And therewithal he must his leavè take;
And cast his eye upon her pitously,
And near he rode, his causè1 for to make,
To take her by the hand all soberly;
And, Lord, so gan she weepen2 tenderly !
And he full soft and slyly gan her sey3
"Now, hold your day, and do me not to die." .
With that his courser turnèd he about,
With face all pale; and unto Diomede
No word he spake, ne none of all his rout:
Of which the son of Tydeus" took heed,–
As he that couthè6 more than the creed
In such a craft,—and by the rein her hent ;8
And Troilus to Troyè homewards went.
On morrow, as soon as day began to clear,
This Troilus gan of his sleep abraid,
And to Pandarus, his own brother dear,
"For love of God," full pitously he said,
"As9 go we seen the palace of Creseid;
For, since we yet may have no morè feast,
So let us seen her palace at the least!”
And therewithal, his meinie for to blend,10
A cause he found in townè for to go,
And to Creseidè's house they gan wend;
But, Lord, this selyll Troilus was wo!
Him thought his sorrowful heartè brast atwo;12
For, when he saw her doorès sparrèd13 all,
Well nigh for sorrow adown he gan to fall.
Therewith, when he was ware, and gan behold
How shut was every window of the place,
As frost him thought his heartè gan to cold;
For which, with changed deadly palè face,
Withouten word he forth-by gan to pace,
And, as God would, he gan so faste ride
That no wight of his countenance espied.
Then said he thus: "O palace desolate,
O house of houses, whilom1 best y-hight,2
O palace, empty and disconsolate,
O thou lantern of which queint3 is the light,
O palace, whilom day that now art night,
Well oughtest thou to fall, and I to die,
Since she is went that wont was us to gie !5
1 Formerly.
5 Guide. 9 Kindly.
"O palace, whilom crown of houses all,
Enluminèd with sun of allè bliss!
O ring of which the ruby is out-fall!
O cause of wo that cause hast been of bliss!
Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss
Thy coldè doorès,-durst I for this rout ;7
And farewell shrine of which the saint is out!"
Therewith he cast on Pandarus his eye,
With changed face and pitous to behold;
And, when he might his time aright aspie,
Aye as he rode to Pandarus he told
His newè sorrow, and eke his joyès old,
So pitously and with so dead an hue
That every wight might on his sorrow rue.
Fro thennesforth he rideth up and down,
And everything came him to remembrance
As he rode forth by places of the town
In which he whilom had all his pleasance.
"Lo, yonder saw I mine own lady dance;
And in that temple with her eyen clear
Me caughtè first mine own right lady dear.
"And yonder have I heard full lustily
My dearè heartè laugh; and yonder play
Saw I her onès eke full blissfully;
And yonder onès to me gan she say:
'Now, good sweet, loveth me well, I pray !'
And yond so goodly9 gan she me behold
That to the death mine heart is to her hold.10
And at the corner, in the yonder house,
Heard I mine alderlevest11 lady dear,
So womanly, with voice melodious,
Singen so well, so goodly, and so clear,
That in my soul yet me thinketh I hear
The blissful soun;1 and in that yonder place
My lady first me took unto her grace."
FROM THE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS.
When I was come again into the place
That I of spake, that was so sweet and green,
Forth walked I then myselven to solace.
Then was I ware where that there sate a queen
That, as of light the summer sonnè sheen2
Passeth the star, right so over measure
She fairer was than any creature.
And in a land,3 upon an hill of flowers,
Was set this noble goddess of Nature;
Of branches were her hallès and her bowers
Y-wrought, after her craft and her measure.
Never was fowl that cometh of engendure1
That they ne were all prest in her presence,
To take their doom and give her audience.
For this was on Saint Valentinès day,
When every bird cometh to choose his make,6
Of every kindè that men thinkè may,
And that so huge a noisè gan they make
That earth, and tree, and sea, and every lake,
So full was that unnethè" there was space
For me to stand: so full was all the place.
And right as Aleyn, in the Plaint of Kind,
Deviseth Nature in array and face,
In such array men mightè her there find.
This noble emperessè full of grace
Bade every fowl to take his owen place,
As they were wont alway from year to year,
Saint Valentinès day, to standè there.
That is to say, the fowlès of ravine9
Were highest set; and then the fowlès small,
That eaten as that nature wold encline
8 Aleyn, a twelfth-century writer, author of a Latin poem, the title of which is here given in English.
Of worm or thing of which I tell no tale;
And water fowl sat lowest in the dale;
But fowls that live by seed sat on the green,
And that so fele1 that wonder was to seen.
There mightè men the royal Eagle find,
That with his sharpè look pierceth the sun,
And other eagles of a lower kind
Of which that clerkès2 well devisen con:
There was the Tyrant, with his feathers dun
And grey,-I mean the Gos-hawk, that doth pine
To birdès for his outrageous ravine.
The gentle Falcon, that with his feet distraineth3
The kingès hand; the hardy Spar-hawk eke,
The quailès foe; the Merlion, that paineth
Himself full oft the larkè for to seek:
There was the Dovè with her eyen meek;
The jealous Swan, against his death that singeth;
The Owl eke, that of death the bode-word bringeth;
The Cranè giant, with his trompe's soun;5
The thiefè Chough, and eke the jangling Pie;
The scorning Jay; the eelès foe, Heroun ;
The falsè Lapwing, full of treacherie;
The Starling, that the counsel can bewrie ;7
The tame Ruddock, and the coward Kite;
The Cock, that orloge is of thorpès lite ;9
The Sparrow, Venus' son; the Nightingale,
That clepethio forth the greenè leavès new ;
The Swallow, murderer of the fliès small
That maken honey of flowers fresh of hue;
The wedded Turtle, with her heartè true;
The Peacock, with his angel feathers bright;
The Pheasant, scorner of the Cock by night;
The waker Goose; the Cuckoo most unkind;
The Popinjay, full of delicacy;
The Drake, destroyer of his owen kind;
The Stork, the wreaker of adultery ;
The hot Cormeraunt, full of gluttony;
The Raven wise; the Crow, with voice of care;
The Throstle old; the frosty Feldefare.
4 A species of hawk, 8 Red-breast.
FROM THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.1
Hard is his heart that loveth nought2
In May, when all this mirth is wrought;
When he may on these branches hear
The smalle birdès singen clear
Their blissful sweet song piteous.
And in this season delitous,3
When love affirmeth allè thing,
Me-thought one night, in my sleeping,
Right in my bed full readily,
That it was by the morrow early ;*
And up I rose and gan me clothe.
Anon I wesh my hondès both;
A silver needle forth I drew
Out of an aguiler quaint enew,
And gan this needle thread anon,—
For out of town me list to gon,
The sound of birdès for to hear
That on the buskès singen clear
In the sweet season that lefe is.
With a thread basting my sleevis,
Alone I went in my playing,
The small fowles' song hearkening,
That painèd them full many a pair
To sing on bowès blossomed fair.
Jolif and gay, full of gladness,
Toward a river gan I me dress,9
That I heard rennè fastè by.
For fairer playing none saw I
Than playen me by the rivère.
For, from an hill that stood there near,
Come down the stream full stiff and bold.
Clear was the water, and as cold
As any well is, sooth to sayn;
And somedeal less it was than Seine....
And with that water that ran so clear
1 The original poem, of which this was an English version, was entitled Roman de la Rose. It was begun about 1250 by Guillaume de Lorris, and finished about fifty years later by Jean de Meun, and was by far the most renowned of the great trouvère romances during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Recent doubts have arisen whether this translation is Chaucer's work, and the question is still being pursued.
4 Early morning.
8 Strove.
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