. 27 since. THE KING'S QUAIR 361 ' For suth it is, that all ye creaturis Qnliich under us beneth have your duel- lyng, low Ressaven diversely your aventuris, Off quhich the cure and priiicipall melling' Apperit is,^ withoutin repellyng,'' Onely to hir that has the outtis ^ two In hand/ bothe of your wele and of your wo. ' And how so be [it] that sum olerkis trete, That all your chance * causit is tofore Heigh in the hevin, by quhois effectis grete Ye movit are to wrething' lesse or more, Thar 8 in the warld, thus calling that therefore 1020 " Fortune," and so that the diversitee Off thaire wirking suld cause necessitee; ' Bot othir clerkis balden that the man Has in him-self the chose ^ and libertee To cause his awin fortune, how or qiihan That him best lest, and no necessitee Was in the hevin at bis nativitee, Bot yit the thingis happin in commune ^^ Ef ter purpose, so cleping thame " Fortune." And quhare a persone has tofore knawingU Off it that is to fall[en] purposely, 103 1 Lo, Fortune is bot wayke in suich a thing. Thou may wele wit, and here ensample quhy; To God, that is the first[e] cause onely Off every thing, there may no fortune fall: And quhy ? for he forekiiawin is ^ of all. ' And therefore thus I say to this sentence ; Fortune is most and strangest i' evermore, Quhare lest " foreknawing or intelligence Is in the man; and, sone, of wit or lore Sen thou are wayke and feble, lo, there- fore, 1041 The more thou art in dangere^^ and com- mune ^^ With hir that clerkis clepen so Fortune. ' Bot for the sake, and at the reverence Off Venus clere, as I the said tofore, I have of thy distresse compacienoe ; ^' And in conf ort and relesche i' of thy sore. The schewit [have] here myn avise there- fore; 1 guidance {lit, meddling). 2 Appertains, s recall. < lots. ' i.e., Fortune. » fate. ' action. ' MS. Qu- hare. 8 choice. 10 ordinarily, n previous linowledge. 12 previously aware, i' strongest. 1* least, i" in the power. " allied. " compassion, is assuagement. Pray Fortune help, for mich unlikly thing Full oft about sche sodeynly dootb bring. 'Now go thy way, and have gude mynde upon 1051 Quhat I have said in way of thy doc- tryne.' ^^ 'I sail, madame,' quod''I; and ryht anon I tuke my leve : — als straught as ony lyne, With-in a beme, that fro the contree^" dyvine Sche, percyng throw the firmament, ex- tendi t. To ground ageyne my spirit is descendit. Quhare, in a lusty plane,^^ tuke I my way, Eudlang ^^ a ryver, plesant to behold, Enbroudin ^ all with fresche flouris gay, Quhare, throu the gravel, bryght as ony gold, 1061 The cristall water ran so clere and cold, That, in myn ere maid contynualy A maner soun, mellit^ with armony; That full of lytill fischis by the brym, Now here, now there, with bakkis blewe as lede, Lap ^ and playit, and in a rout can swym So prattily, and dressit ^ tham to sprede Thaire curall ^ fynnis, as the ruby rede, That in the sonne on thaire scalis bryght As gesserant "^ ay glitterit in my sight ; 1071 And by this ilke ry ver-syde alawe ^' Ane bye way [thar] fand I like to bene,'" On quhich, on every syde, a longe rawe Off treis saw I, full of levis grene. That full of f ruyte delitable were to sene, And also, as it come unto my mind, OfE bestis sawe I mony diverse kynd: The lyoun king, and his fere '^ lyonesse; The pantere, like unto the smaragdyne; ^ The lytill squerell, full of besynesse; 1081 The slawe ase, the druggare beste of pyne 'S; The nyce ^* ape; the werely porpapyne; ^ The percyng lynx; the lufare unicorne,''^ That voidis^' venym with his evoure'* home. 1" teaching. 20 Skeat suggests court. si pleasant plain. 22 Along. » Embroidered. n A kind ol sound, mingled. « Leapt. " addressed. " coral. 28 shining mail. 21 down by this same river-eide. 30 like as it were. "1 companion. . 32 emerald, ss beast drudging painfully. >' foolish. >s bristling porcupine. '• The Unicorn was supposed to be subdued by virgins. " expels. 38 ivory. 362 JAMES I OF SCOTS There sawe I dresse ^ him new out of [his] haunt The f ery 2 tigere, full of f elonye ; The dromydare; the standard oliphant; The wyly fox, the wedowis inemye; The clymbare gayte;^ the elk for alblas- try e ; ^ 1090 The herkuere bore;' the holsum grey for hortis;' The haire also, that oft gooth to the wortis.^ The bugill,^ draware by his hornis grete ; The martrik,^" sable, foynyee,^^ and mony mo; The chalk-quhite ermyn, tippit as the jete; The riall hert, the conyng,^and the ro; The wolf, that of the murthir noght say- [is] 'Ho! '13 The lestyi^ bever, and the ravin bare;i^ For chamelot,^' the camel full of hare; With mony an othir beste diverse and strange, uoo That cummyth noght as now unto my mynd. Bot now to purpose, — straucht furth the range I held a way, oure-hailing " in my mynd From quhens I come, and quhare that I suld fynd Fortune, the goddesse; unto quhom inhye Gude Hope, my gyde, has led me sodeynly. And at the last, behalding thus asyde, A rounde place [y]wallit have I found; In myddis quhare eftsone 1* I have [a]spide Fortune, the goddesse, huflugi^ on the ground : mo And ryght before hir fete, of compas round, A quhele, on quhich [than] clevering I sye ^ A multitude of folk before myn eye. And ane surcote sche werit long that tyde, That semyt [im]to me of diverse hewis, Quhilum^i thus, quhen sche wald [hir] turn asyde, Stude this goddesse of fortune and [of glewis^]; A chapellet, with mony fresche anewis,^^ J isaue. 2 active. 8 standing. ^ climbing goat. B proof against missiles of the cross-bow. ^ lieark'uing boar. ' badger, [whose grease is good] for hurts. P vegetables. " ox. lo marten. n beech-marten. 12 coney. i3 never ceases. ^* skilful. is ravening bear, la camlet cloth. 1^ revolving, la soon after. 19 dwelling. 20 clambering I saw. 21 At times. 22 sports, freaks. 23 little rings. Fr. anneau. Sche had upon her hed; and with this hong A mantill on hir sohuldris, large and long, That f urrit was with ermyn full quhite, nzi Degoutit with the self ^* in spottis Make : And quhilum in hir chiere^^ thus a lyte^' Louring sche was ; and thus sone it wold slake. And sodeynly a maner smylyng make, Aud^' sche were glad; [for] at onecontenance Sche held noght, bot [was] ay in variance. And underneth the qtihele sawe I there Ane ugly pit, [was] depe as ony helle, That to behald thereon I quoke for fere; Bot o thing herd I, that quho there-ia fell „3, Come no more up agane, tidingis to telle; OfB quhich, astonait of that feref uU syght, I ne wist quhat to done, so was I fricht.^' Bot for to see the sudayn weltering Off that ilk quhele, that sloppare^ was to hold. It semyt unto my wit a strange thing, So mony I sawe that than clymben wold. And failit foting, and to ground were rold; And othir eke, that sat above on hye, 1 140 Were overthrawe in twinklyng of an eye. And on the quhele was lytill void space, ' Wele nere oure-straught*' fro lawe[un]to hye; And they were ware^^ that longe sat in place. So tolter quhilum did sche it to-wrye; ^^ There was bot clymbe[n] and ryght doun- ward hye. And sum were eke that fallen had [so] sore. There for to clymbe thaire corage was no more. I sawe also that, quhere [as] sum were slungin, Be quhirlyng of the quhele, unto the ground, 1150 Full sudaynly sche hath [thaim] up ythrungin,^^ And set thame on agane full sauf and sound: And ever I sawe a newe swarm abound, 2^ self-spotted. 26 cheer, demeanour. 28 a little. 2' If. 28 affrighted. 2» slippery. so very nearly covered. »i wary. 22 So unsteadily at times she turned it about. 33 thrust them up. THE KING'S QUAIR 363 That [thought] to clymbe upward upon the quhele, In stede of thame that myght no langer rele.^ And at the last, in presence of thame all That stude about, sche clepit^ me be name; And therewith apon kneis gan I fall Full sodaynly hailsing,^ abaist for sohame ; And, smylyng thus, sche said to me in game, 1160 ' Quhat dois thou here ? Quho has the hider sent ? Say on anon, and tell me thyn entent. ' I se wele, by thy chere and contenanoe, There is sum thing that lyis the on hert. It stant ^ noght with the as thou wald, per- chance ? ' 'Madame,' quod I, 'for lufe is all the smert That ever I fele, endlang and over- thwert.^ Help, of your grace, me wofuU wrechit wight. Sen' me to cure ye powere have and myght.' ' Quhat help,' quod sche, ' wold thou that I ordeyne, 1170 To bring[en] the unto thy hertis desire? ' ' Madame , ' quod I, ' bot ' that your grace dedeyne, OfB your grete myght, my wittis to en- spire. To win ^ the well that slokin may the fyre In quhich I birn; a, goddesse fortunate! Help now my game, that is in point to mate.' ^ ' OfE mate ? ' quod sche, ' O! verray sely i" wrech, I se wele by thy dedely coloure pale. Thou art to feble of thy-self to streehe Upon my quhele, to olymbe[n] or to hale ^1 1180 Withoutin help; for thou has fundin stale 12 This mony day, withoutin werdis wele,'^ And wantis now thy veray hertis hele." 1 go round, roll. 2 called. ^ saluting. * stands. 5 along and across, through and through me. e since. ' only. 8 reach. > on point of being checkmated. 10 helpless. ^^ haul. ^^ found stalemate. ^3 good- ness of fortune. 1* health. ' Wele maistow be a wrechit man [y]callit. That wantis the confort suld thy hert[e] And has all thing within thy hert[e] stallif^ That may thy youth oppressen or defade.i* Though thy begynnyng hath bene retro- grade, Be froward opposyt quhare till aspert," Now sail thai turn, and luke[n] on the dert.'^* J190 And therewith-all unto the quhele in bye Sche hath me led, and bad me lere i'-' to clymbe, Upon the quhich I steppit sudaynly. ' Now bald thy grippis,' quod sche, ' for thy tyme; ' Ane houre and more it rynnis over prime; To count the hole, the half is nere away ; Spend wele, therefore, the remanant of the day. ' Ensample,' quod sche, ' tak of this tof ore,^" That fro my quhele be roUit as a ball; For the nature of it is evermore, 1200 After ane hicht, to vale ^^ and geve a fall. Thus, quhen me likith, up or doune to fall. Fare wele,' quod sche, and by the ere me toke So ernestly, that therewithal! I woke. O besy goste ! 22 ay flikering to and fro, That never art in quiet nor in rest. Till thou cum to that place that thou cam fro, Qubich is thy first and verray proper nest: From day to day so sore here artow drest,23 That with thy flesche ay walking^^ art in trouble, ,2,0 And aleping eke ; of pyne so has thou double. Towart 25 my-self all this mene I to loke. Though that my spirit vexit was tofore, In suev[en]yng,26 alssone as ever I woke. By twenty fold it was in trouble more, Bethinking me with sighing hert and sore, That [I] nan othir thingis bot dremes had, Nor sekernes,2' my spirit with to glad. IB installed. is dispirit. i' opposed by perverse men expert in this. is dirt. 19 learn. zo these folk before (thee). «i descend. =! restless spirit. 23 art thou treated. '^ always while waking. 25 m;s, Couret. 26 dreaming. 27 certainty. 364 JAMES I OF SCOTS And therewith sone I dressit^ me to ryse, Fulfild of thoght,^ pyne, and adversitee; And to my-self I said upon this wise; 1221 'A! merci, Lord! quhat will ye do with me? Quhat lyf is this ? Quhare hath my spirit be? Is this of my forethoght impressioun, Or is it from the hevin a visioun ? ' And gif ye goddis, of youre purviance, Have schewit this for my reconforting, In relesche ' of my furiouse peiinance, I yow beseke full humily of this thing, That of youre grace I myght have more takenyng,^ 1230 Gif it sal be as in my slepe before Yo shewit have ' : and forth, withoutin more, In hye unto the wyndow gan I walk, Moving within my spirit of this sight, Quhare sodeynly a turture,* quhite as calk,' So evinly upon my hand gan lyght. And unto me sche turnyt hir full ryght. Off quham the chere in hir birdis aport ' Gave me in hert[e] kaleudis' of coufort. This fair[e] bird ryght in hir bill gan hold Of red jorofflis' with thair stalkis grene A fair[e] branohe, quhare writtin was with gold, _ 1242 On every list,^" with branehis^^ bryght and schene In compas fair, full plesandly to sene, A plane sentence, quhich, as I can devise And have in mynd, said ryght [up]on this ' Awak! awake! I bring, lufar, I bring The newis glad, that blisf uU ben and sure Of thy confort; now lauch, and play, and syng, That art besid so glad an aventure; 1250 For in the hevyn decretit is the cure.' ^ And unto me the flouris fair present; ^^ With wyngis spred, hir wayis furth sobe went. Quhilk up a-none I tuke, and as I gesse, Ane hundreth tymes, or" I forthir went, » addressed. 2 anxiety. ^ lightening. * token. 6 turtle-dove. > chalk. ' demeanor, b beginnings. ' gillyflowers. 1° edge. i^ flourishes. 12 cure is decreed thee. ii> she presented. ^* ere. I have it red, with hert[e]full glaidnese; And, half with hope, and half with dred, it heut,i5 And at my beddis hed, with gud entent, I have it faire pyunit up, and this 1259 First takyn was of all my help and blisse. The quhiche treuly efter, day be day, That all my wittis maistrit bad tofore, From henn[e]sferth the paynis did away. And sehortly, so wele Fortune has hir bore, To quikin treuly day by day my lore,'' To my larges that " I am cumin agayn, To blisse with hir that is my sovirane. Bot for als moche as sum micht think or seyne, Quhat nedis me, apoun so litill evyn,'' To writt all this ? I ansuere thus ageyne, ' Quho that from hell war croppin onys in hevin,'' 1271 Wald, efter o^" thank, for ioy mak sex or sevin: And every wicht his awin suete ^' or sore Has maist in mynde': I can say you no more. Eke quho may in this lyfe have more ples- ance Than cum to largesse from thraldom and peyne. And by the mene^ of Luffis ordinance. That has so mony in his goldin eheyne ? Quhich th[ink]is to wyn his hertis sov- ereyne, Quho Buld me wite ^ to write thar-of, lat se ! 1280 Now suffioiante is my felicitee. Beseching unto fair Venus abufe, For all my brethir that bene in this place, This is to seyne, that servandis ar to Lufe, And of his lady can no thank purchase. His paine relesch,^^ and sone to stand in grace, Boith to his worachip^ and to his first ese; So that it hir and resoun noght displese: And eke for tham that ar noght entrit inne The dance of lufe, bot thidder-wart on way, 1290 " took. 18 learning. " That to my freedom. IB upon so small a foundation. i^ had once crept into heaven. 20 one. 31 sweet, happiness. 22 means. 23 blame. 21 relieve. 26 honour. THE KING'S QUAIR 365 In gude tyme and sely '■ to begynne Thair prentissehed, and forthir-more I pray For thame that passit ben the mony af- fray ^ In lufe, and cummyn am to full plesance, To graunt tham all, lo! gude perseverance : And eke I pray for all the hertis dull, That lyven here iu sleuth and ignorance. And has no curage at the rose^ to pull, Thair lif to mend and thair saulis avance With [hir] ^ suete lore, and bring tham to gude chance; 1300 And quho that will noght for this prayer turn, Quhen thai wald faynest speid, that thai may spurn.^ To rekyn of every thing the circumstance. As hapnit me quhen lessen gan my sore Of my raneoure and [al my] wof uU chance. It war to long; I lat it be tharefor. And thus this floure, I can seye [you] no more, So hertly has unto my help attendit. That from the deth hir man sche has de- feudit. And eke the goddia mercifull wirking,' For my long pane and trewe service in lufe, 13 1 1 That has me gevin halely myn asking, Quhieh has my hert for evir sett abufe In perfyte joy, that nevir may remufe, Bot onely deth: of quhom, in laud and prise,' With thankfuU hert I say richt in this wise : — ' Blisslt mot ' be the [heye] goddis all. So fair that glitteren in the firmament! And blissit be thare myght celestiall, 1319 That have oonvoyit hale, with one assent. My lufe, and to [so] glade a consequent! And thankit be Fortunys exiltree And quhele, that thus so wele has quhirlit me! 'Thankit mot be, and fair and lufe befall The nyohtingale, that, with so gud en- tent, 1 happy. 2 struggles. ^ The symbol of the object of love in the Roman de la Rose. « Venus's. MS. thair. 6 j pray that they may trip. 6 working. ' praise. « may. Sang thare of lufe the notis suete and small, Quhair my fair hertis lady was present, Hir with to glad, or ^ that sohe forthir went! And thou gerafloure,^" mot i-thankit be All othir flouris for the lufe of the! 1330 ' And thankit be the faire castell-wall, Quhare as I quhilom lukit f urth and lent! Thankit mot be the Sanctis marciall,ii That me first causit hath this accident. Thaukit mot be the grene bewis ^ bent, Throu quhom, and under, first f ortunyt me ^^ My hertis hele," and my confort to se! '^^ For to the presence suete and delitable, Rycht of this floure that full is of ples- ance. By processe and by menys favorable, 1340 First of the blisful goddis purveyance, And syne 1* throu long and trew eontynu- auce Of veray faith in lufe and trew service, I cum am, and [yit] forthir in this wise. Unworthy, lo, bot onely of hir grace, In lufis yok, that esy is and sure. In guerdouu [eke] of all my lufis space," Sche hath me tak, hir humble creature. And thus befell my blisfuU aventure, 1349 In youth of lufe, that now, from day to day Flourith ay newe; and yit forthir, I say: — Go litill tretise, nakit of eloquence. Causing simplese and povertee to wit;^" And pray the reder to have pacience Of thy defaute, and to supporten it,i' Of his gudnese thy brukilnese to knytt,''" And his tong for to reule[n] and to stere. That thy defautis helit may ben here. AUace ! and gif thou cummyst in presence, Quhare-as of blame faynest thou wald be quite,2i 1360 To here thy rude and crukit eloquens, Quho sal be thare to pray for thy remyt?^^ No wioht, bot geve23 hir meroi will ad- mytt The for gud will, that is thy gyd and stere,^* To quham for me thou pitousely requere.^ • ere. m gillyflower. " saints of March. 12 boughs. 13 happened to me. " healing. 16 MS. be. le afterwards. i^ duration. is to be known, is to bear with it. 20 thy hrokenness to piece together. 21 free. 22 excuse. 23 No person, unless. " pilot. " do thou piteously entreat. 366 JAMES I OF SCOTS And thus endith the fatall influence, Causit from hevyn, quhare power is com- mytt Of govirnance, by the magiiifieenoe Of Him that hiest in the hevin sitt; '■ To quham we thank that all cure [lif] hath writt, 1370 Quho couth it red, agone syne mony a yere, Hich in the hevynnis figure circulere. Vnto [the] impnis^ of my maisteris dere, Gowere and Chauoere, that on the step- pis satt Of rethorike, quhill thai were lyvand here, Superlative as poetis laureate. In moralitee and eloquence ornate, I recommend my buk in lynis sevin, And elte thair saulis un-tothe blisse of hevin. Amen. Quod explicit Jacobus Primus^ Scotorum Rex Illusirissimus. GOOD COUNSEL^ Sen^ throu vertew enoressis dignite, And vertew flour and rut is of noblay,^ Of ony Weill or quhat estat thou be, 1 sitteth. 2 hymns. 3 This is Skeat's restoration of the text of a ballad found in the Bannatyne M.S., in M.S. Kk. 1. 5, in Cam- bridge University Library, and in The Gude and Godlie Ballates, 1578, in which last it is ascribed to King James I. * Since. 6 nobility. His steppis sew,^ and dreid thee non effray: ' Exil al vice, and follow trewth alway: Luf maist thy God, that first thy luf be- gan,^ And for ilk ° inch he wil thee quyt ^^ a span. Be not our ^' proud in thy prosperite. For as it cumis, sa wil it pas away; Thy tym to compt^ is schort, thou may Weill se, 10 For of green gres soun cumis walowit hay. Labour in trewth, quhill lioht is of the day- Trust maist in God, for he best gyd thee can. And for ilk iuch he wil thee quyt a span. Sen word is thrall, and thocht is only free, Thou dant i' thy tung, that power hes and may; Thou steik " thyn een f ra warldis vanite ; Refrein thy lust, and harkin quhat I say; Graip or 1^ thou slyd, and creip furth on the way; Keip thy behest unto thy God and man, 20 And for ilk inch he wil thee quyt a span. 8 follow. ' no terror for thyself. 8 began by loving thee. » every, 10 requite. 11 over. 18 when counted. 18 tame. 14 close. 18 grope ere. ROBERT HENRYSON THE TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID Ank doolie ^ sessoun to ane cairf uU dyte Suld correspond, and be equivalent. Richt sa it wes quhen I began to wryte This tragedie; the wedder richt fervent,^ Quhen Aries, in middis of the Lent, Schouris of haill can fra the north discend. That scantlie fra the cauld I mioht defend. Yit, nevertheles, within myue oratur " I stude, quhen Titan had his bemis brieht Withdrawin doun, and sylit under cure,^ la And fair Venus, the bewtie of the nicht, Uprais, and set unto the west full richt Hir golden face, in oppositioun Of god Phebus, direct discend ing doun. Throw out the glas hir bemis brast ^ sa fair That I micht se on everie syde me by The northin wind had purifyit the air, And sched the mistie cloudis fra the sky; The f roist freisit, the blastis bitterly Fra Pole Artick come quhisling loud and schill,^ 20 And causit me remufe aganis my will. For I traistit that Venus, luifis quene. To qnhome sum tyme I hecht ' obedience, My faidit hart of Infe scho wald mak grene; And therupon, with humbill reverence, I thocht to pray hir hie magnificence; Bot for greit cauld as than I lattit ' was, And in my chalmer to the fyre can pas. Tbooht lufe be hait,' yit in ane man of age It kendillis nocht sa sone as in youtheid, Of quhome the blude is flowing in ane rage, 31 And in the auld the curage doifi" and deid; Of quhilk the fire outward is best remeid : To help be phisike quhair that nature faillit I am expert — for baith I have assailit.^^ 1 doleful. 2 severe. 3 oratory. * concealed under cover, 6 burst. " shrill. ^ formerly I prom- ised. ' prevented. > hot. 1° dull (deaf). " tried. I mend the fyre, and beikit ^^ me about. Than tuik ane drink my spreitis to comfort, And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout: To cut the winter nicht, and mak it schort, I tuik ane quair,i^ and left all uther sport, 40 Writtin be worthie Chaucer glorious, Of fair Creisseid and worthie Troylus. And thair I fand, ef ter that Diomeid Ressavit had that lady brieht of hew, How Troilus ueir out of wit abraid,'' And weipit soir, with visage paill of hew; For quhilk wanhope^° his teiris can renew, Q\ihilP" Esperus" rejoisit him agane: Thus quhyle i' in joy he levit, quhile ^' in pane. Of hir behest he had greit comforting, 50 Traisting to Troy that scho suld mak retour, Quhilk be desyrit maist of eirdly thing, For quhy 1' scho was bis only paramour; Bot quhen he saw passit baith day and hour Of hir gauecome,^" than sorrow can oppres His wofuU hart in cair and hevines. Of his distres me neidis nocht reheirs. For worthie Chauceir, in the samin buik, In gudelie termis, and in joly veirs, Compylit hes his cairis, quha will luik. 60 To brek my sleip ane uther quair I tuik. In quhilk I fand the fatall destenie Of fair Cresseid, that endit wretchitlie. Quha wait 21 gif all that Chauceir wrait was trew ? Nor I wait nocht gif this narratioun Be authoreist, or fenyeit of the new ^^ Be sum poeit, throw his inventioun Maid to report the lamentatioun And wofull end of this liistie Creisseid; And quhat distres scho thoUlit,^^ and quhat deid.2^ 70 n baaked. " quire, book. " started, w despair. i» Till. 17 Esperance, hope. la sometimes — some- times. 19 because. 20 again-coming. 21 knows. 22 newly feigned. 2J suffered. 21 death. 368 ROBERT HENRYSON Qiilien Diomed had all his appetyte, And mair, f ulfillit of this fair ladie, Upon ane uther he set his haill delyte, And send to hir ane lybell of repudie; And hir excludit fra his companie. Than desolait seho walkit up and doun, And, sum men sayis, into the court commoun. O, fair Cresseid ! the floure and A per se Of Troy and Greoe, how was thow f ortu- nait 1 1 To change in filth all thy feminitie, 80 And be with fleschelie lust sa maculait,^ An 1 although. 2 Had a mental picture of her. ' per- chance. * fling. ^ ofttimea. whisper. ' know- ledge. 8 generous. " pang. 10 Ohonel alaa! Now is my breist with stormie stonndis stad,ii Wrappit in wo, ane wretch full will of wane:'^ Than swounit scho oft or scho culd re- frane, And ever in hir swouning cry it scho thus : O, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus ! ' Thy lufe, thy lawtie,i' and thy gentilnes I countit small in my prosperitie; Sa elevait I was in wantones, 549 And clam upon the fickill quheill " sa hie; All faith and lufe I promissit to the Was in the self ^° fickill and frivolous : O, fals Cresseid, and trew kuicht Troilus ! ' For lufe of me thow keipt gude continence. Honest and chaist in conversatioun ; Of all wemen protectour and defence Thou was, and helpit thair opinioun ; ^^ My mynd in fleschelie foull affectioun Was inelynit to lustis lecherous: 559 Fy, fals Cresseid ! O , trew knicht Troylus ! ' Lovers, be war, and tak gude heid about Qubome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine; I lat yow wit, thair is richt few thairout " Quhome ye may traist to have trew lufe agane : Preif 1^ quheu ye will, your labour is in vaine ; Thairfoir, I reid ye tak thame as ye find, For thay ar sad as widdercock ^^ in wind, 'Becaus I knaw the greit unstabilnes, Brukkil 2" as glas, into my self, I say, 569 Traisting in uther als greit unfaithf nines, Als unoonstant, and als untrew of fay; ^^ Thocht sum be trew, I wait richt few are thay; Quha findis treuth, lat him his lady ruse ^ : Nane but my self, as now, I will accuse.' Quhen this was said, with paper scho sat doun, And on this maneir maid hir testament: ' Heir I beteiehe ^ my corps and carioun With wormis and with taidis^^ to be rent; My cop and clapper, and myne orna- ment, u bestead. 12 devoid of hope, is loyalty. 1* wheel (of Fortune), i" were in themselves. is good fame. 17 existing. 18 Try. ifl sober as weather-vane. 2» Brittle, a' faith, as praise. " bequeath. 2< toads. THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE CADGER 375 And all my gold, the lipper folk sail have, 580 Quhen I am deid, to burie me in grave. ' This royall ring, set with this ruble raid, Quhilk Troylus in drowrie ^ to me send. To him agane I leif it quhan I am deid, To mak my cairfuU deid unto him kend:^ Thus I conclude schortlie, and mak ane end; My spreit I leif to Diane, quhair scho dwellis. To walk with hir in waist woddis and wellis.^ ' O, Diomeid ! thow hes baith broche and belt Quhilk Troylns gave me in takning 590 Of his trew lufe ' — and with that word scho swelt; * And sone ane lipper man tuik of the ring, Syne * buryit hir withouttin tarying: To Troylus f urthwith the ring he bair, And of Cresseid the deith he can declair. Quhen he had hard hir greit infirmitie, Hir legaeie and lameutatioun. And how scho endit in sic povertie. He swelt for wo, and fell doun in ane swoun; For greit sorrow his hart to birst was boun: ^ 600 Siching full sadlie, said, ' I can no moir; Scho was untrew, and wo is me thairfoir ! ' Sum said he maid ane tomb of merbell gray. And wrait hir name and superscriptioun, And laid it on hir grave, quhair that scho lay, In goldin letteris, conteiningthisressoun: ' Lo, fair ladyis, Cresseid of Troyis toun, Sumtyme countit the flour of womanbeid. Under this stane, late lipper, lyis deid ! ' 609 Now, worthie Wemen, in this ballet schort, Made for your worschip andinstructioun, Of cheritie I monische and exhort, Ming 'not your lufe with f als deceptioun ; Beir in your mynd this schort conclu- sioun Of fair Cresseid, as I have said befoir: Sen scho is deid, I speik of hir no moir. 1 courtship. 2 known. a fountainB. * swooned, died. ' Then. » ready. ' Mingle. THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE CADGERS QuHLLUM ' thair wynnit 1° in a wildemes, As myne authoiu? expreslie can declair, Aue revand^i wolf, that levit upoun pnr- ches ^^ On bestiall,^' and maid him weill to fair; Was nane sa big about him he wald spair, And " he wer hungrie, outher for favour or feid,!"^ Bot in his wraith he werry it ^^ thame to deid.i' Swa happynnit him in wetching, as he went, To meit ane f oxe in middis of the way ; He him foirsaw, and feinyeit to be schent,!* And with ane bek ^' he bad the wolf gud day. 1 1 ' Welcum to me,' quod he, ' thow Russell ^ gray '; Syne loutit^^ doun, and tuik him be the hand. 'Ryse vp, Lowrenoe,^^ j jgif the^^ for to stand. ' Quhair hes thow bene this sesoun fra my sicht ? Thow sail beir office, and my stewart be, For thow can knap ^* doun caponis on the nicht. And, lowrand law,^ thow can gar hennis de.' ' Schir,' said the foxe, ' that ganis ^^ not for me: And I am rad,^' gif thay me se on far, 20 That at my figiu?e heist and bird will scar.' ^^ ' Na,' quod the wolf, ' thow can in covert creip, I Upoun thy wamej^^ and hint "> thame be the heid; And mak ane suddane schow^^ upoun ane seheip. Syne 2^ with thy wappynnis wirrie him to deid.' 'Schir,' said the fox, 'ye knaw my rob is reid,^^ And thairfoir thair will na [kyn] beist abide me, Thocht I wald be sa fals as for to hide me.' 8 Hawker. * Once upon a time, i" dwelt, n plun- dering. 12 plunder. 13 farm live-stock. 14 If. 16 feud. 18 worried, i' death, is pretended to be abashed. " bow. 20 red fellow (fox). 2i bent. 22 fox. 28 give thee leave. 24 snatch. 25 crouching low. 26 avails. 27 afraid. 28 he scared. 20 belly. 