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II 


i 


CHIEF   BRITISH    POETS   OF   THE   FOURTEENTH 
AND   FIFTEENTH   CENTURIES 


Cijicf  poets  £>rw  0 


THE  CHIEF  AMERICAN  POETS.  Edited  by  Curtis 
Hidden  Page,  Ph.D..  Professor  of  English,  Dartmouth 
College. 

THE  CHIEF  ELIZABETHAN  DRAMATISTS.  EX 
CLUDING  SHAKESPEARE.  Edited  by  William  Allan  Neil- 
son,  Ph.D.,  President  of  Smith  College. 

THE  CHIEF  MIDDLE  ENGLISH  POETS.  Newly 
rendered  and  edited  by  Jessie  L.  Weston,  Editor  of 
"Romance,  Vision,  and  Satire." 

THE  CHIEF  BRITISH  POETS  OF  THE  FOUR 
TEENTH  AND  FIFTEENTH  CENTURIES.  Edited 
with  explanatory  and  biographical  notes  by  William 
Allan  Neilson,  Ph.D..  President  of  Smith  College,  and 
K.  G.  T.  Webster,  Assistant  Professor  of  English,  Har 
vard  University. 


HOUGHTON  M1FFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS  •  SAN  FRANCISCO 


CHIEF  BRITISH  POETS 

OF  THE  FOURTEENTH  AND 
FIFTEENTH  CENTURIES      /  •  > , 


§3>electeti  ^oetns 


• 


EDITED  WITH   EXPLANATORY 
AND   BIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 


Professor  of  English 
AND 

K.  G.  T.  WEBSTER 

Assistant  Professor  of  English 
Harvard  University 


HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

BOSTON  •  NEW  YORK  •  CHICAGO  •  DALLAS  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 


, 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY  W.  A.   NKILSON  AND   K.   O.  T.  WEBSTER 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


664316 

(0.7.57 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

THE  aim  in  the  present  volume,  as  in  the  other  issues  of  the  series,  has  been,  not  to  com 
pile  a  mediaeval  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  have 
been  made  and  the  apparatus  furnished  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 
Ga.wa.in  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. 

CAMBRIDGE,  1916. 


CONTENTS 

ROBERT  MANNING  OF  BRUNNE 

HANDLING  SIN 1 

.,  Witchcraft  and  Dreams 1 

The  Tale  of  the  Witch  and  her  Cow-Sucking  Bag 8 

The  Tale  of  the  Sacrilegious  Carollers 8 

THE  PEARL       .    •"•'/. 6 

SIR  GAWAIN  AND  THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 19 

FYTTE  THE  FIRST 21 

FYTTE  THE  SECOND 26 

FYTTE  THE  THIRD 32 

FYTTE  THE  FOURTH 42 

WILLIAM  LANGLAND(?) 
THE  VISION  OP  WILLIAM  CONCERNING  PIERS  THE  PLOUGHMAN       48 

JOHN  GOWER 

CONPESSIO  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 tm  **..*;! 106 

The  Prioresses  Tale 131 

Prologue  to  Sir  Thopas 133 

SirThopas 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  OF  THE  ROSE       .    *    , 156 

THE  PARLEMENT  OF  FOULES 160 

The  Proem 160 

The  Story 161 

TROILUS  AND  CRISEYDE  ....  .169 


viii  CONTENTS 


THE  LEGEND  OF  GOOD  WOMEN 184 

Prologue 184 

The  Legend  of  Cleopatra 190 

The  Legend  of  Lucretia 191 

MINOR  POEMS 195 

Chaucers  Wordes  unto  Adam,  his  owne  Scriveyn 195 

The  Former  Age 195 

Merciles  Beaute:  A  Triple  Roundel . 196 

Truth 196 

Gentilesse 197 

Lak  of  Stedfastnesse 19T 

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  MY  GRACIOUS  LORD  OF  YORK 204 

THE  COMPLAINT 205 

HOCCLEVE'S  GAY  YOUTH 206 

JOHN  LYDGATE 

THE  CHURL  AND  THE  BIRD * 208 

THE  TEMPLE  OF  GLAS 213 

NEW  TROY V .  \  v; 216 

BYCORNE  AND  CHICHEVACHE 220 

A  DIETARY   .    .    .  ..  .v  :„ ....,», 221 

ON  WOMEN'S  HORNS 222 

LYDGATE'B  MUMMING  AT  HERTFORD ,    .    .    .    .  223 

THE  LEGEND  OF  DAN  Joos    •  ' . 227 

JOHN  SKELTON 

PHILIP  SPARROW 230 

THE  TUNNING  OF  ELEANOR  RUMMING 238 

COLIN  CLOUT 241 

GARLAND  OF  LAUREL.    ....'• 247 

LULLABY ', 248 

STEPHEN  HAWES 

THE  PASTIME  OF  PLEASURE 249 

THE  EXCUSATION  OF  THE  AUCTOUR 255 


CONTENTS  ix 


BALLADS 

LADY  ISABEL  AND  THE  ELF-KNIGHT 256 

THE  DOUGLAS  TRAGEDY 256 

THE  TWA  SISTERS 257 

THE  CRUEL  BROTHER 258 

EDWARD 259 

BABYLON;  OR,  THE  BONNIE  BANKS  o  FORDIE 260 

HIND  HORN 261 

KING  ORFEO 262 

ST.  STEPHEN  AND  HEROD 262 

JUDAS 263 

THE  THREE  RAVENS 264 

THE  TWA  CORBIES 264 

KING  HENRY 264 

KEMP  OWYNE 265 

THE  LAILY  WORM  AND  THE  MACHREL  OP  THE  SEA 266 

THOMAS  RYMER  AND  THE  QUEEN  OF  ELFLAND 267 

THE  WEE  WEE  MAN 268 

TAM  LIN 268 

YOUNG  AKIN  OR  HIND  ETIN 270 

CLERK  COLVILL 273 

KING  JOHN  AND  THE  BISHOP ,    .    .    .    .  274 

YOUNG  BICHAM 277 

THE  CHERRY-TREE  CAROL 278 

SIR  PATRICK  SPENCE 278 

KING  ESTMERE 279 

FAIR  ANNIE 283 

CHILD  WATERS 284 

LADY  MAISRY 286 

GLASGERION       , 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  MUSGRAVE  AND  LADY  BARNARD 294 

BONNY  BARBARA  ALLAN 296 

LAMKIN 296 

YOUNG  WATERS 298 

THE  MAID  FREED  FROM  THE  GALLOWS 298 

THE  GAY  GOSS-HAWK 299 

THE  BAILIFF'S  DAUGHTER  OF  ISLINGTON .  301 


CONTENTS 


THE  GREAT  SILKIE  OF  SULE  SKERRY 801 

JOHXIK  COCK 302 

ROBIN  HOOD  AND  GUT  OF  GISBORNE 303 

ROBIN  HOOD'S  DEATH  AND  BURIAL 306 

ROBIN  HOOD  RESCUING  THE  WIDOW'S  THREE  SONS 307 

HUGH  OF  LINCOLN 309 

THE  BATTLE  OF  OTTERBURN 809 

CHEVY  CHASE 311 

JOHNIE  ARMSTRONG 814 

MARY  HAMILTON 315 

CAPTAIN  CAR 316 

THE  BONNY  EARL  OF  MURRAY 318 

KINMONT  WILLIE 318 

THE  BONNIE  HOUSE  o  AIRUE 321 

THE  BARON  OF  BRACKLEY •    .« 321 

BONNIE  GEORGE  CAMPBELL 323 

BEWICK  AND  GRAHAM 324 

THE  DOWY  HOUMS  o  YARROW 327 

THE  D.EMON  LOVER 328 

OUR  GOODMAN 328 

GET  UP  AND  BAR  THE  DOOR       330 

THE  WIFE  WRAPT  IN  WETHER'S  SKIN 330 

THE  BITTER  WITHY   ....'.'. 331 

JOHN  BARBOUR 

THE  BRUCE 332 

Introduction - 832 

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  QUAIB 347 

GOOD  COUNSEL 366 

ROBERT  HENRYSON 

THE  TESTAMENT  OF  CRESSEID 367 

THE  Fox,  THE  WOLF,  AND  THE  CADGER    [ 375 


CONTENTS 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  UPLANDISH  MOUSE  AND  THE  BURGESS  MOUSE 380 

ROBIN  AND  MAKJN 383 

THE  GARMENT  OP  GOOD  LADIES 384 

'/WILLIAM  DUNBAR 

THE  GOLDEN  TARGE 386 

THE  THISTLE  AND  THE  ROSE 390 

LAMENT  FOR  THE  MAKERS 392 

THE  DANCE  OF  THE  SEVEN  DEADLY  SINS 394 

THE  PETITION  OF  THE  GRAY  HORSE,  OLD  DUNBAR 395 

THE  DREGY  OF  DUNBAR  MADE  TO  KING  JAMES  THE  FIFTH  BEING  IN  STIRLING  .    .  896 

THE  BALLAD  OF  KIND  KITTOK 897 

How  DUNBAR  WES  DESIRED  TO  BE  A  FRIAR 398 

A  NEW  YEAR'S  GIFT  TO  THE  KING 399 

v  GAVIN  DOUGLAS 

TRANSLATION  OF  THE  ^ENEID 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 

KITTY'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) 

GYP  thou  ever  thurgh  folye 

Dydyst  ought 1  do  nygromauncy, 

Or  to  the  devyl  dedyst  sacryfyse 

Thurgh  wychcraftys  asyse,2 

Or  any  man  gaf  the  mede  s 

For  to  reyse  the  devyl 4  yn  dede, 

For  to  telle,  or  for  to  wrey  6 

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  shent6 

Thurgh  thys  yche7  cornmaundement. 

Gyf  thou  yn  swerd,  other  yn  bacyn, 
Any  chylde  madyst  loke  theryn, 
Or  yn  thumbe,8  or  yn  cristal,  — 
Wycchecraft  men  clepyn  9  hyt  al. 
Beleve  nought  yn  the  pyys 10  cheteryng ; 
Hyt  ys  no  trouthe,  but  fals  belevyng. 
Many  belevyn  yn  the  pye: 
Whan  she  corny th  lowe  or  hye  ao 

Cheteryng,  and  hath  no  reste, 
Than  sey  they  we  shul  have  geste.11 
Manyon 12  trowyn 18  on  here  wylys, 
And  many  tymes  the  pye  hem  gylys.14 

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 15  y  can  no  sky  lie 16  also; 
Hyt  ys  nought  to  beleve  tharto: 
Me  thynketh  hyt  ys  fals  every  deyl, 
Y  beleve  hyt  nought,  ne  never  shal  weyl.17 
For  many  havyn  glad  hancel  at  the  morw, 
And  to  hem  or  evyn  comth  mochyl  sorw; 
And  manyon  havyn  yn  the  day  grete  noy,18 
And  yyt  or  evyn  cometh  to  hem  mochyl  ioye. 

i  at  all.  »  mode.  'hire.  *  Call  him  up  — the 
origin  of  our  colloquial  phrase.  »  hide.  •  punished. 
7  very.  8  One  divined  by  the  white  flecks  on  the 
thumb-nail.  •  call.  "  magpie's.  "  doings  — 
or  possibly,  a  guest.  "  Many  a  one.  13  believe. 
14  deceives.  *5  prognostication.  >•  I  know  no 

good  of  it.        "  well.        18  annoyance. 


So  mayst  thou  wyte,  gyf  thou  gode  can,19 
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  20  upon  the  nyght. 
But  therof  to  have  mochyl  affyaunce 
The  may  betyde  the  sunner  a  chaunce. 

On  syxe  maners  may  a  man  mete: 
Sum  beyn  to  beleve,  sum  beyn  to  lete.21     50 
Sum  men  dremyn  for  surfeture, 
That  etyn  or  drynkyn  over  mesure; 
And  sum  dreme  on  veyn  thyng 
For  over  mychyl  and  grete  fastyng; 
And  sum  beyn  the  fendes  temptacyoun 
That  to  the  trowthe  ys  fals  tresoun  ; 
And  sum  come  of  over  mochyl  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.22 
These  syxe  maners  a  clerk  us  tellyth, 
Seynt  Gregory,  that  mochyl  spellyth.28 

The  fyrst  twey  u  maners,  we  wote  weyl, 
Beyn  oure  defaute  every  deyl. 
The  ton  2*  ys  for  over  mychel  outrage, 
The  touther  ys  febylnesse  of  corage,26 
As  yn  mete,  or  drynk,  over  moche  takyng, 
Or  yn  feblyng  the  body  with  moche  fastyng. 
The  touther  foure  thys  clerkys  wytyn,      71 
For  yn  the  byble  they  ben  wrytyn. 
Gyf  they  ne  come  thurgh  temptacyun 
Of  the  fende,  that  ys  a  felun, 
Nevere  had  seyd  Salamon 
'  That  dremys  men  desey ve  ^  manyon.' 
Fortho  that  to  dremys  over  moche  trastys,28 
To  scorne  hem  the  fende  then  frastys.29 

Gyf  they  come  nat  also  thurgh  thoght, 
The  wyse  clerk  hadde  tolde  hyt  noght,     80 
Ne  suffryd  hyt  be  wrytyn  yn  boke 
That  men  alle  day  rede  yn,  and  loke, 

»  understand.  *°  dreamt.  «  neglect.  «  openly, 
"relates,  "two.  « The  one.  "spirit,  "deceive. 
»«  trust.  »  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.' 1  90 

Gyf  they  ne  come  thurgh  pryvyte 
That  God  wyl  shewe  ine  or  the, 
losep  of  dremys  had  gyve  no  kepe  2 
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  revelacynn, 
To  shewe  byfore  what  ys  to  doun. 

Gyf  they  com  noght  thurgh  stodyyng, 
That  tokene  ys  of  selkouthe  8  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;4 
And  God  shewyd  hyt  yn  thy  sygt; 
That  dremed  the  the  touther  nyght." 
He  tolde  the  profyte  than  every  deyl; 
And  the  profete  redde6  hyt  weyl: 
Wysly  he  seyd,  and  weyl  thurgh  soght, 
Whan  he  hede6  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  8 
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 ; 

i  flashes  before  thine  eyes.  *  heed.  *  strange. 
«  began  to  yearn  for  it.  •  expounded.  •  heed. 
»  kinds.  *  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  preyyug. 
"  Thou,  leudman,10  gyf  gode  tent,11 
Trow  noght  agen  the  comaundment."      140 

Gyf  thou  beleve  yn  wycchecraft 
To  chauuge  thyng  be  the  devylys  craft,  — 
Swych  beyn  the  devyl  betaght,12 
With  holy  chyrche  they  ben  unsaght,18 
And  alle  tho  that  on  hem  trowe 
Mow  drede  hem  self  to  brenne  yn  lowe;1* 
And  thogh   they  fynde   hyt  sothe  other 

whyle,16 

Hyt  ys  thurgh  the  fendes  gyle. 
The  fend  f ondyth 16  with  alle  hys  myght 
To  put  sumwat  yn  here  syght  150 

That  shal  make  hem  swych  thyng  beleve 
And  God  almyghty  myspay 17  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  wycche,  161 

That  leved 18  no  better  tha(n)  a  bycche. 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  WITCH  AND 
HER  COW-SUCKING   BAG 

THERE  was  a  wycche,  and  made  a  bagge, 
A  bely 19  of  lethyr,  a  grete  swagge,20 
She  sygaldryd  a  so  thys  bagge  bely 
That  hyt  gede  B  and  soke  28  mennys  ky,34 
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  bere, 
To  wete  ^  what  she  shuld  answere. 
Hyt  was  shewyd  byfore  the  bysshop, 
That   she  dyde26  to  goo  swych  a  melk 
slop,27 

»  worse.  10  layman.  "  heed.  *>  handed  over  to. 
ls  unreconciled.  14  burn  in  flame.  15  sometimes. 
i<  strives.  "  displease.  18  believed.  »  bellows. 
<o  bulky  object.  21  enchanted.  "  went.  23  sucked. 
24  kiue.  J5  know.  *«  caused.  27  bag. 


THE   TALE  OF  THE   SACRILEGIOUS   CAROLLERS 


Thurgh  wycchecraft  and  mysaventure, 
To  sugke  here  keyn  yu  here  pasture. 
The  bysshop  merveyled,  and  other  ino,1 
How  that  she  myght  do  hyt  go. 
"  Dame,"  seyd  the  bysshop,  "  do  thy  quen- 

tyse,2 

And  late  us  se  how  hyt  shal  ryse."  20 

Thys  wycche  here  charuie  began  to  sey, 
The  slop  ros  up,  and  gede  the  weye. 
The  bysshop  seyd,  "  thys  have  we  seyii; 
Do  hyt  now  to  lygge  8  ageyn," 
The  wycche  dede  al  at  hys  wylle: 
She  made  the  slop  agen  lygge  stylle. 
The  bysshop  made  a  clerk  than  wryte 
Al  that  she  seyd,  inochel  and  lyte, 
And  alle  how  she  made  here  went; 4 
The  bysshop  tharto  gaf  gode  entent.          30 
"  Than,"  seyde  the  bysshop,  "  now  shal  y, 
As  thou  hast  do,  do  thy  maystry."6 
The  bysshop  began  the  charme  to  rede, 
And  as  she  dyde,  he  dyde  yn  dedc; 
He  seyd  and  dede  every  deyl, 
Ryght  as  she  dede,  he  dede  as  wejl. 
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  wnrdys,  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  sokun  ky." 
He  seyd, "  than  f al  eth«  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  com aundyd  that  she  shuld  noght 
Beleve  ne  wurche  as  she  had  wroght. 


THE    TALE    OF    THE    SACRILE 
GIOUS    CAROLLERS 

(Handling  Sin,  11.  8987-9252) 

KAROLLES,8     wrastlynges,    or    somour 

games, 

Who-so  ever  haunteth  any  swyche  shames 
Yn  cherche,  other  yn  chercheyerd, 

1  others  besides.  J  cunning.  »  lie  down.  *  trick. 
8  feat.  «  needeth.  1  saying.  «  Circular  dances, 
and  the  accompanying  song. 


Of  sacrylage  he  may  be  a-ferd; 

Or  entyrludes,  or  syngynge, 

Or  tabure  bete,9  or  other  pypynge, 

Alle  swyche  thyng  forbodyn  es 

Whyle  the  prest  stondeth  at  messe. 

Alle  swyche,  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, 

Karolles  to  synge,  and  rede  rymys, 

Noght  yn  none  holy  stedes,10 

That  myght  dysturble  the  prestes  bedes, 

Or  gyf  he  were  yn  orysun 

Or  any  outher  devocyun, 

Sacrylage  ys  alle  hyt  tolde,11 

Thys  and  many  other  folde.  *> 

But  for  to  leve  yn  cherche  to  daunce, 
Y  shal  ghow  telle  a  f  ul  grete  chaunce, 
And  y  trow,  the  most  that  fel 
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  chaunce  that  was  so  hard. 
Hyt  was  upp-on  a  crystemesse  nyght 
That  twelve  folys  u  a  karolle  dyght; 18    30 
Yu  wodehed,14  as  hyt  were  yn  cuntek  16 
They  come  to  a  tounne  men  calles  Colbek; 
The  cherche  of  the  tounne  that  they  to 

come, 

Ys  of  Seynt  Magne 16  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 17  that  made  hem  glew,18 
Thus  ys  wryte,  he  hyghte  Gerlew;  40 

Twey  maydens  were  yn  here  coveyne,1* 
Mayden  Merswynde,  and  Wybessyne; 
Alle  these  come  thedyr  for  that  enchesone  * 
Of  the  prestes  doghtyr  of  the  tounne. 

The  prest  hyght  Robert,  as  y  kan  ame;ai 
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:M  50 

They  graunted  echone  out  to  sende 
Bothe  Wybessyne  and  Merswynde. 

These  worn  men  gede  and  tolled28  here  oute 

•  beating.  "  places.  "  accounted.  >*  fool*. 
i»  made.  »  madness.  »  contumely.  «  Magnus. 
"  leader.  «  music.  »  company.  »o  on  account 
»  guess.  »  entice.  >*  enticed. 


ROBERT   MANNING   OF   BRUNNE 


Wyth  hem  to  karolle  the  cherche  aboute. 
Beuiie  ordeyned  here  karollyug; 
Gerlew  endyted  what  they  shuld  syng: 
Thys  ys  the  karolle  that  they  suuge, 
As  telleth  the  latyn  tunge, 

"  Equitabat  Bevo  per  silvam  frondosam, 
Ducebat  secum  Merswyndam  foruiosam.  60 
Quid  stanms,  cur  non  imus  ?  " 
(  .  .  .  a  gap  in  the  MS.} 
11  By  the  leved  wode  rode  Bevolyne, 
Wyth  hym  he  ledde  feyre  Merswyne. 
Why  stonde  we  ?  why  go  we  noght  ?  " 
Thys  ys  the  karolle  that  Grysly  wroght. 
Thys   songe   sunge  they  yu   the  cherche- 

yerd, — 

Of  foly  were  they  no  thyng  aferd,  — 
Un-to  the  rnatynes  were  alle  done, 
And  the  messe  shuld  bygynne  sone.  69 

The  preste  hym  revest x  to  begynne  messe, 
And  they  ne  left  therefore,  never  the  lesse, 
But  daunsed  furthe  as  they  bygan; 
For  alle  the  messe  they  ne  blan.2 

The  preste,  that  stode  at  the  autere  8 
And  herde  here  noyse  and  here  bere,4 
Fro  the  auter  down  he  nam,6 
And  to  the  cherche  porche  he  cam, 
And  seyd,  "  On  Goddes   behalve,  y  yow 

forbede 

That  ye  no  lenger  do  swych  dede; 
But  cometh  yn,  on  feyre  manere,  80 

Goddes  servyse  for  to  here, 
And  doth  at  Crystyn  mennys  la  we; 
Karolleth  no  more  for  Crystys  awe, 
Wurschyppeth  hym  with  alle  youre  myght, 
That  of  the  Vyrgyne  was  bore  thys  nyght." 

For  alle  hys  byddyng,  lefte  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  cherche  — 
That  swych  a  veniaunce  6  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  alsaume7 
As  they  karoled  on  here  gaume. 

As  sone  as  the  preste  hadde  so  spoke,  100 
Every  hande  yn  outher  so  fast  was  loke, 

i  attired.      *  ceased.       »  altar.       «  cries.       •  took 
his  way.        •  vengeance.        7  all  together. 


That  no  man  myght  with  no  wundyr 
That  twelvemonthe  parte  hem  asundyr. 

The  preste  gede  yn,  whan  thys  was  done, 
And  commaunded  hys  sone  A  gone 
That  he  shulde  go  swythe  8  aftyr  Ave, 
Oute  of  that  karolle  algate  9  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,11 
And  the  arme  fro  the  body  wente. 
Men  wundred  alle,  that  there  wore, 
And  merveyle  mo  we  ye  here  more; 
For  sethen 12  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.18 
Thy  cursyng,  now  sene  hyt  ys 
With  veniaunce  on  thyn  owne  flessh; 
Fellyche  14  thou  cursedst,  and  over  sone ;  130 
Thou    askedest  veniaunce,  thou    hast  thy 
bone."  15 

Yow  thar 16  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  doglffiyr  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  eft17  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  ferly18  sore; 
Yn-to  the  cherche  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  karolland        150 
Alle  that  yere  hand  yn  hand, 


8  straightway 

took. 

boon.        "  you  need. 


•  by  all  means, 
after.        i»  have  saved. 


10  forthwith. 
i«  Savagely. 
17  again.         «  wondrous. 


THE  TALE   OF  THE   SACRILEGIOUS   CAROLLERS 


They  never  oute  of  that  stede  gede, 
Ne  none  myght  hem  thenne  1  lede; 
There  the  cursyng  fyrst  bygan, 
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  dryiike, 
Ne  slepte  onely  a-lepy2  wynke; 
Nyght,  ne  day,  they  wyst  of  none,  160 

Whan  hyt  was  come,  whan  hyt  was  gone; 
Frost  ne  snogh,  hayle  ne  reyne, 
Of  colde  ne  hete,  felte  they  no  peyne; 
Heere  ne  nayles  never  grewe, 
Ne  solo  wed3  clothes,  ne  turned  he  we; 
Thundyr  ne  lyghtnyng  dyd  hem  no  dere,4 
Goddes  mercy  dyd  hyt  fro  hem  were;  5 
But  sungge  that  songge  that  the  wo  wroght, 
"  Why  stonde  we  ?  why  go  we  noght?  " 
What  man  shuld  thyr  be  yn  thys  lyve,     170 
Tuat  ne  wulde  hyt  see,  and  thedyrdryve  ?  6 
The  Emperonre  Henry  come  fro  Rome 
For  to  see  thys  hard(e)  dome; 
Whan  he  hem  say,  he  wepte  sore 
For  the  myschefe  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  oo  7  day,  180 

On  the  t  outlier  clowne  hyt  lay; 
Ones,  twyys,  thryys,  thus  they  wrogt, 
And  alle  here  makyng  was  for  nogt; 
Myght  no  coveryng  hyle  8  hem  fro  colde 
Tyl  tyme  of  mercy,  that  Cryst  hyt  wolde. 
v     Tyme  of  grace  jfyl  thurgh  hys  mygt 
At  the  twelvemonth  end,  on  the  yole  9  nyght, 
The  ^tme  oure  that  the  prest  hem  banned,10 
They  same  oure,  atwynne  they  woned;11 
That  houre  that  he  cursed  hem  ynne,       190 
That  same  oure  they  gede  atwynne: 
And,  as  yn  twynkelyng  of  an  ye, 
Yn-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  God  grauntede  hem  to  wende. 
They  sette  hem  upp,  and  spak  apert        200 

1  thence.  2  a  single.  *  faded.  *  caused  them 
no  harm.  «  turn  aside.  •  go.  7  one.  8  cover, 
protect.  9  Yule.  "  cursed.  «  apart  they  went. 


To  the  parysshe  prest,  syre  Robert: 

"Thou  art  ensample  and  enchesun12 

Of  oure  long  confusyun; 

Thwu  maker  art  of  oure  travayle, 

That  ys  to  many  grete  mervayle; 

And  thy  traveyle  shalt  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,       an 
Y  trow  no  drede  of  soule  dede,13 
But  with  pyne  was  broght  the  body  dede. 
The  fyrst  man  was  the  fadyr,  the  prest, 
That  deyd  aftyr  the  doghtyr  nest.14 
Thys  yche 15  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  wunder: 
That  same  hoppyng  that  they  fyrst  gede, 
That  dan  nee    gede  they  thurgh  land   and 

lede ; 16 

And  as  they  ne  myght  fyrst  be  unbounde, 
So   efte    to-gedyr   myght    they   never   be 

fonnde, 

Ne  myght  they  never  come  ageyn  230 

To-gedyr,  to  oo  stede17  certeyn. 

Foure  gede  to  the  courte  of  Rome, 
And  ever  hoppyng  aboute  they  nome ;  M 
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,19 
But  at  the  vyrgyne  Seynt  Edyght,20         240 
There  was  he  botened,21  seynt  Teodryght; 
On  oure  lady  day,  yn  lenten  tyde, 
As  he  slepte  here  tounibe  besyde, 
There  he  hade  hys  medycyne, 
At  seynt  Edyght,  the  holy  vyrgyne. 

!2  occasion.  13  no  fear  of  her  soul's  being  dead. 

14   next.          1S  same.         !«  nations.  17  one  place. 

18  went.        «  holy  saint.        *°  Edith.       21  amended. 


THE   PEARL1 


PERLE  plesaunte  2  to  prynces  paye, 
To  clanly  clos  in  golde  so  clere ! 
Oute  of  oryent,  1  hardyly  saye, 
Ne  proued  I  neuer  her  precios  pere, 
So  ronnde,  so  reken  in  vche  araye, 
So  smal,  so  smofe  her  syde}  were. 
Quere-so-euer  i  jugged  gemme}  gaye, 
I  sette  hyr  sengeley  in  synglure. 
Alias !  I  leste  hyr  in  on  erbere ; 
J?ur}  gresse  to  grounde  hit  fro  me  yot. 
I  dewyne,  for-dolked  of  luf-daungere, 
Of  fat  pryuy  perle  wytA-outen  spot. 


Syfen  in  fat  spote3  hit  fro  me  sprange, 
Oi'te  haf  I  wayted,  wyschande  fat  wele 
J>at  wont  wat}  whyle  deuoyde  my  wrange, 
&  heuen  my  happe  &  al  my  hele, 
fat  dot}  hot  f  rych  my  hert 4  grange, 
My  breste  in  bale  bot  bolne  &  bele. 
$et  fo}t  me  ueuer  so  swete  a  sange 
As  sty  lie  stounde  let  to  me  stele; 
For-sofe  \>er  fleten  to  me  fele. 
To  fenke  hir  color  so  clad  in  clot ! 
O  moul,  fou  marre}  a  myry  iuele, 
My  priuy  perle  w^tA-outen  spotte  1 


?at  spot  of  spyse^  [mo]t5  nede^  sprede, 
?er  such  ryclie}  to  rot  is  runne  ; 
31ome}  blayke  &  blwe  6  &  rede 
?er  schyne^  ful  schyr  agayn  fe  sunne; 
'lor  &  fryte  may  not  be  fede 
?er  hit  doun  drof  in  molde}  dimne; 
<V>r  vch  gresse  mot  grow  of  grayne}  dede, 
No  whete  were  ellej  to  wone}  wonne; 

*  See  the  notes  to  Sir  Oawain  and  the  Green  Knight, 
the  excerpt  from  the  original  text,  for  the  main  pecu 
liarities  of  the  manuscript. 

*  The  italic  letters,  like  n  here,  are  indicated  in  the 
MS.  only  by  a  sign  of  contraction. 

8  Each  stanza  in  the  sets  of  five  i«  connected  to  the 
preceding  stanza  by  the  repetition  in  the  first  line  of 
some  word  from  the  last  line  of  the  preceding  stanza. 

4  Such  a  word  could  perfectly  well  have  its  original 
final  e  in  order  to  improve  the  metre. 

*  Brackets  about  letters,  as  here,  indicate  that  the 
letters  have  been  supplied  or  emended  by  au  editor. 

*  w  for  single  u. 


Of  goud  vche  goude  is  ay  by-gonne; 
So  semly  a  sede  mojt  fayly  not, 
J?at  spry[n]gande  spyce}  vp  ne  sponne 
Of  J?at  precios  perle  wyth-outen  spotte. 


To  J?at  spot  fat  I  in  speche  expoun 
I  entred,  m  ]?at  erber  grene, 
In  augoste  in  a  hy^  seysoun, 
Quen  corne  is  coruen  wyth  croke^  kene. 
On  huyle  J>er  perle  hit  trendeled  doun 
Schadowed  J?is  worte^  ful  schyre  &  schene — 
Gilofre,  gyngure,  &  gromylyoun, 
&  pyonys  powdered  ay  by-twene. 
}if  hit  wat^  semly  on  to  sene, 
A  fayr  reflayr  ^et  fro  hit  flot, 
"  er  wonys  J?at  worpyly,  I  wot  &  weue, 
"y  precious  perle  wyth-outen  spot. 


Bifore  J?at  spot  my  honde  I  spenn[e]d 

For  care  ful  colde  J?at  to  me  ca^t; 

A  de[r]uely  dele  in  my  hert  denned, 

J>a$  resoun  sette  myseluen  sa^t. 

I  playned  my  perle  J?at  ]>er  wat^  spenned 

Wyth  fyrte  skylle^  J>at  faste  fa}t; 

J?a^  kynde  of  kryst  me  comfort  kenned, 

My  wreched  wylle  in  wo  ay  wra^te. 

I  felle  upon  J?at  floury  fla^t, 

Suche  odour  to  my  herne}  schot; 

1  slode  vpon  a  slepyng-sla^te, 

On  J?at  prec[i]os  perle  wyt^outen  spot. 


Fro  spot  my  spyryt  }> er  sprang  in  space, 

My  body  on  balke  }?er  bod  in  sweuen; 

My  goste  is  gon  in  gode}  grace, 

In  auentnre  per  meruayle}  meuen. 

I  ne  wyste   in  Jus  worlde  quere   f»at   hit 

wace, 

Bot  I  knew  me  keste  ]>er  klyfe^  cleuen; 
Towarde  a  foreste  I  be  re  J>e  face, 
Where  rych  rokke^  wer  to  dyscrenen. 
J?e  ly^t  of  hem  myjt  no  i«on  leuen, 
pe  glemande  glory  fat  of  hem  glent; 
For  wern  neuer  webbe^  fat  wyjej  weuen 
Of  half  so  dere  adub[be]mente. 


THE   PEARL 


1.  Pearl,   pleasant    for   princes    to    set 
cleanly  in  clear  gold,  hardily  I  say  that  out 
of  the  Orient  I  never  found  its  l  precious 
peer.  So  round,  so  beauteous  in  each  array, 
so   small,   so   smooth  were  its  sides,  that 
wheresoever  I  judged  of  gay  jewels  1  set  it 
singly  by  itself.  Alas!  I  lost  it  in  an  arbor; a 
through  grass  to  ground  it  went  from  lue. 
I  pine,  stricken3  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  4 
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  fade5  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,6  when  corn  is  cut  with 
sickles   keen.    On    the    mound    where   the 
pearl  had  rolled  down,  these  herbs  so  bright 
and  fair  cast  their  shade7 — gilly-flower, 

1  The  pearl,  as  may  be  seen  by  a  glance  at  the  original 
on  the  opposite  page,  is  indifferently  neuter  and  femi 
nine  in  the  poem. 

2  Perhaps  gurden,  i.e.  Anglo-French  herber,  grassy 
place,  herb  garden. 

3  Reading  fordol.led  instead  of  fordolked,  which  latter 
might  mean  pierced. 

*  Or  "  pierce  my  heart  frequently." 
5  MS.  ffde  is  doubtful. 

•  Or,  "  on  a  high  festival,"  i.e.  Assumption. 

7  Ambiguous  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 
doleful8  pang  made  a  tumult  in  my  heart, 
although  reason  reconciled  me.  I  lamented 
my   pearl   that   was    enclosed    there    with 
frightened 9   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 10  was 
precious  pearls  of  Orient,  —  the  sunbeams 
but  dark  and  dull  in  comparison  with  that 
ornament. 

8.  The   adornment   of   those   beauteous 

s  Keeping  the  MS.  reading,  deuely,  as  if  from  Old 
French  doel,  duel,  grief. 

»  Doubtful.  The  MS.  fyrle  may  be  — as  it  is  trans 
lated  —  related  to  A.  S.  fyrhtan,  to  frighten  ;  or  may 
possibly  stand  for  the  numeral  forty. 

1°  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  tie w  in 
the  forest,  of  flaming  hues,  both  small  and 
great.  But  the  citole-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,1  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'2  stars,  when  men  sleep  sound,8 
stare  in  the  welkin  in  winter  night;  for  each 
pebble,  set  there  in  the  pool,  was  emerald,  or 
sapphire,  or  gentle  gem;  so  that  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.4  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  6  strives  to  have 
aye  more  and  more. 

12.  More  of  weal  was  in  that  plan8  than 
I  could  tell,  though  I  had  time;  for  earthly 
heart  might  not  suffice  to  the  tenth  part  of 

i  Literally, "pear-trees." 

*  "  Raining  influence,"  as  it  were. 

*  Uncertain;  possibly  "strong  men." 
«  Literally,  "  Brimful  my  brains." 

B  Meaning  not  quite  sure. 
«  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.7  Be 
yond  the  brook,  by  slope  or  dale,  I  imagined 
that  city8  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  cliff  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.9  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  still,  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  i.e.  the  stream  separated  two  joyous  lands.  Mean 
ing  a  bit  doubtful. 

8  i.e.  the  Heavenly  Jerusalem. 

9  For  the  MS.  annnder  shore,  one  is  tempted  to  read 
animilfT  yore  (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,1 
so  smooth,  so  small,  so  seemly  slight,  rose 
up  iu  her  royal  array  —  a  precious  piece  iu 
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,2  open  at  sides  and  brightly  bound  with 
the  purest  margery  pearls,  methiuks,  that 
ever  I  saw  yet  with  mine  eyes.  The  long 
sleeves,3  I  wot  and  I  ween,  were  adorned 
and  set  with  double  pearls;  her  kirtle  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  4  covered  her 
quite.  Her  semblant  was  stately  as  that  of 
duke  or  earl;    her   hue   more  white   than 
whalebone.5  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 
baffled  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  preferred  me,  that  dear  being.6  Inclin 
ing  low,  in  womanly  fashion,  she  doffed  her 
crown  of  great  treasure,  and  greeted  me 

i  Perhaps  to  be  taken  literally,  "  without  gall." 
Doves  and  such  gentle  things  were  supposed  to  be  de 
void  of  gall. 

*  The  MS.  beauuiys  is  doubtful. 
»  Literally,  "laps.'" 

4  The  MS.  lere  leke  is  very  difficult.  Here  heke  (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  suffix  -leikr  ;  here- 
leke  being  then  simply  hair,  growth  of  hair. 

*  i.e.  ivory. 

«  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;  here  in  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  seernst  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 
pi-ice.  —  And  thou  hast  called  thy  fate  a 
thief,  that  manifestly  has  made  for  thee 
something  out  of  nothing.   Thou  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  I  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  lawss 
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  tbou  belie  vest  me  to  be  in  this 
dale  because  thou  canst  see  rue  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  believes1  well  what  he  sees  with  his 
eye;  and  much  to  blame  and  un  courteous 
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  2  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 
gtream  the  Lord  suffer  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  land  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  Im'r*  for  louts  of  the  MS. 
«  The  MS.  keue  is  difficult. 


cry  thy  wild  remonstrances,  yet  when  thou 
canst  no  further,  to  or  fro,  thou  must  abide 
what  he  shall  adjudge. 