20 seize. Bi shove, push, spring, sa Then. 8a robe ia red. 376 ROBERT HENRYSON 'Yis,' quod the wolf, 'throw buskis^ aud throw breiris, 29 Iiaw can thow lour to eum to thiue intent.' ' Schir,' said the fox, ' ye wait ^ weill how it gais; Ane lang space fra thame thay will feill my sent,^ Then will thay eschaip, suppois thay suld be sehent;^ And I am sehamef ull for to cum behind thame In to the f eild, thocht I suld sleipand * find thame.' ' Na,' quod the wolf, ' thow can cum on the wind, For everie wrink,^ forsuith, thow has ane wyle.' ' Schir,' said the fox, ' that beist ye micht call blind, That micht not eschaip than fra me ane myle. How micht I ane of thame that wyis' be- . gjle ? . . 40 My tippit twa eiris, aud my twa gray ene, Garris me be kend ^ quhair I was never sene.' ' Than,' said the wolf, 'Lowrence, I heir the le,9 And castis for perrellis thy ginnes to de- fend ;i'' Bot all thy seinyes '^ sail not availl the, About the busk with wayis thocht thow wend; Falset^ will fail ye ay at the latter end; To bow at bidding, and byde not quhill thow brest,!^ Thairfoir I gif the counsall for the best.' ' Schir,' said the fox, ' it is lenterne," ye se; ^o I can not fisohe, for weitting of my feit, To tak ane banestikkill ^*; thocht we baith suld de, I haif na uther craft to win my meit; Bot war it pasche,i^ that men suld pultrie eit, As kiddis, lambes, or oaponis in to ply," To beir your office than wald I not set by.' ^^ 1 bushes. 2 know. 3 scent. * even if they should be frightened. & sleeping, fl trick. ? way. 8 Cause me to be recognized. " lie. 10 seekest for dangers to excuse thy tricks. 11 excuses. " Falsehood. 13 do not wait till you are broken, i* Lent, is stickleback. 1* Eaater. i? in good condition. ib decline. 'Than,' said the wolf, in wraith, 'wenisl' thow with wylis, And with thy mony mowis^" me to mat ? 21 It is ane auld dog, doutles, that thow begilis : Thow wenis to draw the stra befoir the catt! ' 60 ' Schir,' said the fox, ' God wait, I mene not that; For and I did, it war weill worth that ye In ane reid raip'*'' had tyit me till ane tre. ' Bot now I se he is ane fule, perfay,^^ That with his maister fallis in ressoningj I did bot till assay ^^ quhat ye wald say; God wait, my mynd was on ane uther thing; I sail fulfill in all thing your bidding, Quhat ever ye chairge, on nichtis or on dayis.' ' Weill,' quod the wolf, ' I wait weill quhat thow sayis. 70 ' Bot yit I will thow mak to me ane aith,^ For to be leill attour all levand leid.' ^ ' Schir,' said the foxe, ' that ane word makia me wraith, For now I se ye haif me at ane dreid;^' Yit sail I sweir, suppois it be not neid, Be luppiter, and on pane of my heid, I salbe trew to yow, quhill ^' 1 be deid.' With that ane cadgear, with capill^ and with creillis,™ Come carpand'^ furth; than Lowrence culd him spy. The fox the flewar ^^ of the f resehe heiring feillis, 80 And to the wolf he roundis ^^ prively : ' Schir, yone ar hering the cadgear caryis by; Thairfoir I rid ^* that we se for sum wayis To get sum fische agania thir fasting dayis. ' Sen I am Stewart, I wald we had sum stuff. And ye ar silver seik,^ I wait rioht weill; Thocht we wald thig'^ yone verray chur- lische chufE,^' He will not gif us ane hering of his creill, Befoir yone ohurle on kneis thocht we wald kneill; I" thinkest. 20 jests. 21 defeat. 22 red, bloody rope. 23 in faith. 24 try. 25 oath. 26 loyal beyond all living people. 27 in doubt. 28 till. 29 horse. 30 panniers, baskets. ai shouting. 82 smell. 33 whispers. 34 advise. ss penurious. 3a beg. 37 miserly fellow. • THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE CADGER Bot yiti trow alsone^ that ye sail se, Gif I can craft to bleir yone carlis ee.^ ' Sohir, ane thing is, and ^ we get of yone pelf, Ye man tak travell ^ and mak us sum supple ; ^ For he that will not labour and help him self, In to thir dayis, he is not worth ane fle; I think to wirk as bessie ^ as ane be. And ye sail follow ane litill ef terwart. And gadder hering, for that salbe your pairt.' With that he kest ane compas far about, And strawcht '' Iiim doun in middis of the way, loo As he wer deid he feinyeit^ him, but dout,^ And than upoun lenth unliklie ^^ lay ; The quhite he turnit up of his ene tway; His toung out hang ane hand braid i^ of his heid, And still he lay, als straucht as he wer deid. The cadgear fand the fox, and he was fane,^ And till him self this softlie can he say : ' At the nixt bait,^^ in faith, ye salbe flane," And of your skin I sail mak mittenis tway.' He lapi° about [him] Hchtlie quhair he lay, no And all the trace ^^ he trippit on his tais; " As he had hard ane pyper play, he gais. ' Heir lyis,' quod he, ' the devill deid in a dyke. Sic ane selcouth^' saw I not this sevin yeir; I trow ye half bene tussillit with sum tyke,i' That garris ^ yow ly sa still withoutin steir:^! Sehir foxe, in faith, ye ar deir welcum heir; It is sum wyfis malisoun,''^ I trow. For pultrie pyking,^^ that liohtit hes on yow. I quickly. 2 If I tnow craft to deceive that fellow. 8 if. i must take pains. 6 support. « busy. ' stretched. 8 feigned. 8 without doubt. lo lay at length, helpless looking. n breadth. i2 glad. *3 baiting-place. i^ flayed. ^^ leapt. i^ way. IT toes. 18 strange thing. i' worried by some dog. 20 makes. 21 gtir. 22 curse. 23 stealing poultry. 377 90 ' Thair sail na pedder,^* for purs, nor yit for glufls, 120 Nor yit for pointis ^ pyke your pellet fra me; 26 I sail of it mak mittenis to my lufis,^' Till hald my handis bait ^8 quhair ever I be; Till Flanderis sail it never saill the se.' With that in hy,29 he hint™ him by the heillis. And with ane swak^^ he swang him on the creillis. Syne '^ be the heid the horss in by hes hint ; ^ The fraudfuU foxe thairto guid tent hes tane,8« And with his teith the stoppell,'^ or he stint,^ 129 Pullit out, and syne the hering ane and ane Out of the creillis he swakkit ^' doun gude wane.'* The wolf was war,'* and gadderit spedilie; The cadgear sang, ' Huntis up, up,' upoun hie.*" Yit at ane burne the cadgear luikit about; With that the foxe lap qmte the creillis fray;^i The cadgear wald haif rauoht ^ the foxe ane rout,^3 Bot all for nocht, he wan his hoill ** that day. Than with ane schout thus can the cadgear say: ' Abyde, and thow ane nekhering ^ sail haif, Is worth my capill, creillis, and all the laif.'^s ,_,^ ' Now,' quod the foxe, ' I schrew me and we meit: I hard quhat thow hecht ^' to do with my skin. Thy handis sail never in thay ^' mittenis tak heit, And thow war hangit, carle, and all thy kin! Do f urth thy marcat; *^ at me thow sail not win; 2J pedlar. 25 laces. 28 do me out of your skin. 27 palms. 2B hot. 28 haste. 3o seized. 31 toss. 32 Then. " seized. 31 has taken careful note, 35 plug, lid. 38 ere he stopped. 37 threw. 38 to good purpose. 39 aware, w in a loud voice. *i from. *2 reached. *3 blow. ** hole. *5 A blow; also apparently specially large herring laid on the top or neck of the basket. Cf. 11. 165-168. *3 rest. 47 promised. «8 those. 49 market. 378 ROBERT HENRYSON And sell thy hering thow hes thair till hie price, Ellis thow sail win nocht on thy marchan- dice.' The cadgear trimmillit for teyne' quhair that he stuid; ' It is Weill worthie,' quod he, ' I want yone tyke,'^ That had not in my hand sa mekle gude 150 As staf or sting,^ yone tinker^ for to strike.' With that lichtlie he lap out oner ane dyke, And hakkit doun ane staf, for he was tene,^ That hevie was and of the holyne ' grene. With that the fox unto the wolf culd wend. And fand him be the hering, quhair he lyis; ' Schir,' said he than, ' maid I not fair de- fend ? ■f Ane wicht * man wantit never, and he war wyse; Ane hardie hart is hard for to suppryis.' Than said the wolf: 'Thow art ane heme' full bald, 160 And wyae at will, in gude tyme^" be it tald. ' Bot quhat was yone the carle cryit on hie. And schuik his hand, quod he, hes thow na feill ? ' 11 ' Schir,' said the f oxe, ' that I can tell trewlie ; He said the nekhering was in the creill.' ' Kennis thow that hering ? ' ' Ye, schir, I ken it weill. And at the creill mouth I had it thryis ^ but dout; The wecht ^^ thair of neir tit '^ my tuskis out. ' Now, surelie, schir, mycht we that hering fang,'^ It wald be flsche to us thir fourtie dayis.' Than said the wolf, ' Now God nor that I hang,!^ 171 Bot to be thair I wald gif all my clays," To se gif that my wappynnis ^' micht it rais.' ' Schir,' said the foxe, ' God wait, I wischit yow oft, Quheu that my teith micht not beir it on loft. ^ trembled for vexation. 2 i ^ell deserved to miBB that fox. 3 pole. * swindler. ^ angry, holly. ' defence. 8 brave. ^ fellow, lo indeed, n idea, 12 thrice, i3 weight, i* tugged. 16 get hold of. 10 God grant that 1 hang, i' clotlies. i^ weapons, teeth. ' It is ane side of salmond, as it wair. And oallour,!' pypand like ane pertrik ee;* It is worth all the hering ye haif thair. Ye, and we had it swa, is it worth sic thre.' ' Than,' said the wolf, ' quhat counsale gevis thow me ? ' i8o ' Schir,' said the foxe, ' wirk efter my devyis. And ye sail haif it, and tak yow na sup- pry is. ^^ ' First, ye mon cast ane compas far about. Syne straucht yow doun in middis of the way; Baith held, and feit, and taill ye man streik ^^ out, Hing f urth your toung, and clois weill your ene tway; Syne se your heid on ane hard place ye lay; And dout '^ not for na perrell may appeir, Bot hald yow clois quhen that the carle oummis neir. 'And thocht ye se ane staf, haif ye na dout, 190 Bot hald yow winder''^ still in to that steid;''^ And luik your ene be clois, as thay war out. And se that ye schrink nouther fute nor heid: Than will the cadgear carle trow ye be deid, And in till haist^o will hint yow be the heillis. As he did me, and swak yow on his creillis.' ' Now,' quod the wolf, ' I sweir the be my thrift, I trow yone cadger carle he will me beir.' " ' Schir,' said the foxe, ' on loft he will yow lift, Upoun his creillis, and do him litill deir.^' Bot ane thing dar I surelie to yow sweir, 201 Get ye that hering sicker ^ in sum place. Ye sail not fair in fisohing'" mair qubill pasche. ' I sail say In principio upoun yow. And cros your corpis frome the top to tay; Wend quhen ye will, I dar be warrand now That ye sail die na suddane deith this day.' With that the wolf gird up sone and to gay,'* " fresh, 20 shining like the eye of a partridge. 21 no surprise take you. 22 stretch. 23 fear. 24 won- derfully. 26 place. 26 in haste. 27 Ed. Charteris reads, dow not me beir, dare not lift me. 28 harm, trouble. 20 secure. 20 go a-llshing. 21 goes. THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE CADGER 379 And kest ane compas about the cadger far; Syne straucht him in the gait,i or he come nar. 210 He laid his half heid ^ sicker hard and sad," Syne strauoht his foure feit fra him, and bis heid. And hang his toung furth as the foxe him bad; Ala still be lay, as he war verray deid, Rakkand * ua thing of the carlis favour nor feid,5 Bot ever upoun the nekhering he thinkis, And quite forgetis the foxe and all his wrinkis. With that the cadger, wavering as the wind. Come rydand on the laid,* for it was licht, Thinkand ay on the foxe that was behind, Upoun quhat wyse revengit on him he micht; 221 And at the last of the wolf gat ane sicht, Qubair he in lenth lay streikit in the gait; Bot gif he liehtit doun, or not, God wait ! ' ' Sof tlie,' he said. ' I was begilit anis ; " Be I begilit twyis, I schrew us baith. That evill bot' sail licht upoun thy banis, He suld haif had that hes done me the skaith.'i" On hicht he hovit the stalf,ii for he was wraith. And hit him with sic will upoun the heid, Quhill neir he swonit and await ^ in to that steid.i' 231 Thre battis he buir,i^ or he his feit micht find, Bot yit the wolf was wicht, and wan away. He micht not se, he wes sa verray blind, Nor wit ^ reddilie quhether it wes nicht or day. The foxe beheld that service quhair he lay. And leuch on loft," quhen he the wolf sa seis, Baith deif and dosirnit," fall awounand on his kneis. He that of ressoun can not be content, Bot covetis all, is abill all to tyne.^^ 240 1 stretched himself in the road. 2 aide of his head. 3 solid. * recking. ^ feud. 8 load. ^ knows, s once. 9 reward. i" harm. li On high he raised the staff. 12 died. i" place. 1* blows he bore. 16 know. 18 langhed aloud. " dazed. 18 lose. The foxe, quhen that he saw the wolf wes schent,!^ Said to him selfB, ' Thir hering sal be myne'; I le, or ellis he was efterwart fyne ^ That fand sic wayis his maister for to greif ; With all the flsche thus Lowrence tnik his leif. The wolf was neir weill dnngin to the deid,2i That uneitb ^ with his lyfe away he wan. For with the bastoun ^ weill brokin wes his heid. The foxe in to his den sone drew him than, That had betraiait '^ his maister and the man : 25a The ane wantit the hering of his creillis. The utheris blude was rynnand ouer his heillis. MORALITAS This taill ia mingit ^ with moralitie. As I sail schaw sum quhat, or that I ceis : ^ The foxe unto the warld may likkinnit be. The revand wolf unto ane man but leis,^ The cadger deith, quhome under all men preis : 2' That ever tuik lyfe throw cours of kynd ^ man *• die. As man, and heist, and flsche in to the see. The warld, ye wait, is stewart to the man, 260 Qiihilk makis man to haif na mynd of deid,^^ Bot settis for wynning all the craft thay can; The hering I likkin unto the gold sa reid, Quhilk gart the wolf in perrell put his heid: Rieht swa the gold garris landis and cieteis With weir ^ be waistit, day lie as men seis. And as the foxe with dissimulance and gile Gart the wolf wene ^ to haif worsehip for ever, Richt swa this warld with vane gloir for ane quhile Flattens with folk, as thay suld failye never, 270 Tit suddandlie men seis it oft dissever; With thame that trowis oft to fill the sek,^^ Deith oiimmis behind and nippis thame be the nek. '• defeated. 2« subtle. !i beaten to death. « scarcely. 2' stick. 2« betrayed. 2s mixed. 2' ere I stop. 27 truly. 28 contend. <» nature. 88 must. 81 death. "2 war. 3s expect. 8« sack. 38o ROBERT HENRYSON The micht of gold makis mony men sa blind, That settis on averice thair felioitie, That thay forget the cadger cummis behind To stryke thame, of quhat stait so ever thay be. Quhat is mair dirk ' than blind prosperitie ? Quhairfoir I oounsall michtie men to haif mynd Of the nekhering, interpreit in this kynd. 2S0 THE TALE OF THE UPLANDISH 2 MOUSE AND THE BURGESS = MOUSE EsoPE, myne author, makis mentioun Of twa myis, and thay war sisteris deir, Of quham the eldest dwelt in ane bor- rous ^ toun, The uther wynnit uponland, weill neir,^ Solitar, quhyle under busk, quhyle under breir, Quhylis in the come, and uther mennis skaith,^ As outlawis dois and levis on thair waith.' This rurall Mous in to the wynter tyde Had hunger, cauld, and tholit * greit distres. The uther Mous that in the burgh can byde 10 Wes gild brother and maid ane free bur- gess; Toll fre als, but oustum ' mair or les. And fredome had to ga quhair ever scho list, Amang the cheis in ark,!" and meill in kist.^ Ane tyme quhen scho wes full and unfute sair,^^ Scho tuik in mynde hir sister uponland. And langit for to heir of hir weilfair. To se quhat lyfe scho had under the wand^^; Bairfute, alloue, with pykestalf in hir hand. As pure 1^ pi Igryme scho passit out of toun, 20 To seik hir sister baith ouer daill and doun. Furth mony wilsum ^^ wayis can scho walk Throw mosse and muir, throw bankis, balk,!^ and breir, » dark. 2 country. 3 town. ' borough. *• dwelt in the country right near. fi harm. ' hunting. B suffered. ^ without taxes. lo box. " chest. " unfootsore, comfortable. is in the open. i* A very, ib wild. i^ ridge. Scho ranne with mony ane hiddeous quaik," ' Cum furth to me, my awin sister deir, Cry peip anis ! ' i" With that the mous cryit, ' heir,' And knew her voce, as kinnisman will do, Be verray kynd;i^ and furth scho come hir to. The hartlie joy, God ! gif ye had sene, Beis kith ''" quhen that thir sisteris met; 30 And greit kyndenes was schawin thame betuene; For quhylis thay leuch, and quhylis for joy thay gret,2i Quhyle kissit s weit, quhylis in armis plet ;^ And thus thay f ure, quhill ^ soberlt wes thair mind, Syne f ute for f ute ^^ unto the ehalmer wend. As I hard say, it was ane sober wane,^ Of fog ^^ and f airn full f ebillie was maid, Ane sillie scheill ^ imder ane steidfast stane. Of quhilkthe entres was not hie nor braid; And in the samin^' thay went but mair abaid,^' 40 Without[in] fyre or candill birnand brieht. For commounlie sic pykeris ^'' luf es not licht, Quhen thay wer lugit thus, thir selie '^ myse, The youngest sister unto hir butterie yeid, And brocht furth nuttis and candil iusteid of spyce; Gif this wes gude fair, I do it on thame besyde.82 The burges mous prompit ^ furth in pryde. And said, ' Sister, is this your daylie fude?' 'Quhy not,' quod scho, 'is not this meit rycht gude ? ' 'Na, be my saull, I think it bot ane scorne.' 50 ' Madame,' quod scho, ' ye be the mair to blame; My mother said, sister, quhen we were borne, That I and ye lay baith within ane wame : ^ I keip the rate ^ and custume of my dame, And of my leving in to povertie,'^ For landis haif we nane in propertie.' " scream. " once. " instinct. » shown. 21 wept. " folded. 2j fared till. ^' keeping step. 25 dwelling. 2" moss. 2' A frail shelter (shelling), 28 into the same. 29 without more delay. 3o stealers. 31 these innocent. 32 let them judge (?) 33 started. 3< womb. « style. " my being left poor. THE UPLANDISH MOUSE AND THE BURGESS MOUSE 381 ' My fair sister,' quod soho, ' haif me ex- eusit, This rude dyet and I can nocht accord; Till tender meit my stomok is ay usit, For quhylis I fair als weill as ony lord ; 60 Thir widderit ' peis and nuttis, or thay be bord,2 Will brek my teith, and mak my wame full sklender,' Quhilk wes befoir usit to meittis tender.' 'Weill, Weill, sister,' quod the rurall Mous, ' Gif it pleis yow, sic thingis as ye se heir, Baith meit and drink, harberie and bous, Sal be your awin, will ye remane all yeir; Ye sail it haif with blyith and merie cheir, And that suld mak the maissis ^ that ar rude, Amang freindis, richt tender and wonder gude. 70 ' Quhat plesure is in feistis delicate. The quhilkis ar gevin with ane glowmand^ brow ? Ane gentill hart is better recreat With blyith curage, than seith" till him ane kow: Ane modicum is mair for till allow,' Swa that gude will be kerver at the dais. Than thrawin ^ will and mony spycit mais.' For all hir merie exhortatioun. This burges mous had lytill will to sing, Bot hevilie scho kest hir browis doun, 80 For all the daynteis that scho culd hir bring. Tit at the last scho said, half in hething,' * Sister, this victuall and your royall feist May Weill suffice unto ane rurall beist. 'Lat be this hole, and cum into my place; I sail to yow schaw be experience My Gude Fryday is better nor your Pace ; " Mydische weschingis is worth your hailP^ expence ; I haif housis anew^ of greit defence; Of cat nor fall-trap I haif na dreid.' 90 ' I grant,' quod scho ; and on togidder thay yeid.'^ 1 These withered. ^ ere they are bored. " belly- full lean. * mesaes, food. ■> glooming, sullen. " boil. ^ is more to be esteemed. ^ perverse. Harl. reads ihrawin miU, ill-tempered face. 9 scorn, lo Easter. " whole. ^ enough. 13 went. In stubbill array i* throw [rankest] gers" and come, And under buskis i" prevelie couth they creip. The eldest wes the gyde and went beforne. The younger to hir wayis tnke gude keip." On nieht thay ran, and on the day can sleip ; Quhill in the morning, or the laverock ^^ sang, Thay fand the toun, and in blythlie couth gang. Noeht fer fra thyne'' unto ane worthie wane ^^ This burges brocht thame sone qnhar thai suld be; loo Without God speid'^i thair herberie wes tane, Into ane spence ^ with vittell greit plen- tie; Baith cheis and butter upone thair skelfls hie,^' And flesche and fische aneuch, of freshe and salt. And sekkis full of meill and eik of malt. Efter quhen thay disposit wer to dyne, Withouttin grace thay wesehe^* and went to meit. With all the coursis that cukis culd devyne, Muttoun and beif strikin in tailyeis greit ; ^ And lordis fair thus couth thay counter- feit, 1,0 Except ane thing — thay drank the waiter cleir Insteid of wyne; bot yit thay maid gade cheir. With blyith upcast and merie countenance, The eldest sister sperit at hir gaist,^ Gif that scho be ressone fand difference Betuix that chalmer and hir sarie^ nest, ' Ye, dame,' quod scho, ' how lang will this lest ? ' ' For evermair, I wait,^' and langer to.' ' Gif it be swa, ye ar at eis,' quod scho. Til eik^ thair cheir ane subcharge^" furth scho brocht, 120 Ane plait of grottis ^' and ane dische full of meill ; 1* Bannatyne MS. reads In shugry ay^ In concealment ever, is grass. " bushes. " heed. i» lark. i» thence. M dwelling. 21 i.e., without greeting their hosts. 2! larder. " shelves high. 2« washed. != out in great slices. 26 asked of her guest. 8' sorry. 2a wot. " To increase, m second course. si hulled oats. 382 ROBERT HENRYSON Thraf caikkis ^ als I trow scho spairit nocht, Aboundantlie about hir for to deill; And mane ^ full fyne scho brocht iusteid of geill," And ane quhyte candill out of ane coflEer stall,^ Insteid of spyce to gust ^ thair mouth with- all. Thus maid thay merie quhil ^ thay mioht na mair, And, ' Haill, Yule, haill ! ' cryit upon hie. Yit efter joy oftymes cummis cair, And troubill efter greit prosperitie, 130 Thus as thay sat in all thair jolitie, The Spenser ' come with keyis in his hand, Opinuit the dure, and thame at denner f and. Thay taryit nocht to wesche, as I suppose. But on to ga quha that micht formest win. The burges had ane hoill, and in scho gois, Hir sister had na hoill to hyde hir in; To se that selie mous it wes greit syn, So desolate and will of ane gude reid ; ^ For veray dreid scho fell in swoun neir deid. J40 Bot as God wald, it fell ane happy cace; The spenser had na laser ' for to byde, Nouther to seik nor serohe, to sker^" nor chace, Bot in he went, and left the dure up wyde. The bald burges his passing weill has spyde; Out of hir hoill scho come and cryit on hie, ' How fair ye sister ? Cry peip, quhair-ever ye be ! ' This rural Mous lay flatling on the ground, And for the deith scho wes full sair dred- and,ii 149 For till hir hart straik mony wof ull stound ; ^ As in ane fever scho trimbillit fute and hand; And quhan hir sister in sic ply i' hir f and, For verray pietie scho began to greit,^^ Syne oonfort hir with wordis humbill and sweit. 1 Unleavened cakes. 2 fine bread. 3 jelly. * stole. B tickle. " till. ' butler, keeper of the spence. 8 lacking good counsel. ^ leisure. 10 scare, n sore dreading. 12 pang. is such plight. " weep. ' Quhy ly ye thus ? Ryse up, my sister deir. Cum to your meit, this perrell is over- past.' The uther answerit hir with hevie cheir, ' I may no eit, sa sair I am agast, I had lever thir fourtie dayis fast. With watter caill ^^ and to gnaw benis or peis, .60 Than all your feist in this dreid and diseis.' With fair tretie ^^ yit scho gart " hir upryse. And to the burde thay went and togidder sat; And seantlie had thay drunkin anis or twyse, Quheu in come Gib-Hunter, our jolie cat. And bad God speid. The burges up with that. And till the hole scho went as fyre of flint: Bawdronis 18 the uther be the bak hes hint.^' Fra fute to fute he kest hir to and fra, Quhylis up, quhylis doun, als cant ^^ as ony kid; 170 Quhylis wald he lat hir run under the stra, Quhylis wald he wink, and play with her bukheid.2i Thus to the selie mous greit pane he did, Quhill at the last, throw fortune and gude hap, Betuix ane burde ^ and the wall scho crap. And up in haist behind ane parralling ^ Scho clam so hie that Gilbert micht not get hir. Syne be the cluke^* thair craf telle can hing. Till he wes gane, hir cheir wes all the better. Syne doun scho lap quhen thair wes nane to let ^ hir, 180 And to the burges mous loud can scho cry: ' Fairweill, sister, thy feist heir I defy ! ' ^ ' Thy mangerie is myngit "" all with cair. Thy guse is gude, thy gansell 2* sour as gall; The subcharge of thy service is bot sair, So sail thow find efterwart na faill.^ I thank yone courtyne and yone perpall wall Of my defence now fra ane erewell beist. Almychtie God, keip me fra sic ane feist ! 16 very thin broth. 18 entreaty. " caused. 18 Puss. 1' seized. 2» playful. 21 hide-and-seek. 22 board. Bann. dressour. 23 partition. 24 claw. 26 hinder. 28 renounce. 27 Thy feast is mingled. !« sauce. 29 without doubt. Bann. may/all. ROBIN AND MAKIN 383 'Wer I into the kith^ that I come fra, 190 For Weill nor wo suld never cnmagaue.' With that scho tuke hir leif and f urth can ga, Quhylis throw the come, and quhylis throw the plane; Quhen scho wes f urth and fre, scho wes f ul fane, And merilie markit ^ unto the mure : I can not tell how ef tirwart ^ scho fure.^ Bot I hard say scho passit to hir den, Als warme as woU, suppose ^ it wes not greit, Full beiuly" stuffit, baith but and ben,^ 0£ beinis and nuttis, peis, ry, and quheit; Quhen ever scho list, scho had aneuoh to eit, 201 In quyet and eis, withoutin ony dreid; Bot to hir sisteris feist na mair scho yeid.' MORALITAS Friendis, ye may find, and ye will tak held, In to this f abill ane gude moralitie ; As fitchis myngit ^ ar with nobill seid, Swa intermynglit is adversitie And als troubill, and sum vexatioun, With eirthlie joy, swa that na estait is fre That ar not content of small possessioun, And namelie^" thay quhilk climmis up maist hie. 211 Blissit be sempill lyfe withoutin dreid, Blissit be sober feist in quietie: Quha hes aneuoh, of na mair hes he neid, Thocht it be lytill into quantitie. Greit aboundance and blind prosperitie Oftymes makis ane evill conclusioun; The sweitest lyfe, thairfoir, in this cuutrie Is sickerneSjii with small possessioun. Thy awin fyre, my friend, sa it be bot ane gleid,^^ 220 It warmis weill, and is worth gold to thee; And Solomon sayis, gif that thowwill reid, ' Under the hevin thair can not better be, Than ay be blyith and leif in honestie.' Quhairfoir I may conclude be this ressoun: Of eirthly joy it beris maist degre, Blyithnes in hart, with small possessioun.^' 1 native place. 2 hastened. ' Bannatyne, Char- teris and Harleian read wJeiVnAatre/ifer. 3 fared. 6 al- though. comfortably. ' both outer and inner room. 8 went. " vetches mixed. 10 especially. 11 security. 12 one coal. is The Harleian text has an additional stanza after line 219. ROBIN AND MAKIN RoBENE sat on gud grene hill, Kepand a flok of fe; ^^ Mirry Makyne said him till," ' Robene, thow rew^^ on me; I haif the luvit lowd and still, Thir yeiris two or thre; My dule in dern bot gif thow diU,!'' Doutless but dreid I de.' ^^ Rohene answerit, ' Be the rude,i' Nathing of lufe I knaw, 10 Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wid,*' Lo quhair thay raik on raw : ^^ Quhat hes marrit the in thy mude, Makyne, to me thow sohaw; Or quhat is lufe, or to be lude ? ^^ Fane wald I leir ^^ that law. ' At luvis lair ^* gif e thow will leir, Tak thair ane a, b, c ; Be heynd,^^ courtass, and fair of feir,^' Wyse, hardy, and fre; 20 So that no denger do the deir,'^' Quhat dule in dern thow dre ; ^^ Preiss the^ with pane at all poweir, Be patient and previe.' Robene answerit hir agane, ' I wait 'o nocht quhat is luve ; But I haif mervell in certane Quhat makis the this wanruf e : ^ The weddir is fair, and I am fane, My scheip gois haill aboif;^ 30 And ^ we wald play us in this plane, Thay wald us bayth reproif .' ' Robene, tak tent '* unto my taill, And wirk all as I reid. And thow sail haif my hairt all haill, Eik and my maidenheid. Sen God sendis bute for baill ^ And for murnyng remeid,^' In dern with the, bot gif I daill," Dowtles I am bot deid.' 40 ' Makyne, to morne this ilk a tyde,** And ye will meet me heir, — 16 to. 18 have pity. 1^ My secret grief unless thou assuage. is surely I die. " cross. 20 wood. 21 range in row. 22 loved. 23 learn. 21 lore. 26 gentle. 2« look. " daunt. 2b what woe in secret thou endure. 29 Exert thyself, so wot. SI unhappiness. " all together above, ss jj. si heed. S6 remedy for harm. so compensation. S7 Unless I deal in secret with thee, ss tomorrow this same time. 384 ROBERT HENRYSON Peraventure my scheip may gang besyd,' Quhill we liaif liggit ^ full neir; Bot mawgre haif I and I byd,* Fra thay begin to steir; ^ Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd; Makyn, than mak gud cheir.' ' Robene, thow reivis me roif ^ and rest; I luve bot the allane.' 50 'Makyne, adew, the sone gois west, The day is neir hand gaue.' ' Robene, in dule I am so drest, That lufe wilbe my bane.' * Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair evir thow list, For lemmau I lue nane.' 'Robene, I stand in sic a styll;" I sieht,^ and that full sair.' ' Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhyle ; At hame God gif I wair.' ^ 60 ' My huny, Robene, talk ane quhyle, Gif thow will do na mair.' ' Makyne, sum uthir man begyle, For hamewart I will fair.' Robene on his wayis went Als licht as leif of tre ; Mawkin murnit in hir intent,' And trowd him nevir to se. Robene brayd atour the bent; -^^ Than Mawkyne oryit on hie, 70 ' Now ma thow sing, for I am schenti ^^ Quhat alis lufe at me ? ' ^ Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill, Full wery eftir cowth weip. Than Robene in a f ul fair daill Assemblit all his scheip. Be that sum pairte of Mawkynis aill Outthrow his hairt cowd creip ; He fallowit hir fast thair till assaUl, And till hir tuke gude keip. 80 • Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne, A word for ony thing; For all my luve it sal be thyne, Withowttin depairting. All haill thy harte for till haif myne '' Is all my cuvating; My scheip to morne quhill ^* houris nyne Will neid of no keping.' 