30.  "  Judge,  Lord  !  Ever  ordain  for  him! 3 
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,4  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  5  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  manners  6  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. 

*  Literally,  "made  accord  between." 

8  MS.  mnrerez  mysse,  which  might  be  translated  "  a 
botcher's  failure." 


THE   PEARL 


ii 


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,1  for  meek  are  all  who 
dwell  near  him ;  and  when  in  his  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 
knowest  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 
unless  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;2  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." 
1  Amending  the  MS.  here  to  pere,  =  there,  in  jour 
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  3  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  Queen  of  cour 
tesy. 

39.  "  In  courtesy,  as  saith  St.  Paul,  we 
are  all  members  of  Jesus  Christ.  ISo  head 
and  arm  and  leg  and  trunk  4  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  5  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  6  by  courtesy." 

40.  "  Courtesy,"  said  I,  "  and  great  char 
ity  I  believe  to  be  among  you.    But  —  let 
my  speech  not  grieve  you  —  7 

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 8  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." 
5  Reading  wher  for  what  of  the  text. 
•  The  Lamb  and  Mary.  1  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.  As  Matthew  tells  in  your 
mass,  in  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  sa3rs  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; l  "  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.2   "  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  hour 
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. 


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 

i  The  MS.  reading  "  sozt  "  is  difficult. 
»  The  usual  meaning  of  the  MS.  made  it  tozt  would 
be,  "  was  reluctant,  made  difficulties  about  it." 


had  travailled  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;8  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."4 
Thus  shall  1,'  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.' 5 
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  the'r 
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  Psalter6  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.  agrete,  "for  the  whole,"  not  perfectly  clear. 

4  It  is  difficult  to  make  logic  of  the  conjunctions  in 
this  passage. 

6  The  MS.  fie  mykez  is  difficult  and  no  attempt  is 
made  to  translate  it. 
•  Psalm  62  : 12. 


THE   PEARL 


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  alike, 
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 2 
from  him,3  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  oftener  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 4 
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 

1  An  extremely  difficult  and  uncertain  passage.  See 
Ospood's  note. 

2  The  meaning  of  MS.  reparde  is  doubtful. 

3  Literally, "them."  «  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  iu 
happy  hour  is  bliss  5  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  pile6  who  takes  not  his 
life  in  vain,  nor  flatters  his  neighbour  with 
any  guile.  This  righteous  one  Solomon  saw 
plain,  how  kindly  our  King  7  gan  him  re 
ceive;  by  ways  full  straight  he  gan  him 
lead,  8  and  showed  him  the  realm  of  God 
awhile,  as  though  to  say  *  Lo,  yon  lovely 
isle  !  thou  canst  it  win  if  thou  be  wight.' 
But  certainly,  without  peril,  the  innocent  is 
aye  safe  by  right. 

59.  "  Anent  righteous  men  yet  savs  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.  J?ctf,  subject  of  "is  restored,"  is  obscure. 
«  i.  e.  castle,  edifice,  the  new  Jerusalem. 
i  Manuscript  dubious  hereabouts. 
s  Literally,  "  restrain." 


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 
their  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    undefined, 
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  pur 
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 l  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  in  thee.'  He  gave  me  might  ami  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  3  a  life  ?    So  many  a 
comely  lady  4  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  month  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.  2  More  literally,  "gentleness." 
»  Literally,  •«  lady-like."  «  Literally,  "  comely  one 
under  comb." 


THE   PEARL 


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  touch,  for  the  white 
wool  so  rich  and  full.1  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.2  The  Lamb  gladdens  us,  our 
care  is  cast  aside;  he  charms  us  all  at  every 
feast;3  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  This  passage  ifl 

not  entirely  satisfactory.        *  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  abidest  here 
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,4 
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   I)avi< 
great  was  dight  on  throne;   but  in  thest 
groves  it  cannot  lie;  but  in  Judea  it  is,  that 
noble  dwelling.  As  ye  are  altogether  5  flaw 
less,  so  should  your  dwellings  be  without 
blemish. 

«  The  MS.  blose  is  doubtful ;  possibly  it  is  "  flame." 
*  Literally, "  under  moon,"  a  rime-tag. 


i6 


THE   PEARL 


78.  "This  unblemished  band  them  speakest 
of,  of  thousands  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, —  'twere  evil 
done  that  ye  should  dwell  outside.  And  l>y 
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,1  "  that  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  sh;ill  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  I  no  longer 

i  Literally, "special  spice." 

*-  Such  etymologizing  of  names  is  common  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  especially  so  in  saints'  legends. 


bide,  but  glided  by  branches  with  lovely 
leaves,  till  I  espied  the  hill,  and  gazed  on 
the  city  as  I  pressed  forward,  reveak-d  be 
yond  the  brook  from  me,  that  brighter 
shone  than  the  sun  with  its  shafts.  In  the 
Apocalypse  i.s  its  fashion  told,  as  describes 
it  the  apostle  John. 

83.  As  John  the  npostle  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  bantels3  twelve  set  on  a 
base,  and  foundations  twelve  of  rich  work. 
Each  tier  was  a  different  stone;  as  in  the 
Apocalypse    the    apostle    John   fairly   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-lined 
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;4    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 

*  This  perhaps  means  projecting  courses  of  stone. 
The  architectural  details  are  not  quite  clear. 

4  The  MS.  glayre  may  be  our  glare  of  an  egg,  practi 
cally  equivalent  to  varnish,  gum;  or  glare,  brightness, 
shining ;  or  the  rare  AS.  glner,  glossed  RS  "  electrum," 
i.e.  amber  or  a  composition  of  gold  and  silver. 


THE   PEARL 


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  rich  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 
sacrifice.1  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  2  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 

i  "  Sacrifice  "  is  the  object  of  the  obscure  word  reget> 
possibly  meaning  "to  reproduce." 
»  Literally, "body." 


fashion  thereof.  I  stood  as  still  as  dazed 
quail  for  the  strangeness  of  that  glorious8 
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  w;is  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 
great4  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  coining  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 


,  of  uncertain  meaning. 
4  Reading  doubtful.    Possibly  "  without  delay,"  a 
rime-tag  something  like  boun  translated  "fair"  iu  the 
same  sentence. 


i8 


THE   PEARL 


sprang  forth.  Alas !  thought  I,  who  com 
mitted  that  crime?  Any  breast  ought  to 
have  shrivelled  ior  sorrow  ere  it  had  taken 
delight  in  such  a  deed. 

96.  The  Lamb's  delight  none  needed  to 
doubt;  that1  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-longiug. 

XX 

97.  Delight  drove  me  in  eye  and  ear;  my 
man's  mind  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 
over  marvellous  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.  1  stretched 

i  Emending  the  N.S.pas  to  pat. 


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  ill  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  cast  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 
mound  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  KNYJT* 

[FYTTE   THE   FIRST] 
I 

SiJ>EN2  )?e  sege  &  J?e  assaut  wat}  sesed  at  Troye, 
be  bor}  britteued  &  brent  to  bronde}  &  askej, 
PH  tulk  J?at  J?e  trammes  of  tresoun  ]>er  wro}t, 
Wat}  tried  for  his  tricherie,  )?e  trewest  on  erthe  ; 
Hit  wat$  Ennias  J?e  athel,  &  his  highe  kynde, 

t  sifeu  depreced  prouinces,8  &  patrounes  bicome 
elne^e  of  al  J?e  wele  in  J?e  west  iles, 
Fro  riche  Romulus  to  Rome  ricchis  hym  swyfe, 
With  gret  bobbaunce  pat  bur$e  he  biges  vpon  fyrst, 
&  neuenes  hit  his  aune  nome,  as  hit  now  hat ; 
Ticins  (turnes)  to  Tuskan,  &  teldes  bigynnes  ; 
Langaberde  in  Lumbardie  lyftes  vp  homes  ; 
&  fer  ouer  ]?e  French  flod  Felix  Brutus 
On  mony  bonkkes  ful  brode  Bretayu  he  sette}, 

wyth  wynne  ;* 

Where  werre,  &  wrake,  &  wonder, 
Bi  svpe?  hat}  wont  j?er-inne, 
&  oft  bope  blysse  &  blunder 
Ful  skete  hatj  skyf ted  synne. 

II 

Ande  quen5  J>is  Bretayn  watj  bigged  bi  J?is  burn  rych, 
Belde  bredden  }?er-inne,  baret  J?at  lofden, 
In  mony  turned6  tyme  tene  J?at  wrojten  ; 
Mo  ferlyes  on  J>is  ifolde  han  fallen  here  oft 
n  in  any  oj?er  pat  I  wot,  syn  Jrat  ilk  tyme. 
t  of  alle  J>at  here  bult  of  Bretaygne  kynges 
Ay  wat^  Arthur  J>e  hendest,  as  I  haf  herde  telle  ; 
For-J?i  an  aunter  in  erde  I  attle  to  schawe, 
)?at  a  selly  in  si}t  summe  men  hit  holden, 
&  an  outtrage  awenture  of  Arthnre}  wonderej, 
If  ^e  wyl  lysten  J?is  laye  bot  on  littel  quile, 
I  schal  telle  hit,  as-tit,  as  I  in  toun  herde, 
with  tonge  ; 

As  hit  is  stad  &  stoken, 

In  stori  stif  &  stronge, 

With  lei  letteres  loken,6 

In  londe  so  hat}  ben  longe. 

1  The  symbol  3  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  form  of  #,  and  is  a  modification  of  the  Latin  letter.    It  was  retained  by  later 
scribes  principally  for  the  guttural  gh  as  in  kn.yyt,  for  the  y-sound  at  the  beginning  of  a  word,  as  in  }«£,  and  for  the 
final  2-soimd,  as  in  aske^.     The  spellings  trafy  hat$  for  was  and  has  are  peculiar. 

2  \>  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  symbol  for /A,  which  lasted  till  the  15th  century,  and  as y  till  later  —  e.g.,  in  ye  =  t/te. 
It  is  the  old  rune  "  thorn."        3  n  and  7;,  originally  the  same  symbol,  are  both  written  w. 

*  These  "  bobs  "  especially,  and  the  rhyming  4-line  "  wheel "  at  the  end  of  the  stanzas,  are  often  almost  mean 
ingless,  and  difficult  to  translate.        6  The  qv  is  the  Northern  way  of  writing  Anglo-Saxon,  hw,  our  wh. 
0  Such  "  conceited,1'  "  precio'ifc  "  or  far-fetched  terms  and  tags  are  characteristic  of  the  later  alliterative  verse. 


20  SYR   GAWAYN   AND   THE   GRENE   KNYJT 


III 

Jris  kyng  lay  at  Gamy  lot  vpon  kryst-masae, 
WitA  niony  luilyeh  lorde,  leu*  3  of  pe  best, 
Rekenly  of  J>e  rounde  table  al.e  }?o  rich  bre]?er, 
W/t/t  rych  reuel  oryjt,  <&  rechles  merges; 
"ber  tourneyed  tulkes  bi-tyuie}  t'ul  mony, 
Justed  ful  Jolile  J>yse  gyntyle  knifes, 
SyJ>en  kayrrd  to  }>e  court,  caroles  to  make. 
For  J?er  \>e  fest  wat}  ilyeke  ful  iifteii  dayes 
With  ulle  J?e  mete  &  }>e  mirj-e  J>at  men  cou]?e  a-vys«; 
Such  glaumaude  gle  glorious-  to  here, 
Dere  dyn  vp-on  day,  daunsyng  on  nyjtes, 
Al  watj  hap  upon  he^e  in  halle^  &  ehambre}, 
With  lorde^  &  ladies,  as  leuest  him  fo^t; 
With  all  J>e  wele  of  J>e  worlde  ]?ay  woned  }>er  samen, 
"  e  most  kyd  kny^tes  \Tider  krystes  seluen, 
louelokkest  ladies  ]?at  euer  lif  haden, 
&  he  ]?e  comlokest  kyng  p>at  }?e  court  haldes; 
For  al  wal}  ]?is  fayre  foik  in  her  first  age, 
on  sille; 

le  hapnest  vnder  hfuen, 

Kyng  h)  jest  uion  of  wylle, 

Hit  were  now  gret  nye  to  neuen 

So  hardy  a  here  on  hi  lie. 

IV 

Wyle  uw  }er  wat}  so  ^ep  }?at  h?t  wat  nwe  cummen, 
j?at  day  doubble  on  ]?e  dece  wat^  J?e  douih  serued, 
Fro  J?e  kyng  watj  cummen  with  knjtes  in  to  J?e  halle, 
l>e  chaurttre  of  )>e  chapel  cheued  to  an  ende; 
Loude  crye  wat^  ]?er  kest  of  clerkej  &  o]?er, 
Nowel  nayted  n-uewe,  neuen*'d  ful  ofte; 
&  sy]?en  rich';  forth  ruwneii  to  reche  honde-selle, 
^e^ed  ^eres  }iftes  on  hi^,  ^elde  hem  bi  hond, 
Debated  busyly  aboute  }^o  giftes; 
Ladies  la^ed  ful  loude,  ]>o  }:ay  lost  haden, 
&  he  )?at  wan  wat^  not  worth,  ]>at  tnay  je  wel  trawe. 
Alle  }?is  mir]7e  J>ay  maden  to  ]?e  mete  tyme; 
When  ]?ay  had  waschen,  wor]?yly  fay  wenten  to  sete, 
]?e  best  burne  ay  abof,  as  bit  best  semed; 
Whene  Guenore  ful  pay,  prayj>ed  in  ]?e  myddes, 
Dressed  on  fe  dere  des,  clubbed  al  aboute, 
Smal  senda)  bisides,  a  selure  hir  ouer 
Of  tryed  Tolouse,  of  Tars  tapites  in-noghe, 
l?at  were  enbrawded  &  beten  wyth  }?e  best  gewmes, 
pat  myjt  be  pieued  of  prys  wyth  penyes  to  buy, 
in  daye; 

;e  comlokest  to  discrye, 
er  glent  with  y^en  gray; 
A  semloker  ]?at  euer  he  sy^e, 
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.1  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,  witli 
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  Lom- 
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  wilt  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 
Round  Table,  with   right   rich  revel   and 
careless   mirth.    There    full   many  heroes 

1  Construction  clear,  though  sense  odd.  Antenorand 
Aoneas  were  the  traitors  who  in  the  inediseval  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.  IV,  1.  4539  f. 


tourneyed  betimes,  jousted  full  gaily; 
then  returned  these  gentle  knights  to  the 
court  to  make  carols.2  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  fnir  company 
were  in  their  prime  in  the  hall,  the  happiest 
troop  u'ider  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;3    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,4  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. 

5.  But  Arthur  would  not  eat  till  all  were 


*  Dancing  and  sinking  in  a  ring. 
»  New  Year's  gifts  of  good  omen. 
«  Oriental  figured  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  hnsied  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  life,  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  silver  that  held  the  several  courses. 
Each  man  as  he  himself  preferred  partook 
without  hesitation.  Every  two  l  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.2  Another 

*  It  was  extremely  sumptuous  having  only  two  at  a 
mess ;  i.  e.  only  two  sharing  the  same  cup  and  platter. 

*  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.  fjO 

8.  All  green  was  this  man  and  his  cloth 
ing;  a  straight  coat  sat  tight  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; 3  hose  of 
the  same  green,  that  clung  to  his  calf;  and 
clean  spurs  under,  of  bright  gold  upon  silk 
bands  richly  barred,and  shoes4  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  reins5 
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,  in  gay  em 
broidered  bridle,  and  one  right  dear  to  his 
master. 

9.  This  hero  was  splendidly  dressed  in 
green;  and  the  hair  of  his  bead  matched  that 
of  his  horse;6  fair  flowing  locks  enfolded 
his  shoulders;  a  beard  as  big  as  a  bush  hung 

»  Translation  doubtful.  <  Word  doubtful. 

B  Our  "reins"  is  a  mere  stop-gap.  The  MS.  has  the 
puzzling  sturtes. 

6  Translating  hors  swete  of  the  MS.  as  "  horse's 
Buite." 


SIR  GAWAIN   AND   THE   GREEN   KNIGHT 


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  houd,1 
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. 

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  bit2  brightly  burnished, 
with  a  broad  edge,  as  well  shaped  for  cut 
ting  as  sharp  razors.  The  stern  warrior 
gripped  it  by  3  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    capndo/t    here  translated    "hood"   is 
rare.    It  might  conceivably  mean  "  camail,"  a  protec 
tion  of  mail  for  the  r.eck  and  part  of  the  head,  that 
hung  down  from  or  under  the  helm. 

2  "  Hit "  is  still  used  for  the  cutting  edge  of  an  axe. 
*  Not  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  4  sank  as 
though  they  had  suddenly  fallen  asleep.  1 
deem,  however,  that  it  was  not  all  for  fear, 
but  somewhat  for  courtesy.    But  now  let 
him  to  whom  all  defer  undertake  the  wight. 

12.  Then  Arthur  before  the  hi^li   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." 

*  Possibly  "faces"  or  "looks." 


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  he  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 
lie  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  twelvemonth  and  a  day.  Now  hie, 
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 
his  beard,  aw  liting  whoso  would  rise.  When 
none  would  answer  him  he  coughed  aloud, 
stretched  himself  haughtily  and  be^an  to 
speak;  "What!    Is   this  Arthur's  house," 
said  the  hero  then,  "  that  is  famous  through 
s  >  many  realms?  Where  is  now  your  pride 
and  your  conquests,   your   fierceness,  ai;d 
ynur  wrath  and  your  great  words?  Now  is 
the   revel  and  the  renown   of  the  Round 
T.ible  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  l>ehooves  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  his  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  you,  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  my  life.  I 
am  only  to  praise  forasmuch  as  ye  are  my 
uncle;  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  J  if  I  have  not 
spoken  well." 

The  heroes  took  counsel  together  ar.d 
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  un 
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 

i  This  word  is  supplied.  Perhaps  "  speak  "  would  be 
more  conservative. 


SIR   GAWAIN   AND   THE   GREEN   KNIGHT 


2S 


that  thou  shalt  endure  the  blow  which  he 
shall  give  after." 

Gawaiu  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  1  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,  bv  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 
Gaw;iin.  "Where  is  thy  place?  I  know 
never  whore  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 
use  all  my  wit  to  win  my  way  thither,  — 
ai'd  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 
Gaw;iiu  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,1  so  that  the  sharp 
edge  severed  the  giant's  bones,  and  shrank 
through  the  clear  flesh  2  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 
with  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  he;id,  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  ir'  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. 

iiO.  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  Gawsiin,  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 
pnid  on  New  Year's  morn.8  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  he  supplied  after  naked. 

3  "Gre:\se  "  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  ths 
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.  .,'  OO 

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,1  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  ram  in  warm  showers,  and  falls 
upjn  the  fair  earth.  Flowers  show  there; 
green  are  the  garments  both  of  fields  and  of 
groves;  birds  hurry  to  build,  and  lustily 

»  Mon-ia'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,  when  Zephyr  us  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,2  till    the 
Michelnias  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; 8  but  I  am  ready  to  start  for 
the  frav  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  Erec,  and  others  full 
many,  Sir  Dodinel  de  Sauvage,  the  Duke 
of  Clarence,  Lancelot  and  Lyonel  and  Lucan 
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  vasrne. 

*  Morris's  punctuation  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  arid  bound 
within  with  a  glistening  white  fur.    Then 
they  put  the  sabatons1  upon  the  hero's  feet, 
hipped  his  legs  in  steel  with  lair  greaves,  to 
v»  hich  were  attached  well  polished  poleyues2 
fastened  about  his  knees  with  knots  of  gold. 
Fine  euisses  then,  ^hat  well  enclosed    his 
thick,  brawny  thighs,   they   attached  with 
thongs.     Next   the    decorated    burnie 8   of 
bright  steel  rings  upon  precious  stuff  encased 
the  hero,  and  \veil  burnished  braces  upon  his 
two  arms,  with  elbow-pieces  goodly  and  gay 
«'ind  gloves  of  plate,  and  all  the  goodly  gear 
that  might  avail  him  at  that  time,  with  rich 
cosit  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  urison4  over  the  ventail,5  embroid 
ered  and  bound  with  the  best  gems  on  a 

i  steel  shoes.  «  knee  pieces.          *  coat  of  mail. 

«  scarf.         &  visor. 


broad  silken  border;  and  birds  on  the  seams 
like  painted  popinjays  6  preening  themselves 
here  and  there;  turtle-doves  and  true-loves7 
thickly  interlaced.  As  many  birds  there 
were  as  had  been  in  town  for  seven  winters. 
The  circlet  that  surrounded  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  pentnngle  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  8  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 
melde  his  pious  thought  was  in  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  9  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. 

s  Should  it  be  now  t 


i  true  lover's  knots. 

•  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  tricked  for  a  Christmas  game."  Much 
warm  water  welled  from  eyes  when  that 
seemly  sire  departed  from  the  dwellings 
that  day.    He  made  no  stop,  but  wighlly 
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  they  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. 

*  The  meaning  of  the  verb  is  doubtful. 


M6.  Many  a  cliff  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  iu 
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  him  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  born 
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 
ing,  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  full  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 
harkened  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  locked  fast ;  the  walls  were  well 
arrayed  ;  no  wind  blast  did  it  fear. 

13.  The  hero  that  sat  on  his  horse,  abode 
on  the  bank  &  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  never  looked  upon. 
And  farther  within  he  beheld  the  high  hall, 
with  towers  set  full  thickly  about,  and  fair 
and  wondrons  high  filioles  with  carved  trtps 
enticingly  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 
jippeared  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 
Lasped  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. 
Finn-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  burnie  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  seemly  with  sailing  skirts, 
the  hero  by  his  visage  verily  seemed  to  well 


SIR   GAWAIN   AND   THE   GREEN   KNIGHT 


nigh  every  man  in  looks  glowing  and  lovely 
in  all  his  limbs;  it  seemed  to  them  that 
C  hrist  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,1  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.2    "  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 

i  In  the  old  meaning  of  fireplace,  fire-back,  or  grate. 

s  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 .  Macbeth,  in,  4, 
33  :  "  The  feast  is  sold  that  is  not  often  vouch'd,  while 
't  is  a-making,  '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  evensong  of  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  iu 
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  with  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  8  with  small  ornaments; 

»  The  precise,  but  not  the  general,  meaning  of  the 
two  participles  is  uncertain. 


SIR   GAWAIN   AND   THE   GREEN   KNIGHT 


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  l  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  towaid  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  it2  who  could  make 
the  most  mirth  that  Christmas  tide.  "  And 
I  shall  try,  by  my  faith,  with  the  help  of  my 
friends8  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  meals,  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  1  trow;  Gawain  and  the  gay  lady 
together  just  in  the  middle,  as  the  courses4 
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  joke. 

4  This  word  (mfsse)  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.5  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  embellishing  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." 

u  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, 

5  The  clause  literally  translated  is  insignificant ;  we 
expect  something  like  "  and  yet  I  should  fall  for  all  my 
pains." 


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 
gr<?en  chapel,  where  in  the  world  it  stands, 
and  of  the  knight  green  in  colour  that  keeps 
it.  There  was  established  by  statute  an 
agreement  between  us  that  1  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  Sou  I 
would  gladlier  look  on  that  person  —  if 
God  would  let  me  —  than  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  on 
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. 
On3  shall  set  you  on  your  way;  it  is  not 
two  miles  hence." 

23.  Then  was  Gawnin  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  of1  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 
hest  here  at  once  ?  " 

"  Yea,  sir,  forsooth,"  said  the  true  hero, 
"  while  I  stay  in  vour  castle  I  shall  be  obe 
dient  to  your  hest." 

"Since  ye  have  travelled  from  afar," 
quoth  the  warrior,  "  and  then  have  sat  late 
with  me,  ye  are  not  w<41  nourished,  I  know, 
either  with  sustenance  or  with  sleep.  Ye 
shall  linger  in  youv  loft  and  lie  at  your  ease 
tomorrow  till  mass  time;  and  go  to  meat 
when  ye  will  with  my  wife,  who  shall  sit 

Wolde  in  the  text  is  translated  as  a  corruption  of 
such  word  as  "  was  lacking,"  or  "  wandered." 


with  you  and  comfort  you  with  her  com 
pany  till  I  return  home;  and  I  shall  rise 
early  and  go  hunting."  Gawain  grants  all 
this,  bowing  courteously. 

4J4.  "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; 
and  both  laughed. 

Then  they  drank  and  played  and  amused2 
themselves,  these  lords  and  ladies,  so  long 
as  it  pleased  them;  and  then  with  polk'j 
demeanour  and  many  fair  gestures,  they 
stood  up  and  lingered  a  while,  and  talked 
quietly,  kissed  full  comely,  and  took  their 
1"  ave.  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  then?  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  sop8  nastily  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  hij;h 
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  hrachets  4  bayed  and  made  a  wild 
noise,  and  the  hunters  chastised  and  turned 

*  Word  doubtful.  «  Took  a  light  repast. 

4  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  1  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. 

U.  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,1 
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  di-iven  with  great  din  to  the 
deep  glades.  There  might  one  see  MS  they 
ran  the  ilight  of  arrows;  at  each  turn  under 
the  boughs  out  Hew  a  shaft,  that  s  >,vagely 
bit  on  die  brown  hide  with  full  broad  heads. 
How  they  leaped  and  bled  find  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 
ilight. 

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;3  and  he  heaved 
up  his  head  out  of  the  clothes,  caught  up  a 
corner  of  his  curtain  a  little,  and  watched 
warily  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, 

»  The  flat,  broad  part  of  the  horn. 

»  Subject  supplied.  »  Meaning  not  quite  sure. 


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  Vie  to  tind  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  your  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  lie  returned  the  jests  with  many 
a  blithe  laugh.  "  But  would  ye,  lovely  lady, 
grant  me  leave,  free  4  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,5  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." 

4  Meaning  doubtful. 

s  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 


5.  "  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;1 — 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.2  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  iu  good  faith  I 
have  found  your  generosity  noble.  People 
judge  a  person's  deeds  largely  from  the  ac 
counts  of  others;3  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  might4  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. 

«  The  last  clause  is  obscure  iu  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 
him,  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."  6 

"  Wherefore  ?  "  quoth  the  hero;  and 
eagerly  he  asks,  afraid  lest  he  had  failed 
in  the  performance  of  his  design.6  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  trilling 
excuse  or  other7  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." 
fcme  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  to  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 

«  The  negative  is  supplied. 

•  Possibly,  "  in  some  form  of  courtesy." 

1  Literally,  "  By  some  touch  of  some  trifle  at  some 
tale's  end." 

8  "  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,1  and  proceeded 
properly  to  undo2  them  as  the  occasion  de- 
m;inds.  Some  that  were  there  tried  them 
at  the  assay  3  and  found  two  fingers  of  fat 
on  the  leanest  of  all.  Afterwards  they  slit 
the  slot,4  seized  the  arber,5  cut  it  free  with 
a  sharp  knife,  and  tied  it  6  up.  Next  they 
cut  down  along  the  four  limbs  and  rent  off 
the  hide;  then  they  opened  the  belly,  took 
out  the  paunch,  cutting  eagerly,  and  laid 
aside  the  knot.7  They  began  at  the  throat 
again  and  skilfully  divided  the  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,8  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,9  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  afterwards  they 
sundered  the  sides  swiftly  from  the  chine, 
and  the  corbie's  fee 10  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 
Mood  mingled  tliereamong.  Loudly  they 
blew  the  prize,  and  bayed  their  hounds; 
then  tliev  started  to  carry  home  their  meat, 
blowing  full  stoutly  many  loud  notes.  By  the 

i  The  correct  hunting  term  for  "  the  fattest." 

*  Cut  up. 

8  Probably  at  the  side  of  the  neck,  or  on  the  brisket. 

*  Probably  at  the  hollow  of  the  breast  bone. 

6  The  Rullet  probably. 

«  The  schyre  is  presumably  the  "arber  ";  though  in 
1.  2256  it  appears  to  be  the  skin  of  the  neck  or  nape. 

7  i.e.  the  entrails,  with  the  gullet  knotted  to  prevent 
the  filth  from  escaping. 

s  This  titbit  is  sometimes  called  a  part  of  the  num 
bles. 

9  A  choice  cut ;  hence,  capriciously,  our  humble-pie. 
»  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  fire.  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  iu 
merry  sport  he  called  Gawain,  told  him  the 
number  of  the  choice  beasts,  and  showed 
him  the  fat  meat  cut  from 11  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; 
"grarnercy  therefor.  Perchance  it  might 
be  better  if  you  would  tell  me  where  you 
won  this  same  favour  by  your  own 12  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.18    Then  at  length  they  politely 
took  leave;  and  everybody  hurried  to  bed. 

«  Literally  "upon."  ia  Possessive  uncertain. 

»  A  drink  ratines  the  agreement  -  as  before. 


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 
st-ent,  forty  at  once.  Then  there  rose  such 
a  resounding  cry  of  gathered  hounds  that 
the  rocks  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, 
t.'.-ey  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.1 
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  melde. 
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,2  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 

A  call  for  collectiug  the  hounds. 


i  A  call  for  collectmg  the  hour 
*  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 
h(jro  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.fy>-V 

14.  She  comes  to  the  curtain  and  peeps 
at  the  knight.  SirGawain  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  rne  a  very  strange 
thing  that  a  man  of  such  quality  should 
not  follow  the  conventions  of  good  society; 
nnd  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  yon." 

"Yea,  by  God,"  said  Gawain,  "your 
speech  is  good;  but  violence  is  considered 
discourteous  among  rny  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 
of  love.1  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 
their  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  tor 
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  jre  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." 

1C.  "  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 

i  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  ard 
rose  to  the  mass;  and  afterwards  their  dh 
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.2  There  he  abode  at  his  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 
mouth,  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 
IT) ore  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,8 
pierced  him  up  to  the  hilt  so  that  his  heart 
split,  and  he  gave  way  squealing  smd  went 
quickly  down  the  water.    A  hundred  hounds 
seized  him  and  fiercely  bit  on  him.    Men 

2  hounds.      «  The  proper  piercing  spot  in  the  chest. 


SIR  GAWAIN   AND   THE   GREEN   KNIGHT 


brought  him  to  land  and  the  dogs  finished 
him.1 

19.  There  was  blowing  of  the  prize  2  on 
many  a  loud  horn,  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  8  this  boar.    First  he  hews  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  4  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  6   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  6  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  lie  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  Im^e 
head;    the  courteous  man   praised  it  and 
made  much  of  it  to  honour  the  lord. 

"Now  Gawaiu,"  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  tense  are  oddly  mixed  in  this 
stanza,  as  often  in  the  poem.  This  time  they  have  been 
Normalized. 

2  The  horn-blowing  for  the  pame'fl  death. 

*  out  up.  *  cutlets. 
»  Two  words  not  clear. 

•  Translating  largesse  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  chaffer  !  " 

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  stolen7  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;  n<>w,  'third  time,   best  time.'8 
Think   on   the   morrow.    Make  we  merrv 
while  we  may,  and  be  joyful;  fora  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. 

i  A  guess  for  stollen. 

8  The  line  is  not  clear ;  literally,  perhaps,  "  third 
time,  throw  beet." 


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  mounted 
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  rocks  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 1  through  the  cunning  of  their 
wiles.  A  kennet2  cried  upon  it;  the  hunts 
man  encouraged  him,  and  his  fellows  hast 
ened  after,  panting  thickly.  They  ran  fonh 
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    trants8  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  stilly  by  a  rough  rand.4 
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  m 
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 
iounds,  when  all  the  gathered  mute6  got 
view  of  him.  The  cry  they  set  on  his  head  at 
the  sight  was  as  if  all  the  resounding  cliffs 
had  clattered  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  cal'ed  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 
Reyuard.    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.  J  small  hound.  *  twists. 

*  Uuploughed  strip  by  woodside.  8  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  tressour6in  clusters  of  twenty. 
With  her  fair  face  and  her  lovely  throat 
all  naked,  her  breast  bare  before  and  be 
hind  too,  she  conies  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  him7  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  worM  most 
wounded  in  heart;  —  unless  indeed  ye  have 
a  sweetheart,  a  dearer  being,  that  pleases 
you  better,  and  ye  have  plighted  faith  so 

•  headdress,  caul. 

i  Words  in  italics  supplied  by  Morris. 


SIR   GAWAIN   AND   THE  GREEN   KNIGHT 


firmly  to  that  gentle  one  that  ye  care  not 
to  loosen  it.  —  Verily  now  that  is  what  I 
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  uie  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  hi  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  Ga  wain's  gift  for  a  keepsake; 
and  I  am  here  on  an  errand  in  lands  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;1  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-    i 
preaches  to  the  priest  and  prays  him  there  , 

i  Reading  frynges  for  MS.  fyngres;  or  we  may  keep 
the  text  and  translate,  "wrought,  embroidered^  by 
fingers." 


SIR  GAWAIN   AND   THE  GREEN   KNIGHT 


that  he  would  elevate  his  life,  and  teach 
him  better  how  his  soul  should  be  saved 
i  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  assoils 
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 
4  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, 
Ij  where  may  love  betide  him.   The  lord  is 

still  in  the  field  leading  his  men.  He  has 
/)  overtaken  this  fox  that  he  followed  so  loug, 
,  as  he  sprinted  over  a  spinny  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 J  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 2  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 

i  The  note  that  recalls  all  the  dogs. 
»  Noise  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  I 
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  here,  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  will,  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  will  suffer 
me  to  take  on  New  Year's  day  the  doom  of 
my  fate." 

"  In  good  faith,"  qnoth  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 


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  and  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;  eacli  man  that  he  met  he  thanked  him 
for  his  service  and  his  solace,  and  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  thn  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  in  his  bed  heard  it  right  well;  though 
he  locks  his  lids,  full  little  he  sleeps.  By 
each  cock  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,1  and 
all  was  fresh  as  at  first;  and  Gawain  was 
i  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  furred 
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 
erood  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   unbarred   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  him  how  to  find  that  dismal 
place  where  he  should  receive  the  rueful 
blow.  They  rode  by  banks  where  boughs 
are  bare;  they  climbed  by  cliffs  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 
laud.  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  with,  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  wilt 
take  upon  thyself  thine  own  destruction;  if 
it  pleases  thee  to  lose  thy  life,  I  shall  not 
let  nor  hinder  thee.  Have  here  thy  helm 
on  thy  head,  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 
God'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 


mo  md  as  it  were,  a  smooth  hill  by  the  bank 
of  the  stream  near  a  ford  of  the  Hood  that 
ran  there.  The  burn  bubbled  there  as  if  it 
were  boiling.  The  knight  urges  liis  steed, 
and  conies  to  the  bill;  lights  nimbly  dowu, 
and  ties  the  rein  and  his  rich  bridle  to  a 
tree  by  a  rough  branch;  then  he  turns  to 
the  hill  and  walks  about  it,  debating  with 
himself  what  it  might  be.  It  had  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  he  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  month,  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  hinder  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  one  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 


45 


"Thou  art  not  Gavvain,"  said  the  man, 
"  who  is  held  so  good,  who  never  flinched 
for  any  army  by  hill  nor  by  vale;  and  now 
thou  tieest  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  tliee  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  Gawain  in  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  speak est  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,  cast 
it  on  his  head,  threw  his  shoulders  under 
Jlis  fair  shield,  pulled  out  a  bright  sword 


and  fiercely  spoke.  Never  in  this  world 
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  ine  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  perad venture  I  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  your  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  covetousness  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  taught  me  to  make  a  truce  with 
covetousness,  to  forsake  my  nature,  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 
courteously:  "  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  if  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  you." 

18.  "Nay,  forsooth,"   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  Ite  won  to  sorrow. 
For  so  was  Adam  beguiled   l»y  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.1  If  I  be 
now  deceived,  ineseems  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  shall  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    worshipfully   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 
your  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  in  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  Gawaiu  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 
lovingly  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  hi  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(P) 


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, 

AVent  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, 

I  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  in  gluttony 
destroy. 

And  some  gave  tlu-mselves  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  luxurious  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  work 
if  they  will. 

What  Paul  preached  of  them  I  dare  not 
prove  here; 

Qui  loquitur  turpiloquium,1  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 
tnles, 

And  had  leave  to  lie  all  their  life  after. 

Horn i its  in  a  band  with  hooked  staves       50 

Went  to  Walsingham,  and  their  wenches 
after. 

i  He  whc  spcaketh  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  found  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,1   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  2  time, 

1  Letter  of  indulgence. 

»  Probably  the  great  plague  of  134S-1349. 


And  ask  leave  and  licence  at  London  to 

dwell 
To   sing  there  for  simony,8  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  niightest  better  measure  the  mist  on 

Malvern  hills 
Than  get  a  mum  of  their  mouth  till  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."4 
Cooks  and  their  boys  cry  "  Hot  pies,  hot 3 
Good  geese  and  pigs,  go  dine,  go  dine  1 " 
Taverners  to  them  told  the  same  tale 
With  good  wine  of  Gascony  and  wine  of 

Alsace, 

Of  Rhine  and  of  Rochelle,  the  roast  to  di 
gest. 
All  this  I  saw  sleeping,  and  seven  times 

more. 

PASSUS   I 
What  this  mountain  meaueth,  and  this  dark 

dale, 
And  this  fair  field  full  of   folk,  fairly  I 

shall  you  show. 

!  Getting  money  singing  anniversary  inaasrs  for  the 
dead. 

4  "  God  save  you,  dame  Emma  " —  apparently  a  popur 
lar  song. 


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,  10 

And  said, "  Pardon,  madame,  what  does  this 

mean  ?  " 
"This  tower  and  this  hill,"  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, 

Nor  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."  4o 

"Ah,   madame,   raera',"  quoth   I,   "thy 
words  please  me  well. 

But  the  money  011  this  earth,  that  men  so 
fast  hold, 

Tell  me  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. 

1  Caesar,'  they  said,  *  we  see  well,  each  one.* 

Reddite  ergo  quae  sunt  Caesaris  Caesari  et 
quae  sunt  Dei  Deo.1 

1  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 

i  Matthew,  xxii,  20. 


PIERS   THE   PLOUGHMAN 


That  trust  in  their  treasure,  wherein  is  no 

truth." 

Then  had  I  wonder  in  ray  wits  what  wo 
man  it  might  be 
Thiit  sucii  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 

oughlest  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.  80 

"Show  me  no  treasure,  but  tell  me  this 

same: 
How  I  may  save  my  soul,  thou  that  holy 

art  held." 
"  Wh^n  all  treasure  is  tested,  truth  is  the 

.Lest; 

I  appeal  to  'God  is  Love*  to  judge  the  truth. 
It  is  ;>s  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. 

Clerics  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  dnbbed  knights, 
Made  them   swear  on  their  sword  to  serve 

truth  ever, 


That  is  plainly  the    profession   that   per- 

taiueth  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,1 
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,  no 
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  on,  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  me  better, 
By  what  power  in  my  body  it  beginneth, 

and  where." 
« Thou  dotest,  dolt,"  quoth  she,  "  dull  are 

thy  wits. 

i  B  C.  A  reads  an  at  the  four  ordres. 


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 

should  est. 
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  springeth 

the  song. 
That  belongs  to  the  Father  that  formed 

us  all,  uo 

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,  remc- 

cietur  vohis.1 
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 

i  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  thau 

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  2  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,  8  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,  180 

And  eke  the  straight  way  that  goeth  into 

heaven. 
Therefore  I  say  as  I  said  before,  in  view  of 

those  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. 

•  Give  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you,  Luke,  vi,  38. 


PIERS   THE   PLOUGHMAN 


53 


PASSUS   II 
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  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.  I0 

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,1  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  signification  here 
raries  from  legitimate  payment  to  gross  bribery.  It  is 
often  beet  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;  3o 

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 


And  dower  Meed  therewith,  in  marriage 

for  ever. 
But  there  was  neither  hall  nor  house  that 

might  harbour  the  people  y 

That  each  field  was  not  full   of  folk  at 

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,1 

With  the  Earldom  of  Envy  ever  to  last, 
With  all    the   Lordship   [of  Lechery]2  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,  7o 

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  devil8  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 
i      j  * 

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 


»  B  To  be  pryncf-s  in  pryde  and  poucrte  to  despise. 
«  B  C.       »  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,  tie 

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  peopl--. 
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.  100 
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  yon  each  one; 
And  if  he  find  such  defect  that  ye  with  False 

hold 

It    shall    oppress    your    souls    sorely    at 

last."  IIO 

To  this  Civil  Law  assented,  but  Simony 

would  not 

Till  he  had  silver  for  his  advice  find  his  seal. 
Then  fetched  Flattery  forth  florins  enough, 
And  bade  Gnile  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  faileth. 
When  the  gold  was  given,  great  were  the 

thanks 

To  False  and  to    Flattery,  for   their   fair 
gifts.  i20 

«  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  if  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  thrm  all. 
Sootlmess  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 1  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, 

i  B  C.  meynprise.  A  meyntene. 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


And  quickly  went  he  to  warn  the  False, 
An.l  bade  him  tiee  fast,  and  his  fellows  too. 
Then  False  for  fear  tied  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.  190 

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  aud  messengers  met  with  him 

once, 
And  held  I  din  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;  aio 

But,  truly  to  tell,  she  trembled  for  fear, 
Aud  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  be  idles   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 ! " 
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  so(»n 
Kepaired   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 

shape, 
For  all  the  craft  of  Conscience,  and  scheme, 

as  I  trow, 

That  thou  shalt  have  both  im<?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, 
Rings  with  rubies,  and  riches  enough, 
The  least  of  their  company  a  mutton 1  of 

gold. 
Then  took  they  their  leave,  these  lordines. 

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. 

1  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    iu    the 

lurcii." 
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  him  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  wouLlst  glaze  the  gable,  and  grave 

therein  thy  name,  5o 

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  inend,  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  facial  dex- 

tra : l 

*  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, 

i  Matthew,  vi,  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  ;  2 

'  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  in 
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,  so 

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  tabernacula  eorum  qui  li- 
benter  accipiunt  munera.8 

Among   these    lettered4  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 

*  MnUhf.u\  vi,  2. 

8  Fire  shall  consume  the  tabernacles  of  bribery,  Job, 
xv,  34. 

*  A  lewede. 


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  toleration  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;  101 
But   worse    wroughtest   thou   never    than 

when  thou  False  took. 
But  I  forgive  thee  this  guilt,  and  grant 

thee-my  grace; 

H«nceforth  to  thy  deathday  do  so  no  more. 
I  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  IXO 

y"Kneelin£,   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;  I20 

Learneth  them  lechery  tkat  love  her  gifts; 


Our  father  Adam l  she  brought  down  with 

fair  promise; 

Poisoned  popes,  andimpaireth  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,  i5o 
She  bribes  with  her  jewels,  our  justices  she 

ruins. 

i  So  Vernon  MS.    All  others  read  Your  father:  i.a. 
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  an  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 

he  tide!  160 

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." 
4t  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  my  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,1  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   hasted st    homeward   for   thy    belly- 
hunger. 
Without  pity,  pillager,  poor  men  thou  rob- 

bedest, 
And  bore  their  brass  on  thy  back  to  Calais 

to  sell. 
There  1  stayed  with  my  lord,  his  life  to 

save,  i9o 

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. 

i  A  dutt ;  B  demest. 


6o 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


Beggars   for   their  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 l  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, 

M*ed  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.2 
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  manibus  iniquitat.es  sunt ;  dextra 

eorum  repleta  est  muneribus  ;  8 
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. 

i  B.  A  knoweth  clerket. 

1  He  that  putteth  not  out  his  money  to  usury  .  .  . 
shall  never  be  moved.  Psalms,  xv,  5. 

*  In  whose  hands  is  mischief,  and  their  right  hand 
is  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,  receperuntmercedem  suam* 
What  laborers  and  low  folk  get  from  their 

masters  240 

Is  no  manner  of  meed,  but  moderate  hjje. 
In  merchandise  is  no  meed,  I  may  it  well 

avow; 

It  is  a  permutation,  one  penny  for  anpther. 
But  didst  thou  never  read  Kings,5  thou  re 
creant  Meed, 

Why  vengeance  fell  on  Saul  and  his  chil 
dren  ? 

God  sent  to  say,  by  Samuel's  mouth, 
That  Agag  and  Aiualek,  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. 
8  1  Samuel,  xv. 


PIERS   THE   PLOUGHMAN 


61 


Samuel   will  slay  him,  and    Saul   will  be 

blamed, 

,    David  shall  be  diademed  and  daunt  them  all, 
JTnd  one  Christian  king  keep  us  each  one. 
Conscience  knoweth  this,  for  common  sense 

me  taught  270 

That  Reason  shall  reign,  and  realms  govern; 
Meecl  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, J  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 

lay." 
"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  Suffer-till-I-see-my- 

time, 
And  look  thou  girth  him  well  with  very 

many  girths; 
Hang  on  him  a  heavy  bridle  to  bear  his 

head  low;  2o 

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, 
ForestaUeth  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,  7o 

That  Wrong  for  his  works  should  woe  suffer, 
And  commanded  a  constable  to  cast  him  in 

irons : 
"  He  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,2  and  buy  him 

boot,8 


»  Probably,  corrupt  influence. 
*  Injury,  barm  don*. 


»  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,  ioo 

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 


Till  priests  their  preaching  prove  in  them 
selves, 

A"d  <lo  it  in  deed,  to  draw  us  to  God; 
Till  Saint  James  be  sought  where  I  shall 

ordain, 
And  no  man  go  to  Galicia,   unless  he  go 

for  ever;  no 

And  no  Rome-runners  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, 
Should  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  irremuneratum.1 
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,  i3o 

And  Love  shall  lead  thy  land,  as  it  dearly 

pleaseth  thee." 

Clerks  that  were  confessors  got  together 
j  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  unpunished  ;  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  off 

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  live,  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- 

f  ul  withal 

That  I  had  not  heavier  slept  and  seen  more. 
Ere  I  a  furlong  had  fared,  a  faiutness  me 

seized, 
That  further  might  I  not  a-foot,  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, 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


For  I  saw  the  field  full  of  folk  that  I  before 

showed,  10 

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  eusample  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 

Rome,  4o 


Lust 


Seek  me  Saint  Truth,  for  He  can  save  you 

all; 

Qui  cum  patre  etjilio,  fare  you  well  !  " 
Then  ran  Repentance  and  rehearsed  this 

theme, 
And  made  William  to  weep  water  with  his 

eyes. 

Peruel  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, 
jk        Envy,  with  heavy  heart,  asketh  after 

shrift, 
And   greatly  his  guiltiness   beginneth  to 

show.  60 

Pale  as  a  pellet,  in  a  palsy  he  seemed, 
Clothed  in  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. 
Wrathf  ully  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  thero,  I  ween. 
Many  a  day  could  I  not  do  as  a  man  ouoht, 
Such  wind  in  my  belly  welleth  ere  I  dine. 


PIERS   THE   PLOUGHMAN 


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  I  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 

d°g> 

That  all  my  breast  swelleth  with  the  bit 
terness  of  my  gall; 

No  sugar  is  sweet  enough  to  assuage  it  at 
all,  ioo 

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 

could  nut  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;  i2o 

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, 

i  The  edge  of  the  cloth,  in  measuring. 


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. 
Ruse  the  retailer  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  Rose  the 
dish-maker, 


Godfrey  of  Garlickshire,  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  Robin  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  cheating1  and 
"  Let  go  the  cup  !  " 

Bargains  and  beverages  began  to  arise, 

And   they  sat  so  till  evensong,  and  sang 
some  while,  iqo 

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. 

i  A  lotering  ;  B  louryng ;  C  laforyng. 


PIERS  THE  PLOUGHMAN 


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  smacketh; 
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,  a  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  Sloth  for  sorrow  fell  down  swoon- 
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. 
And1  yet  I  shall  yield  again  —  if  I  have  so 

much  — 

All  that  I  wickedly  won,  since  I  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  2  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  8  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, 

i  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  m  A  the  sin  of 
Wrath  is  omitted. 

»  Make  restitution,  Romans,  xiii,  7. 

3  The  name  given  to  the  penitent  thief  in  the  apoc 
ryphal  Gosj>el  of  Nicodemus. 

*  Remember  me,  Luke,  xxiii,  42. 


68 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


For  he  hath  lain  by  Latro,1  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  bound  round  with  a  broad 

list2 

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  vernigje  in  front,  that  men  should 

him  know, 

And  see  by  his  signs  whom  he  had  sought.8 
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 


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?" 

»  The  word  used  in  Luke  of  the  crucified  thieve*. 

»  Edge  of  cloth. 

*  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  Galicia ;  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  cared  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   linger   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,  Loth  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-in-speech, 

Forth  till  ye  find  a  ford  Honor-y our-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-  A  Iniighty . 

Then  will  ye  come  by  a  croft,  but  go  ye 
\  not  therein, 

The    croft  called   Covet-not-men's-cattle- 
nor-their-  wi  ves- 

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-not ; 
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,  7o 

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-thou-lie-not  -  f  or-any-man's  - 

bidding. 

Then  shall  thou  come  to  a  court,  clear 
as  the  sun, 

Themo«,tisofMercy,surronndingthemanor, 

And  all  the  walls  are  of  Wit  to  hold  Will 
outside; 

The  battlements  are  of  Christendom,  man 
kind  to  save, 

Buttressed l  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- 
inother. 

The  tower  wherein  is  Truth  is  set  above 
the  sun, 

He  may  do  with  the  day  star  whatever  he 
pleaseth. 

i  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;2 

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 
self.  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,  IIO 

Patience  and  Peace  many  people  help, 
«  B  af pies  unrosted. 


7o 


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  waferseller,  "knew  I 

this  for  truth,  120 

1  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  miglitest  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  Ferkin  the  plowman,  "  By  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  grant  them  livelihood,  unless 

the  land  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,1  sew  when  you 

have  time 
Chasubles  for  chaplains,  and  churches  to 

honor;  2o 

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  ns  both, 
And  also  labor  for  thy  love  all  my  lifetime, 
On  condition  that  thou  keep  Holy  Church 

aud  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:  4o 

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, 

i  A  thin  silken  stuff. 


PIERS   THE  PLOUGHMAN 


(And  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  cast  on  his  clothes,  clouted  and  mended, 
His  garters  and  his  cuifs,  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  his  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  2 
They  have  escaped  by  good  luck  ; 3  may 

God  amend  them  !  "  7o 

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  "  Lftt  them  be  stricken  out  from  the  book  [of  the 
living],"  Pfol.ms,  Ixix,  28. 

-  "  And  let  them  not  be  written  with  the  just." 
Ibid. 

3  A  Thei  ben  a-scaped  good  thrift. 


His  son  is  called  Suffer-thy-sovereigns-to- 

have-their-will- 
And-judge-them  -  not,  -  for-if-thou-do-thou- 

shal  t-dearly-pay-  f  or-i  t . 
"  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  craveth  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  residue  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 4  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; 5  100 
Therewith  was  Perkin  pleased,  and  Braised 

them  gladly. 

*  A  plouh-pote    (  pole  =.  pusher).    B  plow-fole  ;    C 
plouh-fote,  plough-foot. 

*  Left  uuplowed. 


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 l   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 

»  Nine  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


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  while  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 " 


1 60 


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 l  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  barns, 
And  laid  on  with  flails,  from  morn  till  even, 
So  that  Hunger  was  not  hardy  enough  even 

to  look  up 

For  a  potf  ul  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,2  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  erthe. 


It  is  misfortune  inaketh  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."  2oo 

"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  3  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 

hnth  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, 

Facife  vobis  amicos  de  mammona  iniquitatis"  4 
"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  benet ; 
C  a-ban,e  hem  vrith  benes. 

4  Make  for  yourselves  friends  of  the  mammon  of  un' 
righteousness,  Luke,  zvi,  9. 


74 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


'In  sweat  and  swiuk  thou  shalt  earn  thy 

meat,1  220 

And  labor  for  thy  livelihood,'  for  so  our 

lord  ordered. 
And  Sapience  said  the  same,  I  saw  it  in  the 

Bible. 

'  Piger  propler  frigus?  no  field  he  till, 
He  shall  crave  and  beg,  and  no  man  abate 

his  hunger.' 
Matthew  of  the  man's   face8  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.,4 
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, 

etc.6 

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, 

i  Genesis,  iii,  19. 

«  The  slothful  shall  not  plow  by  reason  of  the  winter, 
Proveibs,  xx,  4. 

*  "  An  allusion  to  a  common  representation  of  the 
evangelists  which  likens  Matthew  to  a  man,  Mark  to 
a  lion,  Luke  to  a  bull,  and  John  to  an  eagle."  Skeat. 

4  Take  ye  away  the  talent  from  him,  and  give  to  him, 
etc.  Mal/hfw,  xxv,  28. 

*  For  thou  ahalt  eat  the  labor  of  thine  hands,  Psalms, 
cxxviii,  2. 


Work  not  for  a  week,  so  acheth  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,  250 

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  6  cloak  with  buttons 

of  gold, 
And  be  fain,  by  my  faith,  his  physic   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,"  qnoth  Piers,  "  pullets  to 

buy, 

Neither   geese  nor   pigs,  but   two   green 7 
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,  collops  to 

make. 
•  Trimmed  with  grey  Calabriau  fur.      7  Fresh  made. 


PIERS   THE  PLOUGHMAN 


75 


But  I  have  onions  and  parsley,  and  many 

cabbages, 

And  eke  a  cow  and  a  calf,  and  a  cart-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  cocket  and  clearmatin,1  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  fish, 
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 

i  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 ; 

Hunger  hitherward  again  hieth  him  in  haste. 

He    will    awake    with    high-waters 2    the 
wasters  all; 

Ere  five  years  are  fulfilled,  such  famine  shall 
arise, 

Through  floods  and  foul  weather  fruits  shall 
fail ;  3 10 

And  so  saith  Saturn,  and  sendeth  us  warning. 

PASSUS  VIII 

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  heirs,  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  hejp, 

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  laws4 

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  dai's 

sit. 
Merchants,  in    the   margin,    had    many 

years'  remission,  20 

1  Floods.  »  From  punishment  and  guilt. 

«  Duty  to  God  and  duty  to  man. 


76 


WILLIAM   LANGLAND 


But  not  a  poena  et  a  culpa  would  the  Pope 

tin-in  grant. 
Because  they  hold   not  their  holy-day  as 

Holy  Church  teacheth. 
And  because  they  swore  by  their  souls  — 

"  so  help  them  God  !  "  — 
Against  their  cleau  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-dieux1  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, 

Assist2  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. 
Psalms,  xv,  9. 


»  A.  Rule;  VCReleue. 


But  he    that   spendeth  his    speech,  and 

speaketh  for  the  poor  man,  50 

Who  is  innocent  and  needy,  and  no  man 

hath  harmed, 
That  coniforteth  him  in  misfortune,  covet- 

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  movelitur  in  eternum.4 
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 

needy, 
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, 

4  He  that  doeth  these  things  shall  never  be  moved. 
Psalms,  xv,  5. 


PIERS   THE   PLOUGHMAN 


77 


Than  of  all  other  men  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,  with  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  vero  mala,  in  ignem  eternum.1 
"  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,  roo 

And   then  he  said  to  them   these   seemly 

sayings: 
"  Si  ambulavero  in  medio  umbrae  mortis,  non 

timebo  mala,  quoniam  tu  mecum  e.<?.2 
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, 

*  And  those  who  did  good  shalt  go  into  eternal  life ; 
but  who  did  evil,  into  eternal  fire.    Cf.  Matthew,  xxv, 
46. 

*  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  thou  art  with  me, 
Psalma,  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: 
Fuerunt  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  A  B  C  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  cognovij  6  might 

be  thy  theme!" 
"Lewd   losel!"  quoth  he,  "little  lookest 

thou  on  the  Bible, 

Solomon's  sayings  seldom  thou  beholdest; 
1  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. 

»  For  I  have  known  no  learning,  Psalms,  Ixxi,  15 
(Vulgate). 

•  Proverbs,  xxii,  10  (translated  in  previous  lines). 


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  construeth  it  nay,  and  the  canon- 
lawyers  too, 

And  say  themselves,  "  Somnia  ne  cures."  1 
But  as  for  the  Bible,  bear  witness  how 
Daniel  divined  the  dreams  of  a  king, 
Whom  Nebuchadnezzar2  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 
Fell  before  his  feet  and  saluted  him  all. 
"Beaujils"  quoth  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  rnaketh  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  trienals8  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  puuauce   to  pass  into 

joy.  161 

*  Take  no  heed  of  dreams,  Dionysius  Cato,  Distich, 
ii,  31. 

*  Really  Belshazzar,  as  Skeat  shows.  Daniel,  v,  28. 

*  Masses  for  the  dead  said  for  two  and  three  years. 


This  is  a  part  of  our  belief  as  learned  men 

teach  us, 

Quodcunque   hgaveris   super   terrain,   erit 
ligatum  et  in  coelis.4 

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  urise 

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. 

Explicit  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   FLORENT1 

(Conjessio  Amantis,  bk.  i,  1.  1407) 

THER  was  whilom  be  daies  olde 
A  worth!  knyht,  and  as  men  tolde 
He  was  nevoeti  to  themperour 
And  of  his  court  a  courteour: 
Wifles  he  was,  Floreut  he  hihte  ; 
He  was  a  man  that  mochel  myhte;2 
Of  armes  he  was  desirous, 
Chivalerous  and  amorous; 
And  for  the  fame  of  worldes  speche, 
Strange  aventures  forto  seche,  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,8 
Schop,4  as  this  knyht  rod  in  a  pas,6 
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  20 

Feihtende  6  his  oghne  hondes  slain 
Branch  us,  which  to  the  Capitaiu 
Was  sone  and  heir,  wherof  ben  wrothe 
The  fader  and  the  moder  bothe. 
That  knyht  Branchus  was  of  his  bond 
The  worth ieste  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  themperonr,  made  hern  assuage, 
And  dorsten  noght  slen  him  for  fere  : 
In  gret  desputeisoun  thei  were 
Among  hemself,  what  was  the  beste. 
Ther  was  a  lady,  the  slyheste 
Of  alle  that  men  knewe  tho, 
So  old  sche  myhte  unethes  go,7 

i  On  the  versions  of  this  fine  old  story  see  G.  H.  May- 
nadier's  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale  in  the  Grimm  Library, 
London, 1901. 

*  who  could  perform  much. 

*  Break  asunder  and  restore  again  of  man's  luck. 
«  Brought  it  about.  5  at  a  walk. 

*  We  should  supply  "  with."          1  scarcely  walk. 


And  was  grantdame  unto  the  dede  :  8 

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  sende  for  this  kniht, 

And  of  hire  sone  sche  alleide9 

The  deth,  and  thus  to  him  sche  seide  : 

'  Florent,  how  so  thou  be  to  wyte  10 

Of  Branchus  deth,  men  schal  respite          50 

As  now  to  take  vengement, 

Be  so  thou  stonde  in  juggement 

Upon  certein  condicioun, 

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  therof  myht  ben  advised, 

Thou  schalt  have  day  and  tyme  assised 

And  leve  saufly  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  scholde  be 
For  which  he  schal  in  that  degree  70 

Stonde  of  his  lif  in  jeupartie. 
With  that  sche  feigneth  compaignie,11 
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,  3o 

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 
dead. 


alleged. 


10  punish. 


friendliness. 


8o 


JOHN   GOWER 


Home  to  his  ernes1  court  ayein; 

To  whom  his  aventure  pleiii 

He  tolde,  of  that  him  is  befalle. 

And  upon  that  thei  weren  alle 

The  wiseste  of  the  loud  asent,2 

Bot  natheles  of  on  assent 

Thei  myhte  noght  acorde  plat, 

On  seide  this,  an  othre  that.  90 

After  the  disposicioun 

Of  uaturel  complexioun  8 

To  sum  womnian  it  is  plesance, 

That  to  an  other  is  grevanee; 

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  o  thing  conne  thei  noght  finde 

Be  constellacion  ne  kinder  100 

And  thus  Florent  withoute  cure 

Mot  stonde  upon  his  aventure, 

And  is  al  schape  unto  the  lere,4 

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  schal  him  wreke, 

Thogh  afterward  men  hiere  speke 

That  he  par  aventure  deie. 

And  thus  he  wente  forth  his  weie 

Alone  as  knyht  aveuturous, 

And  in  his  thoght  was  curious 

To  wite  what  was  best  to  do: 

And  as  he  rod  al  one  so,  wo 

And  cam  nyh  ther  he  wolde  be, 

In  a  forest  under  a  tre 

He  syh  wher  sat  a  creature, 

A  lothly  wommannysch  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  torneth,  and  to  hire  he  rod, 

And  there  he  hoveth  6  and  abod, 

To  wite  what  sche  wolde  mene. 

And  sche  began  him  to  bemene, 


i  uncle's.  Ger.  Oheim. 

*  disposition. 

*  delays. 


1  sent  for. 

«  prepared  for  the  loss. 


140 


And  seide:  'Florent  be  thi  name, 
Thou  hast  on  honde  such  a  game, 
That  bot  thou  be  the  betre  a  vised, 
Thi  deth  is  schapen  and  devised, 
That  al  the  world  ne  inai  the  save, 
Bot  if  that  thou  my  conseil  have.' 

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  ? ' 
1  What  thing,'  quod  he, '  that  thou  wolt  axe.' 
'  I  bidde  nevere  a  betre  taxe,' 6  iSO 

Quod  sche;  'bot  ferst,  er  thou  be  sped, 
Thou  schal t  me  leve  such  a  wedd, 7 
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  sekerliche  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  seiu, 
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  overthrowe. 
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 8  up  the  browe: 
1  This  covenant  I  wol  allowe,' 
Sche  seith :  '  if  eny  other  thing 
Bot  that  thou  hast  of  my  techyng 

8  I  ask  no  better  engagement. 

»  pledge.  Cf.  wedlock,  i.e.  pledged  state. 

«  wrinkles. 


THE  TALE   OF   FLORENT 


81 


Fro  deth  thi  body  mai  respite, 

I  woll  thee  of  thi  trowthe  acquite, 

And  elles  be  non  other  weie. 

Now  herkne  me  what  I  schal  seie.  190 

Whan  thou  art  come  into  the  place, 

Wher  now  thei  maken  gret  manace 

And  upon  thi  comynge  abyde, 

Thei  wole  anon  the  same  tide 

Oppose  l  thee  of  thin  answere. 

I  wot  thou  wolt  nothing  forbere 

Of  that  thou  wenest  be  thi  beste, 

And  if  thou  myht  so  finde  reste, 

Wei  is,  for  thanne  is  ther  nomore. 

And  elles  this  schal  be  my  lore,  200 

That  thou  schalt  seie,  upon  this  molde 

That  alle  wommen  lievest  wolde 

Be  soverein  of  maunes  love: 

For  what  womman  is  so  above, 

Sche  hath,  as  who  seith,  al  hire  wille; 

And  elles  may  sche  noght  f  ulfille 

What  thing  hir  were  lievest  have. 

With  this  answere  thou  schalt  save 

Thiself,  and  other  wise  noght. 

And  whan  thou  hast  thin  ende  wroght,    210 

Come  hier  ayein,  thou  schalt  me  finde, 

And  let  nothing  out  of  thi  mincle.' 

He  goth  him  forth  with  hevy  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  wommen  is  thunsemlieste: 
Thus  wot  he  noght  what  is  the  beste:      aao 
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  conseil  cam  the  lord, 
The  thinges  stodeu  of  record, 
He  sende  up  for  the  lady  sone, 
And  forth  sche  cam,  that  olde  mone.2 
In  presence  of  the  remenant 
The  strengthe  of  al  the  covenant  230 

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, 
Thac  he  for  yif  te  or  for  beheste 
Mihte  eny  wise  his  deth  areste. 
And  thus  he  tarieth  longe  and  late, 
Til  that  this  lady  bad  algate  3  240 

1  Interrogate.  a  creature.  8  in  any  case.  "  bowed. 


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,4 

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  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,  a6o 

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  afiaited.5 

This  olde  wyht  him  hath  awaited 
In  place  wher  as  he  hire  lefte: 
Florent  his  wofull  heved  6  uplefte 
And  syh  this  vecke  7  wher  sche  sat, 
Which  was  the  lothlieste  what  8  270 

That  evere  man  caste  on  hisyhe: 
Hire  nase  bass,9  hire  browes  hyhe, 
Hire  yhen  smale  and  depe  set, 
Hire  chekes  ben  with  teres  wet, 
And  rivelen  10  as  an  emty  skyn 
Hangende  doun  unto  the  chin; 
Hire  lippes  schrunken  ben  for  age, 
Ther  was  no  grace  in  the  visage, 
Hir  front  was  nargh,nhir  lockes  hore, 
Sche  loketh  forth  as  doth  a  More,12         28o 
Hire  necke  is  schort,  hir  schuldres  courbe,18 
That  myhte  a  mannes  lust  destourbe, 
Hire  body  gret  and  nothing  smal, 
And  sehortly  to  descrive  hire  al, 
Sche  hath  no  lith  14  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  waraut, 
That  he  hire  holde  covenant,  290 

And  be  the  bridel  sche  him  seseth. 
Bot  Godd  wot  how  that  sche  him  pleseth 


4  boast,  speak.         «  prepared. 
s  thing.       »  flat.        10  wrinkle. 


limb. 


'  head.        r  hag. 
»  low.       «  Moor. 


82 


JOHN  GOWER 


Of  snche  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  l  with  canele,2 
And  with  the  mirre  takth  the  sucre, 
Rylit  upon  such  a  maner  lucre  8  300 

Staut  Florent,  as  in  this  diete: 
He  drinkth  the  bitre  with  the  swete, 
He  medleth  sorwe  with  likynge, 
And  liveth,  as  who  seith,4  deyinge; 
His  youthe  schal  be  cast  aweie 
Upon  such  on  which  as  the  weie5 
Is  old  and  lothly  overal. 
Bot  nede  he  mot  that  nede  schal: 6 
He  wolde  algate  his  trowlhe  holde, 
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  wommauhiede 
Him  thoghte  he  scholde  taken  hiede; 
So  that  for  pure  gentilesse, 
As  he  hire  couthe  best  adresce, 
In  ragges,  as  sche  was  totore,7 
He  set  hire  on  his  hors  tofore 
And  forth  he  takth  his  weie  softe; 
No  wonder  thogh  he  siketh  8  ofte.  320 

Bot  as  an  oule 9  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  withoute  noise 
He  bringth  this  foule  grete  coise 10 
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,11 
That  scholden  ben  of  his  assent: 
Hire  ragges  thei  anon  of  drawe, 
And,  as  it  was  that  time  lawe,  340 

She  hadde  bath,  sche  hadde  reste, 
And  was  arraied  to  the  beste. 
Bot  with  no  craft  of  combes  brode 
Thei  myhte  hire  hore  locks  schode,12 

i  gentian.  *  cinnamon.  *  compensation.  *  BO 
to  speak.  *  road,  common  way.  •  he  must  needs 
who  nee'ls  must.  7  all  torn.  8  sigheth.  •  owl. 
»  mouater  ?  »  sent  for.  »  part. 


35° 


And  sche  ne  wolde  noght  be  schore 18 
For  no  conseil,  and  thei  therfore, 
With  such  atyr  as  tho  was  used, 
Ordeinen  that  it  was  excused, 
And  hid  so  crafteliche  aboute, 
That  noman  myhte  sen  hem  oute. 
Bot  when  sche  was  fulliche  arraied 
And  hire  atyr  was  al  ass;iied, 
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,14  360 

For  sche  tok  thanne  cluV re  on  honde 
And  clepeth  him  hire  housebonde, 
And  seith,  *  My  lord,  go  we  to  bedde, 
For  I  to  that  entente  wedde, 
That  tliou  schalt  be  my  worldes  blisse:' 
And  prof  re  th  him  with  that  to  kisse, 
As  sche  a  Insti  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,15 
That  he  ne  mot  al  gates  plie  l6 
To  gon  to  bedde  of  compaignie: 
And  whan  thei  were  abed  naked, 
With  oute  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  cendal17  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  tome  ayeinward  tho; 
'  For  now,'  sche  seith,  '  we  ben  both  on.* 
And  he  lay  still  as  eny  ston, 
Bot  evere  in  on 18  sche  spak  and  preide, 
And  bad  him  thenke  on  that  he  seide,     390 
Whan  that  he  tok  hire  be  the  hond. 
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, 


18  shorn.        "  laughed. 
"  silk.        »  continuously. 


excuse.        "  submit 


TALE  OF  ALBINUS   AND   ROSEMUND 


420 


Which  was  the  faireste  of  visage 

That  eve  re  in  al  this  world  he  syh  : 

And  as  he  wolde  have  take  hire  nyh,       400 

Sche  }>ut  hire  hand  and  be  his  leve, 

Bet-on  lite  him  that  he  wolde  leve, 

And  seith  that  for  to  wynue  or  lese 

H-}  mot  on  of  tuo  thinges  cliese, 

"VV'Jier1  he  wol  have  hire  such  on  nyht, 

Or  elles  upon  daies  lyht, 

For  li<3  schal  noght  have  bothe  tuo. 

And  he  began  to  sorwe  tho, 

In  many  a  wise  and  caste  his  thoght, 

IJot  for  al  that  yit  cowthe  he  noght          410 

Devise  himself  which  was  the  beste. 

Arid  sche,  that  wolde  his  hertes  reste, 

Prvith  that  he  sholde  chese  algate, 

Til  ate  laste  longe  and  late 

Hi-i  seide:  *O  ye,  my  lyves  hele, 

Sey  what  you  list  in  my  querele, 

I  not  what  ansuere  I  shal  yive: 

But  evere  whil  that  I  may  live, 

I  wol  that  ye  be  my  maistresse, 

For  I  can  noght  miselve  gesse 

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  hierafter  schal  be  lassed  z      430 
Mi  b?aut*1,  which  that  I  now  have, 
Til  I  be  take  into  my  grave; 
Bot  nyht  and  day  as  I  am  now 
I  schal  alwey  be  such  to  vow. 
The  kinges  dowhter  of  Cizile  8 
I  am,  and  fell  bot  siththe 4  awhile, 
As  I  was  with  my  fader  late, 
That  my  stepmoder  for  an  hate, 
Which  toward  me  sche  hath  begonne, 
Forsehop  5  me,  til  I  hadde  wonne  440 

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; 
Thai  live  longe  and  wel  thei  ferde, 
And  clerkes  that  his  chance  herde  450 

i  whether.          a  lessened.          8  Sicily.          «  since. 
6  transformed. 


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 
ROSEMUND6 

(Confessio  Amantis,  bk.  1, 1.  2459) 

OF  hem  that  we  Lombars  7  now  calle 
Albinus  was  the  ferste  of  alle 
Which  bar  corone  of  Lornbardie, 
And  was  of  gret  chivalerie 
In  werre  ayein  diverse  kinges. 
So  fell  amouges  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  lialp  him  nowther  swerd  ne  scheld, 
That  he  ne  smot  his  bed  of  thanne, 
Wherof  he  tok  awey  the  panne,8 
Of  which  he  seide  he  wolde  make 
A  cuppe  for  Gurmoundes  sake, 
To  kepe  and  drawe  into  memoire 
Of  his  bataille  the  victoire. 
And  thus  whan  he  the  feld  hath  wonne, 
The  loud  anon  was  overronne  20 

And  sesed  in  his  oghne  hond, 
Wher  he  Gurmondes  dowhter  fond, 
Which  Maide  Rosemounde  hihte, 
And  was  in  every  inannes  sihte 
A  fair,  a  freissh,  a  lusti  on. 
His  herte  fell  to  hire  anon, 
And  such  a  love  on  hire  he  caste, 
That  lie  hire  weddeth  ate  laste; 
And  after  that  long  time  in  reste 
With  hire  he  duelte,  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  nianere  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  achieved,  40 

•  Gower  has  much  enlarged  upon  his  probable  source, 
the  twelfth  century  Pantheon  of  Godfrey  of  Yiterbo. 
'  Lombards.  8  Bkull. 


JOHN   GOWER 


Tho  thoghte  he  wolde  a  feste  make; 
And  that  was  for  his  wyves  sake, 
That  sche  the  lordes  ate  feste, 
That  were  obeissant  to  his  heste, 
Mai  knowe:  and  so  forth  therupon 
He  let  ordeine,  ami  sende  anon 
Be  lettres  and  be  messagiers, 
And  warnede  alle  hise  officiers 
Tliat  every  thing  be  wel  arraied: 
The  grete  stiedes  were  assaied 
For  joustinge  and  for  tornement, 
And  many  a  perled  garuement 
Embroudred  was  ayeiu  the  dai. 
The  lordes  in  here  beste  arrai 
Be  comeii  ate  time  set; 
Ou  jousteth  wel,  an  other  bet,1 
And  otherwhile  thei  torneie, 
And  thus  thei  casteii  care  aweie 
And  token  lustes  upon  honde. 
And  after,  thou  schalt  understonde, 
To  mete  into  the  kinges  halle 
Thei  come,  as  thei  be  bedeu  alle: 
And  whan  thei  were  set  and  served, 
Thaune  after,  as  it  was  deserved, 
To  hem  that  worthi  knyhtes  were, 
So  as  thei  seten  hiere  and  there, 
The  pris  was  yove  a  and  spoken  oute 
Among  the  heraldz  al  aboute. 
And  thus  beiiethe  and  ek  above 
Al  was  of  armes  and  of  love, 
Wherof  abouten  ate  bordes 
Men  hadde  manye  sondri  wordes, 
That  of  the  merthe  which  thei  made 
The  king  himself  began  to  glade 
Withinne  his  herte  and  tok  a  pride, 
And  sih  8  the  cuppe  stonde  aside, 
Which  mad  was  of  Gurinoundes  hed, 
As  ye  have  herd,  whan  he  was  ded, 
And  was  with  gold  and  riche  stones 
Bese't  and  bound  e  for  the  nones, 
And  stod  upon  a  fot  on  heihte 
Of  burned  gold,  and  with  gret  sleihte 
Of  werktnanschipe  it  was  begrave 
Of  such  werk  as  it  schoMe  have, 
And  was  policed  4  ek  so  clene 
That  no  signe  of  the  skulle  is  sene, 
Bot  as  it  were  a  gripes  ey.6 
The  king  bad  bere  his  cuppe  awey, 
Which  stod  tofore  him  on  the  bord, 
And  fette  thilke.6   Upon  his  word 
This  skulle  is  fet  and  wyn  therinne, 
Wherof  he  bad  his  wif  beginne: 
1  Drink  with  thi  fader,  Dame,'  he  seide. 


50 


60 


70 


»  hotter.  •  given. 

•  griffin's  or  vulture's  egg. 


»  saw.  <  polished. 

«  fetch  that  other. 


And  sche  to  his  biddinge  obeide, 

And  tok  the  skulle,  and  what  hire  liste 

Sche  drank,  as  sche  which  nothing  wiste 

What  cuppe  it  was:  and  thanne  al  oute 

The  kyng  in  audience  aboute 

Hath  told  it  was  hire  fader7  skulle, 

So  that  the  lordes  knowe  schulle  too 

Of  his  bataille  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  8  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  compleigned 

Unto  a  maide  which  sche  triste,9 

So  that  non  other  wyht  it  wiste. 