1 stray. ^ while we lie (have lain). 3 confounded be I if I abide. * stir. ^ bereavest me of quiet. 6 state. ' sigh. 8 God grant I were. ^ desire. 10 started across the moor. " lost. 12 What has love against me? i3 To have thy heart wholly mine, i' till. ' Robene, thow hes hard soung and say, In gestis and storeis auld, 90 " The man that will nocht quhen he may Sail haif nocht quhen he wald." I pray to Jesu every day Mot eik 1^ thair cairis cauld. That first preissis 1^ with the to play, Be firth," forrest, or fauld.' ^^ ' Makyne, the nicht ia soft and dry, The weddir is warme and fair. And the grene woid rycht neir us by To walk attour all quhair; ^^ 100 Thair ma na janglour 2" us espy, That is to lufe eontrair; Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I Unseue we ma repair.' ' Robene, that warld is all away And quyt brocht till ane end, And nevir agane thairto perfay ^^ Sail it be as thow weud;^ For of my pane thow maid it play. And all in vane I spend; ijo As thow hes done, sa sail I say, Murne on, I think to mend.' ' Mawkyne, the howp of all my heill,^ My hairt on the is sett, And evirmair to the be leill, Quhill I may leif but lett; 24 Nevir to faill, as utheris feill, Quhat grace that evir I gett.' 'Robene, with the I will nocht deill; Adew, for thus we mett.' 120 Malkyne went hame bl3rth annewche, Attour the holttis hair ; ^ Robene murnit, and Makyne lewcbe ; ^ Scho sang, he sichit^' sair; And so left him, bayth wo and wrewche,^' In dolour and in cair, Kepand his bird under a huche,^ Amangis the holtis hair. THE GARMENT OF GOOD LADIES Wald my gnd lady lufe me best, And wirk eftir my will, I suld ane garmond gndliest Gar mak hir body till.'" 15 increase, i" try. i? woodland, is fold. " To walk about everywhere. 20 gossip. 21 by my faith. K weened. " hope of all my health. '> without ceasmg. 25 Over the hoar hills. 2e laughed. 27 sighed. 28 woeful and wretched. 29 cliff, 20 Cause to be made for her body. THE GARMENT OF GOOD LADIES 38s Off he 1 honour suld be hir hud, Upoun hir heid to weir, Garneist with governance so gud, Na demyng auld hir deir.'' Hir sark ' suld be hir body nixt. Of ohestetie so quhyt, 10 With schame and dreid togidder mixt. The same suld be perfyt. Hir kirtill suld be of clene Constance, Lasit with lesum lufe,* The mailyeis of continuance ' For nevir to remufe. Hir gown suld be of gudliness, Weill ribband with renowne, PurfiUit ° with plesour in ilk place, Furrit with fyne fassoun.' lo Hir belt suld be of benignitie. About hir middill meit; 1 high. 2 No censure should injure her. ' shift, * Laced with lawful love. ^ eyelet-holes of persever- ance. > Adorned. ' fashion. Hir mantill of humilitie, To thoU ^ bayth wind and weit. Hir hat suld be of fair having,' And hir tepat '" of trewth; Hir patelet of gude pausing; " Hir hals ribbane ^ of rewth.^' Hir slevis suld be of esperance, To keip hir fra dispair; 30 Hir gluvis of gud govimance. To gyd hir fyngearis fair. Hir sohone " suld be of sickernes,^ In syne that scho nocht slyd; Hir hoiss of honestie, I ges, I suld for hir provyd. Wald scho put on this garmond gay, I durst sweir by my seill,i' That scho woir nevir grene nor gray That set" hir half so weiU. 40 s endure. ' behavior. " tippet. " Her ruff of good thought. 12 neck-ribbon. 13 pity. " shoes. 16 Bareness. " seal (?) happiness (?). " became. WILLIAM DUNBAR THE GOLDEN TARGE Rtght as the stern ^ of day begouth to schyne, Quhen gone to bed war Vesper and Luoyne, I raise, and by a rosere^ did me rest; Up sprang the goldyn oandill matutyue, With clere depurit hemes cristallyne, Glading the mery foulis in thair nest; Or Phebus was in purpur kaip ' revest Up raise the lark, the hevyns menstrale fyne. In May, in till a morow myrthfullest. Full angellike thir birdis sang thair houris ^ Within thair courtyns grene, in to thair bouris, II Apparalit quhyte and red, wyth blomes suete ; Anamalit was the felde wyth all colouris. The perly droppis schake in sUvir schouris, Quhill all in balme did branch and levis flete;« To part fra Phebus did Aurora grete,^ Hir cristall teris I saw hyng on the flouris, Quhilk he for lufe all drank up with his hete. For mirth of May, wyth skippis and wyth hoppis, The birdis sang upon the tender oroppis,' With curiouse note, as Venus chapell elerkis: 21 The rosis yong, new spreding of thair knop- War powderit brycht with hevinly beriall ' droppis, Throu hemes rede, bimyng as ruby sper- kis; The skyes rang for schoutyng of the larkis, The purpur hevyn ourscailit in silvir slop- pisi" Onrgilt the treis, branchis, leivis and barkis. I star. B rose-garden. » garment. * services. B float. 8 weep. ' tops. s buds. » beryl, 10 spangled in silrer doublet. Doun throu the ryoe^^ a ryvir ran wyth stremys. So lustily agayu thai lykand lemys,!^ That all the lake '^ as lamp did leme of licht, 30 Quhilk schadouit all about wyth twynkling glemis; That bewis " bathit war in seeund bemys Throu the reflex of Phebus visage brycht; On every syde the hegies raise on hicht,'* The bank was grene, the bruke was full of bremys,^^ The stanueris^' clere as stern in frosty nicht. The cristall air, the sapher firmament, The ruby skyes of the orient, Kest beriall hemes on emerant bewis grene; The rosy garth i' depaynt and redolent, 40 With purpm-, azure, gold, and goulis gent^' Arayed was, by dame Fflora the quene, So nobily, that joy was for to sene;^ The roeh ^ agayn the ryvir resplendent As low ^ enlumynit all the leves schene.^ Quhat throu the mery foulys armony, And throu the ryveris sounn that ran me by, On Fflorais mantUl I slepit as I lay, Quhare sone in to my dremes fantasy I saw approach agayn the orient sky, 50 A saill, als quhite as blossum upon spray, Wyth merse ^* of gold, brycht as the stem of day; Quhilk tendit to the land full lustily. As falcounn swift desyrouse of hir pray. And hard on burd^^ unto the blomyt medis, Amang the grene rispis ^ and the redis, Arrivit sche; quhar fro anonn thare lan- dis Ane hundreth ladyes, lusty in to wedis, II thickets, is in those pleasant gleams, is water. 1* boughs. 15 on high, m the fish bream. 1^ gravel on the bottom. is garden. " fine red. 20 see. 21 rock. 22 flame. =3 bright. 24 round-top on a mast. >5 aground. 2e grasses. THE GOLDEN TARGE 387 Als fresoh as flouris that in May up spre- dis, In kirtillis grene, withoutyn kelli or bandis ; 2 („ Thair brycht hairis hang gletering on the strandis In tressis olere, wyppit ' wyth goldyn thredis, With pappis ^ quhite, and middillis small as wandis. Disorive I wald, bot quho coud wele en- dyte How all the feldis wyth thai lilies quhite Depaynt war brycht, quhUk to the hevin did glete:^ Nouoht thou, [H]omer,als fair as thou coud wryte, For all thine ornate stilis so perfyte; Nor yit thou, TulUus, quhois lippis suete OfE rethorike did iu to termis flete : " 70 Your aureate tongis both bene all to lyte,'' For to compile that paradise complete. Thare saw I Nature, and [als dame] Venus quene. The fresch Aurora, and lady Flora schene, luno, AppoUo * and Proserpyna, Dyane the goddesse chaste of woddis grene. My lady Cleo, that help of Makaris' bene,^" Thetes, Pallas, and prudent Minerva, Fair feynit^^ Fortune, and lemand^ Lu- cina, Thir mychti quenis in cronnia mycht be sene, 80 Wyth bemys bUth, bricht as Lueifera. There saw I May, of myrthfuU monethis quene, Betwix Aprile and June, her sister i' schene. Within the gardying walking up and doun, Quham of the f oulis gladdith al bedene ; 1* Scho was full tender in hir yeris grene. Thare saw I Nature present hir a gounn Rich to behald, and nobil of renounn, OfE eviry hew that under the hevin that bene Depaynt, and broud" be gude propor- cioun. 90 1 caul, 2 fillets. 3 bound. * breasts. 6 sbine. B float in rhetorical terms. ^ too Inadequate. ^ Prob- ably for Latona. 9 poets. lo is. " tricky. 12 gleaming. 13 Plural. " In whom the birds rejoice all suddenly. ig embroidered. Full lustily thir ladyes all in fere ^^ Enterit within this park of most plesere, Quhare that I lay our helit " wyth levis ronk; The mery foulis, blisf ullest of chere, Salust 18 Nature, me thocht, on thair man- ere, And eviry blome on branch, and eke on bonk, Opnyt and spred thair balmy levis donk. Full low enclynyng to thair Quene so clere, Quham of thair nobill norising thay thonk. Syne ^^ to dame Flora, on the samyn wyse, loo Thay salu.se, and thay thank a thousand And to dame Venus, lufis mychti quene, Thay sang ballattis iu lufe, as was the gyse,2i With amourouse notis lusty to devise. As thay that had lufe in thair hertis grene ; Thair hony throtis, opnyt fro the splene,^ With werblis suete did perse the hevinly Quhill loud resownyt the firmament se- rene. Ane othir court thare saw I consequent, Cupide the king, wyth bow in handy bent, no And dredefiill arowis grundyn scharp and square; Thare saw I Mars, the god armypotent, AufuU andsterne, strong and corpolent; Thare saw I crabbit Saturn aid and haire,^^ His luke was lyke for to perturb the aire; Thare was Marcurius, wise and eloquent. Of rhethorike that faud the flouris faire; Thare was the god of gardingis, Priapus; Thare was the god of wildernes, Phanus; And lanus, god of entree delj^table; 120 Thare was the god of fludis, Neptunus; Thare was the god of wyndis, Eolus, With variand luke, rycht lyke a lord un- stable ; Thare was Bacus, the gladder of the table; Thare was Pluto, the elrich^^ incubus. In cloke of grene, his court usit no sable. i« in company. " covered. IS saluted. » after- wards. M times. 21 guise, fashion. 22 from the heart, i.e. joyously. a hoar. 21 elvish. 388 WILLIAM DUNBAR And eviry one of thir, in grene arayit, On harp or lute full merily thai playit, And sang ballettis with miehty notia clere : Ladyes to dance full sobirly assayit, 130 Endlang ^ the lusty ryvir so thai mayit ; Thair observance rycht hevynly was to here; Than crap I throu the levis, and drew nere, Quhare that I was richt sudayuly affrayit, All throu a luke, quhilk I have boucht full dere. And schortly for to speke, be lufis quene I was aspyit, scho bad hir archearis kene Go me arrest; and thay no time delayit; Than ladyes fair lete fall thair mantillis greu[e], With bowis big, in tressit hairis schene, 140 All sudaynly thay had a felde arayit; And yit rycht gretly was I noucht af- frayit, The party was so plesand for to sene, A wonder lusty bikkir ^ me assayit. And first of all, with bow in hand ybent. Come dame Beautee, rycht as soho wald me schent; ^ Syne folowit all hir dameselis yfere,^ With mony diverse aufull instrument, Vnto the pres; Fair Having wyth hir went, Fyne Portrature, Plesance, and lusty Chere. 150 Than come Resoun, with schelde of gold so clere, In plate and maille, as Mars armypotent, Defendit me that nobil chevallere. Syne tender Youth come wyth hir virgyns ying, Grene Innocence, and schamef uU Abaising, And quaking Drede, wyth humble Obe- dience; The Goldyn Targe harmyt thay nothing; Cnrage in tbame was noucht begonne to spring; Full sore thay dred to done a violence: Suete Womanhede I saw cum in pres- ence, 160 Of artilye ^ a warld sche did in bring, Servit wyth ladyes full of reverence. 8 harm. 1 along. ' together. 3 A wondrouB pleasant strife. & artillery. Scho led with hir Nurture and Lawlynes, Contenence,^ Pacience, Gude Fame, and Stedfastnes, Discretioun, Gentrise,'' and Considerauce, LeuefeU ^ Company, and Honest Besynes, Benigne Luke, Mylde Chere, and Sobirnes : All thir bure ganyeis^ to do me gre- vance ; But Resoun bure the Targe wyth sik con- stance, Thair scharp assayes mycht do no dures ^^ To me, for all thair awfuU ordynanoe. 171 Unto the pres persewit Hie Degre, Hir folowit ay Estate and Dignitee, Comparisoun, Honour, and Noble Array, Will, Wantonnes, Renoun, and Libertee, Richesse, Fredomm, and eke Nobilitee: Wit ye thay did thair baner hye display; A cloud of arowis as hayle schour lousit thay. And schot, quhill ^^ wastit was thair artilye, Syue went abak reboutit^^ of thair pray. 180 Quhen Venus had persavit this rebute, Dissymilance scho bad go mak persute, At all powere ^^ to perse the Goldyn Targe; And scho that was of doubilnes the rute Askit hir choise of archeris in refute.'^ Venus the best bad hir to wale ^^ at large ; Scho tuke Presence plioht ^^ anker of the barge, And Fair Callyng that wele a flayn " coud schute, And Cherising for to complete hir charge. Dame Hamelynes 1* soho tuke in com- pany, 190 That hardy was, and hende i' in archery, And brocht dame Beautee to the felde agayn; With all the choise of Venus chevalry Thay come, and bikkerit ^^ unabaisitly. The schour of arowis rappit on as rayn ; Perilouse Presence, that mony syre has slayne, The batai.l broucht on bordour^' hard us by, The salt^ was all the sarar suth to sayn. ^ Kestraint. ^ Gentleness. ^ Lawful. " these bore arrows, m harm, n till. 12 balked. '3 By all means, i* as a (last) resort (?) 15 ciioose. 1" sheet- anchor, chief anchor. i^ arrow. le Homeliness, u skilled. '» fought, 'i on the beach. '^ assault. THE GOLDEN TARGE 389 Tbik was the schote of grandyn dartis kene; Bot Resoun with the Scheld of Gold so schene 200 Warlyi defendit, quho so evir assayit; The auf ull stoure ^ he manly did sustene, Quhill^ Presence kest a pulder^ in his ene, And than as a drunkyn man he all for- vayit : * Quhen he was blynd the fule wyth hym thay playit, And banyst hym amang the bewis grene ; That sory sicht me sudaynly afErayit. Than was I woundit to the deth wele nere, And yoldyn as a wofull prisonere To lady Beautee in a moment space; 210 Me thoucht seho semyt lustiar of chere Efter that Kesoun tynt^ had his eyne clere, Than of before, and lufliare of face : Quhy was thou blyndit, Resoun ? quhi, allaee ! And gert ' ane hell my paradise appere, And mercy seme, quhare that I fand no grace. Dissymulance was besy me to sile,' And Fair Calling did oft upoun me smyle, And Cherising me fed wyth wordis fair; New Acquyntanoe embracit me a quhile, 220 And favouryt me, quhill men mycht ga ane myle, Syne tuk hir leve, I saw hir nevir mare : Than saw I Dangere toward me repair, I coud eschew hir presence be no wyle. On syde scho lukit wyth ane fremyt fare.' And at the last departing coud hir dresse,!" And me delyverit unto Hevynesse For to remayne, and scho in cure me tuke. Be this the Lord of Wyndis, wyth wodenes,^! God Eolus, his bugill blew I gesse; 230 That with the blast the levis all to-schuke. And sudaynly, in the space of a luke. All was hyne ^ went, thare was bot wilder- nes, Thare was no more bot birdis, bank, and bruke. 1 Warily. 2 attack. ' Till. ' powder. 5 went astray. " lost. ' caused. s deceive. * strange look. " prepared herself 11 madness. 12 hence. In twynkling of ane eye to schip thai went, And swyth 1^ up saile unto the top thai stent," And with swift course atour ^^ the flude thay frak;!' Thay fyrit gimnis wyth powder violent. Till that the reke ^' raise to the firmament. The roekis all resownyt wyth the rak,^* For reird^' it semyt that the raynbow brak; 241 Wyth spreit afErayde apon my fete I sprent ^^ Amang the clewis,^^ so carefull was the crak. And as I did awake of my suev[n]ing,22 The joyfuU birdis merily did syng For myrth of Phehua tendir hemes schene ; Suete war the vapouris, soft the morowing, Halesum the vale, depaynt wyth floiiiis yiug; The air attemperit, sobir, and amene;^ In quhite and rede was all the felde be- sene,2* 250 Throu Naturis nobil fresche anamalyng, In mirthf ull May, of eviry moneth queue. O reverend Chaucere, rose of rethoris all, As in oure tong ane flour imperiall. That raise in Britane evir, quho redis rycht. Thou beris of makaris the tryumph riaU; Thy fresch anamalit termes celicall ^ This mater coud illumynit have full brycht. Was thou noucht of oure Inglisoh all the lyoht. Surmounting eviry tong terrestriall, 260 Alls fer as Mayes morow dois myd- nycht ? O morall Gower, and Ludgate laureate, Your sugurit lippis and toungis aureate. Bene to oure eris cause of grete delyte; Your angel mouthis most mellifluate Our rude langage has clere illumynate. And faire our-gilt oure speehe, that im- perfyte Stude, or your goldyn pennis schupe^e to wryte ; This He before was bare, and desolate Off rethorike, or lusty fresch endyte. 270 " swiftly. i« hoisted. « over. u hastened. " reek, smoke. is noise. w uproar. 20 sprang. 2" gorges. 22 dreaming. 2' agreeable. 24 dressed. 25 celestiaL 26 shaped, prepared. 39° WILLIAM DUNBAR Thou lytill Quair,' be evir obedient, Humble, subject, and symple of enteut. Before the face of eviry conuyng wicht; I knaw quhat thou of rethorike hes spent ; Off all hir lusty rosis redolent Is none in to thy garland sett on hicht ; Eschame thar of, and draw the out of sicbt, Rude is thy wede, disteynit, bare, and rent, Wele auoht thou be afiret ^ of the licht. THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE QuHEN Merehe was with variand windis past And Appryll had, with hir silver schouris, Tane leif at Nature with ane orient blast ; And lusty May, that muddir is of flouris. Had maid the birdis to begyn thair houris ^ Amang the tendir odouris reid and quhyt, Quhois armony to heir it wes delyt; In bed at morrow, sleiping as I lay. Me thocht Aurora, with hir cristall ene. In at the window lukit by the day, lo And halsit ^ me, with visage paill and grene ; On quhois hand a lark sang fro the spleue,'' ' Awalk, luvaris, out of your slomering, Se how the lusty morrow dois up spring.' Me thocht fresche May bef oir my bed up- stnde. In weid depaynt of mony diverss hew, Sobir, benyng, and full of mansuetude,' In bryebt atteir of flouris forgit new, Hevinly of color, quhyt, reid, broun and blew, 19 Balmit in dew, and gilt with Phebus bemys, Quhill all the houss illmuynit of hirlemys.' ' Slugird,' soho said, * awalk ^ annone for schame. And in my honour sum thing thou go wryt; The lork hes done the mirry day proclame. To raiss up luvaris with confort and delyt, Yit nocht incressis thy curage to indyt, Quhois hairt sum tyme hes glaid and blis- fuU bene, Sangis to mak imdir the levis grene.' I book. 2 afraid. ^ prayers, * greeted. " from the heart, merrily. 6 benignity. ' gleams. « awake. • Quhairto,' quod I, ' sail I upryss at mor- row. For in this May few birdis herd I sing ? 30 Thai haif moir cause to weip and plane thair sorrow. Thy air it is noeht holsum nor benyng;' Lord Eolus dois in thy sessone ring;!" So busteous 11 ar the blastis of his home, Amang thy bewis '^ to walk I haif forborne.' With that this lady sobirly did smyll, And said, ' Upryss, and do thy observ- ance; Thow did promyt, in Mayis lusty quhyle, For to discryve ^^ the Ross of most ple- sance. Go se the birdis how thay sing and dance, lUumynit our" with orient skyis brycht, 41 Annamyllit riohely with new asur lycht.' Quhen this wes said, depairtit scho, this quene. And enterit in a lusty gairding gent; And than, methocbt, full hestely besene,^* In serk and mantill [efter hir] I went Into this garth,!^ most dulce " and redo- lent Off herb and flour, and tendir plantis sueit, And grene levis doing of dew doun fleit.^* The purpour sone, with tendir bemys reid, In orient bricht as angell did appeir, 51 Throw goldin skyis putting up his heid, Quhois gilt tressis schone so wondir cleir, That all the world tuke confort, fer and • neir. To luke upone his fresche and blisfull face, Doing all sable fro the hevynnis chace.^' And as the blisfull sonne of cherarchy^" The fowlis song throw confort of the licht ; The birdis did with oppin vocis cry, ' O, luvaris fo, away thou dully nycht, 60 And welcum day that confortis every wicht ; Haill May, haill Flora, haill Aurora schene, Haill princes Natur, haill Venus luvis quene.' Dame Nature gaif ane inhibitioun thair To ferss Neptunus, and Eolus the bawld, ' benign. 10 reign. " rude. 12 boughs. ^3 de- scribe. " over. 15 hastily clad, le yard. " sweet. 18 leaves swimming with dew. is doing chase = chasing. M sound at the hierarchy (of angels). THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE 391 Nooht to perturb the wattir nor the air, And that no schouris, nor blastis cawld, EfEray snld flouris nor fowlis on the fold; ^ Seho bad eik Juno, goddis of the sky, That scho the hevin stdd keip amene ^ and dry. 70 Scho ordand eik that every bird and beist Befoir hir hienes suld annone oompeir,^ And every flour of vertew, most and leist, And every herb be feild fer and neir, As thay had wont in May, fro yeir to yeir, To hir thair makar to mak obediens, Full law inclynnand with all dew reverens. With that annone scho send the swyft Ro To bring in beistis of all conditioun ; The restles Suallow commandit scho also To feche all fowll of small and greit re- nown ; 81 And to gar * flouris compeir ^ of all f as- soun Full craftely conjurit scho the Yarrow, Quhilk did furth swirk' als swift as ony arrow. All present wer in twynkling of ane e, Baith beist, and bird, and flour, befoir the queue, And first the Lyone, gretast of degre, Was callit thair, and he, most fair to sene, With a full hardy contenance and kene, Befoir Dame Natur come, and did inolyne, With visage bawld, and curage leonyne. 91 This awf uU beist full terrible wes of cheir, Persing of luke, and stout of counte- nance, Kycht strong of corpis, of fassoun fair, but feir,' Lusty of schaip, lyoht of deliverance,' Seid of his cullour, as is the ruby glance; On feild of gold he stude full myohtely, With flour delycis siroulit lustely.* This lady liftit up his cluvis 1° cleir, 99 And leit him listly ^i lene upon hir kne, And crownit him with dyademe full deir, Ofif radyous stonis, most ryall for to se ; Saying, ' The King of Beistis mak I the, I earth. 2 pleasant. 3 appear, * make. <> appear, 8 dart. 7 without peer. a motion. B This is the blazoning of the royal arms of Scotland. 10 claws. 11 pleasantly. And the cheif protector in woddis and schawls; '^ Onto thi leigis go furth, and keip the lawis. 'Exerce justice with mercy and conscience. And lat no small beist suffir skaith ^^ na skomis Of greit beistis that bene of moir pis- cence ; " Do law elyk ^ to aipis and unicornis. And lat no bowgle,^^ with his busteous hornis, no The meik pluoh ox" oppress, for all his pryd, Bot in the yok go peciable him besyd.' Quhen this was said, with noyis and soun of joy, All kynd of beistis in to thair degre, At onis cryit lawd, ' Vive le Roy ! ' And till his feit fell with humUite, And all thay maid him homege and fewte;!' And he did thame ressaif with princely laitis,i9 Qnhois noble yre is proceir prostratis.^ Syne crownit scho the Egle King of Fowlis, And as steill dertis scherpit scho his pen- nis,2i i2t And bawd him be als just to awppis ^ and owlis. As unto pacokkis, papingais,^ or cren- nis,24 And mak a law for wycht ^ fowlis and for wrennis ; And lat no fowll of ravyne do efferay,^ Nor devoir birdis bot his awin pray. Than callit scho all flouris that grew on feild, Discimyng all thair fassionis and ef- feiris,^^ Upone the awfull Thrissill scho beheld, And saw him kepit with a, busche of speiris; 130 Concedring him so able for the weiris, A radius oroun of rubeis scho him gaif. And said, ' In feild go furth, and fend the laif ; 28 IS groves. " harm. » puissance. •» alike. " wild ox. " plough ox. IS fealty. " gestures. "> Perhaps " to spare the prostrate," ^ooeir for »ro- teir, from protiger, (Gregor's note.) 21 quills. !2 curlews. 2> parrots. 2< cranes. «5 powerful. " affright. " qualities. " defend the rest. 392 WILLIAM DUNBAR ' And, sen thow art a king, thou be dis- creit; Herb without vertew thou hald nooht of sic pryoe As herb of vertew and of odor sueit; And lat no nettill vyle, and full of vyce, Hir fallow 1 to the gudly flour delyce; Nor latt no wyld weid, full of churlioheuess, Compair hir till the lilleis nobilness. 140 'Nor hald non udir flour in sic denty'* As the f resche Ross, of cuUour reid and quhyt;8 For gife thow dois, hurt is thyne honesty, Conciddering that no flour is so perfyt, So full of vertew, plesans and delyt, So full of blisfull angeilik bewty, Imperiall birth, honour and dignite.' Than to the Ross scho turnyt hir visage, And said, ' O lusty doohtir most benyng, Aboif the lilly, iUustare of lynnage,^ 150 Fro the stok ryell rysing f resche and ying, But ony spot or macull doing spring; ^ C um, bio wme of joy, with jemis to be cround, For our the laif ^ thy bewty is renownd.' A coistly croun, with olaref eid stonis brycht, This cumly queue did on hir held incloiss, Quhill all the land illumynit of the licht; Quhairfoir me thocht all flourls did reiois. Crying attonis,' ' Haill, be thou richest Ross! Haill, hairbis empryce, haill, freschest quene of flouris! 160 To the be glory and honour at all hourisi ' Thane all the birdis song with voce on hicht, Quhois mirthfull soun wes mervelus to heir; The mavyss song, ' Haill, RoisB, most riche and richt, That dois up flureiss undir Phebus speir ; Haill, plant of yowth, haill, princes doch- tir deir, Haill, blosome breking out of the blud roy- all, Quhois pretius vertew is imperiall.' > fellow, join herself. ' estimation. s An allusion to the union of the houses of York and Lancaster by the marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV. * Hinting at the efforts made to marry James IV to a French princess. ^ Springing without stain. over the rest. ' at once. The merle scho sang, ' Haill, Roiss of most delyt, 169 Haill, of all flouris quene and soverane; ' The lark scho song, ' Haill, Roiss, both reid and quhyt, Most plesand flour, of michty cullouris twane ; ' The nyehtingaill song, ' Haill, Naturis sufEragene, In bewty, nurtour and every nobilness, In riche array, renown and geutilness.' The commoun voce upraiss of birdis small, Apone this wyss, ' O blissit be the hour That thow wes chosin to be our principall; Welcome to be our princes of honour, 179 Our perle, our plesans and our paramour. Our peax,^ our play, our plane felicite, Chryst the conserf frome all adversite.' Then all the birdis song with sic a schout. That I annone awoilk quhair that I lay. And with a braid ^ I turnyt me about To se this court; hot all wer went away: Than up I lenyt, halflingis in affrey,^" And thuss I wret, as ye haif hard to for- row,^^ Off lusty May upone the nynt morrow. LAMENT FOR THE MAKERS ^^ QUHEN HE WES SEIK I THAT in heill ^^ wes and glaidues, Am trublit now with gret seiknes, And f eblit with infirmitie ; Timor Mortis conturbat me.'^ Our plesance heir is all vane glory. This fals warld is bot transitory. The fleshche is brukle,!^ the Fend is sle;W Timor Mortis conturbat me. The stait of man dois change and vary, 9 Now sound, now seik, now blyth, now sary, Now dansand mirry, now like to dee; Timor Mortis conturbat me. No stait in erd " heir standis sickir ^^ As with the wynd wavis the wickir," [So] wavis this warldis vanite; Timor Mortis conturbat me. » peace. • start. 10 half in affright. " before, w Poets. 1' health. " The fear of death troubles me. 16 frail. 18 sly. 1' earth, is secure. " wicker, twig. LAMENT FOR THE MAKERS 393 Onto the ded ^ gois all estatis, Priuois, prelotis, and potestatis, Baitb riehe and pur of all degre; Timor Mortis conturbat me. lo He takis the knychtis in to feild, Anarmit under helme and soheild; Victour he is at all melle ; ^ Timor Mimor conturbat me. That Strang unmercifuU tyrand Tak[is] on the moderis breist sowkand The bab, full of benignite; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He takis the campion in the stour,' The capitane elosit in the tour, 30 The lady in bour full of bewte; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He spairis no lord for his pisoenoe,* Na clerk for his intelligence; His awfuU strak may no man fie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Art, magicianis, and astrologgis, Eethoris, logicians, and theologgis, Thame helpis no eonclusionis sle; Timor Mortis conturbat me. 40 In medicyne the most practicianis, Lechis, surrigianis, and phisiciauis, Thame self fra ded may not supple; ^ Timor Mortis conturbat me. I see that makaris amang the laif ^ Playis heir ther pageant, syne gois to graif;' Sparit is nocht ther faculte; ' Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes done petuously devour, The noble Chaucer, of makaris flouir, jo The Monk of Bery,' and Gower, all thre; Timor Mortis conturbat me. The gude Syr Hew of Eglintoun, Ettrik,!" Heryot, et Wyntoun," He hes tane out of this cuntre; Timor Mortis conturbat me. 1 death. ^ contest. * the champion in the battle. * puissance. ^ defend. ^ rest. ' grave. s profession. • i.e., Lydgate. 