This  mayde  Glodeside  is  hote,10 

To  whom  this  lady  hath  behote11 

Of  ladischipe  al  that  sche  can, 

To  vengen  hire  upon  this  man,  no 

Which  dede  hire  drinke  in  such  a  plit 12 

Among  hem  alle  for  despit 

Of  hire  and  of  hire  fader  bothe; 

WTherof  hire  thoghtes  ben  so  wrothe, 

Sche  seith,  that  sche  schal  noght  be  glad, 

Til  that  sche  se  him  so  bestad 

That  he  uomore  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 13  knyht  to  sle  this  lord: 

And  with  this  sleihte  thei  beginne, 

How  thei  Helmege  myhten  winue, 

Which  was  the  kinges  boteler,14 

A  proud,  a  lusti  bacheler, 

And  Glodeside  he  loveth  hote. 

And  sche,  to  make  him  more  assote,15 

Hire  love  granteth,  and  be  nyhte 

Thei  schape  how  thei  togedre  myhte         140 

Abedde  meete:  and  don  it  was 

This  same  nyht;  and  in  this  cas 

The  qwene  hirself  the  nyht  secounde 

Wente  in  hire  stede,  and  there  hath  founde 

A  chambre  derk  withoute  liht, 

i  The  old  possessive  form.  8  unnatural.  9  trunted. 
10  called  "  promised.  «  manner.  «  valiant. 
«  butler.  «  doting. 


THE  TALE  OF  CONSTANTINE  AND   SILVESTER 


And  go tli  to  bedde  to  this  knyht. 

And  he,  to  kepe  his  observance, 

To  love  doth  his  obeissance, 

And  weneth  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  tin  qwene 

Now  schal  thi  love  vvel  be  sene 

Of  that  thou  hast  thi  wille  wroght: 

Or  it  schal  sore  ben  aboght, 

Or  thou  sckalt  worche  as  I  thee  seie. 

And  if  thou  wolt  be  such  a  weie 

Do  my  plesance  and  holde  it  stille, 

For  evere  I  schal  ben  at  thi  wille,  160 

Bothe  I  and  al  myn  heritage.' 

Anon  the  wylde  loves  rage, 

In  which  noinan  him  can  governe, 

Hath  mad  him  that  he  can  noght  werne,1 

Hot  fell  al  hoi  to  hire  assent: 

And  thus  the  whiel  is  al  miswent, 

The  which  fortune  hath  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  thei  ne  ben  discoevered  oute, 

So  that  it  thoghte  hem  for  the  beste 

To  fle,  for  there  was  no  reste: 

And  thus  the  tresor  of  the  king 

Thei  trusse  2  and  mochel  other  thing, 

And  with  a  certein  felaschipe 

Thei  fledde  and  wente  awey  be  schipe, 

And  hielde  here  rihte  cours  fro  thenne, 

Til  that  thei  come  to  Ravenne,  180 

Wher  thei  the  Dukes  helpe  soghte. 

And  he,  so  as  thei  him  besoghte, 

A  place  granteth  forto  duelle; 

Bot  after,  whan  he  hei  de  telle 

Of  the  manere  how  thei  have  do, 

This  Duk  let  schape  for  hem  so, 

That  of  a  puison  which  thei  drunke 

Thei  hadden  that  thei  have  beswunke.8 

And  al  this  made  avant4  of  Pride: 
Good  is  th  erf  ore  a  man  to  hide  190 

His  oghne  pris,  for  if  he  speke, 
He  mai  lihtliche  his  thonk  tobreke.5 
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.        6  lose  his  reward. 


labored  for,  earned. 


His  pourpos  schal  fulofte  faile. 
In  armes  he  that  wol  travaile 
Or  elles  loves  grace  atteigne, 
His  lose  6  tunge  he  mot  restreigne, 
Which  berth  of  his  honour  the  keie.7 


THE   TALE   OF   CONSTANTINE 
AND   SILVESTER 

(Confessio  Amantts,  bk.  n,  1.  3187) 

AMONG  the  bokes  of  Latin8 
I  finde  write  of  Constantin 
The  worth!  Ernperour  of  Rome, 
Snche  infortunes  to  him  come, 
Whan  he  was  in  his  lusti  age, 
The  lepre  9  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  comandement 
To  trete  upon  this  lordes  hele.10 
So  longe  thei  togedre  dele, 
That  thei  upon  this  medicine 
Apointen  hem,  and  determine 
That  in  the  maner  as  it  stod 
Thei  wolde  him  bathe  in  childes  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  kinde11  is  fallc. 
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  seales  oute 
Thei  sende  in  every  lond  abonte 
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  bo  we; 
And  thus  wommen  ther  come  ynowhe        40 
6  loose.         7  key.         8  These  could  be  lives  of  Saint 
Silvester.  See  Macaulay's  note.      »  leprosy.      10  health. 
"  by  mere  chance,  and  not  in  the  reasonable  course  of 
nature. 


86 


JOHN   GOWER 


With  children  soukende  on  the  tete. 

Tlio  was  ther  uianye  teres  lete; 

Bot  were  hem  lieve  or  were  hem  lothe, 

The  wommeii  and  the  children  buihe 

into  the  paleis  forth  he  broght 

With  many  a  sory  hertes  thoght 

Of  hem  whiche  of  here  bodi  bore 

The  children  hadde,  and  so  forlore 

Withinne  a  while  scholden  se. 

The  inodres  wepe  in  here  degre,  50 

And  nianye  of  hem  aswoune  falle, 

The  yonge  babes  criden  alle: 

This  noyse  aros,  the  lord  it  herde, 

And  loked  out,  and  how  it  ferde 

He  sih,  and  as  who  seith  1  abreide2 

Out  of  his  slep,  and  thus  he  seide: 

*O  thou  divine  pourveance, 
Which  every  man  in  the  balance 
Of  kinde  hast  formed  to  be  liehe, 
The  povere  is  bore  as  is  the  riche  60 

And  deieth  in  the  same  wise; 
Upon  the  fol,  upon  the  wise 
Siknesse  and  hele  entrecomune;8 
Mai  non  eschuie  that  fortune 
Which  kinde  hath  in  hire  la  we  set; 
Hire  strengthe  and  beaute  ben  beset 
To  every  man  aliche  fre. 
That  sche  preferreth  no  degre 
As  in  the  disposicionn 

Of  bodili  complexioun:  70 

And  ek  of  soule  resonable 
The  povere  child  is  bore  als  able 
To  vertu  as  the  kinges  sone; 
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  worschipe  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  subjeccionn 
The  men  that  ben  of  his  semblance.' 
And  ek  he  tok  a  remembrance 
Howe  he  that  made  lawe  of  kinde 
Wolde  every  man  to  lawe  binde,  90 

And  bad  a  man,  such  as  he  wolde 
Toward  himself,  riht  such  he  scholde 
Toward  an  other  don  also. 
And  thus  this  worthi  lord  as  tho 

»  as  it  were.       2  started.       *  iutermiz.       «  custom. 


Sette  in  balance  his  oghne  astat 

And  with  himself  stod  in  debat, 

And  thoghte  hou  that  it  was  uoght  good 

To  se  so  mochel  mannes  blod 

Be  spilt  for  cause  of  him  alone. 

He  sih  also  the  grete  inone,  100 

Of  that  the  inodres  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.5 

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  woll  maister  be, 

He  mot  be  servant  to  pite.' 

So  ferforth  he  was  overcome 

With  charite,  that  he  hath  nome  6 

His  conseil  and  hise  officers, 

And  bad  unto  hise  tresorers 

That  thei  his  tresour  al  aboute 

Departe  among  that  povere  route  iao 

Of  wommen  and  of  children  bothe, 

Wherof  thei  mihte  hem  fede  and  clothe 

And  sauili  tornen  horn  ayeiu 

Withoute  lost  of  eny  greiu. 

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  the  morwe;  130 

Al  was  thonkinge,  al  was  blessinge, 

Which  erst  was  wepinge  and  cursiujje; 

Thes  wommen  gon  horn  glade  ynowh, 

Echon  for  joie  on  other  lowh,7 

And  preiden  for  this  lordes  heJe, 

Which  hnth  released  the  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  8  charitous, 
And  to  pite  he  was  pitous: 
For  it  was  nevere  knowe  yit 
That  cbarite  goth  unaquit. 
The  nyht,  whan  he  was  leid  to  slepe, 
The  hihe  God,  which  wolde  him  kepe, 

8  is  not  guilty,     •  taken.      1  laughed.     8  in  return. 


THE  TALE   OF   CONSTANTINE   AND   SILVESTER 


Seint  Peter  and  seint  Foul  him  sende, 

Be  whom  he  wolde  his  lepre  amende.       150 

Thei  tuo  to  him  slepende  appiere 

Fro  God,  and  seide  in  this  manere: 

'  O  Constantin,  for  thou  hast  served 

Pite,  thou  hast  pite  deserved: 

Forthi  thou  schalt  such  pite  have 

That  God  thurgh  pite  woll  thee  save. 

So  schalt  thou  double  hele  mule, 

Ferst  for  thi  hodiliehe  kinde, 

And  for  thi  wofull  soule  also, 

Thou  schalt  ben  hoi  of  bothe  tuo.  160 

And  for  thou  schalt  thee  noght  despeire, 

Thi  lepre  schal  nomore  empeire  l 

Til  thou  wolt  sende  therupon 

Unto  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,2 

And  hast  destruid  to  mochel  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  8 

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  Emperonr,  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  I  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,5 

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  techen  upon  holi  writ  200 

Ferst  how  mankinde  was  forlore, 


grow  worse. 
*  abode. 


faith.          3  showed. 
8  dreuiu. 


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,8 

And  how  that  he  hath  helle  broke, 

And  tok  heni  out  that  were  him  lieve;7 

And  forto  make  ous  full  believe  210 

That  he  was  verrai  Goddes  Sone, 

Ayein  the  kinde  of  mannes  wone8 

Fro  dethe  he  ros  the  thridde  dav, 

And  whanne  he  wolde,  as  he  wel  may, 

He  styh  9  up  to  his  fader  evene 

With  fieissh  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  wof  ul  dai  of  drede,  220 

Where  every  man  schal  take  his  doui, 

A  Is  wel  the  maister  as  the  groin. 

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  faile,       230 

The  sentence  of  that  ilke  day 

Mai  non  appell  sette  in  delay; 

Ther  mai  no  gold  the  jugge  plie,10 

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  devocion  he  preeheth, 

Fro  point  to  point  and  pleinly  techeth 

Unto  this  hethen  Emperour; 

And  seith,  the  hihe  creatour  250 

Hath  underfonge  n  his  charite, 

Of  that  he  wroghte  such  pite, 

Whan  he  the  children  haclde  on  honde. 

Thus  whan  this  lord  hath  understonde 


•  shut  up. 
»  ascended. 


7  dear  to  him. 
10  bend,  move. 


8  custom, 
ix  received. 


88 


JOHN   GOWER 


Of  al  this  thing  how  that  it  ferde, 

Unto  Silvestre  he  thanue  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  sunue, 

Fro  hevene  into  the  place  com 

Wher  that  he  tok  his  Christendom;1 

And  evere  among  the  holi  tales 

Lich  as  thei  weren  fisshes  skales  270 

Ther  fellen  from  him  now  and  eft,  a 

Til  that  ther  was  nothing  beleft 

Of  al  his  grete  maladie. 

For  he  that  wolde  him  purefie, 

The  hi  he  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  p^ine  of  deth  that  uoman  weyve  8 
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  sche  forth  withall. 
This  Emperour,  which  hele  hath  founde, 
Wiihinne  Rome  anon  let  founde  290 

Tuo  cherches,  whiche  he  dede  make 
For  Peter  and  for  Poules  sake, 
Of  whom  he  hadde  avi^ioun; 
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  hath  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  vois  was  herd  on  hih  the  lifte,4 
Of  which  al  Rome  was  adrad, 
And  seith:  ' To  day  is  venym  schad 
In  holi  cherche  of  temporal, 
Which  medleth  with  the  spirital.' 
And  hou  it  stant  of  that  degree 

i  Christian  baptism. 
*  hesitate. 


Yit  mai  a  man  the  sothe  se: 

God  mai  amende  it,  wiuin  he  wile, 

I  can  ther  to  non  other  skile.5 


310 


THE   TALE   OF   ROSIPHELEE« 

(Confessio  Amantis,  bk.  iv,  1.  1245) 

OF  Armenye,  I  rede  thus, 
Ther  was  a  king,  which  Herupns 
Was  hote,7  and  he  a  lusti  maide 
To  dowhter  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.8 
Bot  sche  hadde  o  defalte  of  slowthe 
Towardes  love,  and  that  was  rowthe;9      10 
For  so  wel  cowde  noman  seie, 
Which  mihte  sette  hire  in  the  weie 
Of  loves  occupacionn 
Tlmrgh  non  ymaginacion; 
That  scole  wolde  sche  noght  knowe. 
And  thus  sche  was  on  of  the  slowe 
As  of  such  hertes  besinesse, 
Til  whanne  Venus  the  goddesse, 
Which  loves  court  hath  forto  reule, 
Hath  broght  hire  into  betre  reule,  20 

Forth  with  Cupide  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, 
WThich  evere  hath  be  the  comun  cours 
Amonges  hem  that  lusti  were. 
So  was  it  sche  wed  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; 10 
So  that  withinne  a  while,  I  gesse, 
Sche  hadde  on  such  a  chance  spurned,11 
That  al  hire  mod  was  overtorned, 
Which  ferst  sche  hadde  of  slow  manere: 
For  thus  it  fell,  as  thou  schalt  hiere. 
Whan  come  was  the  monthe  of  Maii, 
Sche  wolde  walke  upon  a  dai,  40 

And  that  was  er  the  sonne  ariste;13 
Of  wommen  bot  a  fewe  it  wiste, 

5  reason. 

•  For  other  versions  of  this  widespread  Rtory,  see 
Romania,  Jan.,  1900.  an  article  on  the  "  Purgatory  of 
Cruel  Beauties,"  by  W.  A.  Neilson. 

^  railed.  a  father's  heir.  •  a  pity. 

1°  insubordination.       »  stumbled.       &  Bun's  rising 


THE   TALE   OF   ROSIPHELEE 


89 


And  forth  sclie  wente  prively 

Unto  the  park  was  faste  by, 

Al  softe  walkende  on  the  gras, 

Til  sche  cam  ther  the  launde  was, 

Thurgh  which  ther  ran  a  gret  rivere. 

It  tiioghte  1  hir  fair,  and  seide,  '  Here 

I  wole  abide  under  the  schawe ':  '2 

And  bad  hire  wommen  to  withdrawe,        50 

And  ther  sclie  stod  al  one  stille, 

To  thenke  what  was  in  hir  wille. 

Sclie  sih  the  swote  floures  springe, 

Sclie  hercle  glade  foules  singe, 

Sclie  sih  the  bestes  in  her  kinde, 

The  buck,  the  do,  the  hert,  the  hinde, 

Tin;  madlea  go  with  the  femele; 

And  so  bi-gan  ther  a  querele 

Betwen  love  and  hir  oghne  herte, 

Fro  which  sche  couthe  noght  asterte.         60 

And  as  sche  caste  hire  yhe  aboute, 

Sch'ji  svh  clad  in  o  suite  a  route 

Of  ladis,  wher  thei  comen  ryde 

Along  undor  the  wodes  syde: 

On  faire  amblende  hors  thei  sete, 

That  were  al  whyte,  fatte  and  grete, 

And  everichon  tliei  ride  on  side.* 

The  sadles  were  of  such  a  pride, 

With  perle  and  gold  so  wel  begon,5 

So  riclie  syh  sche  nevere  non;  7o 

In  kertles  and  in  copes 6  riche 

Tliei  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  7  upon  here  face 

Non  erthly  thing  it  may  desface; 

Corones  on  here  hed  thei  beere, 

As  ech  of  hem  a  qweene  weere,  80 

That  al  the  gold  of  Cresus  halle 

The  leste  coronal  of  alle 

Ne  mihte  have  boght  after  the  worth: 

Thus  come  thei  ridende  forth. 

The  kinges  dowhter,  which  this  syh, 
For  pure  abaissht  8  drowh  hire  adryh  9 
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 

Sche  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, 

i  seemed.  2  leafy  shade.  »  male.  «  side-saddle, 
probably.  &  decorated.  8  mantles.  1  fiiry.  Mauy 
MSS.  iQAd  faire.  •  for  very  diffidence.  'aside. 


And  putte  hire  hed  alitel  oute; 

And  as  sche  lokede  hire  aboute, 

Sche  syh  comende  under  the  linde  10 

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  encluyed,11 

Whereof  the  womman  was  annuied;12 

Thus  was  the  hors  in  sori  plit, 

Bot  for  al  that  a  sterre  whit 

Amiddes  in  the  front  he  hadde. 

Hir  sadel  ek  was  wonder  badde, 

In  which  the  wofull  womman  sat, 

And  natheles  ther  was  with  that 

A  riche  bridel  for  the  nones 

Of  gold  and  preciouse  stones.  no 

Hire  cote  was  somdiel  totore; 13 

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  understod  120 

That  this,  which  com  ridende  tho, 
Tidinges  con  the  telle  of  tho 
Which  as  sche  sih  tofore  ryde, 
And  putte  hir  forth  and  preide  abide, 
And  spide,  '  Ha,  snster,  let  me  hiere, 
What  ben  thei,  that  now  rideu  hiere, 
And  ben  so  richeliche  arraied  ?  ' 

This  womman,  which  com  so  esmaied,14 
Ansuerde  with  ful  softe  spec-he, 
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. 
Fnre  wel,  for  I  mai  noght  be  let:16 
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  you  leve.' 

1  Ha,  goode  soster,  yit  I  preie, 
Tell  me  whi  ye  ben  so  beseie  16  140 

And  with  these  haltres  thus  begon.' 17 

'  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.18 

«  linden.      "  had  a  nail  in  his  foot.       »  distressed. 
18  somewhat  torn.  H  dismayed.  «  delayed. 

18  arrayed.        "furnished.        «  pay  for. 


9o 


JOHN   GOWER 


For  I  whilom  no  love  hadde, 

Mia  hors  is  now  so  fieble  and  badde, 

And  al  to  tore  is  myn  ami, 

And  every  yeer  this  freisshe  Maii  150 

These  lusti  ladis  ryde  aboute, 

And  I  mot  nedes  suie l  here  route 

In  this  manere  as  ye  now  se, 

And  trusse  here  haltres  forth  with  me, 

And  am  bot  as  here  horse  knave. 

Non  other  office  I  ne  have, 

Hem  thenkth  I  am  worthi  noinore, 

For  I  was  slow  in  loves  lore, 

Whan  I  was  able  forto  lere, 

And  wolde  noght  the  tales  hi  ere  160 

Of  hem  that  couthen  love  teche.' 

'  Now  tell  me  thanne,  I  you  beseche, 
Wherof  that  riche  bridel  serveth.' 

With  that  hire  chere  awei  sche  swerveth,2 
And  gan  to  wepe,  and  thus  sche  tolde: 
'This  bridel,  which  ye  nou  beholde 
So  i  iche  upon  myn  horse  bed,  — 
Ma  df.me,  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  nom8 
And  thoghte  I  wolde  love  a  kuiht: 
That  laste  wel  a  fourtenyht, 
For  it  no  lengere  mihte  laste, 
So  nyh  my  lif  was  ate  1-tste. 
Bot  now,  alias,  to  late  war 
That  I  ne  hadde  him  loved  ar:  4 
For  deth  cam  so  in  haste  bime,5 
Er  I  therto  hadde  eny  time,  180 

That  it  ue  mihte  ben  achieved. 
Bot  for  al  that  I  am  relieved, 
Of  that  mi  will  was  good  therto, 
That  love  soifreth  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,8 
Al  clene  out  of  this  lad!  sihte: 
And  tho  for  fere  hire  herte  afflihte,7 
And  seide  to  hirself,  *  Helas  ! 
I  am  riht  in  the  same  cas. 
Bot  if  I  live  after  this  day, 
I  schal  amende  it,  if  I  may.' 
And  thus  homward  this  lady  wente, 

*  follow.         *  turns  her  faco  nwxy.      »  took. 

*  sooner.        *  byue.        •  tloud.        *  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 
ALCEONE8 

(Confessio  Amantis,  bk.  IV,  1.  2917) 

Ml  soue,  and  for  thou  tellest  so, 
A  man  inai  finde  of  time  ago 
That  many  a  swevene  9  hath  be  certein, 
Al  be  it  so  that  som  men  sein 
That  swevenes  ben  of  no  credence. 
Bot  forto  schewe  in  evidence 
That  thei  fulof te  sothe  thinges 
Betokene,  I  thenke  in  my  wrytinges 
To  telle  a  tale  therupon, 
Which  fell  be  olde  daies  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  devocioun 
To  don  his  sacrifice  and  preie, 
If  that  he  mihte  in  eny  weie 
Toward  the  goddes  finde  grace 
His  brother  hele 10  to  pourchace, 
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  wende, 
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  monthe  day.' 
And  thus  in  al  the  haste  he  may  40 

He  tok  his  leve,  and  forth  he  seileth 
Wepende,  and  sche  hirself  beweileth, 

8  Gower'a  source  is  Ovid's  Metamorphose*,  XT,  26fif. 
Compare  Chaucer's  version  in  the  Book  of  the  Duchest. 
1.  62  f. 

>  dream.  "  health,  well-being. 


THE  TALE  OF  CEYX  AND  ALCEONE 


And  torneth  horn,  ther  sche  cam  fro. 

But  whan  the  monthes  were  ago, 

The  whiche  he  sette  of  his  coniynge, 

And  that  sche  herde  no  tydiuge, 

Ther  was  no  care  forto  seche  : 

VVherof  the  goddes  to  beseche 

Tho  sche  began  in  many  wise, 

And  to  Juno  hire  saerifise  50 

Above  alle  othre  most  sche  dede, 

And  for  hir  lord  sche  hath  so  bede  l 

To  wite  and  knowe  hou  that  he  ferde, 

That  Juno  the  goddesse  hire  herde 

Anon  and  upon  this  matiere 

Sche  bad  Yris  hir  messagere 

To  Slepes  hous  that  sche  schal  wende, 

And  bidde  him  that  he  make  an  cnde 

He  swevene  and  schewen  al  the  cas 

Unto  this  ladi,  hou  it  was.  60 

This  Yris,  fro  the  hihe  stage 
Which  undertake  hath  the  message, 
Hire  reyny  cope  2  dede  upon, 
The  which  was  wonderli  begon 
With  colours  of  diverse  he  we, 
An  hundred  mo  than  men  it  knewe  ; 
The  hevene  lich  unto  a  bo  we 
Sche  bende,  and  so  she  cam  doun  lowe, 
The  god  of  slep  wher  that  sche  fond. 
And  that  was  in  a  strange  lond,  7o 

Which  marcheth  8  upon  Chymerie  : 
For  ther,  as  seith  the  poesie, 
The  god  of  slep  hath  mad  his  hous, 
Which  of  entaille4  is  merveilous. 
Under  an  hell 6  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,6          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  crowe  or  pie 
Alihte,  forto  clepe  or  crie  : 
Ther  is  no  cok  to  crowe  day, 
Ne  beste  non  which  noise 7  may 
The  hell ;  bot  al  aboute  round 
Ther  is  growende  upon  the  ground  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. 

«  fashion.       6  Kentish  for  hill.      «  creak.       »  disturb. 


Under  that  hell  in  such  manere 

Ther  is,  which  yifth  gret  appetit 

To  slepe.  And  thus  full  of  delit 

Slep  hath  his  hous  ;  and  of  his  couche 

Withinne  his  chambre  if  I  schal  touche,  100 

Of  hebenus  8  that  slepi  tree 

The  bordes  al  aboute  be, 

And  for  he  scholde  slepe  softe, 

Upon  a  fethrebed  alofte 

He  lith  with  many  a  pilwe  of  doun  : 

The  chambre  is  strowed  up  and  doun 

With  swevenes  many  thouseudfold. 

Thus  cam  Yris  into  this  hold, 

And  to  the  bedd,  which  is  al  blak, 

Sche  goth,  and  ther  with  Slep  sche  spak,  no 

And  in  the  wise  as  sche  was  bede 

The  message  of  Juno  sche  dede. 

Fulofte  hir  wordes  sche  reherceth, 

Kr  sche  his  slepi  eres  perceth  ; 

With  mochel  wo  bot  ate  laste 

His  slombrende  yhen  9  he  upcaste 

And  seide  hir  that  it  schal  be  do. 

Wherof  among  a  thousend  tho, 

Withinne  his  hous  that  slepi  were, 

In  special  he  ches  out  there  no 

Thre,  whiche  scholden  do  this  dede  : 

The  ferste  of  hem,  so  as  I  rede, 

Was  Morpheus,  the  whos  nature 

Is  forto  take  the  figure 

Of  what  persone  that  him  liketh, 

Wherof  that  he  fulofte  entriketh10 

The  lif  n  which  slepe  schal  be  nyhte  ; 

And  Ithecus  that  other  hihte, 

Which  hath  the  vois  of  every  soun, 

The  chiere  and  the  condicioun  130 

Of  every  lif,  what  so  it  is  : 

The  thridde  suiende  u  after  this 

Is  Panthasas,  which  may  transforme 

Of  every  thing  the  rihte  forme, 

And  change  it  in  an  other  kinde. 

Upon  hem  thre,  so  as  I  finde, 

Of  swevenes  stant  al  thapparence, 

Which  otherwhile  is  evidence 

And  otherwhile  bot  a  jape.13 

Bot  nntheles  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  14  in  special 

These  othre  tuo  it  schewen  al. 

The  tempeste  of  the  blake  cloude, 

The  wode  15  see,  the  wyndes  loude, 


8  ebony. 
following. 


•  eyes.        10  deceives.       "  person. 
"  trick.       "  drowned.       "  raging. 


92 


JOHN   GOWER 


Al  this  sche  mette,1  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  sterteu  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  everydel. 
And  thei  it  halsen  2  alle  wel 
And  sein  it  is  a  tokne  of  goode  ; 
But  til  sche  wiste  lion  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  arrnes  sprad,  sche  syh 
Hire  lord  flietende  upon  the  wawe.8 
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  this  worthi  ladi  stnd, 
Thei  have  upon  the  salte  flod 
Hire  dreinte 4  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  liadde 
Hire  wynges  bothe  abroad  sche  spradde, 
And  him,  so  as  sche  mai  suffise, 
Beclipte  6  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  f ondeth  6  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,7 
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,8 


1  dreamed. 
6  embraced. 


*  interpret. 

•  tries. 


'  wave.        *  drowned. 
i  lost.          8  dwell. 


Wher  many  a  dowhter  and  a  sone 
Thei  bringen  forth  of  briddes  kinde  ; 
And  for  men  scholden  take  in  mynde 
This  Alceoun  the  trewe  queene, 
Hire  briddes  yit,  as  it  is  scene, 
Of  Alceoun  a  the  name  bere. 


THE   TALE   OF   ADRIAN   AND 
BARDUS  10 

(Confessio  Amantis,  bk.  v,  1.  4937) 

To  speke  of  an  unkinde  u  man, 
I  finde  hou  whilom  Adrian, 
Of  Rome  which  a  gret  lord  was, 
Upon  a  day  as  he  per  cas  12 
To  wode  in  his  huntinge  wente, 
It  hapneth  at  a  soudein  weute,18 
After  his  chace  as  he  poursuieth, 
Thurgh  happ,  the  which  nornan  eschuieth, 
He  fell  unwar  into  a  pet,14 
Wher  that  it  mihte  noght  be  let.  10 

The  pet  was  dep  and  he  fell  lowe, 
That  of  his  men  non  myhte  knowe 
Wher  he  becam,  for  non  was  nyh, 
Which  of  his  fall  the  meschief  syh. 
And  thus  al  one  ther  he  lay 
Clepende  15  and  criende  al  the  day 
For  socour  and  deliverance, 
Til  ayein  eve  it  fell  per  chance, 
A  while  er  it  began  to  nyhte, 
A  povere  man,  which  Bardus  hihte,  ao 

Cam  forth  walkende  with  his  asse, 
And  hadde  gadred  him  a  tasse 16 
Of  grene  stickes  and  of  dreie 
To  selle,  who  that  wolde  hem  beie, 
As  he  which  hadde  no  liflode,17 
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  withinue 
He  spak  and  seide,  '  If  I  thee  save, 
What  sikernesse 18  schal  I  have  40 

•  Halcyon.  10  Gower's  source  maybe  the  Spfcufum 
Stnllorum  of  Ni<?el  Wireker  (fl.  1190).  u  unnatural. 
"  by  chance.  ™  turn.  1*  Kentinli  for  pit.  15  calliug. 
"  bundle.  "  livelihood.  »»  security. 


THE   TALE   OF   ADRIAN   AND   BARDUS 


93 


Of  covenant,  that  afterward 
Thou  wolt  me  yive  such  reward 
As  thou  behihlest  nou  tofore  ?  ' 

The  other  hath  his  othes  swore 
By  hevene  and  be  the  goddes  ulle, 
If  that  it  myghte  so  befalle 
That  he  out  of  the  pet  him  broghte, 
Of  all  the  goodes  whiche  he  oghte  l 
He  schal  have  evene  halvendel. 

This  Bardus  seide  he  wolde  wel ;  50 

And  with  this  word  his  asse  anon 
He  let  uutrusse,  and  therupou 
Doun  goth  the  corde  into  the  pet, 
To  which  he  hath  at  ende  knet 
A  staf,  wherby,  he  seide,  he  wolde 
That  Adrian  him  scholde  holde. 
Bot  it  was  tho  per  chance  i'alle, 
Into  that  pet  was  also  falle 
An  ape,  which  at  thilke  throwe, 
Wlian  that  the  corde  cam  doun  lowe,        60 
Al  sodeinli  therto  he  skipte 
And  it  in  bothe  hise  armes  clipte.2 
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  3 
Of  faierie,  and  sore  him  dradde  : 4 
And  Adrian  eftsone  gradde  6 
For  help,  and  cride  and  preide  faste, 
And  he  eftsone  his  corde  caste  ;  70 

Bot  whan  it  cam  unto  the  gronnde, 
A  gret  serpent  it  hath  bewounde, 
The  which  Bardus  anon  up  drouh.. 
And  thanne  him  thoghte  wel  ynouh 
It  was  fantosme,  bot  yit  he  herde 
The  vois,  and  he  therto  ansuerde, 
*  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 

Withouteu  harm  al  esely. 
He  seith  noght  ones  '  Grant  merci,' 6 


1  owned.  *  caught.  *  triok. 

4  he  f wired  ;  lit.,  it  dreaded  him  (dat.). 
6  cried  again.      c  much  thanks. 


Bot  strauhte  7  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  umbreide8 

Of  oght  that  hath  be  speke  or  do, 

It  schal  ben  venged  on  him  so,  100 

That  him  were  betre  to  be  ded. 

And  he  can  tho  non  other  red,9 

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  morvve  ayein,  no 

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,10 

And  k-ide  hem  redy  to  his  hond, 

Wherof  he  made  his  trosse  and  bond.      120 

Fro  dai  to  dai  and  in  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  in  his  presence, 

And  in  hir  kinde  a  reverence 

Sche  hath  him  do,  and  forth  withal 

A  ston  mor  briht  than  a  cristall  130 

Out  of  hir  mouth  tofore  his  weie 

Sche  let  doun  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.         140 

Bot  al  he  putte  in  Goddes  hond, 

And  torneth  horn,  and  what  he  fond 

Unto  his  wif  he  hath  it  schewed; 

And  thei,  that  wern  bothe  lewed,11 

Acorden  that  he  scholde  it  selle. 

1  lit.  stretched,  i.e.  luirriod.         »  reproached. 
•  counsel.          ">  quantity.          "  ignorant. 


94 


JOHN   GOWER 


And  he  no  lengere  wolde  duelle, 

Bot  forth  anon  upon  the  tale 

The  stou  he  profreth  to  the  sale; 

And  riht  as  he  himself  it  sette, 

The  jueler  anon  forth  fette  150 

The  gold  and  made  his  paiemeut, 

Therof  was  no  delaiement. 

Thus  whan  this  ston  was  boght  and  sold, 
Hotnward  with  joie  manyfold 
This  Bardus  goth ;  and  whan  he  cam 
Home  to  his  lions  and  that  he  iiaui 
His  gold  out  of  his  purs,  withinu 
He  fond  his  ston  also  therinne, 
Wherof  for  joie  his  herte  pleide, 
Unto  his  wif  and  thus  he  seide,  160 

'  Lo,  hier  my  gold,  lo,  hier  mi  stou  ! ' 
His  wif  hath  wonder  therupon, 
And  axeth  him  hou  that  mai  be. 
*  Nou  be  mi  tro tithe  I  not,' l  quod  he, 
'  Bot  I  dar  swere  upon  a  bolt, 
That  to  my  marchant  I  it  tok,2 
And  he  it  hadde  whan  I  wente: 
So  fcnowe  I  noght  to  what  entente 
It  is  nou  hier,  bot  it  be  grace. 
Forthi  tomorwe  in  other  place  170 

I  wole  it  fonde  8  forto  selle, 
And  if  it  wol  noght  with  him  duelle, 
Bot  crepe  into  mi  purs  ayein, 
Than  dar  I  saufly  4  swere  and  sein, 
It  is  the  vertu  of  the  ston.' 

The  morwe  cam,  and  he  is  gon 
To  seche  aboute  in  other  stede 
His  ston  to  selle,  and  he  so  dede, 
And  lefte  it  with  his  chapman  there. 
Bot  whan  that  he  cam  elles  where,  180 

In  presence  of  his  wif  at  horn, 
Out  of  his  purs  and  that  he  nom  8 
His  gold,  he  fond  his  ston  withal: 
And  thus  it  fell  him  overal,6 
Where  he  it  solde  in  sondri  place, 


1  know  not. 
«  safely. 


*  gave. 

•  took. 


»try. 

•  everywhere. 


Such  was  the  fortune  and  the  grace. 
Hot  so  wel  may  nothing  ben  hidd, 
That  it  nys  ate  laste  kidd:7     / 
This  fame  goth  aboute  Rome 
So  ferforth,  that  the  wor,des  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  thei  maden  no  beheste,8 
His  travail  hadden  wel  aquit; 
Bot  he  which  hadde  a  manues  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  stud, 
As  he  which  wol  no  trouthe  holde. 
This  Emperour  al  that  he  tolde 
Hath  herd,  and  thilke  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  no 

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  9  and  ordeigned 
Be  hem  that  were  avised  wel, 
That  he  schal  have  the  halvendel 10 
Thurghout  of  Adrianes  good. 
And  thus  of  thilke  unkinde  blod  aao 

Stant  the  memoire  into  this  day, 
Wherof  that  every  wysinan  may 
Ensamplen  him,  and  take  in  mynde 
What  schame  it  is  to  ben  unkinde; 
Ayein  the  which  reson  debateth, 
And  every  creature  it  hateth. 

i  known.        s  promise.        »  deemed.        "  hall 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 
THE   CANTERBURY  TALES 


THE    PROLOGUE 

Here  biginneth  the  Book  of  the  Tales  of 
Caunterbury 

WHAN  that  Aprille  with  his  shoures  sote 1 
The  droghte  of  Marche  hath  perced  to  the 

rote, 

And  bathed  every  veyne   in  swich2  licour, 
Of  which  vertu  engendred  is  the  flour; 
Whan  Zephirus  eek  with  his  swete  hreeth 
Inspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  heeth 
The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 
Hatli  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  cours  y-roune,8 
And  smale  fowles  maken  melodye, 
That  slepen  al  the  night  with  open  ye,      10 
(So  priketh  hem  nature  in  hir  corages4); 
Than  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pilgrimages 
And     palmers     for     to     seken     straunge 

strondes 

To  feme  halwes,  couthe5  in  sondry  loncles; 
And  specially,  from  every  shires  ende 
Of  Engelond,  to  Cannterbury  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  Southwerk  at  the  Tabard  as  I  lay        to 
Redy  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  soiidry  folk,  by  aventure  y-falle 
In  felawshipe,  and  pilgrims  were  theyalle, 
That  toward  Caunterbury  wolden  ryde. 
The  chambres  and  the  stables  weren  wyde, 
And  wel  we  weren  esed  atte  beste.6 
And  shortly,  whan  the  sonne  was  to  reste, 
So  hadde  I  spoken  with  hem  everichou,     31 
That  I  was  of  hir  felawshipe  anon, 
And  made  forward7  erly  for  to  ryse, 
To  take  our  wey  ther  as  I  yow  devyse. 

i  sweet.  *  such. 

3  In  the  first  half  of  April  the  sun  is  in  the  second 
half  of  the  Zodiacal  sign  of  the  Rani. 

*  dispositions.  *  distant  saints,  renowned. 

*  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  acordaunt  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  chivalrye, 
Trouthe  and  honour,  fredom  and  curteisye. 
Ful  worthy  was  he  in  his  lordes  werre, 
And    thereto   hadde    he    riden    (no    man 

f  erre  «) 

As  wel  in  Cristendom  as  hethenesse, 
And  ever  honoured  for  his  worthinesse.      $c 
At    Alisaundre    he    was,   whan    it   was 

wonne ; 

Ful  ofte  tyme  he  hadde  the  bord  bigoune* 
Aboven  alle  naciouns  in  Pruce.10 
In  Lettow  u  hadde  he  reysed 12  and  in  Ruce, 
No  Cristen  man  so  ofte  of  his  degree. 
In  Gernade  18  at  the  sege  eek  hadde  he  be 
Of  Algezir,14  and  riden  in  Belmarye.16 
At  Lyeys  was  he,  and  at  Satalye,16 
Whan  they  were  wonne;  and  in  the  Grete 

See17 

At  many  a  noble  armee18  hadde  he  be.     60 
At  mortal  batailles  hadde  he  been  fiftene, 
And  foughten  for  our  feith  at  Tramissene  15 
In  listes  thryes,  and  ay  slayn  his  fo. 
This  ilke 19  worthy  knight  had  been  also 

8  farther. 