10 So Bannatyne MS. ; Maifcland MS. et eih. »i For all these poets see the notes to the Scottish Text Soc. edition. That scorpioun fell hes done inf ek ^^ Maister Johne Clerk, and James Afflek, Fra balat making and trigide ; Timor Mortis conturbat me. 60 Holland and Barbour he has berevit; Allaee! that he nought with us levit Sohir Mungo Lokert of the Le; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Clerk of Tranent eik he has tane. That maid the anteris ^^ of Gawane ; Schir Gilbert Hay eudit has he; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He has Blind Hary, and Sandy Traill Slaine with his sohour of mortall haill, 70 Quhilk Patrik Johnestoun myght nought fle; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes reft Merseir his endite,^^ That did in luf so lifly write. So schort, so quyk, of sentence hie; Timor Mortis conturbat me. He hes tane RouU of Aberdene, And gentill Roull of CorstorphIn[e]; Two bettir fallowis did no man se ; Timor Mortis conturbat me. 80 In Dunfermelyne he has done roune " With Maister Robert Henrlsoun; Schir Johne the Ros enbrast ^* hes he ; Timor Mortis conturbat me. And he has now tane, last of aw," Gud gentill Stobo and Qnintyne Schaw, Of quham all wichtis hes pete; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Gud Maister Walter Kennedy In poynt of dede lyis veraly, 90 Gret reuth it wer that so suld be; Timor Mortis conturbat me. Sen he has all my brether tane, He will naught lat me lif alane, On forse I man^^ his nyxt pray be; Timor Mortis conturbat me. i» has stricken and withheld. la adventurea. " writing. " whispered. " embraced. " all. I! must. 394 WILLIAM DUNBAR Sen for the deid remeid is non, Best is that we for dede dispone,^ Eftir our deid that lif may we ; Timor Mortis contuibat me. loo THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS Off Februar the fyittene nycht, Full lang befoir the dayis lycht, I lay in till a trance; And then I saw baith Hevin and Hell: Me thocht, amangis the feyndis fell, Mahoun ^ gart cry ane dance Off sohrewis ^ that wer nevir schrevin, Aganiss the feist of Fasternis evin, ^ To mak thair observance ; He bad gallandis ga graith a gyiss,^ lo And kast up gamountis ^ in the skyiss, That last came out of France. ' Lat se,' quod he, ' now quha begynnis ? ' With that the fowll Sevin Deidly Synnis Begowth to leip at anis. And first of all in dance wes Pryd, With hair wyld ' bak and bonet on syd, Lyk to mak vaistie wanis ; ' And round abowt him, as a quheill, Hang all in rumpillis to the heill 20 His kethat^ for the nanis: ^^ Mony prowd tnimpour " with him trippit Throw skaldand fyre, ay as thay skippit Thay gyrnd ^^ with hiddouss granis.i' Heilie harlottis on hawtane wyiss " Come in with mony sindrie gyiss,^^ Bot yit luche ^^ nevir Mahoun ; Quhill 1^ preistis come in with bair schevin nekkis. Than all the feyndis lewche, and maid gekkis,^' Blak Belly and Bawsy Brown.^^ 30 Than Yre come in with sturt 2" and stryf e ; His hand wes ay upoim his knyfe, He brandeist lyk a beir : ^' Bostaris, braggaris, and barganeris,^^ Eftir him passit in to pairis. All bodin in feir of weir; ^^ 1 dispose. 2 Mahomet, i.e., the Devil. a raBCals, * the eve of Lent. 5 gallants prepare a masquerade. 6 gambols. ^ combed, s desolate dwellings. ^ cas- sock. 10 nonce. ^^ deceiver. 12 snarled, is groans. 1* Proud rascals in haughty fashion. is costume. 18 laughed. i' Till. is mocks. i^ Two popular devils. 20 trouble. 21 swaggered like a bear. 22 quarrellers. 23 arrayed in the likeness of war. In jakkis ^^ and stryppis ^ and bonettis of steill, Thair leggis wer chenyeit ^ to the belli, Ffrawart wes thair affeir: ^ Sum upoun udir with brand is beft,^^ 40 Sum jaggit ^ uthiris to the heft, With knyvis that scherp cowd scheir. Nixt in the dance followit Invy, Fild full of feid ^ and fellony. Hid malyce and dispyte ; Ffor pryvie hatrent '^ that tratour trymlit. Him followit mony freik ^^ dissymlit, With f enyeit wirdis ^^ quhyte ; And flattereris in to menis facis. And bakbyttaris in secreit placis 50 To ley 8« that had delyte; And rownaris of f als lesingis ; ^ Allace! that courtis of noble kingis Of thame can nevir be quyte. Nixt him in dans come Cuvatyce, Rute of all evill and grand of vyce, That nevir cowd be content; Catyvis, wrechis, and okkeraris,^^ Hud-pykis, hurdaris, and gadderaris" All with that warlo ^* went: 60 Out of thair throttis thay schot on udder ^ Hett moltin gold, me thocht a fudder,^° As fyreflaweht ^^ maist fervent; Ay as thay tomit^^ thame of schot, Ffeyndis flld thame new up to the thrott With gold of allkin prent.*^ Syne Sweimes,^^ at the seeound bidding. Come lyk a sow out of a midding, Full slepy wes his grunyie: ^^ Mony sweir bumbard belly huddroun,^' 70 Mony sliite daw ^' and slepy duddroun.^* Him serwit ay with sounyie.^^ He drew thame f urth in till a chenyie,™ And Belliall, with a brydill renyie,^i Evir lascht thame on the lunyie : ^^ z« corselets. 2b strips. But Bannatyne MS. may be read scryppis, bags. Neither is satisfactory. 28 covered with chain-mail. 27 Wild was their behavior. 28 beat. 29 stabbed. '» feud. " hatred. 32 person. ss words. 8* lie. 36 whisperers of false lies. 38 usurers. 37 Misers, hoarders, and gatherers. 38 wizard. 3b others. *3 great quantity (lit. 128 lbs.). " wildfire. " emptied. 43 all kinds of coinage. 44 sloth. 4b visage. 46 lazy, tun-bellied sloven (Chalmers). 47 idle rogue. 48 drab. 42 care. so chain. 3i rein. '•2 loin. THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE, OLD DUNBAR 395 In dance thay war so slaw of feit, Thay gaif tliame in the fyre a heit, And maid thame quicker of counyie.^ Than Lichery, that lathly corss, Berand ^ lyk a bagit horss,^ 8c And idilness did him leid; Thair wes with him ane ugly sort,^ Full mony stynkand fowU tramort,^ That had in syn bene deid. Than the fowll monstir Glutteny, Off wame** unsasiable and gredy, To dance he did him dress. Him f ollowit mony fowll drunckart, With can and coUep,' cop and quart, In surffett and excess; Full mony a waistless wallydrag,^ With wamiss unweildable,^ did furth wag, In ereische ^^ that did incress ; 99 ' Drynk ! ' ay thay cryit, with mony a gaip,^^ The feyndis gaif thame halt leid to laip,^^ Thair leveray ^' wes na less. Na menstrallis playit to thame but dowt; Ffor glemen thair wer haldin owt, Be day, and eik by nycht. Except a menstrall that slew a man, Swa till his heretage he wan. And entirt be brief of rieht. Than eryd Mahoun for a Heleand pad- yane ; '* Syne ran a feynd to feche Makfadyaue, no Ffar northwart in a nuke;i^ Be he the eorrenoch ^^ had done schout, Erschemen" so gadderit him abowt. In Hell grit rowme thay tuke. Thae tarmegantis,^' with tag and tatter, FfuU lowde in Ersche '^ begowth to clatter. And rowp lyk revin and ruke ; ^ The Devill sa devit ^' wes with thair yell. That in the depest pot of Hell He smorit^ thame with smuke. uo 1 apprehension. 2 snorting, roaring. 3 stallion (?) Maitland reads bewkit, balky. * lot. 6 corpse. 8 belly. 7 mug. 8 sloven. 9 huge bellies, w grease. 11 gape. 12 hot lead to lap. i3 livery, reward. » Highland pageant, is nools, corner, i" coronach, dirge. i' Ersemen, Gaels from the Highlands. 18 termacants, fiends. i^ Gaelic. 20 croak like raven and rook. 21 deafened. 2S smothered. THE PETITION OF THE GRAY HORSE, OLD DUNBAR Now luBFeris cummis with largess lowd,^' Quhy sould not palfrayis thane be prowd, Quhen gillettis wil be schomd and schrond,^^ That ridden ar baith with lord and lawd?^ Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yaldl^s Quhen I was young and into ply,^' And wald cast gammaldis ^* to the sky, I had beine bocht in realmes by,'^' Had I cousentit to be sauld. 10 Schir, lett it nevir in tonn be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! With gentill horss quhen I wald knyp,^'' Thane is thair laid on me ane quhip. To colleveris '^ than man I skip. That scabbit ar, hes cruik^^ and cald. Schir, lett it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! Thocht in the stall I be nocht clappit. As cursouris that in silk beine trappit, 20 With ane new honss '* I wald be happit, Aganis tliis Crysthinmes for the cald. Schir, lett it nevir in town be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! Suppois I war ane aid yaid aver,^^ Schott furth our clewch^^ to pull the clever,^' And had the strenthis of all Strenever, I wald at Youll be housit and staid. Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald. That I suld be ane Yuillis yald 1 30 I am ane auld horss, as ye knaw. That evir in duill dois drug ^ and draw; Great court liorss puttis me fra the staw,^* To fang the fog be firthe and fald.'^ Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! I haif run lang furth in the feild, On pastouris that ar plane and peild;*" I myeht be now tein ^^ in for eild,^^ 23 lovers come with plenteous generosity. 24 fillies will be protected and dressed. 26 lewd, i. e., common. 26 Tule jade, i. e., having nothing new to wear for Christmas, hence unfortunate, disgraced. 27 in condition. 28 gambols. 29 near. 80 eat grass. 31 coal-heavers, or better coal-aivers, colliers' horses. 32 are lame. 33 housing. 34 spent jade. 38 Thrust out into the rough ravine. 36 clover. a' drag. SB stall. 8« To crop the moss by field and fold. 48 stripped. 4i taken. 42 age. 39^ WILLIAM DUNBAR My beikLs ar spruning he ' and bauld. 40 Sohir, latt it nevir in toun be tald, That I sould he ane Yuillis yald ! My mane is turned in to quhyt, And thairof ye haff all the wyt ! ^ Quhen uther horss bad bran to byt I gat hot griss,' cuype '' gif I wald. Sohir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald. I was nevir dautit ' into stabell, My lyf hes bene so miserable, 50 My hyd to offer I am abill For evill sohom strae that I reive wald.^ Sohir, latt it nevir in toun be tald, That I sould be ane Yuillis yald 1 And yitt, suppois my thrift ^ be thyne, Gif that I die your aucht * within, Latt nevir the soutteris ^ have my skin. With uglie guraes to be gnawin.^" Schir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! 60 The court hes done my curage cuill,^i And maid me [ane] forriddiu muill; ^^ Yett, to weir trappouris '' at this Yuill, I wald be spurrit at everie spald.'^ Sohir, latt it nevir in toun be tald That I sould be ane Yuillis yald ! RESPONSIO REGIS Ef tir our wrettingis, thesaurer,^' Tak in this gray horss, Auld Dunbar, Quhilk in my aucht with sohervioe trew In lyart ^^ changeit is in hew. 70 Gar howss" him now aganis this Yuill, And busk ^' him lyk ane beschopis muill. For with my hand I have iudost To pay quhat evir his trappouris cost. THE DREGY OF DUNBAR MADE TO KING JAMES THE FIFTH BEING IN STIRLING We that ar heir in hevins glory, To yow that ar in purgatory, Commendis us on our hairtly wyiss; I mene we folk in parradyis, 1 My eye-teeth are projecting high. 2 blame. ' grasB. * bite. E petted. " ill-liept(?) straw that I would take eagerly. ' earnings. ^ in your possession. " shoe- makers. 10 gnawed (for softening and tanning), n has cooled my spirit. 12 over-ridden mule. 12 trappings. " joint. " treasurer. " To grey. 1' clothe. " deck. In Edinburcht with all mirriuess, To yow of Strivilling in distress, Quhair nowdir ^^ pleasance nor delyt is, For pety thus ane Apostill wrytis. O ! ye hereraeitis and hankersaidilis,^" That takis your pennance at your tablis, 10 And eitis iiooht meit restorative, Nor drynkis no wyn oonfortative, Bot aill, and that is thyn and small : With few coursis into your hall, But ^' cumpany of lordis and knyohtis, Or ony uder 22 gudly wichtis, Solitar walkand your allone, Seing no thing bot stok and stone; Out of your panefull purgatory. To bring yow to the bliss of glory, jo Off Edinburgh the mirry toun We sail begyn ane cairfull soun; Ane dergy ^s devoit and meik, The Lord of bliss doing beseik ^* Yow to delyver out of your noy,^ And bring yow sone to Edinburgh ioy, For to be mirry amang us; And sa the dergy begynis thuss. LECTIO PRIMA The Fader, the Sone, and Haly Gaist, The mirthful! Mary virgene chaist, 30 Of angellis all the ordouris nyne, And all the hevinly court devyne, Sone bring yow fra the pyne and wo Of Strivilling, every court-manis fo, Agane to Edinburghis ioy and bliss, Quhair wirschep, welth, and weilfar is, Pley, plesance, and eik honesty r Say ye amen, for cheritie. RESPONSIO, TU AUTEM DOMINE Tak consolatioun in yonr pane. In tribulatioun tak consolatioun, 40 Out of vexatioun cum hame agane, Tak consolatioun in your pane. JUBE DOMINE BENEDICERE Oute of distress of Strivilling toun To Edinburcht bliss, God mak yow boun.''' LECTIO SECUNDA Patriarchis, profeitis, and appostillis deir, Confessouris, virgynis, and marteris cleir. And all the saitt^ celestiall, Devotely we upotm thame call, w neither. 20 hermits and anchorites. 21 without. 22 other. 21 dirge. 2* beseeching. 25 amioy, paiu. 2fl ready. 27 court. THE BALLAD OF KIND KITTOK 397 That sone out of your panis fell, Ye may in hevin heir with us dwell, 50 To eit swan, cran, pertrik, and plever,i And every fiaehe that swymis in rever; To drynk with ua the new fresohe wyne, That grew upoun the rever of Ryne, Ffresche fragrant clairettis out of France, Of Angerss and of Orliance, With mony ane courss of grit dyntie : ^ Say ye amen, for cheritie. RESPONSORIUM, TU AUTEM DOMINE God and Sanct Jeill ^ heir yow convoy Baith sone and weill, God and Sanct Jeill, To sonce and aeill,'' solace and joy, 61 God and Sanct Geill heir yow convoy. Out of Strivilling panis fell, In Edinburght ioy sone mot ye dwell. LECTIO TERTIA We pray to all the Sanctis of hevin, That ar aboif the sterris sevin, Yow to deliver out of your pennance. That ye may sone play, sing, and dance Heir in to Edinbureht and mak gude cheir, Quhair welth and weilfair is, but weir; ^ 70 And I that dois your panis discryve ^ Thinkis for to vissy ' yow belyve Nocht in desert with yow to dwell, Bot as the angell Sanct Gabriell Dois go betwene fra heviris glory To thame that are in purgatory, And in thair tribulatioun To gif thame eonsolatioun, And sohaw thame quhen thair panis ar past, Thay sail till hevin cum at last; 80 And how nane servis " to half sweitness That nevir taistit bittirness, And thairfoir how suld ye considdir Of Edinbureht bliss, quhen ye cum hiddir, Bot gif 1" ye taistit had bef oir Of Strivilling toun the panis soir; And thairfoir tak in patience Your pennance and your abstinence. And ye sal cum, or Yule begyn. Into the bliss that we ar in; 90 Quhilk grant the glorins Trinitie ! Say ye amen, for cheritie. RESPONSORIUM Cum hame and dwell no moir in Strivilling; Frome hiddouss hell cum hame and dwell, 1 partridf^e and plover. ^ daintiness. 3 Giles, * abundance and happiness. b without doubt. 9 de- scribe. ' visit. 8 Boon. ' deserves. ^^ unless. Quhair flsche to sell is non bot spirling; ^^ Cum hame and dwell no moir in Strivilling. Et ne uos inducas in temptationem de Strivilling: Sed libera nos a malo illius. Bequiem Edinburgi dona eijs, Domine, Et lux ipsius luceat eijs. loo A porta tristitie de Strivilling, Erue, Domine, animas et corpora eorum. Credo gustare statim viuum Edinburgi, In villa viventium. Requiesoant Edinburgi. Amen. Domine, exaudi orationem meam, Et clamor mens ad te veniat. Deus qui iustos et corde humiles Ex omni eorum tribulatione liberare digna- tus es. Libera famulos tuos apud villam de Stir- ling versantes no A penis et tristitijs eiusdem, Et ad Edinburgi gaudia eos perducas, Vt requiesoat Strivilling. Amen. Heir endis Dunbaris Dergy to the King^ bydand ^* to tang in Stirling. THE BALLAD OF KIND KITTOK My Gudame wes a gay wif, bot scho wes rycht gend,^' Scho duelt furth fer in to France, apon Falkland fellis; Thay callit her Kynd Kittok, quhasa hir Weill kend:" Scho wes like a caldrone crake '^ cler under kellis;W Thay threpit" that scho deit of thrist, and maid a gud end. Efter hir dede,i* scho dredit" nought in hevin for to duell; And sa to hevin the hieway dreidless scho wend, Yit scho wanderit, and yeid by 2" to ane el- riche^^ well. Scho met thar, as I wene, Ane ask 22 rydand on a snaill, lo And cryit, ' Ourtane^s frtUow, haill ! ' And raid ane inche behind the taill, Till it wes neir evin. >■ sprats. 12 dwelling. " genteel. » knew. » pot-hook. » head-dress. " insisted. " death. '• doubted. 20 went aside. " fairy. k newt. 28 Overtaken. 398 WILLIAM DUNBAR Sa scbo had hap to be horsit to hir herbry,i Att ane ailhous neir hevin, it nyghttit^ thaim thare; Scho deit of thrist in this warld, that gert hir be so dry, Scho never eit, bot drank our mesur " and mair. Scho slepit quhill the morne at none, and rais airly; And to the yettis^ of hevin fast can* the wif fair,8 And by Sanet Petir, in at the yet, scho stall' prevely: 20 God lukit and saw hir lattin in, and le wch ' his hert sair. And thar, yeris sevin Scho levit a gud life, And wes our Ladyis hen wif: And held Sanct Petir at stryfe, Ay quhill scho wes in hevin. Sohe lukit out on a day, and thoght ryght lang' To se the ailhous beside, in till an evill hour; And out of hevin the hie gait ^^ co wth 'i the wif gang For to get hir ane fresche drink; the aill of hevin wes sour. 30 Scho come againe to hevinnis yet, quhen the bell rang, Sanct Petir hat hir with a club, quhill a gret clour ^^ Rais in hir held, becaus the wif yeid^' wrang. Than to the ailhous agane scho ran, the pycharis ^* to pour. And for to brew, and baik. Frendis, I pray you hertfuUy, Gif ye be thristy or dry, Drink with my Guddame, as ye ga by, Anys 1* for my saik. HOW DUNBAR WAS DESIRED TO BE A FRIAR This nycht befoir the dawing '° cleir, Me thocht Sanct Francis did to me appeir, With ane religious abbeit" in his hand, And said, ' In thlss go eleith i' the, my ser- wand ; Reff uss the warld, for thow mon^' be a freir.' 1 inn. 2 night overtoolc. 3 beyond measure. * gates. 6 did. " go. ' stole. 8 laughed. » yearned. 10 high road. 1' did. 12 lump. i3 went. 1* pitchers. 16 once, 1" dawning. 1^ habit. ^8 clothe. " must. With him and with his abbeit bayth I skar- rit,2o Lyk to ane man that with a gaist wes mar- rit:2i Me thocht on bed he layid it me abone, Bot on the flure dely verly ''^ and sone I lap thairfra, and nevir wald cum nar it. Quoth he, ' Quhy skarris thow with this holy weid ? n Cleith the thairin, for weir ^ it thow most neid; Thow, that hes lang done Venus lawis teiehe. Sail now be freir, and in this abbeit preiche; Delay it uocht, it mon be done but dreid.'^* Quod I, ' Sanct Francis, loving be the till,^ And thankit mot thow be of thy gude will To me, that of thy clayis^^ ar so kynd; Bot thame to weir it nevir come in my mynd; Sweit Confessour, thow tak it nocht in ill. ' In haly legendis half I hard allevin,^'' ji Ma ^' Sanctis of bischoppis nor freiris, be sic sevin; °^ Off full few freiris that hes bene Sanctis I reid; Quhairfoir ga bring to me ane bischopis weid, Gife evir thow wald my saule gaid '" unto Hevin.' 'My brethir oft hes maid the supplicationis, Be epistillis, sermonis, and relationis, To tak the abyte, bot thow did postpone; But ony process,'! cum on thairfoir annone. All sircumstance put by and excusatiouis.' ' Gif evir my fortoun wes to be a freir, 31 The dait thairof is past full mony a yeir; For into every lusty toun and place Off all Yngland, frome Berwick to Kalice, I haif in to thy habeit maid gud cheir. ' In freiris weid full fairly haif I fteiohit,"^ In it haif I in pulpet gon and preichit lu Derntoun kirk, and eik in Ganterberry; In it I past at Dover our ^ the ferry Throw Piccardy, and thair the peple teich- it. 4■> know not. 81 call. 32 since. DEATH OF PRIAM 401 Of the writis Maorobius, sans fail, In his grete volume clepit Saturnail, Thi sawis in sie eloquence doith fleit,^ So inventive of rhetorik flouiis sueit 70 Thou art, and hes sa hie prof und sentence Therto perfyte, but ony indigence, That na lovingis ^ ma do lucres thi fame, Nor na reproche diminew thi guid name. But sen I am oompellit the to translait. And nocht onlie of my curage, God wait. Durst interprise sic outragious foli, Quhar I offend, the les repreif serf ^ I; And at * ye knaw at quhais instaunce I tuik For to translait this mast excellent bulk, 80 I mene Virgilis volume maist excellent, Set^ this my werk full feble be of rent,^ At the request of ane lorde of renowne, Of ancistry noble and illuster barowne, Fader of bukis, proteotour to science and lare,' My speciall gude lord Henry Lord Sanct Clair, Quhilk with grete instance divers tymes seir,' Prayit me translait Virgill or Omeir; Quhais plesour suithlie as I understuid, As neir coniunct ^ to his lordschip in bluid, So that me thocht his requeist ane com- mand, 91 Half disparity" this wark tuik on hand, Nocht fuUie grantaud, nor anis sayand ye,^^ Bot onelie to assay quhow it mycht be. Quha mycht ganesay a lord sa gentle and kynd, That evir hed ony ourtasy in thair mynd, Quhilk beside his innative '^ poleoy, Humanite, curaige, fredome, and chevalry, Bukis to recollect, to reid and se, Hes greit delite als evir hed Ptolome ? 100 Qubarfor to his nobilite and estaite, Quhat so it be, this bulk I dedicaite. Writing in the language of Scottis natioun. And thus I mak my protestaciouu. DEATH OF PRIAM (11, chap, ix) Peraventdr, of Priamus ye wald speir ^^ How tyde " the chance; his fait, gif ye list, heir. Quhen he the cietie saw takin and doun bet,^^ And of his palice brokiu every yet,is 1 float. 2 praising. > deserve. * that. ^ Suppose. B value. "> learning. ^ several. » allied. ^^ in despair. " once saying " yea." 12 inborn. 13 ask. i< betided. " beaten. " gate. Amyd the secrete closettis eik his fais,i' The aid gray'^^ all for nocht, to him tays 19 His hawbrek quhilk was lang furth of usage,^'' Set on his shoulderis trymbling than for age; A swerd, but help, about him beltis he, And ran towart his fais, reddy to de. 10 Amyd the cloiss,^i under the hevin all bair, Stude thair that tyme a mekle fair altair, Neir quhame thar grew a rycht auld laurer tree, Bowand towart the altair a little wee,^ That with his schaddow the goddis did our- heild.23 Hecuba thidder, with hir ehildir, for beild ^* Ban all in vane, and about the altair swarmis, Brasand ^ the godlik ymage in thair armis, As for the storme dowis ^ flockis togidder ilkane.^ 19 Bot quhen scho saw how Priamus hes tane His armour, so as thoch he had bene ying: ' Quhat fulich ^s thocht, my wrechit spous and king, Movis ye now sic wapnis for to weild ? Quhidder haistis thou ? ' quod scho, ' Of na sic beild ^ Have we now mister,*' nor yit defendouris as ye. The tyme is nocht ganand ^i thairto, we se. In caice Hector war present heir, my sone. He mycht nocht succour Troy, for it is wone. Quhairfoir, I pray ye, sit doun and cum hiddir. And lat this altair salf ^ us all togiddir, 30 Or than at anis all heir lat us de.' Thus said scho, and, with sic sembland '' as mycht be. Him towart hir hes broeht, bot ony threte,*^ And sete the auld doun in the haly sete. But lo ! Polites, ane of Priamus sonnis, Quhilk fra the slauchter of Pirrus away run is. Throw wapnis fleing and his enemyis all. By lang throwgangis ^ and mony voyd hall; Woimdit he was, and come to seek reskew; Ardentlie Pirrus can him fast persew, 40 17 His foe even in the secret chambers. 18 old gray (man). i» takes. » out of use. 21 courtyard. 2! way. !» protect. 21 shelter. 26 Embracing. 2« doves. 27 each one. 2» foolish. 29 protection, 30 need. 3i advantageous. 32 gave. 83 appearance 3* without any threat. 36 passages. 402 GAVIN DOUGLAS With gi'undin lance at hand so neir furth strykit, Almaist he haid him tuiehit and arrekit.i Quhill^ at the last, quhen he is cumin, I wene, Befoir his faderis and his moderis ene,' Smate him doun deid, in thair sycht quhar he stude, The gaist he yald^ with habundance of blude. Priamus than, thocht he was half deil^ deid, Mycht nocht contene his ii'e nor wordis of feid,6 Bot cry is furth: ' For that cruell offence, And outrageous fuile-hardy violence, 50 Gif thair be pietie in the hevin aboun Quhilk takis heid to this that thou hes doun, The goddis mocht condingly the foryeld,^ Eftir thi desert rendring sic ganyeld,^ Causit rae behald my awine child slane, allace ! And with his blude filit his faderis face. Bot he, quham by thou f enys ' thiself byget, Achill, was nocht to Priame sa hart set; For he, of right and faith esohamit '" eik, Quhen that I come him lawlie to beseik, 60 The deid body of Hector rendrit me. And rae convoit hame to my citie.' Thus sayand, the auld waiklie, but force or dynt, A dart did cast, quhilk, with a pik,ii can styntis On his harnys, and in the scheild did hing. But ony harme or uthir dammaging. Quod Pirrus, ' AUwais sen thou sais swa, To Pilleus sone, my fadir, thou most ga; Ber him this message, ramember weil thou tell Him all my werkis and deidis sa cruell. 70 Schaw Neoptolemus is degenerit clene ; Now sail thou dee.' And with that word, in tene,^' The auld trumbling towart the altair he drew, That in the hate blude of his sone, sched new, Funderit;" and Pirrus grippis him by the hair With his left band, and with the udir '* all bair ■ reached. « Till. • eyes. * yielded. ' part. > feud, hostility. ' muBt punish thee according to thy deserts. 8 recompense. " by whom thou feigneat. M ashamed. " peck. " did stop. " anger. " Stumbled. •' other. Drew furth his schynand swerd, quhilk in his syde Festynnit,!^ and unto the hiltis did it hyde. Of Priamus thus was the finale fait;" Fortune heir endit his glorius estait. 80 - Seand ^' Ilion all birning in firis broun, And Troyis wallis fall and tumblit doun; That riall prince, umquhill,^' our^" Asia, Apone sa fell^^ pepill and ralmis^ alsua Ringit^^ in weltht, now by the coist''^ lyis deid Bot as ane stok, and of hakkit^ his heid; A corps, but 2^ life, renowne, or uthir fame, Unknawin of ony wycht quhat was his name. MORNING IN MAY (Prologue to the Twelfth Book of the .^neid) Dyonea,^ nycht hyrd, and wach of day, The starnis chasit of the hevin away, Dame Cynthea doun rolling in the see, And Venus lost the bewte of hir e, Fleaud eschamyt^^ within Cylenyus^' cave; Mars onbydrew,^" for all his grundin glave,*' Nor frawart ^ Saturn, from his mortall speyr,88 Durst langar in the firmament appeir, Bot stall abak yond in his regioun far Behynd the circulat warld of Jupiter; 10 Nycthemyne,^^ affrayit of the lycht, Went undir covert, for gone was the nycht; As f resch Aurora, to my chty Tythone spous, Ischif of hir safron bed and evir^^ hous. In orammysiii^' cled and granit'^ violat. With sanguyne cape, and selvage purpurat,^ Onschot the windois of hir large hall, Spred all wyth rosys, and full of balm ryall. And eik the hevinly portis crystallyne Upwarpis braid,* the warld to illumyn. 20 The twinkling stremowris ^' of the orient Sched purpour sprangis^ with gold and asure ment,^' Persand^^ the sabill barmkyn^ nooturnall, Bet doun the skyis dowdy mantill wall: Eons the steid, with ruby hamis *^ reid, Abuf the seyis^^ lyftis furth his heid, i« Stuck. 1' fate. i" Seeing. " formerly. 20 over. 21 many. 22 realms. 88 Reigned. 24 coast. 25 hacked o£E. 2b without. !? Venus (as evening and morning star). 2b ashamed. 8b Mercury's, so with- drew. 81 sharp ground sword. >2 perverse. 83 deadly sphere. 34 Nyctimene. See Ovid, Meta. ii, 590. « Is- sued. 81 ivory. 37 crimson cloth. 38 deep dyed. 8' purple. 40 Opens wide. " streamers. *» rays. 43 mixed. *4 Piercing. 46 battlement. — part of a horse-collar. 47 Above the seae MORNING IN MAY 403 Of euUour soyr,i and sum deill broun as berry, For to alichtyn and glaid our emyspery, The flambe owtbrasty ng at his neys thyrlys ;^ Sa fast Phaeton wyth the quhip him quhirlys, 30 To roll Apollo his faderis goldin chair, That schrowdyth all the hevynnis and the ayr; Quhill ^ sohortly, with the blesand * torch of day. Abilyeit^ in his lemand^ fresch array, Furth of hys palyce ryall ischyt Phebus, Wyth goldin croun and vissage gloryus, Crysp' hairis, brycht as chrysolite or to- paoe, For quhais hew mycht nane behald his face, The fyry sparkis brastyng fra his ene, To purge the ayr, and gylt the tendyr grene, 40 Defundand ^ from hys sege ' etheriall Glaid influent aspectis celicall.^" Before his regale hie magnificens Mysty vapour upspringand, sweit as sens,!' In smoky soppis^ of donk dewis wak,!^ Moieh hailsum stovis ourheildand the slak ;^* The aureat fanys'* of hys trone soverane With glytrand glans ourspred the occiane. The large fludis lemand all of lycht Bot with a blenk'^ of his supernale syeht. 50 For to behald, it was a gloir to se The stabillit " wyndis and the cawmy 1 1^ see, The soft sessoun, the firmament serene. The lowne^' illumynat air, the f yrth amene ;^ The sylver scalit fyschis on the greit^' Ourthwort^oleir stremis sprynkland^^ for the heyt, Wyth fynnis schynaud broun as synopar,^^ And chyssell^ talis, stowrand^' heyr and thar; The new cuUour alychtnyng all the landis, Forgane thir stannyris^' schane the beryall strandis, 60 Quhill the reflex of the diurnal bemis The bene bonkis^' kest ful of variant glemis. And lusty Flora did hir blomis spreid Under the feit of Phebus sulyart^ steid; » Borrel. 2 nostrils. 3 Till. * blazing, s Attired. 6 gleaming. ' Curly. B Pouring. " seat. 10 celes- tial. " incense. 12 clouds. 13 wet. i* Moist wholesome mists covering tiie swamp. is The golden vanes. 18 glance. " stilled. 18 calmed sea. la quiet. 30 woodland pleasant. 21 gravel. 22 Athwart. 28 darting. 24 cinnabar. 25 shaped like chisels. 28 rushing. 27 Opposite these gravelly shores, as pleas- ant banks. 29 gleaming. The swardit soyll enbroud wyth selcouth'" hewis Wod and forest obumbrat^i with thar bewis, Quhois blissf uU branchis, porturat '^ on the grund, With schaddois sohene schew rochis ruby- cund: Towris, turattis, kymellis,'' pynnaclis hie Of kirkis, castellis, and ilke fair cite, 70 Stude payntit, every fyall, fane, and stage,^^ Apon the plane grund, by thar awin um- brage. Of Eolus north blastis havand no dreyd, The sulye^ spred hyr braid bosum on breid,*' Zephyrus' confortabill inspiratioun For till ressave law in hyr barm^' adoun; The cornis eroppis^^ and the beris new brerd ^ Wyth glaidsum garmond revesting the erd; So thik the plantis sprang in every peee, 79 The feyldis ferleis* of thar fruotuus flece; Byssy dame Ceres, and proud Pryapus, Rejosyng of the planis plenteus, Plenyst^i sa plesand and maist propirly, By nature nurist wondir nobilly. On the fertill skyrt lappis of the ground Stroking^ on breid ondyr the eirkill round, The variant vestur of the venust vaill^ Schrowdis the soherald fur,** and every faill*^ Ourf ret with f ulyeis *^ of flguris full divers. The spray by sprent with spryngand sproutis dispers;," 90 For callour*' humour on the dewy nycht, Rendryng *'"snm place the gers pilis ™ thar hycht Als far as catal, the lang symmeris day, Had in thar pastur eyt and knyp ^^ away; And blisfuU blossummis in the blomyt yard Submittis thar hedis in the yong sonnis salfgard; Ive levis rank ourspred the barmkin'^ wall. The bloomyt hawthorn cled his pikis^' all; Furth of fresch burgionis the wyne grapis ying 99 Endlang the treilyeis dyd on twystis hing. The lowkyt buttonis'* on the gemrayt treis Ourspredand leyvis of naturis tapestreis; 30 strange. 81 shaded. 32 portrayed. 83 crenel- ations. 3* pinnacle, vane, and storey. "e goil. 36 abroad. 37 low in her liosom. 38 tops. 39 barley newly sprouted. « wonder. " Beplenished. *2 Stretching. *' pleasant vale. ** new mown furrow. *5 turf. « Adorned with leaves. *7 jiere and there. *8 refreshing. *9 Restoring. so grass blades. 61 cropped. bz rampart. 63 prickles, twigs. 64 un- opened buds. 404 GAVIN DOUGLAS Soft gresy verdour eftir balmy schowris On eurland stalkis amyling to thar flowris; Behaldand thame sa mony divers hew, Sum pers,^ sum paill, sum burnet,^ and sum blew, Sum greee,^ sum gowlis,^ sum purpour, sum sangwane, Blanchit or broune, fawch^ yallow mony ane, Sum hevynly cullorit in celestiall gre,* 109 Sum wattry hewit as the haw wally see,' And sum depart ^ in frekly ^ red and quhyte, Sum brycht as gold with aureat levis lyte. The dasy dyd on breid^" hir crownell smaill And every flour onlappit^' in the daill; In battill gyrs burgionys the ban wart wyld,^^ The clavyr, eatcl«ke,''and the cammamyld; The flour delice i'urth spred his hevinly hew. Flour dammes,'^ and columby blank 1^ and blew; Seyr ^^ dovrais smaill on dent de lion sprang. The ying grene blomyt straberry levis amang; 120 Gymp gerraflouris " thar royn i^ levy s vm- schet, Fresche prymros, and the purpour violet; The roys knoppis, tetand '^ furth thar heyd, Gau ohyp,^" and kyth ^^ thar Vermel lippis red, Crysp scarlet levis sum scheddand, baith attanis Kest fragrant smell amyd from goldin granis; Hevinly lylleis, with lokerand^^ toppis quhyte, Oppynnit and schew thar creistis redy- myte,^^ The balmy vapour from thar sylkyn crop- pis 129 Distylland hailsum sugurat himny droppis, And sylver achakaris^* gan fra levis hyng, Wyth crystal sprayngis^ on the verdour The plane pulderyt ^^ with semely settis^' sound, Bedyit ^' full of dewy peirlis round, 1 blue. 2 brown. ' gray. * red. 6 dun. " degree. f wan wavy sea. b divided. " speckled, m spread abroad. n opened. 12 in rich rank grass burgeons the banewort wild. 1' the clover, bird's foot, n Damask rose. is columbine, white. 16 Many. 1' Pretty gilly-flowers. ^s vermilion. i^ rosebuds peeping. 20 burst. 21 show, 22 curling. 23 ornate. 24 dew-drops. 26 sprays. 26 powdered. 27 shoots. 28 Moistened, So that ilk burgioun, syon,^ herb, and flour, Wolx all enbalmyt of the fresch liquour. And bathit halt *" did in dulce humouris fleit,8i Quharof the beis wrocht thar hunny sweit, By michty Phebus operatiounis In sappy subtell exalatiounis. 140 Forgane "^ the cummyn of this prince potent, Redolent odour up from rutis sprent,^ Hailsum of smell as ony spicery, Tryakle,'^ droggis, or electuary, Seroppis, sewane,^ sugour, and synamome, Precyus inunctment, salve, or fragrant pome,^^ Aromatik gummis, or ony fyne potioun, Must,^'' myr, aloes, or confectiouu; Ane paradice it semyt to draw neyr Thyr galyart^^ gardyngis and ilke greyn herbere.^' 150 Maist amyabill walxis the amerant medis: *" Swannys swouehis ''^ throw out the rysp*^ and redis. Our al thir lowys*^ and the fludis gray Seyrsand by kynd " a place quhar thai snld lay: Phebus red fowle hys corall creist can steyr,^5 Oft streking''^ furth hys hekkyll,^' era wand cl eir, Amyd the wortis^^ and the rutys gent Pykland ■'^ his meyt in alleis quhar he went, Hys wifis, Toppa and Pertelok, hym by. As byrd al tyme that hantis™ bygamy: 160 The payntit poune,^i pasaud with plomys Kest up his taill, a proud plesand quheil rym,^' Yschrowdryt in hys f edramme ^^ brycht and sehene, Schapand^ the prent of Argus hundreth ene: Amang the brounis ^ of the olyve twestis^' Seyr ^' small fowlis wirkand crafty nestis, Endlang the hedgeis thyk, and on rank akis,*^ Ilk byrd rejosyng with thar myrthftdl makis.^ 28 scion. 20 warm. 3i float. 22 Against. 22 sprang. 24 Medicinal syrup. 25 gavin, a drug made from a variety of juniper. 26 scent-ball. 37 Musk. 28 gay, 22 garden or arbour, 4o emeraJd meads. i^ rustle, 42 bulrushes. *2 lakes. 44 Seeking by nature. 46 raise. 4b stretching. 47 long shining feathers on a cock's neck. 4a herbs. 49 Pecking. 20 practises. 81 peacock. 82 neat. 23 wheel-rim. 84 Covered with his plumage. 25 Showing. 66 branches. 87 twiga, 68 Many. 29 oaks. 20 mates. MORNING IN MAY 405 In eorneria and cleir f enystaris ^ of glas Full byssely Arague wevand was, 170 To knit hyr nettis and liir wobbya sle,^ Tharwith to oauoht the myghe and littill fle:8 So dusty puldyr upstowris ^ in every streyt, Quhill corby ^ gaspyt for the fervent heyt. Under the bewys beyn ° in lusty valis, Within fermans ' and parkis cloys of palys, The bustuus bukkis lakis ^ furth on raw; Heyrdis of hertis throw the thyk wod sehaw, Baith the brokettis,^ and with brayd burn- yst tyndis; i" The sprutlyt^^ calvys sowkand the reid hyndis, 180 The yong f ownis foUowand the dun dayis,^ Kyddis skippand throw ronuis '' eftir rayis.^^ In lyssouris ^^ and on leys 1° littill lammis Full tait and trig " socht bletand to thar dammis. Tydy ky lowys,i* veilys ^^ by thame ryunis ; All snog and slekyt worth ^ thir bestis skynnis. On salt stremis wolx^^ Doryda and Thetis, By rynuand strandis Nymphis and Naedes, Syk^ as we clepe wenchis and damy- sellis, 189 In gresy gravis ^' wandrand by spring wellis, Of blomyt branehis and flowris quhite and rede Plettand thar lusty chaiplettis for thar hede ; Sum sing saugis, dansis ledys,^^ and roun- dis,25 Wyth voois schill,^ quhill all the daill re- soiindis; Quharso thai walk into thar oaraling, For amorus lays doith all the rochia ryng. Ane sang, ' The sohip salis our the salt fame, Will bring thir merchandis and my lemman hame;' Sum other singia, 'I wil be blyth and lycht, Myne hart is lent apon sa gudly wycht.' 200 And thoohtfuU lufEaris rowmys to and fro. To leis ^' thar pane, and plene ^' thar joly wo, I windows. 2 subtle webs. s midge and little fly. * arises. ^ Till the crow. « beauteous boughs. ' enclosures. » bold backs range. " two-year-old red-deer. 10 prongs. ^^ speckled. 12 does. 13 thickets. 1* roes, is pastures, is meadows, leas. IT sportive and active. i^ Fat kine low. w calves. 20 are. 21 waxed, appeared. ^a Such. 23 groves. 2^ lead. 25 round dances, carols. 28 clear. 27 lose. 88 complain. Eftyr thar gys,''' now singand, now in sorow. With hartis pensyve, the lang symmeris morow. Sum ballettis lyst endyte of his lady, Sum levis in hoip, and sum al utterly Disparyt is, and sa quyte owt of grace, His purgatory he fyndis in every place. To pleis his luife sum thooht to flat and fene,'" 209 Sum to hant^i bawdry and onlesum mene; '^ Sum rownys '^ to hys fallow, thame betwene, Hy s mery stouth^^ and pastaus^ lait yistrene. Smyland sayis ane, ' I couth in previte Schaw the a bowrd.' ^ ' Ha, quhat be that ? ' quod he. 'Quhat thing? — That moste be secret,' sayd the tother. ' Gude Lord ! mysbeleif ye your verray brother ? ' ' Na, nevyr a deill, bot harkis quhat I wald; Thou mon be prevy.' 'Lo, my hand up- hald!' ' Than sal thou walk at evin.' Quod he, 'Quhiddyr?' ' In sik a place heyr west, we bayth to- giddyr, 220 Quhar seho so freschly sang this hyndir ^' nycht; Do chois the ane and I sal quynch the lycht.' ' I sal be thar I hope,' quod he, and lewch; '* ' Ya, now I knaw the mater weill enewch.' Thus oft dywulgat^ is this schamefull play, Na thyng according to our hailsum May, Bot rathyr contagius and infective, And repugnant that sessoun nutrytive, Quhen new curage kytlis *" all gentill hartis, Seand throu kynd ilk thyng springis and revertis. 230 Dame Naturis menstralis, on that other part, Thayr biyssf ull bay ^^ entonyng every art, To beyt thar amouris of thar nychtis baill,^ The merll, the mavys, and the nychtingale With mery notis myrthf uUy furth brest, Enforsing thame quha myeht do clynk it ^' best. The eowsehet crowdis and pirkis on the rys,^^ The styrlyng changis divers stevynnys nys;* 29 guise, fashion. >» flatter and feign, si practise. 32 unlawful means. 33 whispers. 34 stolen pleasures. 35 pastime. 35 jest. 37 Ust. »b laughed. 39 puj,. lished. M tickles. " chorus. « To rid their loves of the night's tedium. 43 make it ring, a The ring-dove (cushat) coos and perches on the twig. 45 delicate notes. 4o6 GAVIN DOUGLAS The sparrow chyrmis ^ in the wallis clyft; Goldspynk and lyntquhyte fordynnand the lyft;'' 240 The gukgo galis,' and so quytteris^ the quaill, Quhill ryveris rerdyt,° sohawis, and every yaill, And tender twystis trymlyt on the treis, for byrdis sang and bemyng" of the beis. In wrablis ' dulce of hevynly armonyis The larkis, lowd releschand * in the skyis, Lovys thar lege ^ with tonys ouryns, Baith to Dame Natur and the fresch Venus Rendryng hie lawdis in thar observance, Quhais snguryt throtis mayd gla,yd hartis dans, 250 And al small fowlys sirigis on the spray: ' Welcum, the lord of lyoht and lamp of day, Welcum, fostyrio of tendir herbys grene, Welcum, quyknar of florist flowris schene, Welcum, support of euery rute and vane ! " Welcum, confort of alkynd fruytandgrane ! Welcum, the byrdis beyld ^ apon the breyr ! Welcum, maister and rewlar of the yeyr ! Welcum, weilfar of husbandis at the plewis 1 Welcum, reparar of woddis, treis, and be wis; 260 Welcum, depayntar of the blomyt medis ! Welcum, the lyf e of euery thing that spredis ! Welcum, stourour ^^ of alkynd bestiall ! Welcum be thi brycht bemys, glading all ! Welcum celestiall myrrour and aspy, Attechyng 1^ all that hantis sluggardy ! ' And with this word, in ohalmer quhair I lay, The nynt morow of fresobe temperat May, On fut I sprent ^^ into my bayr sark,^^ 269 Wilfull for till compleyt my langsum wark Twichand" the lattyr bukeof Dan Virgill, Quhilk me had tareyt al to laug a qidiile. And to behald the cummyng of this kyng,i' That was sa welcum tyll all warldly thyng. With sic tryumphe andpompos eurage glayd Thau of his souerane chymmis,i^as is sayd, Newly arissyn in hys estayt ryall. That, by hys hew, but orleger'"' or dyall, I knew it was past four houris of day, And thocht I wald na langar ly in May 2S0 1 chirps. 2 making the air resound. s cuckoo calls. * twitters. 6 resounded. " din. ' warbles. 8 releasing (their voices). » Praise their liege lord. 1" fosterer. n vein, pore. " shelter. " stirrer. 14 Reproving. i^ sprang. is shirt. l' Touching. 18 the sun. w mansions. 20 without one to call the hours. Les Phebus suld me losanger attaynt:** For Progne had, or than, sung hyr com- playnt, And eik hir dreidful systir Philomene Hir lais eudit, and in woddis grene Hyd hir selvin, eschamyt of hyr chance; And Esacus ^ completis his pennance In riveris, fludis, and on every laik; And Peristera^^ byddis luffaris awaik; ' Do serve my lady Venus heyr with me I Lern thus to mak your observance,' quod she, 290 ' Into myne hartis ladeis sweit presens Behaldis bow I beinge,^^ and do reverens.' Hir nek soho wrinklis, trasing mony fold, With plomis glitterand, asur apon gold, Rendring a ouUour betwix grene and blew In purpour glans of hevinly variant hew; I meyn our awin native bird, gentill dow,^ Syngand in hyr kynd 'I come bidder to wow ;' So pryklyng hyr grene eurage for to crcwd^ In amorus voce and wowar soundis lowd. That, for the dynning of hir wanton cry, 301 I irkyt of ray bed and mycht nocht ly, Bot gan me blys,^^ syne in my wedis dres, And, for it was ayr morow, or tyme of mes,^' I hynt a scriptour^ and my pen furth tuike. Syne thus begouth of Virgill the twelt buike. KING HART 80 (11. 1-80) King Hakt in to his cumlie castell Strang, Closit about with craft and meikill ure,'^ So semlie wes he set his folk amang. That he no dout had of misaventure; So proudlie wes he polist, plane, and pure, With youthheid and his lustie levis grene; So fair, so fresche, so liklie to endure. And als so blyth as bird in symmer schene. For wes he never yit with schouris schot. Nor yit ourrun with ronk*^ or ony rayne; 10 In all his lusty lecam *^ nocht ane spot; Na never had experience into payne, 21 call me sluggard. 22 Aesacus, son of Priam, changed into a bird, the diver, after having caused the death of his wife. 23 dove. 24 bow. 25 dove. 28 coo. 27 cross. 28 early mom, ere time of mass. 29 seized a writing-case. 20 The text is based on the Maitland MS. as printed by Gregory Smith in Speeimmis of Middle Scots. 21 work. 32 mist. 33 body. KING HART 407 Bot alway into lyking,i nocht to layne; ^ Onlie to love and verrie gentilues He wes inclynit cleinlie to remane, And wonn^ nuder the wyng of wantownnes. Yit was this wourthy wicht King under warde, For wes he nocht at fredome utterlie. Nature had lymmit^ folk for thair re- wards This godlie king to governe and to gy ; ^ m For so thai kest" thair tyme to occupy In welthis for to wyne; for thai him teichit All lustis for to lane' and underly; ' So prevelie thai preis him and him prei- cheid. First Strenth, (....) Lust, and Wantown- nes, Grein Lust, Disport, Jelousy, and Invy; Freschnes, Newgot,' Waistgude.i" and Wil- fulnes, Delyvernes, Fidehardenes thairby; Gentrice, Fredome, ^^ Price, Previe Espy, Wantwyt, Vanegloir, Prodigalitie, 30 Unrest, Nichtwalk, and felloun Glutony, Unricht, Dyme Sicht, with Slioht and Sub- tilitie. Thir war the inwarde ythand ^ servitouris, Quhilk gouernouris war to this nobil king. And kepit him inclynit to thair ouris; Se wes thair nocht in erde that ever micht bring Ane of thir folk away fra his duelling. Thus to thair terme thay serve for thair rewarde,^^ Dansing, disport, singing, revelling. With bissines all blyth to pleis the lairde. 40 Thir folk, with all the femell " thai micht fang, Quhilk nummerit ane milyon and weill mo. That wer upbred as servitouris of lang,!^ And with this king wald wonn ^' in weill and wo, For favour nor for f eid i' wald found i' him fro Unto the tyme thair daitbe run and past: 1 pleasure. 2 not to lie, i.e., to tell the truth. 8 dwell. * appointed. 6 guide. <> planned. 7 hide. So Gr. Smith from Maitland MS. Pinkerton reads love^ love; Small ^ave, and explains as "subject to," a doubtful glosa. 8 experience. 8 New Fashion. 10 Prodigality. n Generosity. is diligent. ^8 in- terests. I* family. " for a long time. 18 dwell. " hostility. 18 go. That gold nor gude micht gar thame fro him go, No greif nor grame i' suld grayth ^ thame so ag Fyve servitouris this king he had without, That teichit war ay tressoun to espy; 50 Thai watohit ay the wallis round about For innemeis that of hapning ay come by: Ane for the day, quhilk jugeit certanly, With cure to ken the colour of all hew; Ane for the nicht, that harknit bissely Out of quhat airf^ that ever the wyndis blew. Syne ^ wes thair ane to taist all nutriment That to this king wes servit at the deiss; Ane uther wes all fovellis ^ for to sent,^^ Of licour or of ony lustie meisB; 60 The fyft thair wes quhilk culd all [ken]2s but leiss,^ The heit, the cauld, the hard, and eik the soft — Ane ganand^' servand bayth for weir and pece ; Yit hes thir folk thair king betrasit"^ oft. Honour persewit to the kingis yet; ^ Thir folk said all thai wald nocht lat him in, Becaus thai said thair lord to feist wes set. With all his lustie servandis more and myu;*" Bot he ane port had enterit with ane And up he can in haist to the grit toure, 70 And said he suld it parall ^^ all with f yn And fresche delyt, with mony florist floure. So Strang this king him thooht his castell stude, With mony towre and turat crownit hie : About the wall thair ran ane water woid,'^ Blak, stinkaud, sowr, and salt as is the sey, That on the wallis wiskit,'^ gre be g^e,^ Boldning ^6 to pyjg tjjg castell to confound; Bot thai within maid sa grit melody, That for thair reird 2' thay micht nocht heir the sound. go 18 anger, sorrow. " make. =1 direction. S2 Then. 28 provisions. z* smell. 28 know. 2» without lies. 2' profitable. 2b betrayed. 2» gate, ao greater and less. 81 trick. 82 decorate. 88 wild. 84 splashed. 88 step. 81 Swelling. 8' noise. 4o8 GAVIN DOUGLAS HONOUR 1 HIE honour, sweit heviulie flour de- gest,= Gem verteous, maist precious, gudlieat. For hie renoun thou art guerdoun con- ding,' Of worschip kend^ the glorious end and rest, But ^ quhome in richt na worthie wicht jnay lest. Thy greit puissance may maist avance all thing. And poverall to mekill availl* sone bring. 1 the require sen thow but peir ' art best, That efter this in thy hie blis we ring.^ Of grace thy face in everie place sa schy- nis, lo That sweit all spreit baith held and feit inclynis,' Thy gloir afoir for till imploir remeid.'" 1 This " ballade in commendation of honour and ver- teu " ends " The Palace of Honour," and with its inter- nal rhymes is a good example of the virtuOBity in metre of the Middle Scots poets. 2 sober. » condign. 4 acknowledged. <> With- out. 8 poor folk to great consequence. ' without equal. s reign. ^ That sweet (sight) inclines all spirit (i. e., everybody) with both head and feet. 10 advancement. He doeht ^^ richt noeht, quhilk out of thocht the tynis ; ^ Thy name but blame, and royal fame di- vine is; Thow port, at schort,^' of our comfort and reid ^^ Till bring all thing till glaiding efter deid, All wicht but sicht of thy greit micht ay crynis,!^ O schene,^^ I mene " nane may sustene thy f eid." Haill rois maist chois till clois ^^ thy fois greit micht, Haill, stone quhilk schone upon the throne of licht, 20 Vertew, quhais trew sweit dew ouir- threw al vice. Was ay ilk day gar ^o say the way of licht; Amend, offend,^^ and send our end ay richt. Thou stant, ordant as sanct, of grant maist wise, Till be supplie,^ and the hie gre^' of price. Delite the tite me quite of site to dicht,'^ For I apply schortlie to thy devise.^ 11 avails. 12 loses. i3 in short. " counsel. 16 shrivels. i" shining one. i' mean. is enmity. IS end. so causing (sense dubious). 2i Cause us pleasure, or pain. 22 to be succour. 23 reward. 24 Be pleased quickly to make me quit of shame. 26 In brief I put myself in thy control. SIR DAVID LYNDESAY THE DREAM (11. 918-1036) COMPLAYNT OF THE COMMOUNWEILL OF SCOTLAND ^ And thus as we wer talking, to and fro, We saw a bousteous berne ^ cum ouir the bent,^ Bot ^ hors, on fute, als fast as he mycht go, Quhose rayment wes all raggit, revin, and rent. With visage leyne, as he had fastit Lent: And ford wart fast his wayis he did advance. With aue rycht melancolious countynanee, With scrip on hip, and pyikstafB in his hand. As he had purposit to passe fra hame. Quod I, 'Gude-man, I wald faine under- stand, 10 Geve that ye plesit, to wyt quhat were your name ? ' Quod he, ' My Sonne, of that I think gret schame, Bot, sen thow wald of my name have ane feill.s Forsuith, thay call me John the Commoun- weill.' ' Schir Commounweill, quho hes yow so disgysit ? ' Quod I : ' or quhat makis yow so miser- byll ? I have marvell to se yow so supprysit,' The quhilk that I have sene so honor- abyll. To all the warld ye have bene profit- abyll, And Weill honourit in everilk natioun: 20 How happinnis now your tribulatioun ? ' ' Allace I ' quod he, ' thow seis how it dois stand With me, and quhow I am disherisit ' 1 This is near the end of the poem, and follows a de- scription of Scotland by the dreamer's guide, Dame Remembrance. " rough fellow. 3 field. * Without. s knowledge. » oppressed. i disinherited. Of all my grace, and mon pass of ^ Scot- laud, And go, afore quhare I was cherisit. Remane I heir, I am bot perysit; For thare is few to me that takis tent,^ That garris i" me go so raggit, revin, and rent: ' My tender frieudis are all put to the flyoht; For policye is fled agane in France.'^ 30 My syster. Justice, almaist haith tynt ^ hir sycht. That scho can nocht hald evinly the bal- lance. Plane Wrang is plane capitane of ordi- nance. The quihilk debarris laute ^^and reasoun; And small remeid is found for open trea- soun. ' In-to the South, allace ! I was neir slane ; Oner all the land I cold fynd no releif. Almoist betuix the Mers and Lowma- bane " I culde nocht knaw ane leill man be ane theif. To schaw thair reif,i^ thift, murthour, and mischeif, 40 And vicious workis, it wald infect the air, And als langsum to me for tyll declair. ' In-to the Hieland I could fynd no re- meid, Bot suddantlie I wes put to exile : Thai sweir swyngeoris ^^ thay tulie of me non held. Nor amangs thame lat me remane ane quhyle. Als, iu the Oute Ylis, and in Argyle, Unthrift, sweirnes, falset, povertie, and stryfe Pat Policye in dainger of hir lyfe. 8 must pass out of. fl heed. 10 malies. " An allusion to the defeat of the French party. 12 lost. IS loyalty. " i.e., in the whole Lowland. 15 robbery. " Those lazy rogues. 410 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY 'In the Lawland I come to seik refuge, 50 And purposit thare to mak my resi- dence; Bot singulare profeit ^ gart me soune dis- luge, And did me gret injuries and offence, And said to me, " Swyith, harlote,'' hy thee hence. And in this countre see thow tak no curis,^ So lang as my auctoritie induris." ' And now I may mak no langer debait; Nor I wate nooht quhome to I suld me mene ; ^ For I have socht throw all the Spirituall stait, Quhilkis tuke na compt for to heir me complene. 60 Thair officiaris, thay held me at disdene; For Symonie, he rewlis up all that rowte; And Covatyoe, that carle, gart^ bar me oute. ' Pryde haith ohaist far frome thame Hu- militie; Devotioun is fled unto the Freris ; Sensuale plesour hes baneist Chaistitie; Lordis of religioun, thay go lyke secu- leris, Taking more compt in tellyng thair de- neris ^ Nor thai do of thair constitutioun. Thus are thay blyndit be ambitioun. 70 ' Our gentyll men are all degenerat; Liberalitie and lawte boith ar lost, And Cowardyce with lordis is laureat, And knychtlie Curage turnit in brag and boast. The eivele weir misgydis everilk oist;' Thare is noeht ellis bot ilk man for hym- self; That garris me go, thus baneist lyke ane elf. ' Tharefor, adew : I may no langer tarye.' 'Fair Weill,' quod I, 'and with sauct Jhone to borrow ! ' * Bot, wyt ye weill, my hart was wounder sarye 80 Quhen Comounweill so sopit' was in sor- row. ' Yit efter the nycht cumis the glaid mor- row; 1 individual interest. * In haste, fellow. 8 offices, 4 complain, moan. 6 caused to, 6 money. ' host, 8 for your surety, » steeped. Quharefor, I pray yow, schaw me in cer- tane Quhen that ye purpose for to cum agane.' ' That questioun, it sail be sone decydit,' Quod he, ' thare sail na Scot have cou- fortyng Of me tyll that I see the countre gydit Be wysedome of ane gnde auld prudent Kyng, Qubilk sail delyte him maist, abone^" all thyng, To put Justice tyll executioun, 90 And on Strang traitouris mak punitioun. ' Als yit to thee I say ane uther thyng : I see rycht weill that proverbe is full trew, " Wo to the realme that hes ouer young ane King ! " ' With that he turnit his bak, and said adew. Ouer firth and fell^^ rycht fast fra me he flew, Quhose departyng to me was displesand. With that, Remembrance tuk me be the hand, And sone, me-thocht, scho brocht me to the roche 99 And to the cove ^ quhare I began to sleip. With that, one sohip did spedalye approche. Full plesandlie saling apone the deip. And syne i' did slake hir salis and gan to creip Towart the land, anent '* quhare that I lay. Bot, wyt ye weill, I gat ane fellown fray:^^ All hir cannounis sche leit eraik of at onis: Down schuke the stremaris frome the top- castell; Thay sparit nocht the poulder nor the stonis;^^ Thay schot thair boltis, and doun thair ankeris fell; The marenaris, thay did so youte ^^ and yell, no That haistalie I stert out of my dreme. Half in ane fray,i^ and spedalie past hame. And lychtlie dynit, with lyste ^^ and appetyte, Syne efter past in-tyll ane oratore, w above, ^i wood and hill, i* cavern. »' presently. " near. ib a wiciied fright. 18 stone bullets. ii shout. 18 fright. i^ pleasure. TESTAMENT OF THE KING'S PAPINGO 411 And tuke ray pen, and thare began to wryte All the visioun that I have schawin afore. Schir, of my dreme as now thou gettis no more, Bot I beseik God for to send thee grace To rewle thy realme in unitie and peace. THE TESTAMENT AND COM- PLAINT OF OUR SOVEREIGN LORD'S PAPINGO (II. 626-T190) Adew, Edinburgh! thou heych tryumph- aut toun, Within quhose boundis rycht blythfuU have I bene, Of trew raerchandis the rute of this re- gioun, Most reddy to resave Court, King, and Quene ! Thy polecye and justice may be sene. War devotioun, wysedome, and honestie. And credence tynt,' thay mycht be found in thee. Adew, fair Snawdoun! ^ with thy touris hie. Thy Chapell Royall, park, and tabyll rounde ! ' May, June, and July walde I dwell in thee, 10 War I one man, to heir the birdis sounde, Quhilk doith agane thy royall roche re- dounde. Adew, Lythquo ! * quhose Palyce of ples- anee Mycht be one patrone" in Portingall or France ! Fair-weill, Falkland ! the fortrace of Fyfe, Thy polyte park, under the Lowmound Law ! Sum-tyme in thee I led ane Instye lyfe. The fallow deir, to see thame raik on raw.^ Court men to cum to thee, thay stand gret awe, Sayand thy burgh bene of all burrowis baill,' 20 Because in thee thay never gat gude aill. 1 lost. s An old name of Stirling, a An ancient earthwork. * Linlithgow. 6 pattern. ^ range in row. 1 the worst. THE COMMONYNG BETUIX THE PAPYNGO AND HIR HOLYE EXECUTOURIS ^ The Pye persavit the Papyngo in paine, He lychtit doun, and fenyeit him to greit:' 'Sister,' said he, 'alace! quho hes yow slane? I pray yow, mak provisione for your spreit, Dispone your geir,w and yow confes oom- pleit. I have power, be your contritioun. Of all your mys ^^ to geve yow f uU remis- sioun. ' I am,' said he, ' one Channoun regnlare. And of my brether Pryour principall: 30 My quhyte rocket my clene lyfe doith de- clare; The blak bene ^ of the deith memo- riall: Quharefor I thynk your gudis natural! Sulde be submyttit hole into my cure; Ye know I am ane holye creature.' The Ravin come rolpand,^^ quheu he hard the rair;!^ So did the Gled,!^ with mony pieteous pew; w And fenyeitlye thay contrafait gret cair. ' Sister,' said thay, ' your raklesnes we rew; Now best it is our juste counsall ensew. Sen we pretend to heych promotioun, 41 Religious men, of gret devotioun.'' 'I am ane blak Monk,' said the rutlande" Ravin; So said the Gled, ' I am ane holy f reir, And hes power to bryng yow quyke to hevin. It is Weill knawin my conscience bene full oleir; The blak By bill i^ pronunce I sail per- queir,^^ So tyll our brether ye will geve sum gude; God wat geve^o we hes neid of Ivves fiidel' 4, The Papyngo said, ' Father, be the Rude, Howbeit your rayment be religious lyke, 8 executors. » weep. 10 Dispose of your goods. II sins. 1! are. " croaking. " rumpus, w Kite. " thin cry. i' croaking, is The prayer for the dead. " by heart, par COBW, w if, 412 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY Your conscience, I suspect, be nocht gude. I did persave quhen prevelye ye did pykei Ane chekin from ane hen under aue dyke.' ' I grant,' said he. • That hen was my gude freind. And I that chekin take hot for my teind.^ ' Ye knaw the faith be us mon be susteind : So be the Pope it is preordinate That spirituall men suld leve upon thair teind: Bot Weill wat I ye bene predestinate 60 In your extremis to be so fortunate, To have sic holy consultatioun; Quharefore we mak yow exhortatioun : 'Sen dame Nature hes grantit yow sic grace, Layser to mak confessioun generall, Sohaw f urth your syn in haist, quhil ye haif space ; Syne of your geir mak one memoriall. We thre sal mak your feistis funerall, And with gret blys bury we sail your bonis. Syne trentalls twenty trattyll* all at onis. 70 'The roukis sail rair, that men sail on thanie rew. And orye Commemoratio Animarum. We sail gar oheknis cheip, and geaslyngis pew,^ Suppose the geis and hennis suld crye alarum : And we sail serve secundum usum Sa- rum, And mak you saif : we fynd Sanct Blase to borgh,^ Cryand for yow the cairfull corrynogh.* ' And we sail syng about your sepulture Sanct Mongols ' matynis and the mekle creid. And syne devotely saye, I yow assure, 80 The auld Placebo bakwart, and the beid; ^ And we sail weir for yow the murnyng weid And, thooht your spreit with Pluto war profest, Devotelie sail your diregie ° be addrest.' I steal. 2 tithe. 8 rattle off twenty services of thirty masses each. * make chickens chirp and goslings squeak. B as surety. 