•  had  the  honor  of  sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

10  Prussia.  »  Lithuania. 

18  made  a  campaign.  13  Grenada. 

n  Algeciras  near  Cape  Trafalgar,  taken  by  Alfonso  of 
Castile  in  1344 

is  Benmarin  and  Tremeyen,  districts  in  the  north  of 
Africa  where  the  Christians  and  Moors  fought. 

18  Ayas  and  Adalia  on  the  south  coast  of  Asia  Minor. 
i'  Mediterranean. 

is  expedition;  aryve  in  one  MS.,  which  Skeat  pre 
fers. 

19  same. 


96 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Soratyme  with  the  lord  of  Palatye,1 
Ageyn  2  another  hetheii  in  Turkye: 
And  evermore  he  hadde  a  sovereyn  prys.8 
And  though  that  he  were  worthy,  lie  was  wys, 
And  of  his  port  as  meke  as  is  a  inavde. 
He  never  yet  no  vileiuye  ne  sayde  70 

In  al  his  lyf,  un-to  no  inaner  wight. 
He  was  a  verray  parfit  gentil  knight. 
But  for  to  telleu  yow  of  his  array, 
His  hors  4  were  gode,  but  he  was  nat  gay. 
Of  fustian  •>  he  wered  a  gipoun8 
Al  bismotered  with  his  habergeoun,7 
For  he  was  late  y-come  from  his  viage, 
And  wente  for  to  doon  his  pilgrimage. 
With   him   ther   was   his  sone,  a   yong 

SQUYER, 

A  lovyere,  and  a  lusty  bacheler,8  80 

With  lokkes  crulle,  as  they  were  leyd  in 

presse.9 

Of  twenty  yeer  of  age  he  was,  I  gesse. 
Of  his  stature  he  was  of  evene  10  lengthe, 
And    wonderly    deliver,11    and     greet    of 

strengthe. 

And  he  had  been  somtyme  in  chivachye,12 
In  Flaundres,  in  Artoys,  and  Picardye, 
And  born  him  wel,  as  of  so  litel  space, 
In  hope  to  stonden  in  his  lady  18  grace. 
Embrouded  was  he,  as  it  were  a  mede 
Al  ful  of  fresshe  floures,  whyte  and  rede.  90 
Singiuge  he  was,  or  floy tinge,14  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  fa  ire  ryde. 
He  coude  songes  make  and  wel  endyte,13 
Juste  and  eek  daunce,  and  wel  purtreye 

and  wryte. 

So  hote  he  lovede,  that  by  nightertale 18 
He  sleep  namore  than  dooth  a  nightingale. 
Curteys  he  was,  lowly,  and  servisal>le, 
And  carf 17  biforn  his  fader  at  the  table.  100 
A  YEMAN  18  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 

i  Palatia,  in  Asia  Minor  or  in  the  Sea  of  Marmora. 
«  against.  »  reputation. 

*  N.  B.  the  plural  —  a  long-stem  neuter  noun  in  Anglo- 
Saxon.  (Cf.  yeer  in  1.  82.) 

»  coarse  cloth.  •  doublet. 

'  stained  by  the  iron  rings  ot  his  coat-of-mail. 

s  aspirant  for  knighthood. 

•  curly,  as  if  irom  curling-tongs  or  some  such  ma- 
Chine. 

10  medium.  »  active.        1J  cavalry  expeditions. 

»»  lady's  —  an  old  feminine  genitive.  l«  piping, 

i*  compose  both  words  and  music  of  songs. 
"  night-time.      »  carved.       «  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-heed llf  hadde  he,  witli  a  broun  visage. 
Of  wode-craft  wel  coude  he  al  the  usage,  no 
Upon  his  arm  he  bar  a  gay  bracer,20 
And  by  his  syde  a  swerd  and  a  bokeler, 
And  on  that  other  syde  a  gay  daggere, 
Harneised-1   wel,   and  sharp   as   point  of 

spere ; 

A  Cristofre  22  on  his  brest  of  silver  shene.23 
An  horn  he  bar,  the  bawdrik  was  of  greue; 
A  forster  was  he,  soothly,  as  I  gesse. 

Ther  was  also  a  Nonne,  a  PRIORESSE, 
That  of  hir  smyling  was  ful  simple  and 

coy;24 
Hir    gretteste    ooth    was    but    by    seynt 

Loy;26  120 

And  she  was  cleped  madame  Eglentyne. 
Ful  wel  she  song  the  service  divyiie, 
Entuned  in  hir  nose  ful  semely; 
And  Frensh  she  spak  ful  faire  and  fetisly,26 
After  the  scole  of  Stratford  atte  Bowe,27 
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. 
Wel   coude   she   carie  a  morsel,  and  wel 

kepe,  130 

That  no  drope  ne  fille  up-on  hir  brest. 
In  curteisye  was  set  ful  muche  hir  lest.28 
Hir  over  lippe  wyped  she  so  clene, 
That  in  hir  coppe  was  no  ferthing  2!>  sene 
Of   grece,   whan   she   dronken   hadde   hip 

draughte. 

Ful  semely  after  hir  mete  she  raughte,80 
And  sikerly81  she  was  of  greet  disport,82 
And  ful  plesaunt,  and  amiable  of  port, 
And  peyned  hir  to  countrefete  chere 
Of  court,  and  been  estatlich33  of  mauere,  140 
And  to  ben  holden  digne34  of  reverence. 
Hut,  for  to  speken  of  hir  conscience, 
She  was  so  charitable  and  so  pitous, 
She  wolde  wepe,  if  that  she  sawe  a  mous 
Caught   in   a   trappe,  if   it  were  deed  or 

bledde. 
Of  smale  houndes  had  she,  that  she  fedde 

i»  cropped  pate.  20  To  protect  the  forearm  from 
the  bowstring.  «  Adorned.  «  Image  of  St. 

Christopher.  *»  fair.  »  shy. 

«  On  this  favorite  sa'nt  see  the  article  by  J.  L. 
Lowes  in  the  Romanic  Review,  v,  308. 

*«  elegantly.  "  A  convent  near  London.  J8  pleas 
ure.  2»  smallest  trace.  J0  reached.  31  verily. 
88  was  a  good-natured  person.  3*  dignified.  »*  worthy. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


97 


With  rested  flesh,   or  milk  and  wastel- 

breed.1 
But  sore   weep  she  if  oon  of  hem  were 

deed, 

Or  if  men2  smoot  it  with  a  yerde  smerte:8 
And  al  was  conscience  and  tend  re  lierte. 
Ful  semely  hir  wiinpel  pinched  4  was;       151 
Hir  nose  tretys;5  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  trowe; 
For,  hardily,6  she  was  nat  nndergrowe. 
Ful  fetis 7  was  hir  cloke,  as  I  was  war. 
Of  smal  coral  aboute  hir  arm  she  bar 
A  peire  8  of  bedes,  gauded9  al  with  grene; 
And  ther-on   heng  a  broche  of   gold   ful 

shene,  160 

On  which  ther  was  first  write  a  crowned  A, 
And  after,  Amor  vincil  omnia. 

Another  NONNE  with  hir  hadde  she, 
That  was  hir  chapeleyne,    and  PREESTES 

THREE. 

A  MONK  ther  was,  a  fair  for  the  maistrye,10 
An  out-rydere,11  that  lovede  venerve; 
A  manly  man,  to  been  an  abbot  able. 
Ful   many   a   deyntee    hors   hadde    he   in 

stable : 
And,  whan  he  rood,  men  mighte  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,12 
The  reule  of  seint  Maure  or  of  seint  Beneit,18 
By-cause    that  it  was    old    and    som-del 

streit,  — 14 

This  ilke  monk  leet  olde  thinges  pace, 
And  held  after  the  newe  world  the  space. 
He  yaf  nat  of  that  text  a  pulled 16  hen, 
That  seith,that  hunters  been  nat  holy  men; 
Ne  that  a  monk,  whan  he  is  cloisterlees,16 
Is  lykned  til  a  fish  that  is  waterlees;        180 
This  is  to  seyn,  a  monk  out  of  his  cloistre. 
But   thilke    text    held    he    nat  worth    an 
oistre; 

i  a  fine  sore  of  bread —almost  cake.  *  one.  »  with 
a  stick  smartly.  •*  pleated.  a  well  shaped.  •  cer 
tainly.  *  elegant.  s  string. 

•  After  every  ten  corals  of  her  rosary  was  a  green 
bead. 

10  a  preeminent  one. 

11  one  that  had  to  oversee  the  manors  belonging  to 
his  convent. 

12  subordinate  convent. 

i*  St.  Maur  and  St.  Benedict  are  two  of  the  founders  of 

the  great,  strict  Benedictine  order  in  the  sixth  century. 

"  strict.      "  plucked.       «  rccchelee*  in  most  MSS. 


And  I  seyde,  his  opinioun  was  good. 
What  sholde  he  studie,and  make  himselven 

wood,17 

Upon  a  book  in  cloistre  alwey  to  poure, 
Or  swinken  18  with  his  handes,  and  laboure, 
As  Austin  bit19?   How  shal  the  world  be 

served  ? 

Lat  Austin  have  his  swink  to  him  reserved. 
Therfore  he  was  a  pricasour20  aright; 
Grehonndes  he  hadde,  as  swifte  as  fowel 

in  night;  190 

Of  priking  21  and  of  hunting  for  the  hare 
Was  al  his  lust,  for  no  cost  wolde  he  spare. 
I  seigh  his  sieves  pnrfiled  22  at  the  hond 
With  grys,23  and  that  the  fyueste  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,24  that  shoon  as  any 

glas, 

And  eek  his  face,  as  he  had  been  anoint. 
He  was  a  lord  ful  fat  and  in  good  point; 23  200 
His  eyen  stepe,26  and  rollinge  in  his  heed, 
That  stemed  as  a  forneys  of  a  leed;27 
His  botes  souple,  his  hors  in  greet  estat. 
Now  certeinly  he  was  a  fair  prelat; 
He  was  nat  pale  as  a  for-pyned 28  goost. 
A  fat  swan  loved  he  best  of  any  roost. 
His  palfrey  was  as  broun  as  is  a  be  rye. 
A  FRERE  ther  was,  a  wantown  and  a 

merye, 

A  limitour,29  a  ful  solempne  80  man. 
In  alle  the  ordres  f  oure  31  is  noon  that  can s2  210 
So  mn die  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.88 
Ful  wel  biloved  and  famulier  was  he 
With  frankeleyns  34  over-al  in  his  contree, 
And   eek   with   worthy   wommen    of    the 

tonn: 

For  he  had  power  of  confessioun, 
As  seyde  him-self,  more  than  a  carat, 
For  of  his  ordre  he  was  licentiat.  220 

Ful  sweetly  herde  he  confessioun, 
And  plesaunt  was  his  absolucioun; 

"  crazy.  "  work.  »  St.  Augustine  bids. 

*>  enthusiastic  rider.  *i  riding,  lit.  "spurring." 

22  adorned.         ™  fur.         **  bald.         "  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. 

M  one  licensed  to  beg  in  a  limited  district. 
so  important. 

"  Dominicans,  Franciscans,  Carmelites,  and  Austin 
Friars. 

32  knows.        83  pillar.        »4  rich  farmers. 


98 


GEOFFREY  CHAUCER 


He  was  an  esy  man  to  yeve  penaunce 
Ther  as  he  wiste  to  ban l  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, 
lie  wiste  that  a  man  was  repen taunt. 
For  many  a  man  so  hard  is  of  his  herte, 
He    may    nat    wepe    al-thogh    him    sore 

smerte.  230 

Therfore,  in  stede  of  weping  and  preyeres, 
Men  moot 2  yeve  silver  to  the  povre  freres. 
His  tipet  was  ay  farsed8  ful  of  knyves 
And  pinnes,  for  to  yeven  faire  wyves. 
And  certeinly  he  hadde  a  mery  note; 
Wel  coude  he  singe  and  pleyen  on  a  rote.4 
Of  yeddinges6  he  bar  utterly  the  prys. 
His  nekke  whyt  was  as  the  flour-rle-lys; 
Ther-to  he  strong  was  as  a  chainpioun. 
He  knew  the  tavernes  wel  in  every  toun,  240 
And  everich  hostiler  and  tappestere,6 
Bet  than  a  lazar  or  a  beggestere;7 
For  un-to  swich  a  worthy  man  as  he 
Acorded  nat,  as  by  his  facultee,8 
To  have  with  seke  lazars  aqueyntaunce. 
It  is  nat  honest,  it  may  nat  avaunce 
For  to  delen  with  no  swich  poraille,9 
But  al  with  riche  and  sellers  of  vitaille. 
And  over-al  ther  as 10  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; ll 
For  thogh  a  widwe  hadde  noght  a  sho,12 
So  plesaunt  was  his  '  In  principio,1 18 
Yet    wolde    he    have    a    ferthing,    er    he 

wente. 

His  purchas  was  welbettre  than  his  rente.14 
And  rage  15  he  coude,  as  it  were  right  a 

whelpe.16 
In    love-dayes17    ther  coude    he   muchel 

helpe. 

For  there  he  was  nat  lyk  a  cloisterer,18 
With    a   thredbar    cope,    as    is    a    povre 

scoler,  260 

But  be  was  lyk  a  maister  or  a  pope. 
Of  double  worsted  was  his  semi- cope,19 

i  knew  he  should  have.      *  One  should.      »  stuffed 
«  fiddle.        B  In  songs.        •  bar-maid. 

7  Better  than  he  did  any  leper  or  beggar-woman. 

8  It  was  not  suitable,  considering  his  profession. 
•  poor  trash.  lo  And  everywhere  that. 

"  One  MS.  inserts  here  : 

And  yaf  a  certeyn  ferme  for  the  graunt ; 

Noon  of  his  bretheren  cam  ther  in  his  haunt; 
i*  shoe.       "  John,  i,  1,  a  favorite  phrase  with  friars, 
n  What  he  besrcr«d   (purchas)  was  more  than  his 
regular  income  (rent). 

is  behave  violently,  wantonly.        H  young  dog. 

i'  arbitration  days.         "  recluse.          lfl  short  cape. 


That  rounded  as  a  belle  out  of  the  presse.30 
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  MARCH  ANT  was  ther  with  a  forked 

berd,  270 

In  mottelee,21  and  hye  on  horse  he  sat, 
Uj>-on  his  heed  a  FlaundrLsh  bever  hat; 
His  hotes  clasped  faire  and  fetisly. 
His  resons  he  spak  ful  solempnely, 
Souniuge22  alway  th'encrees   of   his    win 
ning. 

He  wolde  the  see  were  kept  for  any  thing 
Bitwixe  Middel burgh  and  Orewelle.28 
Wel    coude     he    in     eschaunge     sheeldes 

selle.24 

This  worthy  man  ful  wel  his  wit  bisette;25 
Ther  wiste  no  wight  that  he  was  in  dette,  280 
So  estatly  was  lie  of  his  governauuce, 
With  his  bargaynes,  and   with  his  chevi- 

saunce.26 

For  sothe  he  was  a  worthy  man  with-alle, 
But  sooth  to  seyn,  I  noot 27  how  men  him 

calle. 

A  CLERK  ther  was  of  Oxenford  also, 
That  nn-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. 
Fnl  thredbar  was  his  overest  courtepy ; 28  290 
For  he  had  geten  him  yet  no  benefyce, 
Ne  was  so  worldly  for  to  have  offyce. 
For  him  was  lever29  have  at  his  beddes 

heed 

Twenty  bokes,  clad  in  blak  or  reed, 
Of  Aristotle  and  his  philosophye, 
Than  robes  riche,  or  fithele,80  or  gay  sau- 

trye.81 

But  al  be  that  he  was  a  philosophre, 
Yet  hadde  he  but  litel  gold  in  cofre; 32 
But  al   that   he   mighte    of   his  freendes 

hente,83 
On  bokes  and  on  lerninge  he  it  spente,    300 

*o  It  had  been  kept  on  a  form,  or  clothes-press. 

«i  a  mixed  stuff.          22  Relating  to. 

"  He  wanted  the  sea-route  between  these  ports  kept 
guarded  and  open  at  any  expense. 

»4  sell  money  at  exchange —  very  likely  an  illegal 
business. 

25  employed.  *•  shifts  for  raising  money.  27  know 
not.  28  outermost  cloak.  »•  he  would  rather. 

s°  fiddle.  sl  psaltery,  dulcimer. 

»z  The  alchemists,  who  pretended  to  change  baset 
metals  to  gold,  were  also  termed  philosophers. 

M  get. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


99 


And  bisily  gan  for  the  soules  preye 

Of  hem  thatyaf  him  wher-with  to  scoleye.1 

Of  studie   took  he  most  cure2  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  f  ul  of  by  sentence. 
Souninge  in  3  moral  vertu  was  his  speche, 
And  gladly   wolde   he   lerne,   and   gladly 

teche. 

A  SERGEANT  OF  THE  LAWE,  war  and  wys, 
That  often  hadde  been  at  the  parvys,4     310 
Ther  was  also,  ful  riche  of  excellence. 
Discreet  he  was,  and  of  greet  reverence: 
He  semed  swich,  his  wordes  weren  so  wyse. 
Justyce  he  was  ful  often  in  assyse, 
By  pate nte,  and  by  pleyn  coinmissioun; 
For  liis  science,  and  for  his  heigh  renoun 
Of  fees  and  robes  hadde  he  many  oon. 
So    greet     a   purchasour 6    was     no-wher 

noon. 

Al  was  fee  simple  to  him  in  effect,6 
His  purchasing  mighte  nat  been  infect.7  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,8 
That  from  the  tyme  of  king  William  were 

falle. 

Therto  he  coude  endyte,  and  make  a  thing,9 
Ther  coude  no  wight  pinche  at  his  wryting; 
And  every  statut  coude  he  pleyn  by  rote. 
He  rood  but  hoomly  in  a  medlee  cote10 
Girt  with  a  ceint n  of  silk,  with  barres 12 

smale; 
Of  his  array  telle  I  no  lenger  tale.  33o 

A  FRANKELEYN  was  in  his  eompanye; 
Whyt  was  his  berd,  as  is  the  dayesye. 
Of  his  complexioun 13  he  was  sangwyn. 
Wei  loved   he   by  the  morwe14  a  sop  in 

wyn.16 

To  liven  in  delyt  was  ever  his  wone,w 
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  17  he  was  in  his  contree.        340 

study.  z  care.  *  Tending  toward. 

the  porch  of  St.  Paul's,  a  lawyers'  haunt. 

possibly,  conveyancer. 

A  pparently  — ' '  He  could  get  about,  bring  to  naught, 
all  restrictions  on  land." 

invalidated.          s  He  could  cite  cases  precisely. 

compose  and  write  out  a  deed,  etc. 
10  coat  of  divers  colors.  "  girdle. 

12  transverse  metal  bands  on  the  girdle. 
"  temperament,  as  well  as  coloring, 
w  in  the  morning.       15  wine  with  cake  or  bread  in  it. 
u  custom.  11  Patron  saint  of  hospitality. 


His  breed,  his  ale,  was  alwey  after  oon;18 
A  bettre  envyned 19  man  was  no-wher  noon. 
With-oute  bake  mete20  was  never  his  hous, 
Of  fish  and  flesh,  and  that  so  plentevous 
It  snewed21  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,23 
And  many  a  breein  and  many  a  luce  in 

stewe.23  350 

Wo  24  was  his  cook,  but-if  25  his  sauce  were 
Poynaunt  and  sharp,  and  redy  al  his  gere. 
His  table  dormant 26  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  27  and  a  gipser  28  al  of  silk 
Heng  at  his  gird  el,  whyt  as  morne  milk. 
A  shin-eve  hadde  he  been,  and  a  countour;29 
Was  no-wher  such  a  worthy  vavasour.80  360 

An  HABERDASSHER  and  a  CARPENTER, 
A  WEBBE,  a  DYERE,  and  a  TAPICER,SI 
Were  with  us  eek,  clothed  in  o  liveree  82 
Of  a  solempne  and  greet  fraternitee.88 
Ful  fresh  and  newe  hir  gere  apyked34  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  yeldhalle  86  on  a  deys.         370 
Everich,  for  the  wisdom  that  he  can, 
Was  shaply  for  to  been  an  alderman. 
For  catel 37  hadde  they  y-nogh  and  rente, 
And  eek  hir  wyves  wolde  it  wel  asseute; 
And  elles  certein  were  they  to  blame. 
It  is  ful  fair  to  been  y-clept  '  ma  dame,' 
And  goon  to  vigilyes  88  al  bifore, 
And  have  a  mantel  royalliche  y-bore. 
A  COOK  they  hadde  with  hem  for  the 

nones, 

To  boille  the  chiknes  with  the  marybones, 
And   poudre-marchant    tart,89   and    galin- 

gale.40  381 

Wel  coude  he  knowe  a  draughte  of  London 

ale. 

ig  uniform  m  quality.  i»  with  a  better  wine-cellar 
20  meat  pies.  21  snowed.  «  captivity  "  fish 
pond.  24  Woeful.  M  unless.  26  a  permanent 
dining-table  —  not  boards  on  trestles.  I7  dagger. 

*8  pouch.  29  accountant,  treasurer.  *"  landholder, 
squire.  »i  weaver,  dyer,  and  upholsterer.  *z  dis 
tinctive  dress.  83  guild.  34  Irimmed.  S8  mounted, 
"guildhall.  v  property  **  the  eves  of  festivals 
•»  tart  flavoring-powder.  *o  a  spice. 


100 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


He  coude  roste,  and  sethe,  and  broille,  and 
frye, 

Maken  niortreux,1  aud  wel  bake  a  pye. 

But  greet  harm  was  it,  as  it  thoughte  ine, 

That  on  his  shine  a  mormal 2  hadde  he. 

For  blankmaiiger,3  that  made  he  with  the 

beste. 

A  SHIPMAN   was   ther,  woning  fer  by 
weste : 4 

For  aught  I  woot,  he  was  of  Dertemouthe. 

He  rood  np-on  a  rouncy,5  as  he  couthe,6  390 

In  a  gowne  of  falding7  to  the  knee. 

A  daggere  hanging  on  a  laas  8  hadde  he 

Aboute  his  nekke  under  his  arm  adoun. 

The   hote   somer   had   maad   his  hewe  al 
broun; 

And,  certeiuly,  he  was  a  good  felawe. 

Ful  many   a   draughte    of   wyn    had    he 
y-drawe 

From  Burdeux-ward,9  whyl  that  the  chap 
man  sleep. 

Of  nyce  conscience  took  he  no  keep. 

If   that   he   f aught,  and   hadde   the   hyer 
bond, 

By  water  he   sente  hem   hooni    to   every 
lond,10  4oo 

Bnt  of  his  craft  to  rekene  wel  his  tydes, 

His  stremes  and  his  daungers  him  bisydes,11 

His   herberwe 12  and   his   mone,  his  lode- 
menage,13 

Ther  nas  noun  swich  from  Hulle  to  Cart 
age. 

Hardy  he  was,  and  wys  to  undertake; 

With  many  a  tempest  hadde  his  berd  been 
shake. 

He  knew  wel  alle  the  havenes,  as  they 
were, 

From  Gootlond 14  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  astronomve. 
He  kepte  his  paeient  a  ful  greet  del 
In  houres,  by  his  magik  naturel.16 

i  stews.  >  sore.  *  blanc-mange,  i.e.  minced, 
spiced  chicken.  *  dwelling  in  the  we.st  of  England. 
*  an  awkward  nag.  •  as  best  he  knew  how.  7  coarse 
woollen.  »  line.  •  stolon  drinks  out  of  the  casks 
he  was  bringing  from  Bordeaux.  10  threw  them  over 
born!,  n  new  him.  12  harbor.  "  pilotage. 

i«  The  island  Gottland. 

i>  By  astrology  ho  took  advantage  of  those  conjunc 
tions  of  the  stars  which  best  suited  his  patient. 


Wel  coude  he  fortunen  the  ascendent 
Of  his  images ltt  for  his  paeient. 
lie  knew  the  cause  of  everich  maladye, 
Were  it   of   hoot  or  cold,   or   moiste,    or 
drye,17  420 

And  where   engendred,   and  of  what  hu 
mour; 

He  was  a  verrey  parfit  practisour. 
The  cause  y-knowe,  and  of  his  harm  the 

rote, 

Anon  he  yaf  the  seke  man  his  bote.18 
Ful  redy  hadde  he  his  apothecaries, 
To  sende  him  drogges  and  his  letuaries,19 
For  ech  of  hem  made  other  for  to  winue; 
Hir  freiidschipe  nas  nat  newe  to  biginne. 
Wel  knew  he  th'olde  Esculapius, 
And  Deiscorides,  and  eek  Ruf  us,  430 

Old  Ypocras,  Haly,  aud  Galien; 
tSerapiou,  Razis,  aud  Aviceu; 
Averrois,  Damascien,  and  Constantyn; 
Bernard,  and  Gatesden,  and  Gilbertyn.20 
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  sang  win  and  in  pers  21  he  clad  was  al, 
Lyned  with  taffata  and  with  sendal,  ^     440 
And  yet  he  was  but  esy  of  d  is  pence;28 
He  kepte  that  he  wan  in  pestilence. 
For  gold  in  phisik  is  a  cordial,'24 
Therfore  he  lovede  gold  in  special. 

A  good  WYF  was  ther  of  bisyde  BATHE, 
But  she  was  som-clel  ^  deef,  anil  that  was 

scathe.28 
Of  clooth-making  she    hadde    swiche   an 

haunt,27 

She  passed  hem  of  Ypres  and  of  Gaunt. 
In  al  the  parisshe  wyf  ue  was  ther  noon 
That    to    th*    offring    bifore    hir    sholde 
goon;  450 

And  if  ther  dide,  certeyn,  so  wrooth  was 

she, 

That  she  was  out  of  alle  chnritee. 
Hir  coverchiefs  ful  fyne  were  of  ground;28 
I  dorste  swere  they  weyeden  ten  pound 
That  on  a  Sonday  were  upon  hir  heed. 
Hir  hosen  weren  of  fyn  scarlet  reed, 

i»  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. 

"  Th«  four  qualities  of  the  body. 

is  remedy.  19  electuary,  syrup. 

»  All  pi-eat  medical  authorities,  the  last  two  being 
Englishmen,  an-1  Bernard  a  Scot. 

si  blood-red  and  sky-blue. 

2»  thin  silk.  "  a  small  spender. 

2*  Tincture  of  gold  was  used  to  strengthen  th«?  lifiart. 

»*  somewhat.      *«  a  shame.      «  knack.      '*  weave- 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


101 


Ful  streite  y-teyd,  and   shoos  ful   inoiste 

and  newe. 
Bold  was  hir  face,  and  fair,  and  reed  of 

he  we. 

She  was  a  worthy  womman  al  hir  lyve, 
Housbondes   at   chirche-doie l   she    hadde 

fyve,  46o 

Withouten  other  companye  in  youthe; 
But  therof  nedeth  nat  to  speke  as  nouthe.2 
And  thryes  hadde  she  been  at  Jerusalem; 
She  hadde  passed  many  a  straunge  streem; 
At  Rome  she  hadde  been,  and  at  Boloigne, 
In  Galice  at  seint  Jame,8  and  at  Coloigne. 
She  coude  muche  of  waudring  by  the  weye: 
Gat-tothed  4  was  she,  soothly  for  to  seye. 
Up-ou  an  amblere6  esily  she  sat, 
Y-wimpled  6  vvel,  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.7 

Of  remedyes  of  love  she  knew  perchaunce, 
For  she  coude  of  that  art  the  olde  daunce.8 

A  good  man  was  ther  of  religioun, 
And  was  a  povre  PERSOUX  9  of  a  touu; 
But  riche  he  was  of  holy  thogbt  and  werk. 
He  was  also  a  lerned  man,  a  clerk,  480 

That  Cristes  gospel  trewely  wolde  preche; 
His  parisshens  10  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  cursen  for  his  tythes, 
But  rather  wolde  he  yeven,  out  of  doute, 
Un-to  his  povre  parisshens  aboute 
Of  his  offring,  and  eek  of  his  substaunce. 
He  coude  in  litel  thing  ban  suffisaunce.    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  ferreste  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 

tauglite; 

Out  of  the  gospel ll  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.  s  Gotnnostella  in  Spain. 

*  With  gaps  between  her  teeth  ;  or  else  goat-toothed, 
I.e.  lascivious.  &  ambling  nag.  •  With  a  pleated 
hood.  i  jokfl.  8  tricks.  »  Parson.  10  parish 
ioners.  "  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,12 
A  shiten  shepherde  and  a  dene  sheep. 
Wel  oghte  a  preest  ensample  for  to  yive, 
By  his  clennesse,  how  that  his  sheep  shold 

live. 

He  sette  nat  his  benefice  to  hyre, 
And    leet    his   sheep    eucombred    in    the 

my  re, 

And  ran  to  London,  un-to  seynt  Ponies, 
To  seken  him  a  chaunterie  for  soules,13  510 
Or  with  a  bretherhed  to  been  withholde;  14 
But  dwelte   at   hoom,  and  kepte   wel  his 

folde, 

So  that  the  wolf  ne  made  it  nat  miscarie; 
He  was  a  shepherde  and  no  merceuarie. 
And  though  he  holy  were,  and  vertuous, 
He  was  to  simple  man  nat  despitous, 
Ne  of  his  speche  daungerous  ne  digne,15 
But  in  his  teching  discreet  and  benigne. 
To  drawen  folk  to  heven  by  fairnesse 
By  good  ensample,  was  his  bisinesse:       520 
But  it  were  any  persone  obstinat, 
What-so  he  were,  of  heigh  or  lowe  estat, 
Him  wolde  he  snibben16  sharply  for  the 

nones. 
A  bettre  preest,  I  trowe  that  nowher  noon 

is. 

He  wayted  after  no  pompe  and  reverence, 
Ne  maked  him  a  spyced  conscience, 
But  Cristes  lore,  and  his  apostles  twelve, 
He  tanghte,  and  first   he  folwed  it  him- 

selve. 
With  him  ther  was  a  PLOWMAN,  was  his 

brother, 
That   hadde   y-lad   of  dong    ful   many  a 

fother,17  530 

A  trewe  swinker 18  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,19 
And  thanne  his  neighebour  right  as  him- 

selve. 
He  wolde  thresshe,  and  ther-to  dyke  and 

delve, 

For  Cristes  sake,  for  every  povre  wight, 
Withouten  hyre,  if  it  lay  in  his  might, 

"  heed. 

«  At  St.  Paul's  were  thirty-five  chantries,  where 
fifty-four  priests  said  masses  for  the  repose  of  souls. 

i«  to  be  a  guild  chaplain.         '5  haughty.         i»  snub. 

17  load.  18  worker.  l9  though  he  had  good  fortune 
or  bad. 


102 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


His  tythes  payed  he  ful  faire  and  wel, 
Bothe  of  his  propre  swink  and  his  catel.1 
In  a  tabard  *  he  rood  upon  a  mere.  54i 

Ther  was  also  a  Reve  and  a  Millere, 
A  Soi»nour:i  and  a  Pardoner4  also, 
A    Maunciple,5   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 8  for  over-al  ther  he  cam, 
At   wrastling  he   wolde    have   alwey   the 

ram.7 
He  was  short-sholdred,8  brood,  a  thikke 

knarre,9 
Ther  nas  na  dore  that  he  nolde  heve  of 

harre,10  550 

Or  breke  it,  at  a  renning,  with  his  heed. 
His  berd  as  any  sowe  or  fox  was  reed, 
And  ther-to   brood,  as   though  it  were  a 

spade. 

Up-on  the  cop  n  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  12  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  18  and  a  goliardeys,14  56o 
And    that   was    most   of    sinne   and   har- 

lotryes.16 
Wel    coude    he    stelen    corn,   and   tollen 

thryes ; w 
And   yet   he   hadde   a  thombe   of  gold,17 

pardee. 

A  whyte  cote  and  a  blew  hood  wered  he. 
A   baggepype   wel   coude   he    bio  we    and 

sowne, 
And   ther-with-al   he   broghte   us   out    of 

towne. 

A  gentil  MAUNCIPLE  was  ther  of  a  tem 
ple,18 

Of  which  achatonrs  w  mighte  take  exemple 
For  to  be  wyse  in  bying  of  vitaille 
For  whether   that   he   payde,  or  took   by 

taille,20  57o 

i  by  working  himself  and  by  giving  of  his  property. 

*  peasants'  sleeveless  coat. 

1  A  summoner  cited  culprits  before  the  ecclesiastical 
court.  *  A  pardoner  hawked  indulgences.  *  steward, 
caterer.  •  was  certainly  so.  7  the  prize.  8  short 
in  the  upper  arm.  »  chunk  of  a  man.  10  hinge. 
u  tip.  "  nostrils.  i»  chatterer.  "  teller  of  inde 
cent  stories.  i5  wicked  pranks.  18  take,  triple  toll. 

i?  Probably  because  it  was  expert  in  judging  the 
fineness  of  his  flour.  The  phrase  was  proverbial. 

is  college  of  lawyers.  »  purchasers. 

*>  on  credit,  i.e.  by  tally. 


Algate  21  he  wayted  so  in  his  achat,22 
That  he  was  ay  biforn  and  in  good  stat. 
Now  is  nat  that  of  God  a  ful  fair  grace, 
That  swich  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,23 
Or  live  as  scarsly  as  him  list  desire; 
And  able  for  to  helpen  al  a  shire 
In  any  cas  that  mighte  falle  or  happe; 
And   yit    this   maunciple    sette   hir    aller 

cappe.24 

The  REVE  was  a  sclendre  colerik  man, 
His   berd    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.25 
Ful  longe  were  his  legges,  and  ful  lene, 
Y-lyk  a  staf,  ther  was  no  calf  y-sene. 
Wel  coude  he  kepe  a  gerner  and  a  binne; 
Ther   was   noon    auditour   coude   on   him 

winne.26 
Wel  wiste  he,  by  the  droghte,  and  by  the 

reyn, 

The  y elding  of  his  seed,  and  of  his  greyn. 
His  lordes  sheep,  his  neet,27  his  dayerye, 
His  swyn,  his  hors,  his  stoor,28  and  his  pul- 

trye, 

Was  hoolly  in  this  reves  governing, 
And  by  his  covenaunt  yaf  the  rekening,   600 
Sin  that  his  lord  was  twenty  yeer  of  age ; 
Ther  conde  no  man  bringe  him  in  arrear- 

age.*» 
Ther    nas    baillif,   ne    herde,80   ne    other 

hyne,81 
That   he   ne   knew   his    sleighte    and    hia 

covyne;82 

They  were  adrad  of  him,  as  of  the  deeth. 
His  woning  83  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  conde  he  plesen  subtilly,      610 

11  At  any  rate.     SJ  purchase.     *3  unless  he  was  crazy. 

*4  fooled  them  all ,  "  aller  "  is  an  old  genitive  plural, 
A.  S.  enlra. 

25  His  hair  was  cut  short  across  the  front,  like  a 
priest's. 

"  get  the  better  of  him.      IT  cattle.      28  farm  stock. 

*»  catch  him  in  arrears.  80  herdsman.  >i  farm 
servant.  "  trickery.  "  dwelling. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


103 


To  yeve  and  lene  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  up-on  a  f  ul  good  stot,2 
That   was   al    pomely   grey,3   and   highte 

Scot. 

A  long  surcote  of  pers  up-on  he  hade, 
And  by  his  syde  he  bar  a  rusty  blade. 
Of  Northfolk  was  this  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  SOMNOUR   was  ther  with  us  in   that 

place, 

That  hadde  a  fyr-reed  cherubinnes  face, 
For  sawcefleem  4  he  was,  with  eyen  narwe. 
As  hoot  he  was,  and  lecherous,  as  a  sparwe  ; 
With   scalled 5   browes  blake,  and   piled  6 

berd  ; 

Of  his  visage  children  were  aferd. 
Ther  nas  quik-silver,  litarge,7  ne  brimstoon, 
Boras,  ceruce,8  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  sittinge  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  terrnes  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,'9  as  well  as  can  the  pope. 
But  who-so  coude  in  other  thing  him  grope,10 
Thnnne  hadde  he  spent  al  his  philosophye; 
Ay  *  Questio  quid  iuris,'  n  wolde  he  crye. 
He  was  a  gentil  harlot 12  and  a  kinde ; 

*  trade.         2  cob.         s  dapple  gray.         *  pimpled. 

5  scabby.          8  thin.  7  ointment  prepared  from 

protoxi-le  of  lead.        s  white-lead. 

9  i.e.  Walter.    Jays  were  called  Wat  as  parrots  are 
called  Polly,  and  it  was  a  mediaeval  joke  to  teach  them 
to  any  "  Wat  shrew,"  cursing  themselves. 
10  teat.        n  •«  What 's  the  law  here  ?  "         »  rogue. 


A  bettre  felawe  sholde  men  noght  finde. 
He  wolde  suft're,  for  a  quart  of  wyn, 
A  good  felawe  to  have  his  concubyn         650 
A  twelf-month,  and  excuse  him  atte  fulle: 
Ful  prively  a  finch  eek  conde  he  pulle.13 
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  assoilling  sav- 

eth  —  661 

And  also  war  him  of  a  significavit.1* 
In  daunger16  hadde  he  at  his  owne  gyse 
The  yonge  girles 16  of  the  diocyse, 
And  knew  hir  counseil,  and  was  al  hir  reed. 
A  gerland  hadde  he  set  up-on  his  heed, 
As  greet  as  it  were  for  an  ale- stake,17 
A  bokeler  hadde  he  maad  him  of  a  cake. 

With  him  ther  rood  a  gentil  PARDONER 
Of   Rouncival,18  his  freend  and   his  com 
peer,  67o 
That  straight  was  comen  fro  the  court  of 

Rome. 
Ful  loude  he   song,   'Com  hider,  love,  to 

me.' 