9 coronach, lament. ' Mungo's (i.e., Kentigern's). > prayer. • funeral service. ' Father,' said scho, ' your facunde ^^ wordis fair. Full sore I dreid be contrar to your dedis. The wyffis of the village cryis with cair Quhen thai persave your mowe ^^ ouir- thort thar medis ; Your fals consait boith duke and draik i^ sore dreidis, I marvell, suithlie,^' ye be nocht eschamit For your defaltis, beyug so defamit. 91 ' It dois abhor my pure perturbit spreit Tyll mak to yow ony confessioun. I heir men saye ye bene one ypocrite, Exemptit f rome the Seny e " and the Ses- sioun. To put my geir in your possessioun. That wyll I nocht, so help me Dame Na- ture! Nor of my corps I wyll yow geve no cure. ' Bot, had I heir the nobyll Nychtingall, The gentyll Ja, the Merle, and Turtur trew, 100 My obsequeis and feistis funerall Ordour thay wald, with notis of the new. The plesand Pown,i^ most angellyke of hew, Wald God I wer this daye with hym confest. And my devyse^^ dewlie be hym addrest ! ' The myrthfull Maveis, with the gay Golds- pink, The lustye Larke, wald God thay war present ! My inf ortune, f orsuith, thay wald forthink," And eomforte me that bene so impotent. The swyft Swallow, in prattick " moste prudent, no I wate scho wald my bledyng stem belyve '' With hir moste verteous stone restring- ityve.' 20 ' Compt 21 me the caee, under confessioun,' The Gled said proudlye to the Papingo, ' And we sail sweir, be our prof essioun, Counsall to keip, and schaw it to no mo. We thee beseik, or thou depart us fro, Declare to us sum causis reasonabyll Quhy we bene haldin so abhominabyll. i» eloquent. " ugly mug. 12 duck and drake. 1' forsooth. i* Consistory court. U" peacock. " testament. i? regret. is practice, e.g., house building. '» forthwith. 20 styptic. " give account of. TESTAMENT OF THE KING'S PAPINGO 413 ' Be thy travell thou hes experience, 120 First, beand bred in-to the Orient, Syne be thy gude servyce and delygence To prencis maid heir in the Occident. Thow knawis the vulgare pepyllis juge- ment Quhare thou transcurrit^ the bote Meridion- all, Syne nyxt the Poill the plaige ^ Septentri- onall. ' So, be thyne heych ingyne " superlatyve, Of all couutreis thou knawis the quali- teis; Quharefore, I thee conjure, be God of lyve. The veritie declare, withouttin leis,^ 130 Quhat thou hes hard, be landis or be seis, Of us kirkmen, boith gude and evyll re- ports ; And quhow thay juge, schaw us, we thee exhorte.' ' Father,' said scho, ' I, catyve creature, Dar nocht presume with sic mater to mell.s Of your caces, ye knaw, I have no cure; Demand thame quhilk in prudence doith precell.^ I maye nocht pew,' my panes bene so fell: And als, perchance, ye wyll nocht stand content To knaw the vulgare pepyllis jugement. 140 ' Yit, wyll the deith alyte ^ withdrawe his darte. All that lyis in my memoryall I sail declare with trew uufenyeit hart. And first I saye to you in generall The commoun peple sayith ye bene all Degenerit frome your holy pirmityvis,' As testyfeis the proces of your lyvis. ' Of your peirles prudent predecessouris The beginnyng, I grant, wes verray gude : Apostolis, martyres, virgines, confess- ouris, 150 The sound of thair excellent sanctitude Was hard ouer all the warld, be land and flude, Plantyng the faith, be predicatioun, As Christe had maid to thame narratioun. 1 passed. G meddle. 2 region. 6 excel. 3 intelligence. s primitives, the fathers of the church. * lies. 9 a little. ' To fortyfie the faith thay tuke no feir Afore prencis, preching full prudeutlie; Of dolorous deith thay doutit nocht the deir,ii> The veritie declaryng ferventlie; And marty rdome thay sufferit pacientlie : Thay tuke no cure of land, ryches, nor rent; 160 Doctryne and deid war boith equivolent. ' To schaw at lenth thair workis wer gret wunder, Thair myracklis thay wer so manifest. In name of Christe thay hailit mony houn- der,ii Kasyng the dede, and purgeing the pos- sest. With perverst spreitis qnhilkis had bene opprest. The crukit ran, the blynd men gat thair ene. The deifE men hard, the lypper^^ war maid elene. ' The prelatis spousit wer with Povertie, Those dayis, quhen so thay flurisit in fame, 170 And with hir generit i^ lady Chaistitie And dame Devotioun, notabyll of name. Humyll thay wer, simpyll, and full of sehame. Thus Chaistitie and dame Devotioun Wer principall cause of thair promotioun. ' Thus thay contynewit in this lyf e devyne Aye tyll thare rang," in Romes gret cietie, Ane potent prince was namit Constantyne, Persavit the Kii-k had spowsit Povertie. With gude intent, and movit of pietie, 180 Cause of divorce he fande betuix thame two, And partit thame, withouttin wordis mo. ' Syne, schortlie, with ane gret solempnitie, Witliouttin ony dispensatioun. The Kirk he spowsit with dame Propirtie, Quhilk haistelye, be proclamatioun. To Povertie gart ^^ mak narratioun. Under the pane of peirsyng of hir eine,i^ That with the Kirk scho sulde no more be 1" injury. " healed many hundreds. " lepers. " begat. " reigned. is he caused. 16 Upon pain of putting out her eyes. 414 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY 'Sanct Sylvester that tyme rang Pope in Home, 150 Quhilk first consentit to the mariage Of Propirtie,^ the quhilk began to blome, Taking on hir the cure with heyoh cor- rage. Devotioun drew hir tyll one heremytage Quhen seho considerit lady Propirtie So heyoh exaltit in-to dignitie. ' O Sylvester, quhare was thy discretionn ? Quhilk Peter did renounce, thow did re- save. Androw and Jhone did leif thair posses- sioun, Thair schippis, and nettis, lynes, and all the lave ; 2 200 Of temporal! substance no-thing wald thay have Contrarious to thair contemplatioun, Bot soberlye thair sustentatioun. ' Johne the Baptist went to the wyldernes. Lazarus, Martha, and Marie Magdalene Left heretage and guddis, more and les. Prudent Sanct Paule thocht Propertie prophane ; Frome toun to toun he ran, in wynde and rane, Upon his feit, techeing the word of grace. And never was subjectit to ryches.' 210 The Gled said, ' Yit I heir no-thyng bot gude. Proceid sehortlye, and thy mater avance.' The Papyngo said, ' Father, be the Rude, It wer too lang to schaw the circum- stance, Quhow Propertie, with hir new alyanee, Grew gret with chylde, as trew men to me talde, And bure two dochteris gudelie to behalde. ' The eldest doohter named was Ryches, The secunde syster, Sensualytie; Qnhilks did incres, within one schorte pro- ces, 220 Preplesande ^ to the Spiritualytie. In gret substance and excellent bewtio Thir Ladyis two gi'ew so, within few yeiris, That in the warlde wer non mycht be thair peiris. 1 Under Silvester (4th century) the Church first ac- quired much property. 8 rest. ' Very pleasing. ' This royall Ryches and lady Sensuall Frome that tyme furth tuke hole the governance Of the moste part of the Stait Spirituall: And thay agane, with hum by 11 obser- vance, Amorouslie thair wyttis did avance, As trew lufiEaris, thair ladyis for to pleis. 230 God wate geve * than thair hartis war at eis. ' Soune thay foryet to study, praye, and preehe, Thay grew so subject to dame Sensuall, And thocht bot paiue pure pepyll for to teche ; Yit thay deoretit, in thair gret Coimsall, Thay wald no more to mariage be thrall, Traistyng surely tyll observe Chaistitie, And all begylit, quod* Sensualytie. ' Apperandlye thay did expell thair wyffis That thay mycht leif at large, without thirlage,^ 240 At libertie to lede thair lustie lyfSs, Thynkand men thrall that bene in mari- age. For new faces provokis new corrage. Thus Chaistitie thay turne in-to delyte; Wantyng of wyffis bene cause of appetyte. ' Dame Chaistitie did steill away for schame, Frome tyme scho did persave thair pro- viance.' Dame Sensuall one letter gart proolame, And hir exilit Italy and France. In Inglande couthe scho get none ordi- nance. ^ 250 Than to the kyng and courte of Scotlande Scho markit hir,^ withouttin more demands. ' Traistyng in-to that court to get conforte, Scho maid hir hiimyll supplycatioun. Sehortlye thay said scho sulde get na sup- porte, Bot bostit hir,w with blasphematioun, " To preistis go mak your protestatioun. It is," said thay, " mony one houndreth yeir Sen Chaistitie had ony entres '^ heir." ' Tyrit for travell, scho to the preistis past, And to the rewlaris of religioun. 261 * knows if. B quoth, said. * bondage. ' purveyance, conduct. a settlement. 9 She marched. 10 ordered her. 11 entry. TESTAMENT OF THE KING'S PAPINGO 415 Of hir presena schortlye thay war agast, Sayaud thay thooht it bot abusioua Hir to resave ; so, with conclusion, With one avyce decretit and gave dome, Thay walde resset ' no rebell out of Rome. • " Sulde we resave that Romania hes re- fuait, And baneist Inglande, Italye, and France, For your flattrye, than wer we weill abuait. Paaae hyne," ^ said thay, " and f aat your way avance, 270 Amang the nonnis go seik your ordinance ; For we have maid aith of fidelytie To dame Ryches and Sensualytie." ' Than paciently scho maid progressioun Towarde the nonnis, with hart ayching full sore. Thay gaif hir preaens, with procesaioun, Reasavand hir with honour, laud, and glore, Purposyng to preaerve hir ever more. Of that novellia * come to dame Propertie, To Ryches, and to Sensualytie ; 280 ' Quhilkis sped thame at the poat rycht spedalye, And sett ane seage proudlye about the place. The sillye nonnia did yeild thame haiatelye, And humyllye of that gylt aakit grace, Syne gave thalr bandis of perpetuall peace. Ressavand thame, thay kest up wykkets * wyde: Than Chaistytie walde no langer abyde. ' So for refuge, fast to the f reris scho fled ; Quhilks aaid thay wald of ladyis tak no cure.' 'Quhare bene acho now?' than said the gredy Gled. 290 ' Nocht amang yow,' said scho, ' I yow assure. I traist scho bene upon the Borrow-mure Besouth ^ Edinburgh, and that rycht mony menis,* Profest amang the Systeris of the Schenis.' ' Thare hes scho found hir mother Pov- ertie, 1 receive. ^ hence. > news. * doors. 5 South of. " lament. 7 Sisters in a Dominican nunnery dedicated to St. Catherine of Sienna, on the Burrow-muir of Edinburgh. And Devotioun, hir awin syster carnall. Thare hes scho found Faith, Hope, and Charitie, Togidder with the Vertues Cardinal!. Thare hes scho found ane convent yit un- thrall To dame Senauall, nor with riches abusit; So quietlye those ladyis bene incluait.' 301 The Pyote said, ' I dreid, be thay assail- yeit, Thay rauder thame, aa did the holy non- nia.' ' Doute nocht,' said scho, ' for thay bene so artalyeit,^ Thay purpose to defend thame with thair gunuis. Reddy to schute thay have sax gret can- nounuis. Perseverance, Constancye, and Conscience, Austerytie, Laubour, and Abstynance. ' To resyste subtell Sensualytie Strongly thay bene enarmit, feit and handis, 310 Be Abstynence, and keipith Povertie, Contrar Ryches and all hir fala servandis. Thay have ane boumbard braissit up in bandis ' To keip thair porte, in myddis of thair clois, Quhilk ia callit, Domine custodi nos ; 'Within quhose schote thare dar no ene- meis Approche thair place, for dreid of dyntia doure.i" Boith nycht and daye thay wyrk, lyke be- sye beis. For thair defence reddye to stande in stoure,ii And hes sic watclieia on thair utter toure That dame Sensuall with seage dar not aasailye, 32, Nor cum within the schote of thair ar- tailye.' ^ The Pyote said, ' Quhareto sulde thay pre- sume For to resyste sweit Sensualytie, Or dame Ryches, quhilkis reularis bene in Rome? Ar thay more constant, in thair qualytie, Nor the prencis of Spiritualytie, s provided with artillery. « a hooped mortar. 10 hard blows. " shock of battle. « artillery. 4i6 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY Quhilkis plesandlye, withouttin obstakle, Haith thame resavit in their habitakle? i ' Quhow long, traist ye, those ladyis sail remaue 330 So solytar, in sic perfectioun? ' The Paping'o said, ' Brother, in certaue, So lang as thay obey correctioun, Cheisyng thair heddis be eleetioun, Unthrall to Ryches or to Povertie,^ Bot as requyrith thair necessitie. 'O prudent prelatis, quhare was your preseiance, That tuke on hand tyll observe Chaisti- tie. But ^ austeir lyf e, laubour, and abstenance ? Persavit ye nocht the gret prosperitie 340 Apperandlye to cum of Propertie? Ye knaw gret cheir, great eais, and ydelnes To Lychorie was mother and maistres.' * Thow ravis unrockit,' * the Ravin said, ' be the Rude, So to reprove Ryches or Propertie. Abraham, and Ysaao war ryche, and ver- ray gude; Jacobe and Josephe had prosperitie.' The Papingo said, ' That is verytie. Ryches, I grant, is nocht to be refusit, Providyng alwaye it be nocht abusit.' 350 Than laid the Ravin ane replycatioun, Syne said, ' Thy reasone is nocht worth ane myte, As I sail prove, with protestatiouu That no man tak my wordis in dispyte. I saye, the temporall prencis hes the wyte,^ That in the Kirk sic pastours dois provyde To governe saulis, that not tham-selfis can gyde. ' Lang tyme efter the Kirk tuke Propertie, The prelatis levit in gret perfectioun, Unthrall to Ryches or Sensualytie, 360 Under the Holy Spreitis protectioun, Orderlye ohosin be eleetioun, As Gregore, Jerome, Ambrose, and Augus- tyne, Benedict, Bernard, Clement, Cleit, and Lyne.' I habitation. ' Qy. Propertie (?) 8 Without. * recklessly. 6 blame, fl The first two popes after S. Peter. ' Sic pacient prelatis enterit be the porte, Plesand the peple be predicatioun. Nowdyke-lowparis '' dols in the Kirk resort. Be symonie, and supplycatioun Of prencis be thair presentatioun. So sillye saulis, that bene Christis scheip, Ar gevin to hungrye gormande ^ wolfis to keip. 371 ' No marvell is thocht we religious men Degenerit be, and in our lyfe confusit: Bot sing, and drynk, none uther craft we ken; Our spirituall fatheris hes us so abusit. Agane our wyll those treukouris' bene intrusit. Lawit'" men hes now religious men in curis; Protest virgenis in keipyng of strong huris.^' 'Prencis, prencis, quhar bene your heych prudence In dispositioun of your beneficeis? 380 The guerdonyng of your courticience ^ Is sum cause of thir gret enormyteis. Thare is one sorte wattand ^^ lyke houn- gre fleis,'^ For spirituall cure, thocht thay be no-thing abyll, Quhose gredie thristis ^^ bene insaciabyll. ' Prencis, I pray yow, be no more abusit, To verteous men havyng so small re- garde. Quhy sulde vertew, throuch flattrye, be refusit. That men for cunnyng ^^ can get no re- warde? Allace! that ever one braggar or ane barde, 390 Ane hure-maister, or commoun hasarture," Sulde in the Kirk get ony kynde of cure! ' War I one man worthy to weir ane croun, Aye quhen thare vakit^^ ony beneficeis, I suld gar call ane congregatioun, The prineipall of all the prelaceis, Moste cunnyng clerkis of nniversiteis, Moste famous fatheris of religioun. With thair advyse mak dispositioun. • I suld dispone all offices pastorallis 400 Tyll doctouris of devynitie, or jure ; ^' 7 leapers over the wall. e greedy. b tricksters. 10 Lewd, unlearned. n whores. " courtiers. 13 waiting. " fleas, is thirsts, i" skill, knowledge IV gambler. 'a fell vacant. » law. TESTAMENT OF THE KING'S PAPINGO 417 And cause dame Vertew pull up all hir saillis, Quhen cunuyng men had in the Kirk moist cure; Gar loidis send thair sonnes, I yow as- sure, To seik science, and famous soulis fre- quent; Syne thame promove that wer moste sapi- ent. ' Gret plesour wer to heir ane bysohope preche, One deaue, or doctour in divinitie, One abbote quhilk could weill his convent teche, One persoun^ flowing in phylosophie. 410 I tyne ^ my tyme to wys ^ quhilk wyll nocht be. War nocht ^ the preaching of the Begging Freris, Tynt war the faith amang the seculeris.' ' As for thair precheing,' quod the Pa- pingo, 'I tbame excuse, for quhy, thay bene so thrall To Propertie, and hir ding * dochteris two, Dame Ryches, and fair lady Sensuall, That may nocht use no pastyme spirifc- uall; And in thair habitis thay tak sic delyte Thay have renuncit russat and raploch quhyte,^ 420 'Cleikand' to thame skarlote and cram- mosie,' With menever, martrik, grice, and ryche armyne.^ Thair lawe hartis exaultit ar so hie. To see thair papale pompe it is ane pyne.^" More ryche arraye is now, with f renyeis " fyne, Upon the bardyng^^ of ane byscheopis mule. Nor ever had Paule or Peter agane Yule. ' Syne fair ladyis thair chene may not es- chape, Dame Sensuall sic seid haith in tham sawin, 1 parson. ' lose. 8 wish- * If it had not been for. ^ digne, worthy. ^ homespun white. ' Taking. ^ crimson. » miniver, marten, grey, and rich ermine. ^0 pain. 11 fringes. 11 caparison. Les skaith 1^ it war, with lycence of the Pape, 430 That iike prelate one wyfe had of hia awin, Nor se thair bastardis ouirthort the coun- tre blawin ; ^^ For now, be thay be weill cumin frome the sculis, Thay fall to work as thay war commoun bullis.' ' Pew ! ' '° quod the Gled, ' thow prechis all in value: Ye seculare floks hes of our cace no curis.' '^ 'I grant,' said scho; 'yit men wyll speit agane, Quhow ye half maid a hundreth thousand' huris Quhilkis nevir had bene war not your lychorous Juris. And geve I lee,^' hartlye I me repent; 44a Was never bird, I watt, more penitent.' Than scho hir shrave,i^ with devote oontyn- ance. To that fals Glcd quhilk fenyeit hym one freir; And quhen scho had fulfyllit hir pennance, Full subtellye at hir lie gan inqueir:- ' Cheis yow,' said he, ' quhilk of us brether heir Sail have of all your naturall geir the curis. Ye knaw none bene more holye creaturis.' ' I am content,' quod the pure Papingo, ' That ye frier Gled, and Corby Monk, your brother, 450 Have cure of all my guddis, and no mo. Sen at this tyme freindsehip I fynd non uther.' ' We salbe to yow trew, as tyll our mother,' Quod thay, and sweir tyll fulfyll hir intent. ' Of that,' said scho, ' I tak ane instru- ment.' The Pyote said, ' Quhat sail myne office bee ? ' ' Ouirman,' i' said scho, ' unto the tother two.' 1' harm. " blown all over the country, ib Pshaw! " Our condition is no affair of you secular flocks (or, more probably, /o?A.?). " ill lie. 18 confessed. " Overseer, umpire. 4i8 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY The rowpand Kevin said, ' Sweit syster, lat see Your holy intent; for it is tyme to go.' The gredie Gled said, ' Brother, do nocht so; 460 We wyll remane, and haldin up hir hede, And uever depart from hir till scho be dede.' The Papingo thame thankit tenderlye, And said, ' Sen ye have tane on yow this cure, Depart myne naturall guddis equalye, That ever I had or has of dame Nature, Fii-st, to the Howlet,^ indigent and pure, Quhilk on the daye, for schame, dar noeht be sene; Tyll hir I laif my gaye galbarte ^ of grene. ' My bryoht depurit ene,' as christall oleir, Unto the Bak * ye sail thame boith pre- sent; 471 In Phebus presens quhilk dar nooht appeir, Of naturall syelit scho bene so impotent. My birneist ' beik I laif, with gude en- tent, Unto the gentyll, pieteous Pellioane, To helpe to peirs hir tender hart in twane. ' I laif the Goik,' quhilk hes no sang bot one, My musyke, with my voce angelycall; And to the Guse ye geve, quhen I am gone. My eloquence and toung rhetorioall. 480 And tak and drye my bonis, gret and small. Syne close thame in one eais of ebure' fyne. And thame present onto the Phenix syne, ' To birne with hir quhen scho hir lyfe renewis. In Arabye ye sail liir fynde but weir,* And sail knaw hir be hir moste hevinly hewis. Gold, asure, gowles,' purpour, and syno- peir.'" Hir dait ^^ is for to leif fyve houndreth yeir. Mak to that bird my commendatioun. And als, I mak yow supplycatioun, 490 1 owl. 2 mantle. 8 eyes. * bat. s burnished. 6 cuckoo. ' ivory. 8 without doubt. » red. ID green. ii date, term of life. ' Sen of my corps I have yow gevin the cure. Ye speid yow to the court, but tareyiig. And tak my hart, of perfyte portrature. And it present unto my Soverane Kyng: I wat he wyll it clois in-to one ryng. Commende me to his Grace, I yow exhorte. And of my passion mak hym trew repoite. 'Ye thre my trypes sail have, for your travel!, ^^ With luffer and lowng,^' to part equale amang yow; Prayand Pluto, the potent prince of hell, Geve ye failye, that in his f eit he fang ^* yow. SOI Be to me trew, thocht I no-thyng belang yow. Sore I suspect your conscience be too large.' ' Doute nocht,' said they, ' we tak it with the charge.' ' Adew, brether ! ' quod the pure Papingo; ' To talking more I have no time totarye; Bot, sen my spreit nion fra my body go, I recommend it to the Queue of Farye, Eternallye iii-tyll hir court to carye, In wyldernes among the holtis hore.'" 510 Than scho inclynit hir hed, aud spak no more. Plungit in-tyll hir mortall passionn. Full grevouslie scho gryppit to the ground. It war too lang to mak narratioun Of sychis sore, with mouy stang and stound.i" Out of hir wound the blnde did so abound, One compas round was with hir blude maid reid: Without remeid,!' thare wes no-thyng bot dede.i' And be ^' scho had In Manus tuas said, Extinctit wer hir naturall wyttis fyve; Hir heid full softlye on hir schulder laid, Syne yeild the spreit, with panes pung- ityve.^" i2i The Ravin began rudely to rug and ryve, Full gormondlyke,2i his emptie throte to feid. ' Eit softlye, brother,' said the gredy Gled: 12 travail, worlt. 18 liver nnd lung. 1* seize, ifi grav wDoHed hills. 16 sting and pang, i' remedy. i> death, is by the time that. 2° keen, u gluttonlike. KITTY'S CONFESSION 419 ' Quhill scho is bote, depart hir evin amang us. Tak thow one half, and reik ^ to me ane- uther. In-tyll our rycht, I wat, no wycht dar wrang us.' The Pyote said, ' The feind resave the fouther! ^ Quhy mak ye me stepbarne, and I your brother ? 530 Ye do me wrang, schir Gled, I schrew * your harte.' ' Tak thare,' said he, ' the puddyngis ^ for thy parte.' Than, wyt ye weill, my hart wes wounder sair For to behalde that dolent departyng,^ Hir angell fedderis fleying in the air. Except the hart, was left of hir no-thing. The Pyote said, 'This perteuith to the Kyng, Quhilk tyll his Grace I purpose to pre- sent.' ' Thow,' quod the Gled, ' sail f aill of thyne entent.' The Revin said, ' God ! nor I rax in ane raipe, 540 And ^ thow get this tyll outher kyng or duke ! ' The Pyote said, 'Plene I nocht'' to the Pape Than in ane smedie * I be smorit ' with smuke.' With that the Gled the pece claueht in his eluke,'" And fled his way: the lave, with all thair myoht, To chace the Gled, flew all out of my sycht. Now have ye hard this lytill tragedie, The sore eomplent, the testament, and mysohance Of this pure bird quhilk did ascend so hie. Beseikand yow excuse myne ignorance And rude indyte,^^ quhilk is nocht tyll avanoe. 551 And to the quair,^ I geve commandiment, Mak no repair quhair poetis bene present. 1 reach. 2 the lot. » beshrew. * entrails. G doleful dividing. 6 May I stretch on a rope, i.e., hang, if, etc. ' If I do not complain. 8 smithy. B smothered. 10 clutched in his claw. 11 style. 12 quire, hook. Because thow bene But Rethorike, so rude, Be never sene Besyde none other buke, With Kyng, nor Quene, With lord, nor man of gude. With coit 1^ unclene, 560 Clame kynrent" to sum cuke; Steil in ane nuke^^ Quhen thay lyste on thee luke. For smell of smuke Men wyll abhor to beir thee. Heir I manes weir ^^ thee; Quhairfor, to lurke go leir " thee. KITTY'S CONFESSION THE CURATE AND KITTY The Curate Kittie culd confesse. And scho tald on baith mair and lesse. Quhen scho was telland as scho wist,^' The Curate Kittie wald have kist; Bot yit ane countenance he bure Degeist,^" devote, daine,™ and demure ; And syne began hir to exeuipue.''^ He wes best at the efter game. Quod he, ' Have ye na wrangous geir ? ' 22 Quod scho, ' I staw^^ ane pek of beir.'^^ 10 Quod he, ' That suld restorit be, Tharefor delyver it to me. Tibbie and Peter bad me speir ^ ; Be my conscience, thay sail it heir.' Quod he, ' Leve ye in lecherie ? ' Quod scho, ' Will Leno mowit^^ me.' Quod he, ' His wyfe that sail I tell, To mak hir acquentance with my-sell.' Quod he, ' Ken ye na heresie ? ' ' I wait nocht quhat that is,' quod sche. ao Quod he, ' Hard ye na luglis bukis ? ' ^ Quod scho, ' My maister on thame lukis.' Quod he, ' The bischop that sail knaw, For I am swome that for to schaw.' Quod he, ' What said he of the King ? ' Quod scho, ' Of gude he spak na-thing.' Quod he, ' His Grace of that sail wit; And he. sail lose his lyfe for it.' Quhen scho in mynd did mair revolve, Quod he, ' I can nocht you absolve, 30 Bot to my chalmer cum at even Absolvit for to be and schrevin.' 13 coat. 1* kindred. 15 nook. " forswear. 1' learn. 18 as best she knew, is Grave. 20 modest. 21 examine. 22 uijcit possessions. 23 stole. 24 barley. 25 ask. 26 toyed with. 27 Reformation writings, especially the Bible, printed in England. 420 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY Quod seho, ' I wyll pas tyll ane-uther. And I met with Schir Andro, my brother, And he full clenely did me schryve. Bot he wes sumthing talkatyve; He speirit ' mouy strange case, How that my lufe did me inbrace, Quhat day, how oft, quhat sort, and quhare ? Quod he, " I wald I had bene thare." 40 He me absolvit for ane plak,^ Thocht * he na pryee with me wald mak; And mekil Latyne he did mummill, I hard na-thing bot hummill bumniill. He sehew me nocht of Goddis word, Quhilk scharper is than ony sword, And deip intill our hart dois prent Our syn, quharethrow we do repent. He pat me na-thing into feir, Quharethrow I suld my syn forbeir; 50 He sehew me nocht the maledictioun Of God for syn, nor the afflictioun And in this lyfe the greit niischeif Ordanit to punische hure and theif ; Nor sehew he me of hellis pane, That I mycht feir, and vice refraine; He counsalit me nocht till abstene, And leid ane holy lyfe, and clene. Of Christis blude na-thing he knew, Nor of His premisses full trew, 60 That saifis all that wyll beleve. That Sathan sail us never greve. He teichit me nocht for till traist The confort of the Haly Gbaist. He bad me nocht to Christ be kynd, To keip His law with hart and mynd. And lufe and thank His greit mercie, Fra syn and hell that savit me; And lufe my nichtbour as my-sell. Of this na-thing he culd me tell, 70 Bot gave me pennance, ilk ane day Ane Ave Marie for to say. And Fridayis fyve na flsche to eit, (Bot butter and eggis ar better meit), And with ane plak to buy ane messe Fra drounkin Schir Jhone Latynelesse. Quod he, " Ane plak I wyll gar Sandie Give thee agane, with handie dandio." * Syne ^ into pilgrimage to pas — The verray way to wantounes. 80 Of all his pennance I was glaid, I had them all perqneir,* I said. To mow and steill I ken the pryce, I sail it set on oincq and syce.' 1 asked about. 3 the third of a penny. > Though. * a child's guessing game. 6 Then. 8 by heart. 7 " Ave and six," dicing terms. Bot he my counsale culd nocht keip; He maid him be the fyre to sleip. Syne cryit, " Colleris,* beif and coillis,' Hois, and sohone with dowbill soillis, Caikis and candill, creische ^^ and salt, Curnis'i of meill, and luiffiUis'^ of malt, 90 WoUin and linning, werp and woft — Dame ! keip the keis of your woU loft ! " Throw drink and sleip maid him to raif ; And swa with us thay play the knaif.' Freiris sweiris be thair professioun Nane can be saif but ^* this Confessioun, And garris all men understand That it is Goddis awin command. Yit it is nocht but mennis drame. The pepill to confound and schame. 100 It is nocht ellis but mennis law. Maid mennis miiidis for to knaw, Quharethrow thay syle 1^ thame as thay will. And makis thair law conforme tharetill, Sittand in mennis conscience Abone Goddis magnificence; And dois the pepill teche and tyste '^ To serve the Pape the Antechriste. To the greit God Omnipotent Confess thy syn, and sore repent; :io And traist in Christ, as wrytis Paule, Quhilk sehed his blude to saif thy saule; For nane can thee absolve bot He, Nor tak away thy syn frome thee. Gif of gude counsall thow hes neid. Or hes nocht leirnit Weill thy Creid, Or wickit vicis regne in thee. The quhilk thow can nocht mortifie. Or be in desperatioun. And wald have consolatioun, 120 Than till ane preichour trew thow pas, And schaw thy syn and thy trespas. Thow neidis nocht to schaw him all. Nor tell thy syn baith greit and small, Quhilk is unpossible to be ; Bot schaw the vice that troubillis thee, And he sail of thy saule have reuth, And thee instruct in-to the treuth, And with the Word of Veritie Sail confort and sail counsall thee, 130 The sacramentis schaw thee at lenth. Thy lytle faith to stark and strenth,!^ And how thow suld thame richtlie use, And all hypoorbie refuse. 8 Collars. 8 coals. J" lard. " Grains, i* hand- fuls. I' without. 1* deceive. i^ decoy. ^^ to increase and strengthen. THE TESTAMENT OF SQUIRE MELDRUM 421 Confessioun first wes ordanit fre In this sort in the Kirk to be. Swa to confes as I descryve/ Wes in the gude Kirk primityve ; Swa wes confessioun ordanit iirst, 139 Thocht Codrus^ kyte^ suld cleve and birst. THE TESTAMENT OF SQUIRE MELDRUM The holie man lob, ground of pacience, In his greit trubiU trewlie did report, — Quhilk I persave, now, be experience, — That mennis lyfe, in eirth, bene ^ wounder short. My youth is gane; and eild* now dois resort: My time is gane ; I think it hot ane dreame : Yit ef ter deith remane sail my gnde fame. I persave shortlie that I man " pay my det: To me in eirth no place bene permanent: My hart on it no mair now will I set, 10 Bot, with the help of God omnipotent, With resolute mind, go mak my Testament, And tak my leif at cuntriemen and kyn, And all the warld: and thus I will begyn. Thrie Lordis to me sal be exeoutouris, — Lindesayis, all thrie, in surname of renouu: Of my Testament thay sail have hail' the cure,^ To put my mind ^ till executioun. That surname failyeit^" never to the Croun; Na mair will thay to me, I am richt sure, Quhilk is the cans that I give them the cxire. 