This  somnour  bar  to  him  a  stif  burdoun,19 
Was  never  trompe  of  half  so  greet  a  soun. 
This  pardoner  hadde  heer  as  yelow  as 

wex, 
But  smothe  it  heng,  as  dooth  a  strike  2°  of 

flex; 

By  ounces  21  henge  his  lokkes  thet  he  hadde, 
And  ther-with  he  his  shuldres  over- 

spradde; 
But  thinne  it  lay,  by  colpons  ^  oon  and 

oon;  28 

But  hood,  for  jolitee,  ne  wered  he  noon,  680 
For  it  was  trussed  up  in  his  walet. 
Him  thoughte,  24  he  rood  al  of   the  newe 

jet,25 

Dischevele,  save  his  cappe,  he  rood  al  bare. 
Swiche  glaringe  eyen  hadde  he  as  an  hare. 
A  vernicle  26  hadde  he  sowed  on  his  cappe. 
His  walet  lay  biforn  him  in  his  lappe, 

«  fleece  a  gull.  "  A  writ  of  excommunication. 

is  Within  his  power.         i«  youth  of  either  sex. 

i7  Sign  of  an  ale-house.  is  The  name  of  a  hospital 
in  Charing.  i»  bass.  20  hank.  21  small  portions. 

22  shreds.  "  here  and  there.  «  It  seemed  to 
him.  25  the  latest  fashion. 

26  Miniature  of  St.  Veronica's  handkerchief  with  the 
face  of  Christ—  a  token  of  his  having  been  at  Rome* 


104 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Bret-ful l  of  pardoun  come  from  Rome  al 

hoot. 

A  voys  he  hadde  as  small  as  hath  a  goot. 
No  lierd  hadde  lie,  never  sholde  have, 
As  smothe  it  was  as  it  were  late  y -shave;  690 
I  trowe  he  were  a  gelding  or  a  mare. 
But  of  his  craft,  fro  Berwik  into  Ware, 
Ne  was  ther  swieh  another  pardoner. 
For  in  his  male  2  he  hadde  a  pilwe-beer,8 
Which  that  he  seyde  was  our  lady  veyl: 
He  seyde  he  hadde  a  gobet  of  the  seyl 
That   se'ynt   Peter   hadde,    whan   that   he 

wente 

Up-on  the  see,  til  Jesu  Crist  him  hente. 
He  hadde  a  croys  of  latoun,4  ful  of  stones, 
And  in  a  glas  he  hadde  pigges  bones.       7oo 
But  with  thise  relikes,  whan  that  he  fond 
A  povre  person  dwelling  up-on  loud, 
Up-on  a  day  he  gat  him  more  moaeye 
Than  that  the  person  gat  in  monthes  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  alderbest5  he  song  an  offertorie;       7io 
For   wel   he   wiste,  whan   that   song    was 

songe, 
He   moste 6   preche,   and   wel   affyle 7  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  companye 
In  Southwerk,  at  this  gentil  hostelrye, 
That    hi£hte    the   Tabard,    faste    by  the 

Belle. 

But  now  is  tyme  to  yow  for  to  telle         720 
How  that  we  baron  us  that  ilke  nijjfht, 
Whan  we  were  in  that  hostelrye  alight. 
And  after  wol  I  telle  of  our  viage, 
And  al  the  remenannt  of  our  pilgrimage. 
But  first  I  pray  yow,  of  your  curteisye, 
That  ye  n'arette  8  it  nat  my  vileinye, 
Thogh   that  I  pleynly  speke  in  this   ma- 

tere, 

To  telle  yow  hir  wordes  and  hir  chere; 
Ne  thogh  I  speke  hir  wordes  properly. 
For  this  ye  knowen  al-so  wel  as  I,  730 

i  Brim-full.  *  mail,  wallet.  »  pillowslip.  «  a  metal 
compounded  chiefly  of  copper  and  zinc.  «  beat  of  all. 
•  might.  7  polish.  8  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;9 
Or  elles  he  moot  telle  his  tale  untrewe, 
Or  feyne  thing,  or  finde  wordes  iiewe. 
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,10  who-so   that   can   him 

rede, 

The  wordes  mote  be  cosin  to  the  dede. 
Also  I  prey  yow  to  foryeve  it  me, 
A I  have  I  nat  set  folk  in  hir  degree  n 
Here  in  this  tale,  as  that  they  sholde  stonde; 
My  wit  is  short,  ye  may  wel  understoutle. 
Greet   chere    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.12  75o 

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,18 
A  fairer  burgeys  is  ther  noon  in  Chops:  u 
Bold   of    his   speche,   and   wys,   and   wel 

y-tauirht, 

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  amonges  othere  thinq-es, 
Whan    that   we   hadde    nuiad   our   reken- 

inges;  76o 

And  seyde  thus:  'Now,  lordinges,  trewely, 
Ye  been  to  me  right  welcome  hertely: 
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  yow  spede, 
The  blisf ul  martir  quyte  yow  vour  mede.   770 
And  wel  I  woot,  as  ye  goon  by  the  weye, 
Ye  shapen  yow  to  talen15  and  to  pleye; 
For  trewely,  confort  ne  mirthe  is  noon 
To  ryde  by  the  weye  doumb  as  a  stoon; 

»  freely. 

10  Boetliius,  bk.  Ill,  prose  12  ;  Plato's  Timaeus,  29  B. 

11  in  order  of  precedence. 

«  we  were  disposed  —  lexte  is  Kentish  dfalect. 
13  prominent.        "  Cheapside.        «  tell  stories. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


105 


And  therfore  wol  I  maken  yow  disport, 
As  I  seyde  erst,1  and  doon  yow  som  coufort. 
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 
Kow,  by  my  fader2  soule,  that  is  deed, 
But  ye  be  nierye,  I  wol  yeve  yow  myn  heed. 
Hold  up  your  hond,  withouten  more  speche/ 
Our  couaseil  was  nat  longe  for  to  seche;  8 
Us  thouglite  it  was  noght  worth  to  make  it 

wys,4 

And  gniuuted  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 

pleyn,  79o 

That  ech  of  yow,  to  shorte  with  your  weye, 
In  this  viage,  shal  telle  tales  tweye, 
To  Caunterbury-ward,  I  mene  it  so, 
And  horn-ward  he  shal  tellen  othere  two,5 
Of  aventures  that  whylorn  han  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,8 
Shal  have  a  soper  at  our  aller  cost 7 
Here  in  this  place,  sitting  by  this  post,     800 
Whan   that  we  come  agayn  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  jugement  withseye 
Shal  paye  al  that  we  spenden  by  the  weye. 
And  if  ye  vonehe-sauf  that  it  be  so, 
Tel  me  anon,  with-outen  wordes  mo,8 
And  I  wol  erly  shape9  me  therfore.' 

This  thing  was  graunted,  and  our  othes 

swore  8 10 

With  fnl  glad  herte,  and  preyden  him  also 
That  he  wold  vouche-sanf  for  to  do  so, 
And  that  he  wolde  been  onr  governour, 
And  of  our  tales  jnge  and  roportonr, 
And  sette  a  soper  at  a  certeyn  prys; 
And  we  wold  reuled  been  at  his  devys, 

1  before.  a  Genitive  — A.S.  faeder. 

*  we  were  soon  agreed. 

*  it  seemed  to  us  not  worth  while  to  make  a  fuss. 

*  Some  would  throw  out  these  two  lines. 

*  of  the  best  sentiments,  and  the  most  entertaining. 

7  at  the  cost  of  all  of  us;  our  and  aller  are  genitive 
plurals  —  A.S.  ure  eallra. 

8  more.  —  A.S.  ma  ;  Shakespeare,  moe. 

*  make  my  arrangements. 


In  heigh  and  lowe  ;10  and  thus,  by  oon  as 
sent, 

We  been  acorded  to  his  jugement. 
And  ther-up-on  the  wyn  was  fet  n  anon  ; 
We  dronkeii,  and  to  reste  wente  echon,   820 
With-outen  any  lenger  taryinge. 

A-morwe,  whan  that  day  bigan  to  springe, 
Up  roos  our  host,  and  was  our  aller  cok,ia 
And  gadrede  us  togidre,  alle  in  a  flok, 
And   forth    we   riden,   a   litel  more    than 

pas,18 

Un-to  the  watering  of  seint  Thomas.14 
And  there  our  host  bigan  his  hors  areste, 
And  seyde; 'Lordinges,  herkneth,  if  yow 

leste. 
Ye  woot  your  forward,15  and  I  it  yow  re- 

corde. 

If  even-song  and  morwe-song  acorde,18    830 
Lat  see  now  who  shal  telle  the  firste  tale. 
As  ever  mote  I  drinke  wyn  or  ale, 
Who-so  be  rebel  to  my  jugemeut 
Shal  paye  for  al  that  by  the  weye  is  spent. 
Now    draweth    cut,17    er    that  we    ferrer 

twinne;18 
He  which  that  hath  the  shortest  shal  bi- 

ginne. 
Sire  knight,'  quod  he,  *  my  maister  and  my 

lord, 

Now  di  aweth 19  cut,  for  that  is  myn  acord. 
Cometh  19  neer,'  quod  he,  *  my  lady  prior- 


And  ye,  sir  clerk,  lat  be  your  shamfast- 

nesse,  840 

Ne   studieth19  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,20 
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  compos! cioun,21 
As  ye  han  herd;  what  nedeth  wordes  mo? 
And  whan  this  gode  man  saugh  it  was  so,  850 
As  he  thnt  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.  «  the  cock  who  waked 
ns  all.  13  faster  than  a  walk.  n  A  watering-place 
for  horses  two  miles  out.  "  agreement. 

is  If  you  sing  the  same  tune  now  that  you  did  last 
night. 

i7  lots.  i8  draw  farther  from  town.  »  Polite 
imperative  plurals.  2°  by  hap,  or  fate,  or  chance. 

21  promise  and  agreement. 


io6 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Now  lat  us  ryde,  and  herkneth  what  I  seye.' 
And  with  that  word  we  riden  forth  our 
wey  e ;  856 

And  he  bigan  with  right  a  mery  chere 
His  tale  auou,  and  seyde  in  this  maiiere. 


THE   KNIGHT'S   TALE 

Jamque  domos  patrias,  Scithice  post  as f  era  gentii 
Prelia,  laurigero,  etc.    [Statins,  Theb.  xil,  519.]! 

WHYLOM,  as  olde  stories  tellen  us, 
Ther  was  a  duk  that  highte  Theseus; 
Of  Athenes  he  was  lord  and  goveruour, 
And  in  his  tyme  swich  a  couquerour 
That  gretter  was  thernoon  under  the  sonne. 
Ful  many  a  riche  contree  hadde  he  wonne; 
What  with  his  wisdom  and  his  chivalrye, 
He  conquered  al  the  regue  2  of  Femenye, 
That  whylom  was  y-cleped  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  yonge  suster  Emelye. 
And  thus  with  victorie  and  with  melodye 
Lete  I  this  noble  duk  to  Athenes  ryde, 
And  al  his  hoost  in  armes  him  bisyde. 

And  certes,  if  it  nere  to  long  to  here, 
I  wolde  han  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  8 
Bitwixen  Athenes  and  Amazones; 
And  how  asseged  was  Ipolita, 
The  faire,  hardy  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 4  as  now  forbere. 
I  have,  God  woot,  a  large  field  to  ere,5 
And  wayke  been  the  oxen  in  my  plough. 
The  remenant  of  the  tale  is  long  y-nough.  3o 
I  wol  nat  letten  6  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 7  and  in  his  moste  pryde, 
He  was  war,  as  he  caste  his  eye  asyde, 

i  The  KnighVs  Tale  is  a  free  adaptation  of  Boccac 
cio's  Tfseide,  a  much  longer  poem.  Both  are  based 
after  a  fashion  on  the  Thebaiad  of  the  late  Roman  poet, 
Statins. 

*  realm.        »  for  the  nonce  —  a  colorless  phrase. 

«  must.     *  plough.     •  hinder.      7  weal,  well-being. 


Wher  that  ther  kneled  in  the  hye  weye 
A  compauye  of  ladies,  tweve  and  tweye,  40 
Ech  after  other,  clad  in  clothes  blake; 
But   swich   a   cry   and   swich   a   wo  they 

make, 

That  iu  this  world  nis  creature  livinge 
That  herde  swich  another  weyinentinge;8 
And  of  this  cry  they  nolde  never  stouten/ 
Til  they  the  reynes  of  his  brydel  hen  ten.10 
'What  folk  ben  ye,  that  at  myn  hoom- 

cominge 

Perturben  so  my  feste  with  cryinge  ?  ' 
Quod  Theseus.    '  Have  ye  so  greet  envye 
Of  rnyn  honour,  that  thus  compleyne  and 

crye  ?  5o 

Or  who  hath  yow  misboden,11  or  offended  ? 
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. 
Som  drope  of  pitee,  thurgh  thy  gentilesse, 
Up-on  us  wrecched  wommen  lat  thou  t'alle. 
For  certes,  lord,  ther  nis  noon  of  us  alle 
That  she  nath  been  a  duchesse  or  a  quene; 
Now  be  we  caitifs,  as  it  is  wel  sene: 
Thanked  be  Fortune,  and  hir  false  wheel, 
That  noon  estat  assureth  to  he  weel. 
And  certes,  lord,  t'abyden  your  presence, 
Here  in  the  temple  of  the  goddesse  Cle- 

mence  70 

We  han  ben  way  tinge  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, 
Ami  maken  al  this  lainentacioun, 
We   losten   alle   our   housbondes   at   that 

toun, 

Whyl  that  the  sege  ther-aboute  lay. 
And  yet  now  th'olde  Creon,  weylaway  !    80 
The  lord  is  now  of  Thebes  the  citee, 
Fulfild  of  ire  and  of  iniquitee, 
s  lament.       •  stint,  stop.       10  seized.       »  injured. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


107 


He,  for  despyt,  and  for  his  tirannye, 
To  do  the  dede  bodyes  vileinye, 
Of  alle  our  lordes,  whiehe  that  ben  slawe,1 
Hath  all  the  bodyes  on  an  heep  y-drawe, 
And  wol  nat  sufiren  heai,  by  noon  assent, 
Neither  to  been  y-buried  nor  y-brent,^ 
But  maketh  houndes  ete  hem  in  despyt.' 
And    with    that    word,    with-outeu    more 
respyt,  90 

They  fillen  gruf,8  and  cryden  piteously, 
*  Have  on  us  wrecched  worn  men  som  mercy, 
And  lat  our  sorwe  sinken  in  thyn  herte.' 
This  geutil  duk  doun  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,4 
That  whylom  weren  of  so  greet  estat. 
And  in  his  arines  he  hem  alle  up  hente, 
And  hem  conforteth  in  ful  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  Grece  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  Athene's  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  quene, 
And  Emelye  hir  yonge  suster  shene,6 
Un-to  the  toun  of  Athene's  to  dwell; 
And  forth  he  rit,6  ther  nis  namore  to  telle. 
The  rede  statue  of  Mars,  with  spere  and 

So  shyneth  in  his  whyte  baner  large, 
That  alle  the  feeldes  gliteren  up  and  doun; 
And  by  his  baner  born  is  his  penoun 7        120 
Of  gold  ful   riche,  in  which  ther  was  y- 

bete8 
The  Minotaur,  which   that   he   slough   in 

Crete. 

Thus  rit  this  duk,  thus  rit  this  conquerour, 
And  i'.i  his  host  of  chivalrye  the  Hour, 
Til  that  he  cam  to  Thebes,  and  aliglite 
Faire  in  a  feeld,  ther  as  he  thoghte  fighte. 

1  slain.  *  burned.  *  groveling,  prone.  «  over 
come.  B  fair.  «  rideth.  7  The  peunon  is  triangular 
or  swallow-tailed,  the  banner  square.  8  embroidered. 


But  shortly  for  to  speke n  of  this  thing, 
With  Creoii,  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  brenninge 
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  contree  as  him  leste.9 

To  ransake  in  the  tas10  of  bodyes  dede, 
Hem   for   to    strepe   of    harneys    and   of 

wede, 

The  pilours  n  diden  bisinesse  and  cure,12 
After  the  bataille  and  discontitnre.  150 

And  so  bifel,  that  in  the  tas  they  founde, 
Thurgh-girt 18  with  many  a  grevous  blody 

wonnde, 

Two  yonge  knightes  ligging  by  and  by,14 
Bothe  in  oon  armes,16  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-arm ures,  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  caried  softe  un-to  the  tente 
Of  Theseus,  and  he  ful  son  hem  sente 
To  Athene's,  to  dwellen  in  prisoun 
Perpetuelly,  he  nolde  no  raunsoim. 
And  whan   this  worthy  duk  hath  thus  y- 

don, 
He  took  his  host,  and  hoom  he  rood  anon 

•  list,  pleased  (impersonal).      '"  heap,     n  pillagers. 
n  care.  i»  pierced.  **  lying  close  together. 

15  bearing  the  same  coat-of-arma. 


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  Arcite, 
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, 
That  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  noot1  which  was  the  fairer  of  hem  two  — 
Er  it  were  day,  as  was  hir  wone  2  to  do, 
She  was  arisen,  and  al  redy  dight; 
For  May  wol  have  no  slogarclye  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  remembraunce 
To  doon  honour  to  May,  and  for  to  ryse. 
Y-clothed  was  she  fresh,  for  to  devyse;    190 
Hir  yelow  heer  was  broyded  in  a  tresse, 
Bihinde  hir  bak,  ayerde  long,  I  gesse. 
And  in  the  gardin,  at  the  sonne  up-riste,8 
She  walketh  up  and  douu,  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  whiehe  I  tolde  yow,  and  tellen  shal) 
Was  evene  joynant  to  the  «ardin-wal 
Ther  as  this  Emelye  hadde  hir  pleyinge. 
Bright  was  the  sonne,  and  cleer  that  inor- 

weninge, 

And  Palamon,  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,4 
And  eek  the  gardin,  f  ul  of  braunches  grene, 
Ther-as  this  fresshe  Emelye  the  shene     210 
Was  in  hir  walk,  and  romed  up  and  douu. 
This  sorweful  prisoner,  this  Palamoun, 
Goth  in  the  chambre,  roming  to  and  fro, 
And  to  him-self  compleyning  of  his  wo; 
i  know  not.         *  wont.         *  uprising.        *  saw. 


That  he  was  born,  f  ul  of  te  he  seyde,  *  alas ! ' 

And  so  bifel,  by  aventure  or  ens, 

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,6  and  cryde 

'a!'  220 

As  though  he  stongen  were  un-to  the  herte. 
And  with  that  cry  Arcite  anon  up-sterte, 
And  seyde,  '  Cosin  myn,  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  pacience 
Our  prisoun,  for  it  may  non  other  be; 
Fortune  hath  yeven  us  this  adversitee. 
Some  wikke  aspect  or  disposicioun 
Of  Saturne,  by  sum  coustellacioun,  230 

Hath  yeven  us  this,  al-though  we  hadde  it 

sworn ; 6 

So  stood  the  heven  whan  that  we  were  born ; 
We  moste  endure  it:  this  is  the  short  and 

pleyn.' 

This  Palamon  answerde,  and  seyde  ageyn, 
1  Cosyn,  for  sothe,  of  this  opiniouu 
Thou  hast  a  veyn  imaginacioun. 
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  tliat  I  see        240 
Yond  in  the  gardin  romen  to  and  fro, 
Is  cause  of  al  my  crying  and  my  wo. 
I  noot  wher7  she  be  womman  or  goddesse; 
But  Venus  is  ft,  soothly,  as  I  gesse.' 
And  ther-with-al  on  knees  doun  he  fil, 
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  prisouu, 
Of  our  linage  have  som  compassion n, 
That  is  so  lowe  y-broght  by  tirannye.' 
And  with  that  word  Arcite  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, 
Arcite  is  hurte  as  muche  as  he,  or  more. 
And  with  a  sigh  he  seyde  pitously: 
'  The  fresshe  beautee  sleeth  me  sodeynly  260 
8  blenched.        «  sworn  the  contrary.        »  whether. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


109 


Of  Iiir  that  rometh  in  the  yonder  place; 
And,  but  I  have  hir  mercy  and  hir  grace, 
That  I  may  seen  hir  atte  leeste  weye, 
I  uam  but  deed;  ther  nis  namore  to  seye.' 

This  Palamon,  whan  he  tho  wordes  herde, 
Dispitously  l  he  loked,  and  answerde: 

*  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  2 
Y-sworu  ful  depe,  and  ech  of  us  til  other, 
That  never,  for  to  dyen  in  the  peyue,8 
Til  that  the  deeth  departe  shal  us  tweyne, 
Neither  of  us  in  love  to  hindren  other, 
Ne  in  non  other  cas,  my  leve  4  brother; 
But  that  thou  sholdest  trewely  f orthren  me 
In  every  cas,  and  I  shal  forthren  thee.    280 
This  was  thyn  ooth,  and  myn  also,  certeyn; 
I  wot  ri<^ht  wel,  thou  darst  it  nat  withseyn. 
Tims  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.5 
Now  cortes,  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  K  I  loved  hir  first  er  thnw. 
What  wiltow  seyn  ?  Thou  wistest  nat  yet 

now 

Whether  she  be  a  womman  or  goddesse  ! 
Thyn  is  affeccioun  of  holinesse,  300 

And  myu  is  love,  as  to  a  creature; 
For  which  I  tolde  thee  myn  aventure 
As  to  my  cosin,  and  my  brother  sworn. 
I  pose,7  that  thou  lovedest  hir  biforn; 
Wostow  nat  wel  the  olde  clerkes  sawe, 
That  "  who  shal  yeve  a  lover  any  lawe  ?  " 

i  Savagely.  2  sworn  brother  in  arras.  *  though 
we  should  die  by  torture.  *  dear,  lief.  »  die.  •  in 
the  way  of  a  lover.  1  put  the  case. 


Love  is  a  greter  lawe,  by  my  pan,8 
Than  may  be  veve  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  g  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  gayneth10  no  raunsonn. 
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  soolhly,  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 
Sin   thilke   day    that  they   were  children 

' 


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  teudrely  ageyn. 
So  wel  they  loved,  as  olde  bokes  seyn,     340 
That  whan   that   oon  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  prey  ere 
Of  Perotheus,  with-oute  any  raunsoun, 
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.       35o 


8  skull,  head. 
10  profits. 


9  maugre,  in  spite  of. 
"  little. 


no 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


This  was  the  forward,  pleynly  for  t'en- 

dyte, 

Bitwixeu  Theseus  and  him  Arcite: 
That  if  so  were  that  Arcite  were  y-founde 
Ever  in  his  lyf,  by  day  or  night  or  stounde  l 
In  any  contree  of  this  Theseus, 
And  he  were  caught,  it  was  acorded  thus, 
That  with  a  swerd  he  sholde  lese  his  heed; 
Ther  nas  non  other  remedy e  ne  reed,2 
But  taketh  his  leve,  and  homward  he  him 

spedde ; 

Let  him  be  war,  his  nekke  lyth  to  wedde! 8 

How  greet  a  sorwe  suifretli  now  Arcite  ! 

The   deeth    he    feleth    thurgh    his   herte 

smy  te ;  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 
Noght  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  suffised  right  y-nough  for  me. 
O  dere  cosin  Palamon,'  quod  he, 
'  Thyn  is  the  victorie  of  this  aventure, 
Ful  blisfully  in  prison  maistow  dure;  * 
In  prison?  Certes  nay,  but  in  paradys! 
Wei  hath  fortune  y-turned  thee  the  dys,5 
That  hast  the  sighte  of  hir,  and   I  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  6  and  dis- 

tresse ; 
Farwel  my  lyf,  my  lust,  and  mygladnesse! 

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? 

»  hour.  *  help.  *  in  pledge. 

«  inayest  thou  endure.       5  dice.       6  despair. 


Som  man  desyreth  for  to  han  richesse, 
That  cause  is  of  his  mordre  7  or  greet  sik- 

nesse. 

And  som  man  wolde  out  of  his  prison  fayn, 
That  in  his  hous  is  of  his  meynee  8  slayu. 
Infinite  harmes  been  in  this  matere;         401 
We  witen  nat  what  thing  we  preyen  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.9 
And  certes,  in  this  world  so  faren  we; 
We  seken  faste  after  felieitee, 
But  we  goon  wrong  full  often,  trewely. 
Thus  may  we  seyen  alle,  and  namely 10  I  410 
That  wende  n  and  hadde  a  greet  opinioun, 
That,  if  I  mighte  escapen  from  prisoun, 
Than   hadde   I   been    in    joye  and   perfit 

hele,^ 

Ther  now  I  am  exyled  fro  my  wele. 
Sin  that  I  may  nat  seen  yow,  Einelye, 
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 

Resonneth  of  his  you! ing  and  clamour.    420 
The  pure  18  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,  43o 
Thou  mayst  have  hir  to  lady  and  to  wyf, 
For  whom  that  I  mot  nedes  lese 14  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 

1  murder.  »  servants.  •  slippery.  10  especially. 
»  weened,  thought.  «  health.  »  very.  "  must 
needs  lose. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


in 


Ther-with  the  fyr  of  jelousye  up-sterte 
With-inne  his  brest,  and  hente  him  by  the 

herte 

So  woodly,1  that  he  lyk  was  to  biholde 
The  box-tree,  or  the  asshea  dede  and  colde. 
Tho  seyde  he;  *O  cruel  goddes,  that  gov- 

erne 

This  world  with  binding  of  your  word  eterne, 
And  wry  ten  in  the  table  of  Hthamauut2 
Your  parlement,8  and  your  eterne  graunt, 
What  is  mankinde  more  un-to  yow  holde 
Than   is   the   sheep,  that  rouketh4  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  observaunce, 
For  Goddes  sake,  to  letten  of  his  wille, 
Ther  as  a  beest  may  al  his  lust  fulnlle.    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,6 
But  wel  I  woot,  that  in  this  world  gret 

pyne  is. 

Alias!  I  see  a  serpent  or  a  theef, 
That  many  a  trewe  man  hath  doon  mes- 

cheef, 
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  Arcite.' 
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  wofullere  mester.6 
For  shortly  for  to  seyn,  this  Palamoun 
Perpetuelly  is  dampned  to  prisouri, 
In  cheynes  and  in  fettres  to  ben  deed; 
And  Arcite  is  exyled  upon  his  heed 


i  madly. 
«  divines. 


*  adamant.        »  decree.        4  huddles. 
«  the  more  woful  occupation,  life. 


For  ever-mo  as  out  of  that  contree, 
Ne  never-nio  he  shal  his  lady  see. 

Yow  loveres  axe  I  now  this  questioun, 
Who    hath    the    worse,    Arciie    or    Pala 
moun  ?  49o 
That  oon  may  seen  his  lady  day  by  day, 
But  in  prison  he  moot  dwelle  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  1  bigau. 

Explicit  prima  Pars. 
Sequitur  pars  secunda. 

Whan  that  Arcite  to  Thebes  comen  was, 
Fill  ofte  a  day  he  swelte 7  and  seyde  « alias,' 
For  seen  his  lady  shal  he  never-mo. 
And  shortly  to  concluden  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  him  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  waillingal  the  night,  making  his  mone. 
And  if  he  herde  song  or  instrument, 
Then   wolde    he   wepe,  he  niighte  nat  be 

stent;  5,0 

So  feeble  eek  were  his  spirits,  and  so  lowe, 
And  chaunged  so,  that  no  man  coude  knowe 
His  speche  nor  his  vois,  though  men  it 

herde. 

And  in  his  gere,8  for  al  the  world  he  ferde 
Nat  oonly  lyk  the  loveres  malady e 
Of  Hereos,9  but  rather  lyk  manye  10 
Engendred  of  humour  malencolyk, 
Biforen,  in  his  celle  fantastyk.11 
And  shortly,  turned  was  al  up-so-doim 
Bothe  habit  and  eek  disposicioun  520 

Of  him,  this  woful  lovere  daun  12  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 

Mercurie 
Biforn  him  stood,  and  bad  him  to  be  murye. 

7  swooned.  «  behavior. 

»  A  specific  disease  of  lovers  and  such.  See  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. 

«  sir,  dominm. 


'112 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


His  slepy  yerde l  in  houd  he  bar  uprighte; 
An  hat  he  werede  up-on  his  heres  brighte. 
Arrayed  was  this  god  (as  he  took  keepe  2)  531 
As  he  was  whan  that  Argus  took  his  sleep; 
And  seyde  him  thus:  'To  Athene's  sbaltou 

wende; 

Ther  is  thee  sbapen  of  thy  wo  an  eude.' 
And  with  that  word  Arcite  wook  and  sterte. 
'  Now  trewely,  how  sore  that  me  sinerte,' 
Quod  he,  'to  Athene's  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  recehe  nat  to  sterve.'      540 
And  with  that  word  he  caughte  a  greet 

mirour, 

And  saugh  that  chaunged  was  al  his  colour, 
And  saugh  his  visage  al  in  another  kinde. 
And  right  anoon  it  ran  him  in  his  niinde, 
That,  sith  his  face  was  so  disfigured 
Of  maladye,  the  which  he  hadde  endured, 
He  mighte  wel,  if  that  be  bar  him  lowe,8 
Live  in  Athenes  ever-more  unkuowe, 
And  seen  his  lady  wel  ny  day  by  day. 
And  right  anon  he  chaunged  his  array,      5So 
And  cladde  him  as  a  povre  laborer, 
And  al  allone,  save  oonly  a  squyer, 
That  knew  his  privetee  and  al  his  cas, 
Which  was  disgysed  povrely,  as  he  was, 
To  Athene's  is  he  goon  the  nexte 4  way. 
And  to  the  court  he  wente  up-on  a  day, 
And  at  the  gate  he  profreth  his  servyse, 
To  drugge6  and  drawe,  what  so  men  wol 

devyse. 

And  shortly  of  this  matere  for  to  seyn, 
He  fil  in  Oitice6  with  a  chair,  berleyn,        560 
The  which  that  dwelling  was  with  Emelye; 
For  he  was  wys,  and  conde  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         57i 
Ne  was  ther  never  in  court,  of  his  degree; 
He  was  so  gentil  of  condieioun, 
That  thurghout  al  the  court  was  his  re- 
noun. 

They  seyden,  that  it  were  a  charitee 
That  Theseus  wolde  enhauncen  his  degree, 

i  slepp-oRuaiug  rod.      »  heed.      »  lived  in  obscurity. 
*  shortest.  '  drudge.  •  took  service. 


And  putten  him  in  worshipful  servyse, 
Ther  as  he  mighte  his  vertu  excercyse. 
And  thus,  with-iune  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  inayntene  his  degree ; 
And   eek   men   broghte    him   out    of    his 

contree 

From  veer  to  yeer,  ful  prively,  his  rente; 
But  honestly  and  slyly  he  it  speute, 
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.7 
And  in  this  blisse  lete  I  now  Arciie,         591 
And  speke  I  wol  of  Palauion  a  lyte. 

In   derknesse    and  horrible  and   strong 

prisoun 

This  seven  yeer  hath  seten  Palamoun, 
Forpyned,8  what  for  wo  and  for  distresse; 
Who  f eleth  double  soor  9  and  hevinesse 
But  Palamon  ?  that  love  destreyneth 10  so, 
That  wood  out  of  his  wit  he  gooth  for  wo; 
And  eelc  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  lleeth  the  citee,  faste  as  he  may  go; 
For  he  had  yive  his  gayler  drinke  so 
Of  a  claree,11  maad  of  a  certeyn  wyn, 
With  nercotikes  and  opie  12  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  ni^ht  was  short,  and  faste  by  the  day, 
That  nedes-cost 13  he  moste  him-selven  hyde, 
And  til  a  grove,  faste  ther  besvde,  620 

With  dredfiil  foot  than  stalketh  Palamoun. 
For  shortly,  this  was  his  opinioun. 
That  in  that  grove  he  wolde  him  hvde  al  day, 
And  iii  the  night  than  wolde  he  take  hi.s  way 

i  dearer.     8  Greatly  tormented.     »  sorrotv.     10  p«r- 
secutes.      n  spiced  wine.      12  opium.      1Z  necessarily. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


To  Thebes-ward,  his  f reendes  for  to  preye 
On  Theseus  to  helpe  him  lo  werreye; l 
And  shortly,  outlier  he  wolde  lese  his  lyf, 
Or  winnun  Einelye  un-to  his  wyf ; 
This  is  th'effect  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  in  or  we  gray; 
And  t'yry  Phebns  ryseth  up  so  brighte, 
That  al  the  orient  laugheth  of  the  lighte, 
And  with  his  stremes  dryeth  in  the  gi  eves 
The  silver  dropes,  hanging  on  the  leves. 
And  Arcite,  that  is  in  the  court  royal 
With  Theseus,  his  squyer  principal,          640 
Is  risen,  and  loketh  on  the  myrie  day. 
And,  for  to  doon  his  observaunce  to  May, 
Ilemembring  on  the  poynt  of  his  desyr, 
He  on  a  courser,  startlynge  2  as  the  fyr, 
Is  rideii  iu-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  a  venture,  his  wey  he  gan  to  holde, 
To  maken  him  a  gerland  of  the  greves,      649 
Were  it  of  wodebinde  or  hawethorn-leves, 
And  loude  he  song  ageyn  the  sonne  shene: 
1  May,  with  alle  thy  floures  find  thy  grene, 
Wei-come  be  thou,  faire  fresshe  May, 
I  hope  that  I  som  grene  gete  may.' 
And  from  his  courser,  with  a  lusty  herte, 
In-to  the  grove  ftil  hastily  he  steite, 
And  in  a  path  he  rometh  up  and  doun, 
Ther-as,  by  aventure,  this  P;:lamouu 
Was  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  WHS  Arcite: 
Ood  wot  he  wolde  have  trowed  it  ful  lyte. 
B'it  sooth  is  seyd,  gon  sit  hen  many  ye  res, 
That  « feeld  hath  eyen,  and  the  wode  hath 

eres.' 

It  is  ful  fair  a  man  to  bere  him  evene,8 
For  al-day  meteth  men  at  unset  stevene.4 
Ful  Htel  woot  Arcite  of  his  felawe, 
That  was  so  ny  to  herknen  al  his  sawe, 
For  in  the  bush  he  sitteth  now  ful  stillo. 

Whan  that  Arcite  had  roined  al  his  fille, 
And  songen  al  the  roundel  lustily,  671 

Iu-to  a  studie  he  fil  sodeynly, 
As  doon  thise  lovers  in  hir  qneynte  p-eres,5 
Ixow  in  the  croppe,6  now  doun  in  the  breres, 


i  make  war.     *  skittish.  Another  reading  is  st*rtyng. 
»  be  circumspect,  steadfast.        *  unexpectedly. 
*  changeful  ways,  turns.  «  top. 


Now  up,  now  doun,  as  boket  in  a  welle. 
Kight  as  the  Friday,  soothiy  for  to  telle, 
Now  it  shyneth,  now  it  reyneth  iaste, 
Right  so  can  gery7  Venus  over  caste 
The  hertes  of  hir  folk;  right  as  hir  day  8 
Is  gerful,7  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: 
'  Ala* ! '  quod  he,  '  that  day  that  I  was  bore  ! 
How  longe,  Juno,  thurgh  thy  crneltee, 
WoLo-.v  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  hi.s  linage  am  I,  and  his  of -spring 
By  verray  ligne,  as  of  the  stole  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  Philostrate,  iioght  worth  a 

myte.  700 

Alias  !  thou  felle  Mars,  alias  !  Juno, 
Thus  hath  your  ire  our  kinrede  al  fordo, 
Save  only  me,  and  wrecched  Palamoun, 
That  Theseus  martyreth  in  prisoun. 
And  over  al  this,  to  sleen  me  utterly, 
Love  hath  his  fyry  dart  so  brenningly 
Y-stiked  thurgn  my  trewe  careful  herte, 
That  shapen  was  my  deeth  erst 10  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  mountaunce  n  of  a  tare 
So  that  I  coude  don  aught  to  your  ple- 

sannce  ! ' 

And  with  that  word  he  fil  doun  in  a  trounce 
A  longe  tyme;  and  after  he  up-sterte. 
This  Palnmoun,  that  thoughte  that  thurgh 

his  hnrte 

He  felte  a  cold  swerd  sodeynliche  glyde, 
For  ire  he    quook,12   no   lenger   wolde  he 

byde. 

And  whan  that  be  had  h^rd  Arcites  tale,  719 
As  he  were  wood,  with  face  deed  and  pale, 

?  changeable.       «  i.e.  Friday.       9  sigh.      1°  ere,  i.e. 
hia  death  was  foreordained.      ll  amount.      12  quaked. 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


He  sterte  him  up  out  of  the  buskes  thikke, 
And  seyde:  'Arcite,  false  traitour  wikke,1 
Now  artow  heut,2  that  lovest  my  lady  so, 
For  whom  that  I  have  al  this  peyne  and  wo, 
And  art   my    blood,   and    to   my  couuseil 

sworn, 

As  I  ful  ofte  have  told  thee  heer-biforn, 
And  hast  by-japed3  here  dnk  Theseus, 
And  falsly  chaunged  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,  a,nd  namo; 
For  I  am  Palamoun,  thy  mortal  t'o. 
And  though  that  I  no  wepue  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,       74o 
And  seyde  thus  :  *  By  God  that  sit  above, 
Nere 4  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  houd. 
For  I  defye  the  seurtee  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  darreyne6  hir  by  batayle,  751 
Have  heer  my  trouthe,  to-morwe  I  wol  nat 

fayle, 

With-outen  witing  of  any  other  wight, 
That  here  I  wol  be  founden  as  a  knight, 
And   bringen   barneys   right   y-nough   for 

thee  ; 
And  chees  the  beste,  and  leve  the  worste 

for  me. 
And   mete   and    drinke    this   night  wol   I 

bringe 

T-nough  for  thee,  and  clothes  for  thy  bed- 
din  ge. 

And,  if  so  be  that  thou  my  lady  winne, 
And  slee  me  in  this  wode  ther  I  am  inne,  760 


i  wicked. 
«  Were  it  not 


*  caught.  »  fooled. 

*  decide  the  right  to. 


Thou   mayst    wel    have   thy  lady,   as   for 

me.' 
This   Palamon    answerde :    '  I    graunte    it 

thee.' 

And  thus  they  been  departed  til  a-morwe, 
When  ech  of  hem  had  leyd  his  feith  to 

borwe.6 

O  Cupide,  out  of  alle  charitee  ! 
O  regne,7  that  wolt  no  felawe  have  with 

thee! 

Ful  sooth  is  seyd,  that  love  ne  lordshipe 
Wol  uoght,  his  thankes,8  have  no  felawe- 

sliipe; 

Wel  finden  that  Arcite  and  Palamoun. 
Arcite  is  riden  anon  un-to  the  toun,          770 
And  on  the  morwe,  er  it  were  dayes  light, 
Ful  prively  two  barneys  hath  he  dight, 
Bothe  sufftsaunt  and  mete  to  darreyne 
The  bataille  in  the  feeld  bitwix  hem  tweyne. 
And  on  his  hors,  alloue  as  he  was  born, 
He  carieth  al  this  harneys  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  leonu  or  the  be  re, 
And    hereth    him   come   russhing    in    the 

greves, 

And  breketh  bothe  bowes  and  the  leves, 
And  thinketh,   'Heer  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  he  we, 
As  fer  as  everich  of  hem  other  knewe.     79o 
Ther  nas  no  good  day,  ne  no  saluing;9 
But  streight,  with-outen  word  or  rehersing, 
Everich  of  hem  halp 10  for  to  arm  en  other, 
As  freendly  as  he  were  his  owne  brother; 
And  after  that,  with  sharpe  speres  stronge 
They  foynen  u  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  smvte,        800 
That  frothen  whyte  as  foom  for  ire  wood. 
Up  to  the  ancle  fog-lite  they  in  hir  blood. 
And  in  this  wyse  I  lete  hem  fighting  dwelle; 
An'l  forth  I  wol  of  Theseus  yow  telle. 

The  destinee,  ministre  general, 
That  executeth  in  the  world  over-al 


•  pledged  his  faith.        T  rule. 

•  saluting.  10  helped. 


8  willingly. 
«  thrust. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


The  purveyaunce,  that  God  hath  seyn  biforn, 
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         810 
That  ialleth  nat  eft  with-iune  a  thousand 

yere. 

For  certeinly,  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  fur  to  ryde 
With  hunte l  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. 
I        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.  829 

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  2  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 

lannde, 

Under  the  sonne  he  loketh,  and  anon 
He  was  war  of  Arcite  and  Palamon,         840 
That   foughten   breme,3  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  ook; 
But  what  they  were,  no-thing  he  ne  woot. 
This  duk  his  courser  with  his  spores  sinoot, 
And  at  a  stert  he  was  bitwix  hem  two. 
And  pulled  out  a  swerd  and  cryed,  '  Ho! 
Namore,  up  4  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  mister5  men  ye  been, 


i  huntsman. 
*  upon. 


*  glade.        *  furiously. 
5  manner  of. 


That  been  so  hardy  for  to  fighten  here 
With-outen  juge  or  other  omcere, 
As  it  were  in  a  listes  royally  ?  ' 

This  Palamon  answerede  hastily 
And  seyde:  '  JSire,  what  nedeth  wordes  mo  ? 
\Ve  have  the  deeth  deserved  bothe  two. 
Two  wof ul  wrecches  been  we,  two  caytyves, 
That  been  encombred  of  our  owne  ly\  es ;  860 
And  as  thou  art  a  rightful  lord  find  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  thv  lond  is  banished  on  his  heed, 
For  which  ne  hath  deserved  to  be  deed. 
For  this  is  he  that  cam  un-to  thy  gate, 
And  seyde,  that  he  highte  Pliilostrate.    870 
Thus  hath  he  japed  6  thee  full  many  a  yeer, 
And  thou  has  maked  him  thy  chief  «quyer: 
And  this  is  he  that  loveth  Em  dye. 
For  sith  the  day  is  come  that  1  shal  dye, 
I  make  pleynly  my  confessioun, 
That  I  am  thilke  woful  Palamoun, 
That  hath  thy  prison  broken  wikkt  dly. 
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;7 
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  8  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  swich  a  chaunce  sholde  falle; 
For  gentil  men  they  were,  of  greet  estat, 
And  no-thing  but  for  love  was  this  debat; 
And   sawe  hir   blody   woundes  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 


«  deceived. 


judgment.        8  torture. 


n6 


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. 
Aud  though  he  first  for  ire  quook  and 

sterte, 

lie  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  prisouii; 
And  eek  his  herte  had  compassioun 
Of  wominen,  for  they  wepeu  ever  in  oon; 
And  in  his  gentil  herte  he  thoghte  anoon, 
And  softe  un-to  himself  he  seyde:  'Fy 
Up-on  a  lord  that  wol  have  no  mercy, 
But  been  a  leoun,  buthe  in  word  and  dede, 
To  hem  that  been  in  repentaunce  and  drede 
As  wel  as  to  a  proud  desnitous  man 
That  wol  maynteyne  that  he  first  bigaii!  920 
That  lord  hath  lit  el  of  discrecionn, 
That  in  swich  cas  can  no  divisioun, 
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  !  benedicite, 
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  his  owne  gyse 
Of  everich  herte,  as  that  him  li».t  devyse. 
Lo  heer,  this  Arcite  and  this  Palamoun, 
That  qnitly  2  weren  out  of  my  prisoun, 
And  mighte  ban  lived  in  Thebes  royally, 
And  witen  I  am  hir  mortal  enemy, 
And  that  hir  deeth  lyth  in  my  mitfht  also; 
And  yet  hath  love,  mangree  hir  eyen  two, 
Y-broght  hem  hider  bothe  for  to  dye  ! 
Now  loketh,  is  nat  that  an  heigh  folye  ?  940 
Who  may  been  a  fool,  but-if  he  love  ? 
Bihold,  for  Goddes  sake  that  sit  above, 
Se  how  they  hlede  !    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  Regards  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-foras  muche  thank  as  me;  950 
She  woot  namore  of  al  this  hote  fare, 
By  God,  than  woot  a  cokkow  or  an  hare  ! 
But  al  mot  been  assayed,  hoot  and  cold ; 
A  man  mot  been  a  fool,  or  yong  or  old; 
1  woot  it  by  my-self  ful  yore  agoon: 
For  in  my  tyme  a  servant3  was  I  oon. 
And  therfore,  sin  4  I  knowe  of  loves  peyne, 
And  woot  how  sore  it  can  a  man  distreyne, 
As  he  that  hath  ben  caught  ofte  in  his  las,5 
I  yow  foryeve  al  hoolly  this  trespas,       960 
At  requeste  of  the  quene  that  kueleth  here, 
And  eek  of  Emelye,  my  suster  dere. 
And  ye  shul  buthe  anon  un-to  me  swere, 
That  never-mo  ye  shul  my  contree  dere,G 
Ne  make  werre  up-on  me  night  lie  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  him  of  lordshipe  and  of  mercy  preyde, 
And  he  hem  grauuteth  grace,  and  thus  he 

seyde:  97o 

'  To  speke  of  royal  linage  and  richesse, 
Though  that  she  were  a  queue  or  a  prin- 

cesse, 

Ech  of  yow  bothe  is  worthy,  doutelees, 
To  wedden  whan  tyme  is,  but  nathelees 
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  lighten  ever-mo: 
That  oon  of  yow,  al  be  him  looth  or  leef, 
He  moot  go  pypen  in  an  ivy-leef ;  9So 

This  is  to  seyn,  she  may  nat  now  han  bothe, 
Al  be  ye  never  so  jelous,  ne  so  wrothe. 
And  for-thy  I  yow  pntte  in  this  degree. 
That  ech  of  yow  shal  have  his  destinee 
As  him  is  shape;  and  herkueth   in   what 

wyse ; 
Lo,  heer  your  endfi  of  that  I  shal  devyse. 

My  wil  is  this,  for  plat 7  conclusioun, 
With-outen  any  replicacioun, 
If  that  yow  lyketh,  tak  it  for  the  beste, 
That  everich  of  yow  shal  gon  wher  him 

leste  990 

Frely,  with-out.en  raunson  or  daung^r; 
And  this  day  fifty  wykes,  fer  ne  ner,8 

*  i.e.  of  love.  4  since.  5  lace,  net. 

•  injure.  7  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   whether1   of   yow   bothe   that   hath 

might, 

This  is  to  seyn,  that  whether  he  or  thou 
May    with  "his    hundred,   as    I    spak    of 

now,  1000 

Sleen  his  contrarie,  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  soule  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  apaycl.2 
This    is    your    ende    and     your     conelu- 

sioun.'  ion 

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  inaner  wight, 
And  thanked  him  with  al  her  herte  and 

might, 

And  namely  the  Thebans  ofte  sythe.8 
And  thus  with  good  hope  and  with  herte 

blythe  1020 

They  take  hir  leve,  and  horn-ward  gonne 

they  ryde 
To  Thebes,  with  his  olde  walles  wyde. 

Explicit  secunda  pars. 
Sequitur  pars  tercia. 

I  trowe  men  wolde  deme  it  necligence, 
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  com  pas, 
Fnl  of  degrees,4  the  heighte  of  sixty  pas, 
That,  whan  a  man  was  set  on  o  degree, 
He  letted6  nat  his  felawe  for  to  see. 


i  which  of  the  two. 
*  times.        *  steps. 


*  satisfied. 

*  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  Has  no  crafty  man, 
That  geometric  or  ars-metrik  6  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  sacrifyse, 
He  est-ward  hath,  up-on  the  gate  above, 
In  worship  of  Venus,  goddesse  of  love, 
Don  make  7  an  auter  and  an  oratorie; 
And  west-ward,  in  the  mimle  and  in  mem- 

orie 

Of  Mars,  he  maked  hath  right  swich  an 
other, 

That  coste  largely  of  gold  a  fother.8       1050 
And  north-ward,  in  a  touret9  on  the  wal, 
Of  alabastre  whyt  and  reed  coral 
An  oratorie  riche  for  to  see, 
In  worship  of  Dyane  of  chastitee, 
Hath  Theseus  don  wroght  in  noble  wvse. 

But  yet  hadde  I  foryeten  10  to  devyse 
The  noble  kerving,  and  the  portreitnres, 
The  shap,  the  countenaunce,  and  the  figures, 
That  we  re  11  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;  u 
The  sacred  tares,  and  the  waymentiug;12 
The  fyry  strokes  of  the  desiring 
That  loves  servaunts  in  this  lyf  endr.ren; 
The  othes,  that  hir  covenants  assuren; 
Plesaunce  and   Hope,    Desyr,  Fool-hardi- 

nesse, 

Beautee  and  Youthe,  Bauderie.13  Richrsse, 
Charmes  and  Force,  Lesingesr14  Flaterye, 
Dispense,  Bisynesse,  and  .Jelousye,          1070 
That  wered  of  yelwe  goldes  16  a  gerland, 
And  a  cokkow  .sitting  on  hir  hand; 
Festes,  instruments,  caroles,  daunces, 
Lust  and  Array,  and  alle  the  circumstannces 
Of  love,  whiche  that  I  rekne  and  rekne  shal, 
By  ordre  weren  peynted  on  the  wal, 
And  mo  16  than  I  can  make  of  mencioun. 
For  soothly,  al  the  mount  of  Citheroun, 
Ther  Venus  hath  hir  principal  dwelling, 
Was  shewed  on  the  wal  in  portreying,    1080 

•  arithmetic.        7  caused  to  be  made.  8  load. 

•  turret.  10  Subjunctive,  "  I  nearly  forgot." 
"  cruel  sighs.       ls  lamentation.       13  lechery. 

«  lyings.  »  marigolds.          »  more. 


n8 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


With  al  the  gardin,  and  the  lustinesse. 

Nat  was  foryeten  the  porter  Ydelnesse, 

Ne  Narcisus  the  faire  of  yore  agon, 

Ne  yet  the  folye  of  king  Salamon, 

Ne  yet  the  grete  strengths  of  Hercules  — 

Th'enchauutements  of  Medea  and  Circes  — 

Ne  of  Turnus,  with  the  hardy  tiers  corage, 

The  riche  Cresus,  caytif  in  st-rvage. 

Thus  may  ye  seen  that  wisdom  ne  richesse, 

Beautee  ne  sleighte,  strengche,  ne  hardi- 

iit-ssc,  1090 

Ne  may  with  Venus  holde  champartye;1 
For  as  hir  list  the  world  than  may  she  gye. 
Lo,  alle  thise  folk  so  caught  were  in  hir 

las, 

Til  they  for  wo  ftil  ofte  seyde  'alias! ' 
Suffyceth  heer  ensamples  oon  or  two, 
And  though  I  coude  rekue  a  thousand  mo. 
The  statue  of  Venus,  glorious  for  to  see, 
Was  naked  fleting  in  the  large  see, 
And  fro  the  navele  douu  all  covered  was 
With  wawes 2  grene,  and   brighte  as  any 

glas.  i  ioo 

A  citole  8  in  hir  right  hand  hadde  she, 
And  on  hir  heed,  f  ul  seniely  for  to  see, 
A  rose  gerland,  fresh  and  wel  smellinge; 
Above  hir  heed  hir  dovvves  flikeriuge. 
Biforn  hir  stood  hir  sone  Cupido, 
Up-on  his  shuldres  winges  hadde  he  two; 
And  blind  he  was,  as  it  is  ofte  sene; 
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  4  of  the  grisly  place 
That  highte  the  grete  temple  of  Mars  in 

Trace, 

In  thilke  colde  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  knarry6  bareyn  trees  olde 
Of    stubbes    sharpe    and     hidous    to    bi- 

holde ;  1120 

In  which  ther  ran  a  rumbel  and  a  swough,6 
As  though  a  storm  sholde  bresten7  every 

bough  : 

i  equality,  rivalry.         *  waves.         *  a  sort  of  harp. 
*  interior.  '  gnarled.         •  soughing,  murmur. 

i  break. 


And  downward  from  an  hille,  under  a  bente,8 

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  ther-out  cam  a  rage  and  such  a  vese,9 

That  it  made  al  the  gates  for  to  rese.10 

The  northren  light  in  at  the  dores  shoon, 

For  windowe  on  the  wal  ne  was  ther 
noon,  1 130 

Thurgh  which  men  mighten  any  light  dis- 
cerne. 

The  dores  were  alle  of  adamant  eterne, 

Y-clenched  overthwart  and  endelong  u 

With  iren  tough;  and,  for  to  make  it  strong, 

Every  piler,  the  temple  to  sustene, 

Was  tonne-greet,12  of  ireu  bright  and  shene. 
Ther  saugh  I  first  the  derk«  imagining 

Of  felonye,  and  al  the  compassing; 

The  cruel  Ire,  reed  as  any  glede; 13         1139 

The  pykepurs,  and  eek  the  pale  Urede; 

The  smyler  with  tho  knyf  under  the  cloke; 

The  sliepne14  brenning  with  the  blake  smoke; 

The  treson  of  the  mordring  in  the  bedde; 

The  open  werre,  with  woundes  al  bibledde; 

Contek,15with  blody  knyf  and  sharp  manace; 

Al  ful  of  chirking 16  was  that  sory  place. 

The  sleere  of  him-self  yet  saugh  I  ther, 

His  herte-blood  hath  bathed  al  his  heer; 

The  nayl  y-d  riven  in  the  shode  17  a-night; 

The  colde  deeth,  with  mouth  gaping  up 
right.  1150 

Amiddes  of  the  temple  sat  Meschaunce, 

With  disconfort  and  sory  contenaunce. 

Yet  saugh  I  Woodnesse 18  laughing  in  his 
rage; 

Armed  Compleint,  Out-hees,19  and  fiers  Out 
rage. 

The  careyne 20  in  the  bush,  with  throte 
y-corve : 21 

A  thousand  slayn,  and  nat  of  qualm22 
y-storve ; 23 

The  tirmmt,  with  the  prey  by  force  y-raft; 

The  toun  destroyed,  ther  was  no-thing  lat't. 

Yet  saugh  I  brent  the  shippes  hoppesteres; 24 

The  hunte25  stranglod  with  26  the  wilde  beres ; 

The  sowe  freten27  the  child  right  in  the 
cradel;  n6i 

The  cook  y-scalded,  for  al  his  longe  ladel. 

s  grassy  slope.       9  gust.       i"  shake.  »  crosswise 

and  longwise.           1J  thick  as  a  barrel.  »  hot  coal. 

i*  barn.          i5  Strife.         is  creaking.  "  parting  of 

the  hair.          «  Madness.          «  Alarm.  20  carrion. 

Ji  cut.                «  plague.          M  dead.  *4  dancing. 
*6  hunter.        2*  by.        2'  devour. 


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  Martes  divisiouu,1 
The  bcir hour,  and  the  bocher,  and  the  smith 
That  forgeth  sharpe  swerdes  on  his  stith.2 
And  al  above,  depeynted  in  a  tour,          1169 
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  Autonius; 
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. 
Suft'yceth  oon  ensample  in  stories  olde, 
I  may  not  rekue  hem  alle,  thogh  I  wolde. 

The  statue  of  Mars  up-on  a  carte  8  stood, 
Armed,  and  loked  grim  as  he  were  wood; 
And  over  his  heed  ther  sliynen  two  figures 
Of  sterres,  that  been  cleped  4  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  6  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  shamfnst  chastitee. 
Ther  sangh  I  how  woful  Calistopee,6 
Whan  that  Diane  agreved  was  with  here, 
Was  turned  from  a  womman  til  a  bere,      1200 
And  after  was  she  maad  the  lode-sterre; 
Thus  was  it  peynt,  I  can  say  yow  no  ferre;7 
Hir  sone  is  eek  a  sterre,  as  men  may  see. 
Ther  saugh  I  Dane,8  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  saugh  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.      *  anvil.      s  chariot. 

4  termed.   The  reference  here  is  to  figures  in  geomancy. 

See  Skeat's  note.    6  honouring.    •  Callisto.     7  further. 

s  Daphne. 


Yet  peynted  was  a  litel  forther-moor,9 
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  hye  sect, 
With  sinale  houndes  al  aboute  hir  feet; 
And  undernethe  hir  feet  she  hndde  a  mono, 
Wexing  it  was,  and  sholde  wanie  sone.  1220 
In  gaude10  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  best  of 

alle.' 

Wei  couthe  he  peynten  lyfly  that  it  wroghte, 
With  many  a  florin  he  the  hewes  bogl.te.  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  doou,    him    lyked    wonder 

wel.n 

But  stinte  I  wol  of  Theseus  a  lyte, 
And  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcite. 

The  day  approcheth  of  hir  retourninge, 
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  hond, 
As  fer  as  God  hath  maked  see  or  lond, 
Nas,  of  so  fewe,  so  noble  a  compame. 
For  every  wight  that  lovede  chivalrye, 
And  wolde,  his  thankes,12  han  a  passant 18 

name, 
Hath  preyed  that  he  mighte  ben  of  that 

game;  1250 

And  wel  was  him,  that  ther-to  chosen  was. 
For  if  ther  fille  to-morwe  swich  a  cas, 
Ye  knowen  wel,  that  every  lusty  kuight, 
That  loveth  paramours,14  and  hath  his  might, 
Were  it  in  Engelond,  or  elles-where, 
They  wolde,  hir  thankes,  wilnen  to  be  there, 

•  further  on.         1°  dyed  with  weld.  "  he  waa 

wondrous  well  pleased.        "  of  his  own  free  wilL 
«  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 ; 
Soni  wol  ben  armed  in  an  habergeoun,1  1261 
In  a  brest-plat  and  in  a  light  gipoun ; 2 
And   somme    wolu    have    a  peyre  plates  8 

large; 
And  somme  worn  have  a  Pruce  4  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  opiuioun. 

Ther   maistow  seen  coining  with    Pala- 

moun  1270 

Ligurge  him-self,  the  grete  king  of  Tiac--; 
Blak  was  his  berd,  and  manly  was  his  face. 
The  cercles  of  his  eyeii  in  his  heed, 
They  gloweden  bitwixe  yelow  and  reed: 
And  lyk  a  griffon  loked  he  aboute, 
With  kenipe  6  heres  on  his  browes  s^oute; 
His   limes  grete,    his    braunes   harde   and 

stronge, 
His  shuldres  brode,  his  armes  rounde  and 

longe. 

And  as  the  gyse  was  in  his  con  tree, 
Ful  hye  up-on  a  char  6  of  gold  stood  he,  1280 
With  foure  whyte  boles  7  in  the  trays. 
In-stede  of  cote-arm ure  over  his  harnays, 
Witli  navies  yelwe  and  brighte  as  any  gold, 
He  hadde  a  beres  skin,  col-blak,  for-old,8 
His  longe  heer  waskembd9  bihinde  his  Ivik, 
As  any  ravenes  f ether  it  shoon  for-blak: 10 
A  wrethe  of  gold  arm-greet,  of  huge  wightc, 
Upon  his  heed,  set  ful  of  stones  brighte, 
Of  fyne  rubies  and  of  dyamannts. 
Aboute     his     char     ther    wenteu     whyte 

alaunts,11  1290 

Twenty  and  mo,  as  grete  as  any  steer, 
To  hunten  at  the  leoun  or  the  cUfV, 
And    folwed     him,    with     mosel12     faste 

y-bounde, 

Colers18  of  gold,  and  torets14  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, 
Tlie  grete  Emetreus,  the  king  of  Inde, 

i  hauberk,  coat  of  mail.  *  tunic  or  surcoat.  *  for 
breast  and  back.  4  Prussian.  6  shaggy.  •  chariot. 
i  bulls.  8  very  old.  •  combed  ;  cf.  tm-kempt. 

"  very  black.     "  wolf-hounds.    1Z  muzzle.    "  collars, 
i*  swivel-rings. 


Up-on  a  stede  bay,  trapped  in  steel, 
Covered  in  cloth  of  gold  diapred  15  weel,  1300 
Cam  ryding  lyk  the  god  of  armes,  Mars. 
His  cote-arm  ure  16  was  of  cloth  of  Tars,17 
Couched 18  with  perles  whyte  and  rounde 

and  grete. 

His  sadel  was  of  brend 19  gold  newe  y-bete ; 20 
A  mantelet  upon  his  shuldre  hangiuge 
Bret-ful21   of   rubies   rede,   as  fyr  spark- 

linge. 

His  crispe  *2  heer  lyk  ringes  was  y-ronne, 
Aud  that  was  yelow,  and  glitered  as  the 

sonne. 

His  nose  was  heigh,  his  eyen  bright  citryn,28 
His  lippes  rounde,  his  colour  was  sangwyn, 
A  fewe  fraknes  24  in  his  face  y-spreynd,25  13  u 
Betwixen  yelow  and  somdel  blak  y-meynd,26 
And  as  a  leoun  he  his  loking  caste. 
Of  fyve  and  twenty  yeer  his  age  I  caste. 
His  berd  was  wel  bigonne  for  to  springe; 
His  voys  was  as  a  trompe  thuuderinge. 
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,27 
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  this  noble  companye, 
For  love  and  for  encrees  of  chivalrye. 
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  pry  me,28  and  in  the  toun  \\  light. 
This    Theseus,    this    duk,   this    worthy 

knight, 

Whan  he  had  broght  hem  in-to  his  citee, 
And  inned29  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  amenden  it. 
The  min stral eye,  the  service  at  the  fe-te, 
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,30 

15  diapered,  patterned.  w  over-tunic  bearing  the 
coat-of-arms.  17  oriental  silk.  18  adorned.  i»  bur 
nished.  20  embossed,  wrought.  21  brim-full,  thick 
set.  22  curly.  23  greeu-yellow.  24  freckles, 
zs  scattered.  *«  mingled.  -1  disport.  M  the 
early  part  of  the  morning.  >9  lodged.  3U  dais. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


121 


What  ladies  fairest  been  or  bestdauusinge, 
Or  which  of  hein  can  daimcen  best  SUM!  singe, 
Ne  who  most  fe.lingly  speketli  of  Jove: 
What  liaukes  sitten  on  the  perche  above, 
What  houndes  liggen  on  the  floor  adoun: 
Of  al  this  make  I  now  no  mencioun; 
But  al  tli' effect,1  that  thinketh  me  the  beste; 
Now   comth    the    poyut,  and    herkneth  if 

yow  leste.  1350 

The   Soriday   night,    er    day    bigau    to 

springe, 

When  Palamon  the  larke  herde  singe, 
Altliough  it  nere  nat  day  by  houivs  two, 
Yt'f,  song  the  larke,  and  Palamon  also. 
With  holy  herte,  and  with  an  heigli  corage 
He  roos,  to  wenden  on  his  pilgrimage 
Un-to  the  blisM  Citherea  beiiigne, 
I  mene  Venus,  honui-able  and  digue.2 
And  in  hir  houre  3  he  walketh  forth  a  pas 
Un-to  the  listes,  ther  hir  temple  was,      1360 
And  doun   he   kneleth,  and    with    humble 

chere 

And  herto  soor,  he  seyde  as  ye  slml  here. 
*  Faireste  of  faire,  o  lady  myn,  Venus. 
Doughter  to  Jove  and  spouse  of  Vulcanus, 
Thou  glader  of  the  mount  of  Citheronn, 
For  thilke  love  thou  haddest  to  Adouu,4 
Have  pitee  of  my  bittre  teres  smerie, 
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  bi  wreye; 6 
I  am  so  confus,  that  I  can  nojiht  seye. 
But  mercy,  lady  bright,  that  knowest  weel 
My  thought,  and  seest  what  harmes  that  I 

feel, 

Consklere  al  this,  and  rewe  up-ou  my  sore, 
As  wisly  6  as  1  shal  for  evermore, 
Emforth7  my  might,  thy  trewe  servant  be, 
And  holden  werre  alwey  with  cbaslitee; 
That  make  I  myn  avow,  so  ye  Die  helpe. 
I  kepe  noght  of  armes  for  to  yelpe.s       1380 
Ne  I  ne  axe  nat  to-morwe  to  have  victorie, 
Ne  renoun  in  this  cas,  ne  veyne  glorie 
Of  pris9  of  armes  blowen  up  and  doun, 
But  1  wolde  have  fully  possessioun 
Of  Emelye,  and  dye  in  thy  servyse; 
Find  thou  the  mauer  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  ladv  in  mviie  jirmes.   1389 
For  though  so  be  that  Mars  is  god  of  armes, 
1  to  the  main  matter.  2  worthy. 

1  Each  planet  had  its  potent  hour  in  the  dny. 
•  A^onie.  6  re"eal.  «  eertairly. 

7  According  to.        »  care  uot  to  boast.        9  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,  wher  I  ryde  or  go,10 
I  wol  don  sacrifice,  and  fyres  bete.11 
And  if  ye  wol  nat  so,  my  lady  swete, 
Than  preye  I  thee,  to-morwe  with  a  spere 
That  Arcita  me  thurgh  the  herte  bere. 
Thanne  rekke  I  noght,  whan  1  have  lost 

my  lyf,  i399 

Though  that  Arcita  winne  hir  to  his  wyf. 
This  is  th'effect  and  ende  of  my  pre}Tere, 
Yif  me  my  love,  thou  blisful  ladv  dere.' 

Whan  th'oiisonn  was  doon  of  Palamon, 
His  sacrifice  he  dide,  and  that  anon 
Ful  pitously,  with  alle  circumstaunces, 
Al  telle  I  noght  as  now  his  observances. 
But  *tte  laste  the  statue  of  Venus  shook, 
And  made  a  signe,  wher-by  that  he  took 
That  his  prey  ere  accepted  was  that  day. 
For  thogh  the  signe  shewed  a  delay,       1410 
Yet  wi^.te   he  wel  that  graunted  was   his 

bone; 
And  with  glad  herte  he  wente  him  hoom 

ful  sone. 

The  thridde  houre  inequal  that  Palamon 
Pigan  to  Venus  temple  for  to  goon, 
Up  roos  the  sonne,  arid  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  sacrifyce  longen 12  shal ;        1420 
The  homes  fulle  of  meth,13  as  was  the  gyse; 
Ther  lakked  noght  to  doon  hir  saerifyse. 
Smoking  the  temple,  ful  of  clothes  faire, 
This  Kmelye,  with  herte  debonaire, 
Hir  body  wessh  with  water  of  a  welle; 
But  how  she  dide  hir  ryte  I  dar  nat  telle, 
P>ut  it  be  any  thing  in  general; 
And  yet  it  were  a  game  to  beren  al; 
To    him    that    meneth    wel,    it    were    no 

charge : 14 

Put  it  is  good  a  man  ben  at  his  large.13  1430 
Hir  biiglite  heer  was  kempt,  untressed  al; 
A  coromie  of  a  grene  ook  cerial 16 
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,17  and  thise  bokes  olde. 
Whan  kindled  was  the  fyr,  with  pitous  chere 
Un-to  Diane  she  spak,  as  ye  may  here. 

10  whether  I  rHo  r»r  walk.  "  kindle.  >z  bplonff. 
13  mp.ad.  14  no  affliction.  1R  be  f«<«  (to  tell  orn;»t). 
«  a  kind  of  oak.  "  i.e.  in  the  Tfiebuiad  of  Sta'diiB. 


122 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


'  O  chaste  goddesse  of  the  wodes  grene, 

To  whom  bothe  heven  and  erthe  and  see  is 

sene,1  1440 

Quene  of  the  regne  of  Pinto  derk  and  lowe, 

Goddesse  of  may  dens,  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  2  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. 
No\v  help  me,  lady,  sith  ye  may  and  can, 
For  tho  thre  formes  8  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  bitwixe  hem  two; 
And  fro  me  turne  awey  hir  hertes  so,        1460 
That  al  hir  hote  love,  and  hir  desyr, 
And  al  hir  bisy  torment,  and  hir  fyr 
Be  queynt,4  or  turned  in  another  place; 
And  if  so  be  thou  wolt  not  do  me  grace, 
Or  if  my  destinee  be  bhapen  so, 
That  1  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  ehekes  falle. 
Siu thouare  mayde,and  keperof  ns  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  auter  clere, 
Whyl  Emelye  was  thus  in  hir  preyere; 
But  sodeinly  she  saugh  a  sighte  queynte, 
For  right  anon  oon  of  the  fyres  queynte,6 
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   hip  bren- 
ninge,  1480 

And  at  the  brondes  ende  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  crye, 

*  visible.  »  paid  for,  suffered  for. 
»  Diana,  Luna,  and  Proserpina.  Cf.  1.  1440. 

*  quencJUfiU  (p.p.).  *  quenched  (past  tense). 


For  she  ne  wiste  what  it  signify ed; 

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    Levi- 

nesse.  1490 

Among  the  goddes  hye  it  is  affermed, 
And  by  eterne  word  write  and  coiifermed, 
Thou  shalt  ben  wedded  un-to  oon  of  tho 
That  han  for  thee  so  muchel  care  and  wo; 
But  un-to  which  of  hem  I  may  nat  telle. 
Farwel,  for  I  ne  may  no  lenger  dwells. 
The  fyres  which  that  on  myn  auter  brenne 
Shul  thee  declaren,  er  that  thou  go  henne,6 
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 
I  putte  me  in  thy  protection  u, 
Diane,  and  in  thy  disposicioun.' 
And  hoom  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  fierse  Mars,  to  doon  his  sacrifyse, 
With  alle  the  rytes  of  his  payeii  wyse. 
With  pitous  herte  and  heigh  devocioun, 
Right  thus  to  Mars  he  seyde  his  orisoun: 

1  O  stronge  god,  that  in  the  regnes  colde 
Of  Trace  honoured  art,  and  lord  y-holde, 
And  hast  in  every  regne  and  every  loud 
Of  armes  al  the  brydel  in  thyn  hond, 
And  hem  fortunest  as  thee  listdevyse, 
Accept  of  me  my  pitous  sacrii'yse.  1520 

If  so  be  that  my  you  the  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  uji-on  my  pyne. 
For  thilke  peyne,  and  thilke  hote  fyr, 
In  which  thou  whylom  brendest  for  desyr, 
Whan  that  thou  usedest  the  grete  beautee 
Of  fayre  yonge  fresshe  Venus  free, 
And  haddest  hir  in  armes  at  thy  wille, 
Al-thoup-h  thee  ones  on  a  tyme  misfille  7  1530 
Whan  Vulcanus  had  caught  thee  in  his  las,8 
And  fond  thee  ligging9  by  his  wyf,  alias! 
For  thilke  sorwe  that  was  iu  thyn  herte, 
Have  routhe  as  wel  up-oii  my  peynes  smerte. 


•  hence. 
«  lace,  net. 


i  you  once  had  bad  luck. 
9  lying. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


123 


I  am  yong  and  unkonning,1  as  thon  wost, 
And,  as  I  trowe,  with  love  offended  most, 
That  ever  was  any  lyves2  creature; 
For  she,  that  dooth  3  me  al  this  wo  endure, 
Ne  reccheth  never  wher  I  sinke  or  fiete  4 
And    wel     I    woot,    er     she     me    mercy 

hete,5  1540 

I  moot6  with  strengthe  winne  hir  in   the 

place; 

And  wel  I  woot,  withouten  help  or  grace 
Of  thee,  ne  may  my  strengthe  nog  lit  availle. 
Than  help  me,  lord,  to-morwein  my  batuille, 
For  thilke  fyr  that  why  loin  breute  thee, 
As  wel  as  thilke  fyr  now  brenneth  me; 
And  do  that  I  to-morwe  have  victorie. 
Myn   be    the    travaille,   and   thyn   be    the 

glorie ! 

Thy  soverein  temple  wol  I  most  honouren 
Of  any  place,  and  alwey  most  labonren    1550 
In  thy  plesaunce  and  in  thy  craf  t«  s  stronge, 
And  in  thy  temple  1  wol  my  baner  honge, 
And  alle  the  arines  of  my  companve; 
And  evere-mo,  un-to  that  day  I  dye, 
Eterne  fyr  I  wol  biforn  thee  finde. 
And  eek  to  this  avow  I  wol  me  binder 
My   herd,   myn    beer   that    hongeth    long 

adoun, 

That  never  yet  ne  felte  offensionn 
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,  iS6r 

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  fnl  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  np-yaf, 
And  Arcita  anon  his  hand  np-haf,7  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  munnur- 

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  un-to  his  inne  is  fare, 

i  unknowing.          «  live.         »  causes.         *  float. 
•  promise.  •  must.  *  up-heaved. 


As  fayn  as  fowel  is  of  the  brighte  sonne. 
And  right  anon  swich  stryf  ther  is  bi- 
gonne  i58o 

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  aveutures  olde, 
Fond  in  his  olde  experience  an  art, 
That  he  ful  sone  hath  plesed  every  part. 
As  sooth  is  sayd,  elde8  hath  greet  avantage; 
In  elde  is  botlie  wisdom  and  usage;         1590 
Men  may  the  olde  at-renne,  and  noght  at- 

rede.9 

Satnrne  anon,  to  stinten  stryf  and  drede, 
A 1  be  it  that  it  is  agayn  his  kynde, 
Of  al  this  stryf  he  gan  reined ie  fynde. 

'My  dere  doghter  Venus,'  quod  Saturne, 
'  My  cours,  that  hath  so  wyde  for  to  turne,10 
Hath  more  power  than  wot  any  man. 
Myn  is  the  drenching11  in  the  see  so  wan; 
Myn  is  the  prison  in  the  derke  cote;12 
Myn  is  the  strangling  and  hanging  by  the 
throte;  ,600 

The  nmrmure,  and  the  cherles  rebelling, 
The  groyning,18  and  the  pryvee  empoyson- 

ing: 

I  do  vengeance  and  pleyn  correccioun 
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,14 
The  derke  tresons,  and  the  castes  15  olde; 
My  loking  is  the  fader  of  pestilence.       i6u 
Now  weep  namore,  I  shal  doon  diligence 
That  Palamon,  that  is  thyn  owne  knight, 
Shal  have  his  lady,  as  thou  hast  him  liight.18 
Though  Mars  shal  helpe  his  knight,  yet 

nathelees 

Bitwixe  yow  ther  moot  be  som  tyme  pees, 
Al  be  ye  noght  of  o  complexioun,17 
That  causeth  al  day  swich  divisioun. 
I  am  thin  ayel,18  redy  at  thy  wille ; 
Weep  thou   namore,  I  wol  thy  lust  ful 
filled  I620 
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  out-wit.  ">  has  a  large 
orbit.  11  drowning.  12  out-building,  is  grumbling. 
"  sinister.  «  tricks.  "  promised.  "  disposition, 
is  grandfather. 


124 


GEOFFREY    CHAUCER 


Explicit  tercia  pars. 
Sequitur  pars  yuarta. 