21 First, David, Erll of Craufuird, wise and wicht;" And lohne, Lord Lindesay, my maister special. The thrid sal be ane nobill travellit Knicht, Quhilk knawis the coistis of feistis funeral: The wise Sir Walter Lindesay they him cal. Lord of St. lohne, and Knicht of Torfi- chane. Be sey and land ane vailyeand Capitane. Thocht age hes maid my bodie impotent, Yit in my hart hie courage doeth pre- cell;i2 30 1 describe. 2 A poet ridiculed by Virgil in the Eclogues. ' belly. * is. 6 old age. s must. ' wholly. 8 care. " intention. 10 failed, n brave, stout. 12 dominate. Quhairfoir, I leif to God, with gude intent, My spreit, the quhilk he hes maid immor- tell, Intill his Court perpetuallie to dwell, And nevir moir to steir^^ furth of that steid. Till Christ discend and judge baith quick and deid. I yow beseik, my Lordis Exeeutouris, My geir 1^ geve till the nixt of my kynrent.^ It is Weill kend,!' I never tuik na cures Of couquessing of riches nor of rent: Dispone ''' as ye think maist expedient. 40 I never tuik cure of gold more than of glas. Without honour, fy, fy vpon riches! I yow requeist, my friendis, ane and all. And nobill men, of quhome I am descendit. Fain not to be at my feist funerall, Quhilk throw the warld, I traist, sal be commendit. Ye knaw how that my fame I have defendit. During my life, unto this latter hour, Quhilk suld to yow be infinit plesour. First, of my bowellis clenge^' my bodie clene, 50 Within and out; syne,^^ wesche it weill with wyne, — Bot honestie^o see that nothing be sene; — Syne, clois it in ane coistlie carvit schryne Of ceder treis, or of cyper fyne: Anoynt my corps with balme delicious, With cynamome, and spycis precious. In twa caissis of gold and precious stanis Inclois ray hart and toung, richt craftelie: My sepulture, sune, gar^i mak for my banis, Into the Tempill of Mars, triumphaudlie, 60 Of marbill stanis carvit richt curiouslie, Quhairin my kist^s and banis ye sail clois, In that triumphand Tempill to repois. Mars, Venus, and Mercnrius, all thre Gave me my natural inclinatiounis, Quhilk ranges the day of my nativitie; And sa thair hevinlie constellatiounis Did me support in monie natiounis. Mars maid me bardie like ane feirs lyoun, Quhairthrow I conqueist honour and re- nonn. 70 1' stir. " property. »b kindred. n known. " Dispose. IS cleanse. " then, w Without honor 21 cause. " cofSn. " reigned. 423 SIR DAVID LYNDESAY Quho list to knaw the actis bellieal,' Let thame go reid the legend of my life; Thair sail thai find the deidis niartiall, How I have stand, in monie stalwart strife, Victoriouslie, with speir, sheild, sword, and knife : Quhairfoir, to Mars, the God Armipotent, My corps inoloisit ye do till him present. Mak offering of my toung rhetoricall Till Merourius, qvihilk gaif me eloquence. In his Tempill to hiiig perpetuall: 80 I can mak him na better recompence; For, quhen I was brooht to the presence Of Kings, in Scotland, Inglaud, and iu France, My ornate toung my honour did avance. To fresche Venus my hart ye sail present, Quhilk hes to me bene, ay, comf ortabill : And in ray face sic grace scho did imprent, All creatures did think me amiabUl. Wemen to me scho maid sa favorabill, Wes never ladie that luikit in my face, 90 Bot honestlie I did obtene hir grace. And, syne, hing vp, above my sepulture. My bricht harnes, my scheild, and als my speir, Togidder with my courtlie coit armour, Quhilk I wes wont upon my bodie beir. In France, in Ingland, being at the weir;^ My baner, basnet,' with my temperall,^ As bene the use of feistis funerall. This beand^ done, I pray yow tak the pane My Epitaphe to writ, upon this wyis, 100 Abone my grave, in goldin letteris fyne: ' The maist invinoibill weiriour heir lyis. During his time quhilk wan sic laud and pryis, That throw the hevinis sprang his nobil fame: Victorious William Meldrum wes his name.' Adew! my Lordis; I may na langer tarie: My Lord Lindesay, adew! abone all nther. I pray to God, and to the Virgine Marie, With your Lady to leif lang in the Stnither. Maister Patrik, with young Normond, your brother, 1 10 With my Ladies, your sisteris, al, adew! My departing, I wait weUl, ye will rew. 1 warlike. 2 war. s helmet. ' coat-armor. » being. Bot, maist of all, the fair Ladies of France, Quhen thai heir teU, but dout, that I am deid, Extreme dolour wil change thair counte- nance. And, for my saik, will weir the murning weid. Quhent hir novellis^ dois into Ingland spreid, Of Londoun, than, the lustie ladies cleir Will, for my saik, mak dule and drerie cheir. Of Craigfergus my dayis darling, adew! 120 In all Ireland of feminine the flour. In your querrell twa men of weir I slew, Quhilk purposit to do yow dishonour. Ye suld have bene my spous and paramour, With rent and riches for my recompence, Quhilk I refusit, throw youth and insolence. Fair weill! ye lemant' lampis of lustines Of fair Scotland: adew! my Ladies all. During my youth, with ardent besines. Ye knaw how I was in your service thrall. Ten thowsand times adew! above thame all, 131 Sterne * of Stratherne, my Ladie Soverane, For quhom I sched my blud with mekill panel Yit, wald my Ladie luke,at evin and morrow. On my Legend at lenth, scho wald not mis How, for hir saik, I sufEerit mekill sorrow. Yit, give ^ I micht, at this time, get my wis,'" Of hir sweit mouth, deir God, I had ane kis. I wis in vane: allace! we will dissever. 139 I say na mair: sweit hart adew for ever! Brother in Armes, adew, in generall! For me, I wait,i^ your hartis bene full soir. All trew eompanyeounis, into speciall, I say to yow, adew, for evermolr, Till that we meit agane with God in Gloirl Sir Curat, now gif me, incontinent, My crysme,^^ with the holie Sacrament, My Spreit hartlie I recommend In manus tnas, Domine. My hoip to the is till a'scend, ijo Rex, quia redemisti me. Fra syn resurrexisti me; Or ellis my saull had bene forlorne: With sapience docuisti me; Blist be the hour that thow wes borne! 8 these newa. 7 flaming. 8 star. 9 if. 10 wish. " wot, know. 12 extreme unction. BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ROBERT MANNING OF BRUNNE KOBERT Manning lived, perhaps as a canon, in various houses of the Gilbertine order in Lincolnshire. For a score of years, he tells us, he was in the priory of Bruunewake in Kesteven, six mUes from Sempringham, in the extreme south of the county; and here in 1303 he began the Handling Sin, a free translation in 12,632 Hues of William of Wadiiig- ton's French Manuel des Peckiez. (Wadington is an insignificant place four miles south of Lincoln.) It is, he carefully explains, a manual of sins for unlearned people, treating of the ten commandments, the seven deadly sins, and the like, in purposely simple English, and garnished with sixty-five attractive tales — more than the French version has. Of these the two in the text are fair samples, although the first is not in the French at all, and the second is much shorter there. The rest of our extract is valuable as illustrating the man- ners of the time; indeed the Handling Sin is an entertaining poem, and a worthy fore- runner of the Canterbury Tales and the Confessio Amantis. The other important work of Manning's is his Chronicle, finished about 1338 at the priory of Sixtill (or Six Hills), in the middle of Lincolnshire. The first part of this is a translation of Wace's Brut, the sec- ond of Pierre Langtoft's French Chronicle. Langtoft was born presumably at the hamlet of that name close to Brunne (or Bourne), and was Canon of Bridlington, on the York- shire coast. From such indications as these we can infer that there was a good deal of literary activity in the northern countries in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. It is an odd little circumstance that at another Gilbertine house at which Robert Manning stayed — at Cambridge — he met Robert the Bruce, and was at a feast with Bruee's two brothers, one of whom "made a carved king," says Manning, "and was the best artist of his time." The first part of the Chronicle has been edited by Thomas Hearne, Oxford, 1725, and the second by P'urnivall, London, 1889 ; the Handling Sin, by Furnivall for the Early English Text Soc, London, 1901-03. The present text is Furnivall's with a few changes in punctuation and typography; thus the letters j and f have been replaced by their modern equivalents, u and v distinguished, and the capitalization normalized. THE GAWAIN POET The unknown author ^ of four poems in the British Museum manuscript Cotton Nero A. X -(- 4 is one of the most distinguished literary figures of the Middle Ages in Eng- land. The poems are The Pearl, Cleanness (or Purity'), Patience, and Gawain and the Green Knight — all edited by R. Morris for the E. E. T. S., the first three in Early Eng- lish Alliterative Poems, the last in Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight (revised by Gollancz, 1912) ; later editions of The Pearl by C. G. Osgood in the Belles Lettres Series, 1906, and by I. Gollancz, London, 1907; and of Patience by H. Bateson, Manchester, 1912. The Pearl is a highly finished elegy in an elaborate stanza; Gawain is a stirring Arthurian romance informed with a beautiful spirit of honor and purity. Of these two we give complete translations, with a sample of the original text. Patience and Cleanness, of 500 and 1800 lines respectively, are written in the most powerful and highly colored alliterative verse the former telling the story of Jonah, the latter Belshazzar's impious feast and fate. X It ought to be noted that the identification of the author of Gawain and the Green Knight with that of Tht Pearl, etc., is based on internal evidence and is not umversally accepted. 426 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES Tiiese four, with Winner and Waster and The Parliament of the Three Ages (edited together by Gollanez for the Roxburghe Club, 1897) and the Thornton Morte Arthure (edited by Perry and Brock for the E. E. T. S., and by M. M. Banks, London, 1900; translation by A. Boyle in Everyman's Library), are the artistic culmination of the great alliterative revival of the fourteenth century. Of our author we know only what can be deduced from his works — that he was a native of Lancashire or thereabouts, since he uses the North- West-Midland dialect; a person of chivalrous as well as religious feeling; highly edu- cated, and conversant with the best society of his time. Guesses about his personality may be found in Gollanez and Bateson. His work appears to fall within the third quarter of the fourteenth century. The exact signification of The Pearl has of late been much discussed. The opinion that it is mainly a religious allegory written to support certain theological opinious, though cast with consummate skill into the form of an elegy, has made much headway since it was proposed by W. H. Schofield in the Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, vol. xix (1904), p. 154; yet many scholars still prefer to consider that it is a genuine lament for a little child, and that the theological matter is secondary. Although a vision setting was one of the commonest devices of mediaeval poetry, as one may see in the Romance of the Rose, Dante, and Chaucer, the only piece known that bears any strik- ing resemblance to The Pearl is Boccaccio's fourteenth eclogue, probably composed in 1360: their relationship is discussed in Schofield's article, p. 204, and in Osgood's introduction. The Pearl has been translated by Gollanez (1891), by S. Weir Mitchell (N. Y., 1906 — incomplete), by G. C. Coulton (1906), by C. G. Osgood (1907), by Sophie Jewett (N. Y., 1908), and by Misa Jessie Weston (in Romance, Vision, and Satire, Boston, 1912). Gawain and the Green Knight represents and crowns a great number of Gawain romances, most of which were collected by Sir Frederick Madden in his .Sir Gawayne, edited for the Bannatyne Club in 1839. Gawain was originally the hero par excellence of the Round Table, a knight peerless for utter courage and courtesy. Other heroes in time and in turn became more popular than he, and in some of the French prose romances of the thirteenth century his character was defaced that others might appear to excel him; and Malory and Tennyson have unfortunately perpetuated the debased portrait. The immediate source of our poem was probably a lost French romance. The only editions are Madden's, which is rare, and Morris's, but a new one is preparing. Translations have been published by Miss Weston in Arthurian Romances Unrepresented in Malory's Morte d' Arthur, No. 1, London, 1898, in prose, and in Romance, Vision, and Satire in verse; by E. J. B. Kirtlan, London (1912), and by C. M. Lewis, New Haven, Conn., 1913 — the last a free retelling. Receut articles are those of Knott in Modern Language Notes, xxx (1915), p. 102, and Hulbert in Modern Philology, xiii (1915), p. 433. An important Study of Gawain and the Green Knight by Professor Kittredge has just been published, Cambridge, Mass., 1916. The translations of The Pearl and Gawain and the Green Knight here offered were made in full knowledge of the difficulty, well-nigh futility, of the task, and aim simply at stick- ing close to the text and shirking none of the hard places. WILLIAM LANGLAND Upon the dubious evidence of notes in certain of the manuscripts the author of Piers Plowman is generally considered to be one William Langland, of Cleobury Mortimer in Shropshire; and by the equally unsafe method of identifying the Long Will of the poem with the author a sort of biography hag been made out for bim. But as a matter of fact the authorship is uncertain. The poem itself was extremely popular, so that numerous manuscripts of it still exist. These fall into three groups, making three versions: the A text is a succinct vision con- cerning Piers the Plowman in eight passus, followed by four passus of the vision of Do Wei, Do Bet, and Do Best. This is usually termed the earliest version, written perhaps in BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 427 1362. Two revisions and enlargements are called the B and C texts, and dated 1377 and 1399 respectively. These have generally been deemed the work of the first author; but within the last decade the opinion has spread that they are the work of different hands. The poem is one of the most siguiflcant of the age, picturing as it does with graphic simplicity the social and political life of the times from the standpoint of the masses. It is an indispensable counterpart to the more artistic and more fashionable works of Chau- cer. In form Piers Plovjman is an allegorical vision, written in the old-fashioned allitera- tive metre which was undergoing so remarkable a revival in this century. The standard edition is W. W. Skeat's in two volumes, London, 1886, containing all three versions with a complete apparatus. Professor Manly states his new theory in the Cambridge History of English Literature, 11, 1 ; and both sides of the case are pre- sented in the E. E. T. S. publication, The Piers Plowman Controversy, being Original Series, Extra Issue 139 b, c, d, e, London, 1910 (published 1912). The present modernization follows line by line what seems to have been the original form of the A version, as given by Skeat; the attempt being made to preserve as much of the alliteration as possible, but yet render the language intelligible to the general reader. 4 JOHN GOWER John Gowek, who for centuries ranked as the peer of Chaucer, died an old man in 1408; and his splendid tomb may still be seen in St. Saviour's Church, Southwark. He was a well-to-do member of an extensive Kentish family, and po.ssibly a merchant. Prac- tically nothing is known of his life, but we possess his long and interesting will. His chief works were the Speculum Meditantis or Mirour de I'Omme (before 1380), a French poem of some 30,000 lines, treating of the sins, passing in review the various classes of the world, and giving the scheme of salvation; the Vox Clamantis (1382), some 10,000 lines in Latin, sombre, grandiose, largely allegorical, depicting the degeneracy of the times as indicated by the great Peasants' Revolt of 1381 ; and finally the Confessio Aman- tis (1390) in English, about 33,000 lines in eight books. In this an elderly lover, dis- satisfied with bis rewards, is made to confess to Genius, Venus' priest, who elucidates for him the points of shrift by over a hundred stories, — with manifold digressions and inconsistencies, — and finally counsels the lover to renounce love and pursue morality. The style of these stories is smooth and lucid, the narrative admirably direct. Gower is one of the pillars of English literature: he writes in the same pure and ele- gant language as Chaucer, and thongh much more conservative — more " mediaeval " than Chaucer, lacking indeed his genius and humor, he represents worthily the tendencies of his time. The standard edition is that of G. C. Macanlay, 4 vols., Oxford, 1901, from which our extracts are taken. The capitalization has been modernized. GEOFFREY CHAUCER Geoffkey Chaucer was born in London presumably about 1340, the son of a highly reputable wine-merchant. From the royal records and household accounts we obtain an unusually accurate knowledge of his external life. We first discover him at seven- teen, ii page in the house of the Countess of Ulster, wife of Prince Lionel, third son of Edward III; and a few years later a valet and finally a squire of the King, serving to some extent John of Gaunt also, Edward's fourth son. When about twenty-six he mar- ried Philippa, a lady of the court, probably sister of John of Gaunt's third wife, Kather- iue Swynford. From his royal masters and friends Chaucer and his wife received for their services pensions ranging from forty to sixty pounds yearly, which might represent S3800 or $5200 of our money; and similar grants were continued to the poet after Phil- ippa's death by Edward Ill's successors, Richard II and Henry IV. Chaucer held two 428 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES custom-house appointments, one for twelve, and one for four years, for which he received the customary fees, whatever they were. At least seven times he was sent abroad — to Flanders, France, and Italy — on the King's business, diplomatic and commercial; and we have records of payments to him on these occasions. He was clerk of the king's works at various places for two years at a good salary, a member of Parliament for Kent for one year, one of a commission to repair the bank of the Thames, a royal forester, and so on; and besides these sources of income he had his share of the perquisites of office and lu- crative royal favors. In his prime, then, our great poet was a well-to-do man of affairs. In 1386 he met with reverses, aud towards the end of his life he appears actually to have been in straits for want of money; however, when he died in 1400 he was again prosperous. Chaucer's principal works are: a translation of the French Romance of the Rose, an early work, of which, at most, only a fragment is extant; The House of Fame (1379?), an aerial journey related in a whimsical and assured style, but left unfinished; The Parlia- ment of Fowls (1382), a lively allegory; a prose translation of Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy (1383) ; Troilus and Criseyda (1384), a long and perfectly wrought version of Boccaccio's Filoslrato; the Legend of Good Women (1385), also unfinished, with a pretty, spirited prologue and nine hurried lives or legends of amorous " martyrs "; and the Can- terbury Tales (1386-94). Chaucer began like a good craftsman by translating from the French masters of his own century; then he came under the influence of the still greater Italians; and finally in the Canterbury Tales — from whatever source he appropriated his plots — he developed into our raciest, most thoroughly English-flavored, poet. These so- called " periods," however, are not mutually exclusive. The great position which Chaucer at once won and has ever since held served as much as the influence of London and the court to make his deft and melodious language the standard of literary English. The principal modern editions of Chaucer are Skeat's, in six volumes, with complete apparatus, Oxford, 1899; Skeat's Students' Chaucer, and the Olobe Chaucer by Pollard aud others. Pollard's Chaucer Primer is a helpful companion. The Chaucer Society (now, alas, extinct) has printed much valuable material. Miss E. P. Hammond's Chaucer, a Biblio- graphical Manual, gives all the works upon Chaucer down to 1908. Our text is Skeat's in the Students' Chaucer, with half a dozen conservative changes. Important critical works are Studies in Chaucer, by T. R. Lounsbury, 3 vols.. New York, 1892; The Poetry of Chaucer, by B. K. Root, Boston, 1906; Geoffrey Chaucer by Emile Legouis, London and N. Y., 1913; and Chaucer and his Poetry, by G. L. Kittredge, Cam- bridge, Mass., 1915. TJ7E CANTERBURY TALES The Canterbury Tales is far from being a completed work. The twenty-nine pilgrims were each to tell two (or four — see 11. 792-794 of the Prologue') stories; but we have only twenty finished, and four unfinished. Thus many gaps are left in our MSS., and edi- tors designate the detached groups as A, B, C, etc. The Knight's Tale (2250 lines) is an adaptation of Boccaccio's Teseide (9054 lines). Less than a third of Chaucer's poem is actual translation, the rest being his own variations. The theme was one in which Chaucer had long been interested, and traces of Boccaccio's poem crop up in Anelida and Arcile, The Parliament of Fowls, Troilus, and The Legend of Good Women. The Prioress's Tale Chaucer has taken from some Latin prose version current in England of this favorite legend. Strangely enough, the precise sort of Jew-baiting here pictured still persists in Russia and elsewhere, and not infrequently appears in the press. Sir Thopas is a merry burlesque of the most popular romances, like Guy of Warwick, Amis and Amiloun, Launfal, Libeaus Disconus, and Sir Tristram. The Nun's Priest's Tale of the Cock and the Fox is a story from the almost universal Reynard the Fox cycle, on which point one might consult Miss Petersen's " On the Sources of the Nonne Prestes Tale," Boston, 1898. The Pardoner's Tale is a sort of sermon, or exemplum, on the text. Radix malorum est cupiditas, and the edifying plot is one much employed both in the East and the West. Compare, for ex- ample, Kipling's King's Ankus, and the Decameron, Day 6, Novel 10. The Wife of Bath's BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 429 story belongs to a well-known type, a version of it being found, for instance, in Bishop Percy's Folio MS., vol. 1., as The Marriage of Sir Gawaine, and in Sir Frederick Madden's Sir Qawayne as the Weddynge of Syr Gawen and Dame Ragnel. For the oldest types of it see G. H. Maynadier's Wife of Bath's Tale, London, 1901. Tff£ ROMANCE OF THE ROSE The thirteenth century French Roman de la Rose, by GruUlaume de Lorris and Jean de Meun, was one of the most influential of European poems. Chaucer shows extreme familiarity with it, and tells us {Legend of Good Women, A Prologue, 255) that he trans- lated it. The extant English version, of 7696 lines as contrasted with the 22,000 of the original, passed without question as his until 1870. Since then the authorship has been much debated ; and at present most are inclined to call lines 1-1706 Chaucer's, lines 1706- 5810 not Chaucer's, the rest possibly his ; but the matter is not entirely settled. For a summary of the discussion see Miss Hammond's Chaucer, p. 451. The French poem has been edited by Meon, Paris, 1814, and by others. From the end of our excerpt the story goes on to tell how the youth entered the garden and fell in love with a fair bud in the rosary ; how with the help of Good Reception and Venus he kissed it; then how Jealousy, Scandal and others drove him off; and how after a long strife, which Jean de Meun sows with in- teresting digressions, the lover finally won his rose. THE PARLIAMENT OF FOWLS The Parliament of Fowls celebrates the wooing by Eichard II of the Lady Anne of Bohemia, whom he married at Westminster in January, 1382. Richard is the formel eagle, the other eagles his unsuccessful rivals. The vision setting is noteworthy as having been employed by Chaucer in several of his poems, probably under the influence of the Romance of the Rose and of the more recent French verse. On the interpretation of the historical allegory see Emerson, Modem Philology, via (1910), p. 45, and Moore, Modern Language Notes for Jan. 1911. TROILUS AND CRISEYDE The real creator of the Troilus and Criseyde story is Benoit de Sainte-Maure, who made it a conspicuous episode in his Estorie (or Roman') de Troie, an elaborate and entertainingly mediaeval account of the fall of Troy in over 30,000 lines, written in the north-west of France about 1160 (ed. L. Constans for the Soci^t^ des Anciens Textes Frangais, 1904 f.). Benoit elaborated the brief accounts of the Trojan War found in the late Latin writers Dares and Dictys; and his own work was latinized in about 1287 by Guide da Colonna (or delle Colonne) of Messina as the Historia Trojana. This again was the source of Boccaccio's Filostrato, Chaucer's immediate model. Chaucer, however, takes only about half of the Italian, adds twice that amount of his own, and recurs occasionally to Boc- caccio's predecessors. A minute comparison of the two works has been made by W. M. Rossetti in the publications of the Chaucer Society for 1875. Valuable recent articles are those by R. K. Root, in The Poetry of Chaucer, Boston, 1906, chap. 6; K. Toung, Origin and Development of the Story of T. Sj- C, Chaucer Soc, 1908; Tatlock, Development and Chronology of Chaucer's Works, Chancer Soc, 1907, p. 1. f. ; Kittredge, The Development of Chaucer's Troilus, etc., Chaucer Soc, 1909. THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN The Legend of Good Women was planned to celebrate the constancy in love of twenty famous ladies ; but Chaucer wearied of the undertaking and gave it up after nine of their 430 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES legends were finished. His models may have been the Heroides of Ovid, the De Claris Mulieribus of Boceaooio, and similar collections. It is an interesting circumstance that the Prologue, quite the most charming part of the poem, exists in two versions, of which the shorter or A version appears to be the later — though the matter is still in dispute. And this prologue, especially near the beginning, is in diction so amazingly like the works of the contemporary French poets Machault, Froissart, and Deschamps, that it has been surmised that Chaucer wrote it largely as a compliment to them and sent it to Deschamps in acknowledgment of certain flattering stanzas addressed by Deschamps to him. Impor- tant articles on The Legend are those of J. L. Lowes in the Publication of the Modern Language Association of America, xix, 593, and XX, 749, and J. C. French's The Problem of the Two Prologues, etc., Baltimore, 1905. THOMAS HOCCLEVE The ingenuous Thomas Hoccleve (or Oocleve) was born about 1367, and died about 1450, so that he was precisely a contemporary of Lydgate. Like Lydgate he was a dis- ciple and a profound admirer of Chaucer, perhaps indeed, as he claims, a friend. He was a Londoner, living till his old age at Chester's Inn (where Somerset House now stands), and daily going by the Strand or the river to iis work in the Privy Seal office at West- minster. From official records and his own garrulous poems, we know a good deal about his life. In early manhood he lived gayly and extravagantly — at least so he says; when middle-aged and poor he married — for love; and when old he was cared for in South- wick Priory Hampshire. His chief works are the Letters of Cupid (475 11.), translated from Christine de Pisan in 1402; La Male Regie (448 11.), 1406, autobiographical; The Regement of Princes (5463 11.), 1412, a book of advice for Prince Hal, from the De Regimine Principum of Aegidius Romanus, and other sources; the Complaint (413 11.) and the Dialogue (826 11.), both about 1421, autobiographical poems. He wrote very pleasing short pieces — balades, roundels, etc. — and versified two stories from the Gesta Romano- rum. Hoccleve's work is interesting for the naive autobiographical details, the satire on follies of the day — like long sleeves — and the sincere tributes to Chaucer and Gower. The verse is as a rule mechanical, unmusical, yet in certain of the short poems it shows spirit, and something like virtuosity. The extracts are from F. J. Furnivall's Edition of Hoccleve in 3 volumes for the E. E. T. S., with the capitalization somewhat modernized and u and v distinguished. JOHN LYDGATE John Lydgate lived from about 1370 to about 1450, a large part of this time as a monk of Bury St. Edmunds. For a while he was a priest of Hatfield Regis. Little else is known of his life, but judging from his many occasional poems, he dwelt much in the world and was a favorite of princes and nobles. His principal works are : The Temple of Glass (1403 11., in 7-line stanzas). Reason and Sensuality (7040 11., in short couplets, un- finished, rich in mediseval description, where Pallas and Venus strive for the author's alle- giance), The Troy Book (30,117 11. in heroic couplets), The Pilgrimage of the Life of Man (24,832 11. in short couplets). The Fall of Princes (36,316 11. in 7- and 8-line stanzas), and the Secreta Secretorum, or Secrees of Olde Philosoffres (1491 11. in rhyme royal). Be- sides this bulk of somewhat heavy poems, Lydgate produced a great amount of minor verse in various keys, such as fables, saints' lives, religious lyrics, mummings and satires, and in these much of his best is found. Lydgate's reputation in his lifetime was very great; he was constantly named with Chaucer and Gower, and early MSS. and reprints of his works abound. Of late he has been unduly depreciated, partly from lack of material to judge him by, partly from the corrupt state of the text. Now his works are gradually being made accessible. The best account of his life is in Schick's edition of The Temple BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 431 of Glass, E. E. T. S., London, 1891. H. N. MacCraoken in The Minor Poems of John Lyd- gate, vol. i, E. E. T. S., 1911, is authoritative on the Lydgate canon. Lydgate's style is smooth, dignified, long-winded; yet at times he attains liveliness and even grace. His diction is incredibly tinctured by that of his revered master, Chaucer. Both in matter and manner he is thoroughly representative of the late fourteenth and early fifteenth cen- turies; he is a storehouse of mediaeval commonplace. JOHN SKELTON The extraordinarily conceited, whimsical, and pugnacious John Skelton was probably born at Diss in Norfolk about 1460. He was educated at Cambridge, aud received the degree in rhetoric of Poeta Laureatus — of which he was extremely vain — not only from Cambridge, but from Oxford and Louvain as well. His great learning is attested by Cax- ton in the preface to his ^neid, by Erasmus, and by the fact that (about 1498) he was made tutor to the prince who (in 1509) became Henry VIII: it is likewise sulBcieutly patent in his works. From them it is plain that he was much at court, or at least about London. His patrons included Wolsey; but his attitude toward Henry's powerful minister gradually changed until in Speak Parrot and Why Come Ye Not To Court he virulently attacked the Cardinal. The result was that toward the end of his life the poet was obliged to take sanctuary at Westminster Abbey aud stay there till his death in 1529. He had been rector of Diss and presumably resident there since 1503. Such was the mischievous and sportive nature of this misplaced parson that for long after his death he remained a stuck figure in " merry tales " and plays. His chief works are : The Bowge of Court (before 1508), a vivid allegory of the corruption of courts (bouge=free board); Philip Sparrow (before 1508); The Tunning of Elinour Rumming (0. 1510); Magnificence (c. 1516), an elaborate morality play; Colin Clout (1519), a satire directed against the clergy; A. Goodly Gar- land of Laurel (c. 1520), a long vision-allegory of self-laudation; and Why Come Ye Not To Court f (1522), a violent satire on Wolsey. Many of his works are lost. Skelton is among the most important and original of English satirists : though still under Chaucer's influence (especially in The Garland of Laurel), he is one of the beginners of our modern poetry. The standard edition of his works is by Alexander Dyce, two vols., London, 1843. The present text is from the American edition of Dyce, Boston, 1866, with the spelling mod- ernized — that being an attention which in the editors' opinion Skelton's poems particularly deserve : only an occasional (sounded) -es or -e is retained, and old spellings that indi- cate a different pronunciation from tlie present. Recent articles on Skelton are A. Kolb- ing's Zur Characteristic Skeltons, and Friedrich Erie's Skelton Studien, in Englische Studien, XXXVII, 1. STEPHEN HAWES Stephen Hawes (0. 1474^0. 1529) was a groom of the chamber to Henry VII, and a court poet. He was born in Suffolk, educated at Oxford; was travelled, accomplished, and knew most of Lydgate by heart. By all odds his most important work is The Pastime of Pleasure, or The History of Graunde Amoure and La Bel Pucel, containing the Knowledge of the Seven Sciences and the Course of Man's Life in this World, written in 1506. For de- scriptions of his other poems, see the Cambridge History of English Literature, p. 226. The copious extracts of The Pastime given in our text are from T. Wright's edition for the Percy Society, London, 1845. In this gentle allegory the hero. Grand Amour, sets out in search of La Bel Pucel. In the tower of Doctrine he is instructed in Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric — the trivium; and iu Arithmetic, Mn.sic, Geometry, and Astronomy the quadrivium. He finds La Bel Pucel and is accepted by her, but cannot marry until he undergoes successfully prodigious adventures with a three-headed giant, a seven-headed 432 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES giant, and other monsters. He overcomes all these obstacles and marries the damsel. At last age comes upon him, with Policy and Avarice; then Death with Contrition and Conscience ; Remembrance writes his Epitaph, and Fame enrolls him among the great knights. The Pastime of Pleasure is a notable link between the old metrical romances and the old didactic allegories, on the one hand, and The Faerie Queene, on the other. POPULAR BALLADS A POPULAR or traditional ballad is a song that tells a story and that has been handed down among the folk for generations. Even when an individual author is presumed to have given the story its first form, his personal characteristics were obliterated in the long process of transmission, during which each singer modified the text at his will, until the product is truly that of the people. A text becomes fixed only when it is caught by print, and the life of the ballad, properly speaking, ends. The oldest so caught is Judas, found in a manuscript of the thirteenth century; and one of the most recent is the Bitter Withy, discovered in 1868. We have a few ballads written down in the fifteenth century; but the bulk of those extant probably date in their present form from the seventeenth century; Bishop Percy's old manuscript, for example, was written about 1650. In spite of the praise of ballads by Sir Philip Sidney, Ben Jonson, and Addison, they were neglecti d by the literary world until well into the eighteenth century. An interest in them was one of the signs of the romantic movement, and the publication of Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry in 1765, which consists largely of old ballads, marks an epoch in English literature. The enthusiastic collecting period was from about 1750 to 1850, Percy and Sir Walter Scott being tha most notable of the collectors. Ballads are the simplest of poetry, the usual metre being a stanza of four roughly iambic lines, the unrhyraed first and third of four beats, the rhyming second and fourth of three beats. It is common to have all four lines with four beats, or to have rhyming couplets; very few ballads have any greater metrical sophistication. The refrain is much employed; so is assonance and imperfect rhyme. There is much repetition of phrase and of situation; many of the epithets are conventional; the favorite numbers, three, seven, and nine are conspicuous; gold and silver and gems abound; supernatural phenomena are unhesitatingly accepted; the fairy world is very near, and beasts are not so different from men. Thus many archaic literary traits are preserved in the ballads, along with the emotions and the culture of a long past age. The standard collection of English ballads is that by the late F. J. Child in ten parts or five volumes — The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, Boston, 1882-98. All these ballads (but not all the versions of them) have been reprinted in one convenient volume with the same title by Helen Child Sargent and G. L. Kittredge, Boston, 1904. The text of our selections is that of Child. The best critical account is that of F. B. Gummere, The Popular Ballad, Boston, 1907. JOHN BARBOUR For the life of John Barbour, the first of the important Scottish poets, we have the same sort of information as about his English contemporary Chaucer. From state papers we glean that he was born at about 1320, and that he died in 1395; that he was arch- deacon of Aberdeen; that he frequently had safe-conduct to travel and study in England and France — as in 1357, for example, when Edward III permits him to conduct three scholars to Oxford; that in 1373 he was clerk of the audit and one of the auditors of the exchequer to Robert II of Scotland; and that he received various pensions and perqui- sites from his royal master. As The Bruce was composed within fifty years of its hero's death, it is by no means devoid of historic authenticity, but in form it is a spirited romance, full of mediaeval and BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 433 patriotic exaggeration, abounding in stirring narrative, and in sage reflections. The 13,615 octosyllabic lines are divided into fourteen cantos. The language is practically that of the north of England in the fourteenth century, and it is sometimes called " Early Soots " to distinguish it from the more sophisticated and more difficult " Middle Scots " of the writers after 1450. The best edition is that of W. W. Skeat for the E. E. T. S., 1870-89, and for the Scottish Text Society, 1893-95, from which latter our excerpts are taken. In addition to The Bruce, Barbour has had attributed to him on insufficient evidence the fragmentary Troy Book in the noithern dialect, a northern collection of Legends of the Saints, and, with perhaps better reason, the Bulk of Alexander. Still further additions to his canon are proposed by G. Neilson in his John Barbour, London, 1900 (cf. Athenmum, 27 Feb., 1897, and Scottish Antiquary, Jan., 1897). See also J. T. T. Brown, The Wallace and the Bruce Re-studied, Bonn, 1900; and W. A. Craigie, "John Barbour and Blind Harry as Literature," Scottish Review, xxn, 173. "BLIND HARRY" The authority usually cited for the date and the author of The Wallace is John Major (1470-1550), the Scottish historian, who says that such a work was composed in Major's infancy by a wandering minstrel, Henry, who was blind from his birth. There happen also to be entries of payments to a "Blin Harr}'" up to 1492 in the accounts of James IV. The poem, however, seems so much like the work of a well-read accomplished person, observant of nature and of affairs, that it is on the whole safer to consider the authorship doubtful. The unique MS., in the Advocates' Library in Edinburgh, is anonymous, as are also the early printed editions of 1508, 1570, 1594, 1601, 1611, etc. The 11,858 lines, in eleven books, are a largely apocryphal biography of the great Scottish hero who figured so prominently in history from 1296 to 1298, and was brutally executed in 1305, but the rest of whose career is almost totally unknown. The work is written in the comparatively new " heroic " couplet introduced by Chaucer, and for the most part in a straightforward, energetic, unvaried style; but not infrequently the author shows that he can use the artificial, "aureate " terms of Middle Scots. The poem has had an immense popularity in Scotland, and in the modern Scots version of William Hamil- ton (1722) had some influence on Burns. Our excerpts are from the edition of J. Moir for the Scottish Text Society, 1884-89. For the authorship see J. T. T. Brown's The Wallace and the Bruce Re-studied, Bonn, 1900, and for the best discussion of the legendary and historical constituents of the poem, with their bearing on authorship, the MS. dissertation of F. L. Childs, Studies in The Wallace, in Harvard University Library. JAMES I OF SCOTS King James I of Scotland, the author of the King's Quair, was captured at sea by the English in 1406 — when he was about eleven — and kept prisoner until 1424. In that year he married an English lady, Joan Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, was ransomed, and went home to reign. After an energetic rule of thirteen years, during which he sought especially to crush the power of the turbulent nobles, he was savagely murdered at Perth by the outlawed Sir Robert Graham and a band of Highlanders. The poem is an allegorical account of James's love affair. The metre is the seven-line stanza of Chaucer's Troilus, which, from James's use of it, is often called " rime royal." In form it is a love-vision of the tjrpe best known by the Romance of the Rose, and it abotmds in reflections of Chaucer's works, though Lydgate's Temple of Glass is the chief source. In fact, it is one of the most characteristic pieces of the Chaucerian school. The language is a somewhat artificial one, partly northern or Scots, and partly that of Chau- cer — Midland English. The date is between 1423 and his death in 1437. 434 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES The standard edition is that of W. W. Skeat for the Scottish Text Soc, new ed., 1911, from which our text is taken. The question of the authorship is debated in J. T. T. Brown's The Authorship of the King's Quair, Glasgow, 1896; Jusserand's Jaques 1™ d' Ecosse fut-il poete, Paris, 1897; R. S. Rait's The King's Quair and the new CnJicism, 1898 ; A. Lawson's Kinge's Quair and the Quare of Jelusy, Edinburgh, 1910. For sources, see W. A. Neilson's Origins and Sources of the Court of Love, Boston, 1899, pp. 152, 232/'. ROBERT HENRYSON Almost nothing is known of Henryson, one of the greatest of the Scottish Chaucerians. He lived perhaps from 1425 to 1500. He may be the master Robert Henryson, already " licentiate in arts and bachelor in degrees," incorporated a member of Glasgow Univer- sity in 1462; and he is called "schoolmaster of Dumfermlin" in the earliest edition of his Fables (1560). His Testament of Cresseid, written mostly in Chaucer's seven-line stanza, is, although a bit laden with medijeval machinery at the start, one of the most powerful and affecting poems of the century, as his Rohyn and Makyn is one of the most graceful and pleasing of pastorals. The thirteen Fables are perhaps an even more significant accomplishment, for to this time-honored theme Henryson has brought so much vivacity and acute, sym- pathetic observation of men and beasts, that no fables have more flavor than his. Besides these Henryson wrote a dozen or more short poems. His works have been edited by D. Laing, Edinburgh, 1865; and by G. G. Smith for the Scottish Text Soc, 3 vols., Edin- burgh, 1906-8. Our selections are from the latter, in the Testament and the fable of The Two Mice following the Charteris text, in The Fox, the Wolf, and the Cadger that of the Harleian MS. WILLIAM DUNBAR DuNBAK lived from about 1460 to 1520. He graduated bachelor of arts at St. An- drews in 1477, and master in 1479. He was probably of noble kin, but relatively humble station; and it is possible that he was for a time a wandering friar, though the biographi- cal details that have been drawn from his poem on " How Dunbar was desyrd to be ana Freir " should be accepted cautiously on account of the obviously farcical nature of the poem. Later he was a priest at court, accompanied certain expeditions on the king's business, and received certain pensions and grants of livery. A poet's position in the be- ginning of the sixteenth century is still like Chaucer's. Dunbar's two most important allegorical poems are those given in our text — The Thistle and the Rose, a parliament of beasts and birds in imitation of Chaucer's Parliament of Fowls, written in honor of the betrothal of James IV of Scotland and Margaret Tudor, daughter of Henry VII of England; and The Golden Targe, wherein the poet represents himself as trying in vain to ward off the arrows of love by the shield of reason, These elegant stanzas are written in the Middle Scots " aureate " style, and in conscious emula- tion of Chaucer, Gower, and Lydgate, characteristic praise of whom is to be found at the end of The Golden Targe. There is the same polish in several of the occasional pieces here given; but it is in the Seven Deadly Sins, the Dregy, and Kind Kittok that those qualities for which Dunbar is most famous appear — audacious fancy and rollicking humor, an astonishing virtuosity in every metre, and a cataclysmic wealth of strange words. Dunbar wrote in all about a hundred poems. The most useful editions are those of J. Schipper, Vienna, 1894, and of John Small and others in the Scottish Text Soc, 1884-93. Our texts are from the latter. Schipper has also written a biographical and critical study, William Dunbar, sein Leben und seine Gedichte, Berlin, 1884. BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 435 GAVIN DOUGLAS Gavin Douglas (o. 1475-1522) was third son of the great Earl of Angus, Archibald Bell-the-Cat. He was educated at St. Andrews, entered the church, and after many vicis- situdes — for he was deep in the politics of a most turbulent period — became bishop of Dunkeld. All his literary work appears to have been done while he was Dean of St. Giles in Edinburgh, from 1501 to 1513. His ^neid (1513), " the first version of a great poet in any English dialect," is a translation of Virgil's twelve books, and the thirteenth of Mapheus Vegius, in vigorous Middle Scots. Peculiarly interesting are the original pro- logues to all the books, on the seasons or other subjects not at all connected with the poems. That to the twelfth book is perhaps the most overwhelming example of the " fresch anamalit termes celicall," the " sugurit," " aureate," " mellifluate," coinages of these late Scottish mediaevalists, who at the same time begin to show the influence of the Revival of Learning. King Hart is of course the human heart in the castle of the body, surrounded by his servitors, the five senses : it is a fairly well constructed allegory of over 900 lines. The Palace of Honour, Douglas's earliest work (1501), comprises 2166 lines in nine-line stanzas. It is an over-elaborate dream-vision, stuffed with all manner of mediceval motives, where the poet finds Venus and Prince Honour in a mansion some- what like that in Chaucer's House of Fame. The only collected edition of Douglas's works is that by John Small, 4 vols., Edinburgh, 1874, from which our text is taken. SIR DAVID LYNDESAY Sir David Ltndesay lived approximately from 1490 to 1555. He may have attended St. Andrews University; thereafter, for most of his life, he was a personal attendant, in various offices, upon James V of Scotland, finally in 1529 attaining knighthood and the office of chief herald, or Lyon King of Arms. He was sent on several missions abroad, sat for a while as member of Parliament, and was a general master of ceremonies at the Scottish court. In The Dream (1134 lines) Lyndesay is seeking to edify his young prince by an alle- gorical vision somewhat in Chaucer's style, wherein after a visit to Hell, Purgatory, and the various spheres, his guide. Dame Remembrance, displays to him the native resources of his own Scotland; and when the author asks, " Why, then, is it so poor ? " she replies, "Because of misgovernment"; and anon follows the excerpt given in our text, where John the Common Wealth lays bare in trenchant fashion the evils under which Scotland suffered. The date of composition may be 1528. The Testament and Complaint of our Sovreign Lord's Papyngo (1190 lines) is one of Lyndesay's most polished satires. The papyngo or parrot is blown from the top of a high tree which she ought never to have climbed, and fatally hurt. She laments her ambition, and sends one warning epistle to the king, and another to her brethren of the court, which latter ends with the first three stanzas of our extract. Kitty's Confession is one of Lyndsay's best short satires, — reasonable, pungent, and ex- posing an obvious specific abuse. Squire Meldrum (1847 lines) is a little romance, which recalls in a way the old mediseval romances, but which is brought quite up to date — being founded indeed upon contem- porary happenings. The Fif eshire hero-squire defeats the English champion in France, wins a sea-fight, also a lovely lady, takes a great castle, is at last dreadfully wovmded and left for dead by brutal assailants, but recovers to live to a good old age and make the Testament which is given in our extract. The chief works of Lyndesay's not represented here are The Dialogue betwixt Experience and a Courtier (6333 lines), called also The Monarchy, an account of certain biblical stories and church doctrines, and A Pleasant Satire of The Three Estates (4652 lines), a 436 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES unique sort of morality play of great length and scope, a keen and amusing satire di- rected against the weaknesses of the nobles, the burgesses, and the clerics — indeed one of the most remarkable and entertaining works of the time, and the most viyaoious and realistic of moralities. Lyndesay is the last of the Scottish Chaueerians: he cites reverently the master's name along with those of Lydgate and Gower, but he is touched by the spirit of the Reforma- tion and the Renaissance, and is as much a reformer as a poet. The principal edition of his works is that by David Laing, 3 vols., Edinburgh, 1879. That by F. Hall and J. A. H. Murray for the E. E. T. S., from which our texts are taken, is unfinished. INDEX INDEX Adam, his owne Scriveyn, Chaucers Wordes unto, 195. Adrian and Bardus, 92. Mneid, Translation of the, 406, Death of Priam, 401; Morning in May, 402; Pro- logue, 400. Albinus and Rosemund, 83. Babylon, 260. Badby's Heresy, 200. Bailiff's Daughter of Islington, The, 301. Balade to my Gracious Lord of York, 204. Ballad of Kind Kittok, The, 397. Ballads, 256-331; Bibliog., 432. Barbara Allan, 296. Barbour, John, 332-339; Biog. and Bibliog., 432. Baron of Brackley, The, 321. Battle of Bannockburn, The, 334. Battle of Otterburn, The, 309. Bewick and Graham, 324. Bitter Withy, The, 331. 'Blind Harry,' 340-346; Biog. and Bibliog., 433. Bonnie Banks o Fordie, The, 260. Bonnie Earl of Murray, The, 318. Bonnie George Campbell, 323. Bonnie House o Airlie, The, 321. Bonny Barbara Allan, 296. Braes of Yarrow, The, 327. Bruce, The, 332. Bycorne and Chichevache, 220. Canterbury Tales, The, 95-155; Bibliog., 428. Captain Car, 316. Ceyx and Alceone, 90. Chaucer, Geoffrey, 95-198; Biog. and Bib- liog., 427; Hawes on, 249; Hoccleve on, 202. Chaucers Wordes unto Adam, 195. Cherry-Tree Carol, The, 278. Chevy Chase, 311. Child Waters, 284. Churl and the Bird, The, 208 Cleopatra, Legend of,_190. Clerk Colvill, 273. Clerk Saunders, 289. Colin Clout, 241. Complaint, The, 205. Complaint of Cresseid, The, 372. Complaynt of the Commounweill of Scotland, The, 409. Compleynt of Chaucer to his Empty Purse, The, 198. Confessio Amantis, 79. Constantine and Silvester, 85. Cruel Brother, The, 258. Daemon Lover, The, 328. Dan Joos, Legend of, 227. Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins, The, 394. Death of Priam, The, 401. Death of Wallace, The, 345. Dietary, A, 221. Douglas, Gavin, 400-408; Biog. and Bibliog., 435. Douglas Tragedy, The, 256. Dowy Houms o Yarrow, The, 327. Dream, The, 409. Dregy of Dunbar, The, 396. Dunbar, William, 386-399; Biog. and Bib- liog., 434. Earl Brand, 256. Edom o Gordon, 316. Edward, 259. Eleanor Humming, The Tunning of, 238. Envoy to Scogan, 197. Excusation of the Auctour, The, 255. Extravagance in Men's Dress, 199. 440 INDEX Fables, 375, 380. Fair Annie, 283. Fishing Adventure, The, 340. Florent, 79. Former Age, The, 195. Fox, the Wolf, and the Cadger. The, 375. Garland of Laurel, The, 247, 248. Garment of Good Ladies, The, 384. Gawain and the Green Knight, 19. Gawain Poet, The, Biog. and Bibliog., 425. Gay Goss-hawk, The, 299. Gentilesse, 197. Gest of Eobyn Hode, The, 303 n. Get up and Bar the Door, 330. Glasgerion, 288. Godfrey Gobilyve, 253. Golden Targe, The, 386. Good Counsel, 366. GoTver, John, 79-94; Biog. and Bibliog., 427; Hawes on, 249; Hoccleve on, 202. Great Silkie of Sule Skerry, The, 301. Handling Sin, 1-5. Hawes, Stephen, 249-255; Biog. and Bibliog., 431 ; on Gower, Chaucer, and Lydgate, 249. Henryson, Eobert, 367-385; Biog. and Bib- liog., 434. Hind Etin, 270. Hind Horn, 261. Hoccleve, Thomas, 199-207; Biog. and Bib- liog., 430; on Gower and Chaucer, 202. Hoccleve's Gay Youth, 206. Honour, 408. How Dunbar was Desired to be a Friar, 398. How Scotland learned to love Liberty, 332. How the King read Ferumbras, 333. Hugh of Lincoln, 309. James I of Scots, 347-366; Biog. and Bibliog., 433. Jew's Daughter, The, 309. Johnie Armstrong, 314. Johnie Cock, 302. Judas, 263. Kemp Owyne, 265. Kempion, 265. Kind Kittok, 397. King Estmere, 279. King Hart, 406. King Henry, 264. King John and the Bishop, 274. King Orfeo, 262. King's Quair, The, 347-366. Kinmont Willie, 318. Kitty's Confession, 419. Knighthood, Hawes on, 253. Knight's Tale, The, 106. La Male Regie, 206. Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight, 256. Lady Maisry, 286. Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea, The, 266. Lak of Stedfastnesse, 197. Lament for the Makers, 392. Lament for Wallace's Capture, 345. Lamkin, 296. Langland, William, 48-78; Biog. and Bibliog., 426. Lass of Roch Royal, The, 292. Legend of Cleopatra, The, 190. Legend of Dan Joos, The, 227. Legend of Good Women, The, 184; Bibliog., 429. Legend of Lucretia, The, 191. Lenvoy de Chaucer a Scogan, 197. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard, 294. Lord Bateman, 277 n. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, 290. Love Gregor, 292. Lucretia, Legend of, 191. Lullaby, 248. Lydgate, John, 208-229; Biog. and Bibliog., 430; Hawes on, 249. Lydgate's Mumming at Hertford, 223. Lyndesay, Sir David, 409-122; Biog. and Bibliog., 435. Maid freed from the Gallows, The, 298. Male Regie, La, 206. INDEX 441 Manning of Brunne, Robert, 1-6; Biog. and Bibliog., 425. Marriage of Sir Gawain, The, 264: n. Mary Hamilton, 315. Merciles Beaute, 196. Minor Poems of Chaucer, 195. Morning in May, 402. Mumming at Hertford, 223. Music, Hawes on, 250. Nonne Preestes Tale, The, 136. New Troy, 216. New Year's Gift to the King, A, 399. On Women's Horns, 222. Our Goodman, 328. Palace of Honour, The, 408. Pardoner's Tale, The, 145. Parlement of Foules, The, 160; Bibliog., 429. Pastime of Pleasure, The, 249. Pearl, The, 6; Bibliog., 425. Petition of the Gray Horse, Old Dunbar, The, 395. Philip Sparrow, 230. Piers the Ploughman, 48. Popular Ballads, 256-331; Bibliog., 432. Prioress's Tale, The, 131. Prologue of the Canterbury Tales, 95. Prologue of the Pardoner's Tale, 143. Prologue to the ^neid, 400. Prologue to the Legend of Good Women, 184. Prologue to Su: Thopas, 133. Regement of Princes, The, 199. Robin and Makin, 383. Robin Hood and Guy Gisborne, 303. Robin Hood's Death and Burial, 306. Robin Hood Rescuing the Widow's Three Sons, 307. Romaunt of the Rose, The, 166; Bibliog., 429. Rosiphelee, 88. Roundel to Somer the Chancellor, 204. Sacrilegious Carollers, Tale of the, 3. St. Stephen and Herod, 262. Scogan, Lenvoy a, 197. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, 19; Bib- liog., 425. Su' Patrick Spence, 278. Sir Thopas, 134. Skelton, John, 230-248; Biog. and Bibliog., 431. Somer the Chancellor, Roundel to, 204. Squire Meldrum, Testament of, 421. Sweet William's Ghost, 293. Tale of riorent. The, 79. Tale of the Sacrilegious Carollers, The, 3. Tale of the Witch and her Cow-Sucking Bag, The, 2. Tarn Lin, 268. Temple of Glas, The, 213. Testament and Complaint of our Sovereign Lord's Papingo, The, 411. Testament of Cresseid, The, 367. Testament of Squire Meldrum, The, 421. Thistle and the Rose, The, 390. Thomas of Erceldoune, 267 n. Thomas Rymer and the Queen of Elfland, 267. Three Ravens, The, 264. To Mistress Isabell Pennell, 247. To Mistress Margaret Hussey, 248. Tributes to Chaucer and Gower by Hoccleve, 202. Troilus and Criseyde, 169; Bibliog., 429. Troy Book, The, 216. Truth, 196. Tunning of Eleanor Rumming, The, 238. Twa Corbies, The, 264. Twa Sisters, The, 257. Two Mice, The, 380. Uplandish Mouse and the The, 380. Burgess Mouse, Vision of William concerning Piers the Ploughman, The, 48; Bibliog., 426. 442 INDEX Wallace, The, 340; Bibliog., 433. Women's Horns, On, 222. Wallace and the English Queen, 341. Wyf of Bathes Tale, The, 151. Wee Wee Man, The, 268. Wife of Usher's Well, The, 294. York, Balade to my Gracious Lord of. Wife wrapt in Wether's Skin, The, 330. 204. Witch and her Cow-Sucking Bag, The, 2. Young Akin, 270. Witchcraft and Dreams, 1. Young Bicham, 277. Woman's Superiority, 201. Young Waters, 298.