Greet  was  the  feste  in  Atbeues  that  da^y, 
And  eek  the  lusty  seson  of  that  May 
Made  every  wight  to  been  in  swich  ple- 

sauuce, 
That   al    that   Monday  justen    they   and 

daunce, 

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,  whau  that  day  gan 

springe, 

Of  hors  and  harneys,  noyse  and  clateringe 
Ther  was  in  hostelryes  al  aboute; 
And  to  the  paleys  rood  tlier  many  a  route 
Of  lordes,  up-ou  stedes  and  palfreys. 
Ther  maystow  seen  devysing  of  herneys 
So  uncouth l  and  so  riche,  and  wroght  so 

weel  1639 

Of  goldsrnithrie,  of  browding,2  and  of  steel; 
The   sheeldes   brighte,  testers,8  and   trap- 

pures;  4 
Gold-hewen    helmes,    hauberks,    cote-ar- 

mures ; 

Lordes  in  paraments  6  on  hir  conrseres, 
Kuightes  of  retenue,  and  eek  squyeres 
Nailinge  6  the  speres,  and  helmes  bokelinge, 
Giggiuge  7  of  sheeldes,  with  layneres 8  lae- 

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  prikinge9   to   and 

fro ;  1650 

Yemen 10  on  fote,  and  communes  many  oon 
With  shorte  staves,  thikke  as  they  may 

goon; 

Pypes,  trompes,  nakers,11  clariounes, 
That  in  the  bataille  bio  wen  blody  sounes; 
The  pnleys  ful  of  peples  up  and  donn, 
Heer  three,  ther  ten,  holding  hir  questioun, 
Divyninge  of  thise  Theban  knightes  two. 
Soinme  seyden  thus,  somme  seyde  it  shal 

be  so; 
Somme   helden  with  him  with  the  blake 

bard, 
Somme  with  the  balled,12  somme  with  the 

thikke-herd ;  13  1660 

i  strange,  rare.  *  embroidery.  *  head-pieces  for 
man  or  steed.  4  trappings.  6  rich  robos.  «  fitting 
the  heads?  7  fitting  the  friges  or  straps  within.  8  lan 
yards,  thongs.  •  spurring,  hurrying.  10  Yeoman. 
11  kettle-drums.  12  bald.  »  thick-haired. 


Somme  sayde,  he  loked  grim  and  he  u  olde 

fighte; 
He   hath   a  sparth14   of  twenty  pound  of 

wighte. 

Thus  was  the  halle  ful  of  divyiiinge, 
Longe  after  that  the  sonue  gan  to  springe. 
Ttie   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  The  bane  knightes,  bothe  y- 

liche  15 

Honoured,  were  into  the  paleys  fet.16 
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,17 
Til  al  the  noyse  of  peple  was  y-d<>; 
And  whan  he  saugh  the  peple  of  noyse  al 

stille, 
Tho  showed  he  the  mighty  dukes  wille. 

'  The  lord  hath  of  his  heigh  discrecioun 
Considered,  that  it  were  destruccioun     1680 
To  gentil  blood,  to  fighten  in  the  gyse 
Of  mortal  bataille  now  in  this  empryse; 
Wherfore,  to   shapen  that   they  shul  not 

dye, 

He  wol  his  firste  purpos  modifye. 
No  man  therfor,  up  18  peyne  of  los  of  lyf, 
No  inaner  shot,19  ne  pollax,20  ne  short  knyf 
Into  the  listes  sende,  or  thider  bringe; 
Ne  short  swerd  for  to  stoke,21  with  poynt 

bytinge, 

No  man  ne  drawe,  ne  bere  it  by  hi-?  syde. 
Ne  no  man  shal  un-to  his  felawe  ryde     1690 
But  o  cours,  with  a  sharp  y-grounde  spere; 
Foyne,8*  if   him  list,  on   fote,  him-self  to 

were.28 

And  he  that  is  at  meschief,  shal  be  take, 
And  noght  slayn,  but  be  broght  un-to  the 

stake 

That  shal  ben  ordeyned  on  either  syde; 
But  thider  he  shal  by  force,  and  ther  abyde. 
And  if  so  falle,  the  chieftayn  be  take 
On  either  syde,  or  elles  slee  his  make,24 
No  lenger  shal  the  turneyinge  laste. 
God   spede  yow;   goth   forth,  and  ley  on 

faste.  1700 

»  battle-axe.         «  alike.         «  fetched.         "  cry. 

18  upon.  19  shooting  weapon,  such  as  a  crossbow. 

*°  polo-axe.       J1  stab.       2*  fence,  ward.       **  defend. 

»  fellow,  i.e.  rival. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


I25 


With,  long  swerd  aud  with  maces  fight  your 

fille. 
Goth  now  your  wey ;  this  is  the  lordes  wille.' 

The  voys  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  destruccioun  of  blood! ' 
Up  goon  the  trompes  and  the  rnelodye. 
And  to  the  listes  rit1  the  cornpanye 
By  ordinaunce,  thurgh-out  the  citee  large, 
Hanged  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  nat  with 

sarge.2  1710 

Ful  lyk  a  lord  this  noble  dnk  gan  ryde, 
Thise  two  Thebanes  up-on  either  syde; 
And  after  rood  the  queue,  and  Emelye, 
And  after  that  another  companye 
Of  oon  and  other,  after  hir  degree. 
And  thus  they  passen  thurgh-out  the  citee, 
And  to  the  listes  come  they  by  tyme. 
It  nas  not  of  the  day  yet  fully  pryme,8 
Whan  set  was  Theseus  ful  riche  and  hye, 
Ipolita  the  queue  and  Emelye,  1720 

And  other  ladies  in  degrees  4  aboute. 
Un-to  the  seetes  preesseth  al  the  route. 
And   west-ward,   thtirgh  the   gates  under 

Marte, 

Arcite,  and  eek  the  hundred  of  his  parte, 
With  baner  reed  is  entred  right  anon; 
And  in  that  selve6  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  variaeioun,  1730 

Ther  nere  swiche  companies  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  renges6  faire  they  hem  dresse. 
Whan  that  hir  names  rad  were  everichoon, 
That  in  hir  nombre  gyle  were  ther  noon, 
Tho  were  the  gates  shet,  and  cryed  was  loude : 
'  Do    now    your    devoir,    yonge    knightes 

proude!'  1740 

The  heraudes  lefte  hir  priking  up  and 

doun; 

Now  ringeii  trompes  londe  and  clarioun; 
Ther  is  namore  to  seyn,  but  west  and  est 
In  goon  the  speres  ful  sadly  in  arest;7 
In  goth  the  sharpe  spore  in-to  the  syde. 
Ther  seen  men  who  can  juste,  and  who  can 

ryde; 

1  rideth.  •  coarse  cloth.  *  mid-morn. 

*  tif.rs.  5  very.  «  ranks. 

*  The  spears  wore  lowered  firmly  into  the  rest. 


Thershiveren  shaftes  up-on  sheeldes  thikke; 
He    feleth    thurgh    the   herte-spooii s  the 

prikke.  1748 

Up  springen  speres  twenty  foot  on  higLte; 
Out  goon  the  swerdes  as  the  silver  lirighte. 
The  helmes  they  to-hewen  and  to-shrede; 
Out  brest  the   blood,  with  sterne  stremes 

rede. 
With   mighty   maces    the   bones   they   to- 

breste.9 
He  thurgh  the  thikkeste  of  the  throng  gau 

threste,10 
Ther  stomblen  stedes  stronge,  and  doun 

goth  al. 

He  rolleth  under  foot  as  dooth  a  bal. 
He  foyneth  on  his  feet  with  his  tronchoun,11 
And  he  him  hurtleth  with  his  hors  adoun. 
He   thurgh   the   body  is  hurt,  and  sithen 

y-take, 
Maugree  his  heed,  and  broght  un-to  the 

stake ;  1760 

As  forward 12  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  lestc. 
Ful  ofte  a-day  ban  thise  Thebanes  two 
Togidre  y-met,  and  wroght  his  felawe  wo; 
Unhorsed  hath  ecb  other  of  hem  tweye. 
Ther  nas  no  tygre  in  the  vale  of  Galgo- 

pheye, 
Whan  that  hir  whelp  is  stole,  whan  it  is 

lyte" 

80  cruel  on  the  hunte, 14  as  is  Arcite       i7:o 
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  red?. 

Som  tyme  an  ende  ther  is  of  every  dede; 
For  er  the  sonne  un-to  the  reste  wente,  1779 
The  stronge  king  Emetreus  gan  hetite15 
This  Palamon,  as  he  f aught  with  Areite, 
And  made  his  swerd  depe  in  his  flesh  to 

byte; 

And  by  the  force  of  twenty  is  he  take 
Uny olden,16  and  y-drawe  unto  the  stake. 
And  in  the  rescous  17  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  lengths, 

8  breast,  brisket.          '  smash.  10  thrust. 

11  defends  himself  with  his  broken  lance-b'-.tt. 
«  agreement.  i3  littlp.  "  hunter. 

«  sieze.  «  unyielding.        »  rescue. 


126 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


So  hitte  him  Palamon  er  he  were  take; 
But   al   for  noght,  lie  was    broght  to  the 

stake.  1790 

His  hardy  herte  mighte  him  helpe  naught; 
He  inoste  abyde,  whan  that  he  was  caught, 
By  force,  and  eek  by  composicioun.1 

Who  sorweth  now  but  woful  Palamoun, 
That  moot  namore  goon  agayn  to  fighte  ? 
And  whan  that  Theseus  had  seyn  this  sighte, 
Un-to  the  folk  that  foghten  thus  echoou 
He  cryde,  '  Ho  !  namore,  for  it  is  doou  ! 
I  wol  be  trewe  juge,  and  no  partye. 
Arcite  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  quene 

of  love  ? 

But  wepeth  so,  for  wanting  of  hir  wille, 
Til  that  hir  teres  in  the  listes  fille; 
She  seyde:  'lam  ashamed,  doutelees.'    1809 
Saturnus  seyde:  '  Doghter,  hold  thy  pees. 
Mars  hath  his  wille,  his  knight  hath  al  his 

bone,2 

And,  by  myn  heed,  thou  shalt  ben  esed  sone.' 
Thetrompes,  with  the  loude  minstralcye, 
The  heraudes,  that  f  ul  loude  voile 3  and  crye, 
Been  in  hir  wele,4  for  joye  of  daun  6  Arcite. 
But  herkneth  me,  and  stinteth  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  endelong  the  large  place,     1820 
Loking  upward  up-on  this  Emelye; 
And  she  agayn  him  caste  a  freendlich  ye, 
(For  wommen,  as  to  speken  in  comune, 
They  f olwen  al  the  favour  of  fortune) ; 8 
And  was  al  his  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  turne, 
And  leep  asyde,  and  foundred  as  he  leep; 
And,  er  that  Arcite  may  taken  keep,      1830 
He  pighte  7  him  on  the  pomel 8  of  his  heed, 
That  in  the  place  he  lay  as  he  were  deed, 
His  brest  to-brosten9  with  his  sadel-bowe. 
As  blak  he  lay  as  any  cole  or  crowe, 
So  was  the  blood  y-ronnen  in  his  face. 
Anon  he  was  y-born  out  of  the  place 

-  agreement.      *  boon.      »  yell.      «  weal,  happiness. 
5  air.  s  Several  good  MSS.  omit  these  two  lines. 

•i  pitched.       e  top.       »  broken. 


With  herte  soor,  to  Theseus  paleys. 
Tho  was  he  corven 10  out  of  his  barneys, 
And  in  a  bed  y-brought  f  ul  faire  and  bly  ve,11 
For  he  was  yet  in  memorie 12  and  aly  ve,  1840 
And  alway  crying  after  Emelye. 

Duk  Theseus,  with  al  his  companye, 
Is  comen  hoom  to  Athenes  his  citee, 
With  alle  blisse  and  greet  solempnitee. 
Al  be  it  that  this  aventure  was  falle, 
He  nolde13  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  bresix 

boon.14 

To  othere  woundes,  and  to  broken  armes, 
Some    hadden   salves,   and    some   hadden 

charmes ; 

Fermacies 16  of  herbes,  and  eek  save  16 
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  Inn^e  night, 
Un-to  the  straunge  lordes,  as  was  right.  1860 
Ne  ther  was  holden  no  disconfitinge, 
But  as  a  justes  or  a  tourneyinge; 
For  soothly  ther  was  no  disco nnture, 
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    yemen    and    eek 

knaves,  1870 

It  nas  aretted 17  him  no  vileinye, 
Ther  mav  no  man  clepen  it  cowardye. 

For  which  anon  duk  Theseus  leet  crye, 
To  stinten  alle  rancour  and  envye, 
The  gree  18  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  feste  dayes  three; 
And  conveyed  the  kinges  worthily 
Out  of  his  tonn  a  journee 19  largely.        1880 
And   hoom  wente   every  man  the   righte 

way. 
Ther  was  namore,  but  '  far  wel,  have  good 

day  ! ' 

10  cut.       n  quickly.      12  conscious.       IS  would  not. 
n  Whose  breast  was  pierced.        1B  Prescriptions. 
i«  salvia,  sage.  »  imputed, 

w  standing,  superiority.  i»  day's  march., 


THE  CANTERBURY  TALES 


127 


Of  this  bataille  I  wol  namore  endyte, 
But  speke  of  Palamon  and  of  Arcite. 

Swelletli  the  brest  of  Arcite,  and  the  sore 
Enereesseth  at  his  herte  more  and  more. 
The  clothered  blood,  for  any  lechecraft,1 
Corrupteth,  and  is  in  his  houk  2  y-laft, 
That  neither  veyne-blood,3  lie  ventusinge,4 
Ne  driuke  of  herbes  may  ben  his  helpinge. 
The  vertu  expnlsif,  or  animal,  1891 

Fro  thilke  vertu  cleped  natural  5 
Ne  may  the  venim  voyden,  ne  expelle. 
The  pypes  of  his  longes  gonne  to  swelle, 
And  every  lacerte  6  in  his  brest  adoun 
Is  shent  7  with  venim  and  corrupcioun. 
Him  gayneth  8  neither,  for  to  gete  his  lyf, 
Vomyt  upward,  ne  dounward  laxatif ; 
Al  is  to-brosten  9  thilke  regioun, 
Nature  hath  now  no  dominacioun.  1900 

And  certeinly,  ther  nature  wol  nat  wirche, 
Far-wel,    phisyk !    go     ber    the    man    to 

chirche  ! 

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  wof  ul  spirit  in  myn 

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  suli'red,  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  colde  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  heer  with  my  cosin  Palamon 
Had  stryf  and  rancour,  many  a  day  a-gon, 
For  love  of  yow,  and  for  my  jelousye. 
And  Jupiter  so  wis  my  soule  gye,10 

1  clotted  blood,  in  spite  of  all  the  art  of  physicians. 

2  body,  trunk.         *  blood-letting.         4  cupping. 

5  Besides  the  animal  and  the  natural  virtues,  there 
.;as  a  third,  the  vital,  which  is  mentioned  in  1.  1944. 
c  muscle.  ?  ruined.  *  It  avails  him. 

r  completely  crushed. 
:c  As  surely  as  I  wish  Jupiter  to  guide  my  soul. 


To  speken  of  a  servant11  proprely, 

With  alle  circumstaunees  trewely,  i930 

That    is    to    seyn,    trouthe,    honour,   and 

kni^hthede, 
Wisdom,     hmnblesse,    estaat,    and    heigh 

kinreiie, 

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  failled  breeth. 
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  tellen  wher. 
Therfor  I  stinte,  I  nam  no  divinistre; 12 
Of  soules  finde  I  nat  in  this  registre, 
Ne  me  ne  list  thilke  opiniouns  to  telle 
Of  hem,  though  that  they  wryteu  wher  they 

dwelle. 

Arcite  is  cold,  ther  Mars  his  soule  gye; 18 
Now  wol  I  speken  forth  of  Emelye. 

Shrighte 14   Emelye,  and  howleth  Pala 
mon, 

And  Theseus  his  suster  took  anon  1960 

Swowninge,  and  bar  hir  fro  the  corps  away. 
What  helpeth  it  to  tarien  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,       i97o 
In  al  the  toun,  for  deeth  of  this  Theban; 
For  him  ther  wepeth  bothe  child  and  man; 
So  greet  a  we  ping  was  ther  noon,  certayn, 
Whan  Ector  was  y-broght,  al  fresh  y-slayn, 
»  lover.       "  diviner.       «  guide.       »  Shrieked. 


128 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


To  Trove;  alias  !  the  pitee  that  was  ther, 
Cracching 1  of  chekes,  rending  eek  of  heer. 
*  Why  woldestow  be  deed,'  thise  woiumen 

crye, 

«  And  haddest  gold  y-nongh,  and  Emelye? ' 
No  man  mighte  gladen  Theseus, 
Savinge  his  olde  fader  Egeus,  1980 

That  knew  this  worldes  traiismutacioun, 
As  he  had  seyn  it  chaungen  up  and  doun, 
Joye  after  wo,  and  wo  after  gladnesse: 
And  shewed  hem  ensamples  and  lyknesse. 
'  Right  as  ther  deyed  never  man,'  quod 

he, 

'That  he  ne  livede  in  erthe  in  som  degree, 
Ri->ht  so  ther  livede  never  man,'  he  seyde, 
'  In  al  this  world,  that  som  tyme  he  ne 

deyde. 

This  world  nis  but  a  thurghfare  ful  of  wo, 
And  we  ben  pilgrimes,  passinge  to  and 

fro;  1990 

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  sepulture2 
Of  good  Arcite  may  best  y-maked  be, 
And  eek  most  honurable  in  his  degree. 
And  at  the  laste  he  took  conclusioun,      1999 
That  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'ofnce 
Funeral  he  mighte  al  accomplice; 
And  leet   comaunde  anon  to   hakke    and 

hewe 

The  okes  olde,  and  leye  hem  on  a  rewe 
In  colpous3  wel  arrayed  for  to  brenne; 
His  officers  with  swifte  feet  they  renue 
Andryde  anon  at  his  comaundement.      2011 
And  after  this,  Theseus  hath  y-sent 
After  a  here,4  and  it  al  over-spradde 
With  cloth  of   gold,  the  richest   that   he 

hadde. 

And  of  the  same  suyte  5  he  cladde  Aroite ; 
Upon  his  hondes  hadde  he  gloves  whyte; 
Eek  on  his  heed  a  cronne  of  lanrer  grene, 
And  in  his  hond  a  swerd  ful  bright  and 

kene. 

»  Scratching. 

»  The  b'lrml  rites  which  follow  are  taken  largely 
fron-  the  Thebaiad  of  Statiua. 
»  piles.  «  bier. 


He  leyde  him,  bare  the  visage,  on  the  bere, 
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 

hallo, 
That  roieth  of  the  crying  and  the  soun. 

Tho  cam  this  woful  Thebau  Palamoun, 
With  flotery  6  herd,  and  ruggy  7  asshy  heres, 
In  clothes  blake,  y-dropped  al  with  teres; 
And,  passing  othere  of  weping,  Emelye, 
The  rewfulleste  of  al  the  companye. 
In  as  muehe  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  wereu  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  bowe  Tur 
keys, 
Of  brend  gold  was  the  cas,  and  eek  the 

harneys; 

And  rid  en  forth  a  pas  with  sorweful  chere 
Toward  the  grove,  as  ye  shul  after  here.  2040 
The  nobleste  of  the  Grekes  that  ther  were 
Upon  hir  shuldres  carieden  the  bere, 
With  slakke  pas,  and  eyen  rede  and  wete, 
Thurgh-out  the  citee,  by  the  maister-strete, 
That  sprad  was  al  with  blak,  and  wouder 

bye 

Right  of  the  same  is  al  the  str^te  y-wrye.8 
Up-on  the  right  hond  wente  old  Egeus, 
And  on  that  other  syde  duk  Theseus, 
With  vessels  in  hir  hand  of  gold  ful  fyn, 
Al  ful  of  hony,  milk,  and  blood,  and  \vyn ;  2050 
Eek  Palamon,  with  ful  gre^t  companye; 
And  after  that  cam  woiul  Emelye, 
With  fyr  in  honde,  as  was  that  tyme  the 


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,9 
And  twenty  fadme  of  brede  10  the  armes 

stranghte;11 

This  is  to  seyn,  th^  bowes  were  so  brode. 
Of  stree12  first  ther  was  leyd  ful  many  a 

lode.  2060 

But  how  the  fyr  was  maked  up  on  )>i<rhte, 
And  eek  the  names  how  the  trees  highte, 

«  flowing.        *  rough.         8  decked.        »  reached. 
"»  in  breadth.        »  stretched.        "  straw. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


129 


As    ook,    firre,    birch,    asp,    alder,    holm, 

popler, 
Wilow,  elm,  plane,  ash,  box,  chasteyn,1  liud, 

laurer, 
Mapul,  thorn,  beech,  hasel,  ew,  whippel-  2 

tree, 
How  they  weren  feld,  shal  nat  be  told  for 

me; 

Ne  how  the  goddes  ronnen  up  and  doim, 
Disherited  of  hir  habitacioun, 
In  which  they  woneden  iti  reste  and  pees, 
Nymphes,  Faunes,  and  Amadrides;8       2070 
Ne  how  the  bestes  and  the  briddes  alle 
Fledden  for  fere,  whan  the  vvode  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 4  first  with 

stree, 

And  than  with  drye  stokkes  cloven  a  three, 
And  than  with  grene  wode  and  spycerye, 
And   than   with   cloth   of   gold   and   with 

perry  e,5 
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 

faste; 
Ne  how   som   caste  hir6  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  th rye's  with  hir  speres  clateringe; 
And  thrye's  how  the  ladies  gonne  crye; 
Ne  how  that  lad  was  horn-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-pieyes,  ne  kepe  I  nat  to  seye; 


i  chestnut. 
«  laid. 


9  cornel. 
8  jewelry. 


J  Hamadryads. 
«  their. 


Whowrastleth  best  naked,  with  oilleenoynt, 
Ne  who  that  bar  him  best,  in  no  disjoynt.7 
I  wol  nat  tellen  eek  how  that  they  gobii 
Hoom  til  Athenes,  whan  the  pley  is  doon; 
But  shortly  to  the  poynt  than  wol  I  wende, 
And  inakeii  of  my  longe  tale  an  ende. 
By  processe  and  by  lengtne  of  certeyn 

yeres 

Al  stinted  is  the  incoming  ard  the  teres.  2110 
Of  Grekes,  by  oon  general  assent, 
Than  seined  me  ther  was  a  parlement 
At  Athenes,  up-on  certeyn  poyuts  and  cas; 
Among  the  whiche  poynts  y-spuken  was 
To  have  with  certeyn  contrees  alliaunce, 
And  have  fully  of  Thebans  obeisaunce. 
For  which  this  noble  Theseus  anon 
Leet  tendon  after  gentil  Pulatnon, 
Uiiwist  of  him  8  what   was  the  cause  and 

why; 

But  in  his  blake  clothes  sorwefully         2120 
He  cam  at  his  comaundemente  in  hye.9 
Tho  sente  Theseus  for  Emelye. 
Whan  they  were  set,  and  hust 10  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,11 
And  with  a  sad  visage  he  syked 12  stille, 
And  after  that  right  thus  he  seyde  his  wille. 
'  The  firste  moevere  of  the  cause  above,13 
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 

niente; 

For  with  that  faire  cheyne  of  love  he  bond 
The  fyr,  the  eyr,  the  water,  and  the  lond 
In  certeyn  boundes,  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  clay  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. 
7  failure.  8  He  being  ignorant.          9  haste. 

10  hushed.          "  pleasure.  12  sighed. 

13  The  p^ssanre  is  ivom  various  parts  of  thoDe  Conso- 
latione  Philosophiae  of  Boethius. 


130 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Wei  rnay  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  cantel 1  of  a  tiling,  2150 

But  of  a  thing  that  partit  is  and  stable, 
Descending  so,  til  it  be  corruinpable. 
And  therfore,  of  his  wyse  purveyauuce, 
He  hath  so  wel  biset  his  oidinauuce, 
That  speces  of  thinges  and  progressiouns 
Shullen  enduren  by  successiouns, 
And  nat  eterue  be,  with-oute  lye: 
This  maistow  understonde  and  seen  at  ye. 
1  Lo  the  ook,  that  hath  so  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 

stoou 
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  touues  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 
Ha   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,  algoth  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  prop  re  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  gruccheth2  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  gorle  name; 
Than  hath  he  doon  his  freeiid,  lie  him,  no 

shame. 


1  fragment. 


8  murmurs. 


And  gladder  oghte  his  freend  ben  of  his 

deeth, 

Whan  with  honour  up-yolden  is  his  breeth, 
Than  whan  his  name  apalled8  is  for  age; 
For  al  forgeten  is  his  vasselage.4 
Thau  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  grncchen    we  ?   why  have   we  hevi- 

nesse  3200 

That  good  Arcite,  of  chivalrye  flour, 
Departed  is,  with  duetee  and  honour, 
Out  of  this  foule  prison  of  this  lyf? 
Why  grucchen  heer  his  cosin  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  5  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. 
4  Suster,'  quod  he,  '  this  is  my  f  ulle  as 
sent, 

With  al  th'avys  heer  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  hond,  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,6 
Sin  he  hath  served  yow  so  many  a  veer, 
And  had  for  yow  so  greet  adversitee, 
It  moste  been  considered,  levetb  me;      2230 
For  gentil  mercy  oghte  to  passen  right.' 

Than  sevde  he  thus  to  Palamon  ful  right; 
'I  trowe  ther  nedeth  litel  sermmiing 
To  make  yow  assente  to  this  thing. 


»  faded. 
»  advise. 


*  prowess. 

•  Le.  below  a  knight. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


Com  neer,  and  tak  your  lady  by  the  bond.' 
Bitwixen  hem  was  maad  anon  the  bond, 
That  highte  matrimoiiie  or  mariage, 
By  al  the  counseil  and  the  baronage. 
And  thus  with  alle  blisse  and  melodye 
Hath  Palamon  y-wedded  Emelye.  2240 

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  in  blisse,  in  richesse,  and  in  hele; 
And  Emelye  him  loveth  so  tendrely, 
And  he  hir  serveth  al-so  gentilly, 
That  never  was  ther  no  word  hem  bitwene 
Of  jelousye,  or  any  other  tene. 
Thus  endeth  Palamon  and  Emelye; 
And  God  save  al  this  faire  companye  !  — 

Amen.  2250 

Here  is  ended  the  Knightes  Tale. 


THE   PRIORESSES   TALE 

THER  was  in  Asie,  in  a  greet  citee, 
Amonges  Cristen  folk,  a  Jewerye,1 
Sustened  by  a  lord  of  that  contree 
For  foule  usure  and  lucre  of  vilanye, 
Hateful  to  Crist  and  to  his  companye; 
And  thurgh  the  strete  men  mighte  ryde  or 

wende, 
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  clergeon,2  seven  yeer  of  age, 
That  day  by  day  to  scole  was  his  wone,8 
And  eek  also,  wher-as  he  saugh  th'image 
Of  Cristes  moder,  hadde  he  in  usage, 
As  him  vvns  taught,   to  knele   adoun    and 
seye  20 

His  Ave  Marie,  as  he  goth  by  the  weye. 

*  The  sharply  defined  Jewish  quarter  of  a  mediaeval 
town. 

1  clerk,  cleric.  *  custom. 


Thus  hath  this  widwe  hir  litel  sone  y-taught 
Our  blisful  lady,  Cristes  moder  dere, 
To  worshipe  ay,  and  ho  format  it  naught, 
For  sely  4  child  wol  alday  sone  lere ; 6 
But  ay,  whan  I  remembre  on  this  matere, 
Seint  Nicholas  stant  ever  in  my  presence, 
For  he  so  yong  to  Crist  did  reverence.6 

This  litel  child,  his  litel  book  lerninge, 

As  he  sat  in  the  scole  at  his  prymer,          30 

He  Alma  redemptoris  herde  singe, 

As  children  lerned  hir  antiphoner;7 

And,  as  he  dorste,  he  drough  him  ner  and 

ner,8 

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  his  knowes  9  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,10  and  eek  hir  for  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  conne  it  al,  er  Cristemasse  is  went; 
Though   that   I   for  my  prymer    shal    be 

shent,11 

And  shal  be  beten  thryes  in  an  houre, 
I  wol  it  conne,  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.  *  learn. 

«  As  a  yonnp  infant  St.  Nicholas  could  not  Buck  on 
Wednesdays  or  Fridays. 

i  book  of  responsive  songs,  anthems. 
»  nearer  and  nearer.  »  knees. 

»o  hail,  greet.  n  scolded. 


132 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


As  I  have  seyd,  thurgh-out  the  Jewerye 
This  litel  child,  as  he  cam  to  and  fro, 
Ful  ineiily  than  wolde  he  singe,  and  crye 

0  Alma  redemptoris  ever-mo. 

The  swetnes  hath  his  herte  perced  so 
Of  Cristes  moder,  that,  to  hir  to  preye, 
He  can  nat  stiute  of  singing  by  the  weye.  70 

Our  firste  fo,  the  serpent  Sathanas, 
That  hath  in  Jewes  herte  his  waspes  nest, 
Up   swal,1  and   seide,   '  O  Hebraik  peple, 

alias ! 

Is  this  to  yow  a  thing  that  is  honest,2 
That  swich  a  hoy  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  heute  and  heeld  him 

faste, 
And  kitte   his  throte,  and   in  a  pit  him 

caste. 

1  seye  that  in  a  wardrobe  8  they  him  threwe 
Wher-as  these  Jewes  purgen  hir  entraille. 
O  cursed  folk  of  Herodes  al  newe, 

What  may  your  yvel  entente  yowavaille? 
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  4  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 

Riforn  this  lamb,  and  singe  a  song  al  newe, 
That  never,  fleshly,  wommen  they  ne  knewe.' 

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  faoe  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  seyn  was  in  the  Jewerye. 


i  swelled. 
*  privy. 


s  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  and  kinde 
She  cryde,  and  atte  laste  thus  she  wroghte, 
Among  the  cursed  Jewes  she  him  soghte. 

She  frayneth  6  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  heer  thy  might ! 
This  gemme  of  chastitee,  this  emeraude, 
And  eek  of  martirdom  the  ruby  bright, 
Ther  he  with  throte  y-corven  6  lay  upright,7 
He  '  Alma  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  8  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  carien  him  un-to  the  nexte  abbay. 
His  moder  swowning  by  the  here  lay; 
Unnethe  9  might  the  peple  that  was  there 
This  newe  Rachel  bringe  fro  his  bere.      140 

With  torment  and  with  shamf  nl  deth  echon 
This    provost   dooth    thise    Jewes   for    to 

sterve 10 

That  of  this  mordre  wiste,  and  that  anon; 
He  nolde  no  swich  cursednesse  observe.11 
Yvel  shal  have  that  yvel  wol  deserve. 
Therfor   with   wilde  hors12  he   dide   hem 

drawe,13 
And  after  that  he  heng  hem  by  the  lawe. 

5  inquires.  •  carved,  cut. 

i  on  his  back.  8  praiseth. 

•  Scarcely.  10  die. 

"  countenance.  1S  horaes. 

i*  i.e.  to  the  place  of  execution. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


Up-on  his  bere  ay  lyth  this  innocent 
Biforn  the  chief  auter,  whyl  masse  laste, 
And  after  that,  the  abhot  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,  whan    spreynd l   was 

holy  water, 
And  song  —  *  O  Alma  redemptoris  mater  ! ' 

This  abbot,  which  that  was  an  holy  man 
As  monkes  been,  or  elles  oghten  be, 
This  yongo  child  to  conjure  he  bigan, 
And  seyde,  *  O  dere  child,  I  halse 2  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,  longetyme  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  "  0  Alma  "  loude  and  clere. 

This  welle  of  mercy,  Cristes  moder  swete, 
I  lovede  alwey,  as  after  my  conninge;8  170 
And  whan  that  I  my  lyf  sholde  forlete,4 
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  greyn  up-on  my 

tonge. 

Wherfor  I  singe,  and  singe  I  moot  certeyn 
In  honour  of  that  blisful  may  den  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  o'lt-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, 


i  sprinkled. 

»  as  well  as  I  knew  how. 


*  conjure. 

•  forsake. 


And  gruf  6  he  fil  al  plat  up-on  the  gronnde, 
And  stille  he  lay  as  he  had  been  y-bounde. 

The  covent  eek  lay  on  the  pavement        190 
Weping,  and  herieu6  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,  aoo 

That,  of  his  mercy,  God  so  merciable 

On  us  his  grete  mercy  multiplye, 

For  reverence  of  his  moder  Marye.   Amen. 

Here  is  ended  the  Prioresses  Tale. 


PROLOGUE   TO   SIR  THOPAS 

Bihold  the  murye  wordes  of  the  Host  to  Chaucer 

WHAN  seyd  was  al  this  miracle,  every  man 
As  sobre  was,  that  wronder  was  to  see, 
Til  that  our  hoste  japen7  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;        >o 
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  somwhat,  sin  other  folk  han  sayd; 
Tf>l  us  a  tale  of  mirthe,  and  that  anoon; '  — 

*  Hoste,'  quod  I,  '  ne  beth  nat  yvel  apayd,8 
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 
chere.' 

B  groveling,  I.e.  upon  his  face.  «  praise. 

»  jest.  s  be  not  ill-pleased. 


134 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


SIR   THOPAS 

Here  biginneth  Chaucer s  Tale  of  Thopas 

LISTETH,  lordes,  iii  good  entent, 
And  I  wol  telle  verrayment 

Of  mirthe  and  of  solas; 
Al  of  a  knyght  was  fair  and  gent 
In  bataille  and  in  tourneymeiit, 

His  name  was  sir  Thopas. 

Y-bom  he  was  in  fer  contree, 
In  Flaundres,  al  biyonde  the  see, 

At  Popering,  in  the  place ; 
His  fader  was  a  man  ful  free, 
And  lord  he  was  of  that  contree, 

As  it  was  Goddes  grace 

Sir  Thopas  wex l  a  doghty  swayn, 
Whyt  was  his  face  as  payndemayn,2 

His  lippes  rede  as  rose; 
His  rode  8  is  lyk  scarlet  in  grayn,4 
And  I  yow  telle  in  good  certayn, 

He  hadde  a  seinely  nose. 

His  heer,  his  berd  was  lyk  saffron n, 
That  to  his  girdle  raughte  5  adoun  ; 

His  shoou  of  Cordewane.6 
Of  Brugges  7  were  his  hosen  broun, 
His  robe  was  of  ciclatoun,8 

That  coste  many  a  jane.9 

He  coude  10  hutite  at  wilde  deer, 
And  ryde  an  banking  for  riveer,11 

With  grey  goshauk  on  honde; 
Ther-to  he  was  a  good  archeer, 
Of  wrastling  was  ther  noon  his  peer, 

Ther  any  ram  shal  stonde.12 

Fnl  many  a  mayde,  bright  in  bour, 
They  moorne  for  him,  paramour, 

Whan  hem  were  bet 13  to  slepe; 
But  he  was  chast  and  no  lechour, 
And  sweet  as  is  the  bremble-flour 

That  bereth  the  rede  hepe.14 

And  so  bifel  up-on  a  day, 
For  sothe,  as  I  yow  telle  may, 
Sir  Thopas  wolde  out  ryde; 


i  waxed,  grew. 

•  complexion. 

•  reached. 

i  From  Bruges. 
8  Genoese  coin. 


*  finest  bread. 
«  well-dyed. 

•  Spanish  leather. 

s  scarlet  or  any  rich  fabric. 
1°  knew  how. 


11  Simply  "  hawking."  "  To  go  to  the  river  "  is  to  go 
hawking  ;  "  to  go  to  the  wood  "  is  to  go  hunting. 
"  A  ram  was  the  usual  prize. 
11  better.  14  hips. 


He  worth  upon 15  his  stede  gray,  40 

And  in  his  honde  a  launcegay,16 
A  long  swerd  by  his  syde. 

He  priketh  thurgh  a  fair  forest, 
Ther-inne  is  many  a  wilde  best, 

Ye,  bothe  bukke  and  hare; 
And,  as  he  priketh  north  and  est, 
I  telle  it  yow,  him  hadde  almost 

Bitid  a  sory  care. 

Ther  springen  herbes  grete  and  smale, 
The  lycorys  and  cetewale,17  50 

And  many  a  clowe-gilofre; 18 
And  notemuge  to  putte  in  ale, 
Whether  it  be  moyste 19  or  stale, 

Or  for  to  leye  in  cofre. 

The  briddes  singe,  it  is  no  nay,20 
The  sparhauk  and  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  21  as  he  wei-e  wood.22 
His  faire  stede  in  his  prikinge 
So  swatte28  that  men  urighte  him  wringe; 

His  sydes  were  al  blood. 

Sir  Thopas  eek  so  wery  was 
For  prikinge  on  the  softe  gras, 

So  tiers  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  24 

To  binde  me  so  sore  ? 
Me  dremed  al  this  night,  pardee, 
An  elf-queen  shal  my  lemman  be, 

And  slepe  under  my  gore.26 

An  elf-queen  wol  I  love,  y-wis, 
For  in  this  world  no  womman  is  80 

Worthy  to  be  my  make  26 
In  toune; 

i5  mounted.  m  hnntiug-spear. 

i7  the  herb  zedoary.          "  clove. 

'•  musty,  new.  M  there  's  no  denyinp  it. 

n  spurred.  «  mad.        «  sweated. 

*«  What  has  this  love  against  me? 

js  cloak.  " 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


'35 


Alle  othere  womraen  I  forsake, 
And  to  an  elf-queen  I  me  tuke 
By  dale  and  eek  by  doune ! ' 

In-to  his  sadel  he  clamb  anoon, 
And  priketh  over  style  and  stoon 

An  elf-queen  for  t'espye, 
Til  he  so  longe  had  riden  and  goon 
That  he  fond,  in  a  privee  woon,1          •       90 

The  contree  of  Fairye 

So  wilde; 

For  in  that  contree  was  ther  noon 
That  to  him  dorste  ryde  or  goon, 

Neither  wyf  ne  childe. 

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  slee  thy  stede 

With  mace. 

Heer  is  the  queen  of  Fayerye, 
With  harpe  and  pype  and  simphonye  2 

Dwelling  in  this  place.' 

The  child  seyde,  « Al-so  mote  I  thee,8 
Tomorwe  wol  I  mete  thee 

Whan  I  have  myn  armoure; 
And  yet  I  hope,  par  ma  fay, 
That  thou  shalt  with  this  launeegay         no 

A  byeu  it  f ul  soure ; 4 

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  f  ul  f  aste ; 
This  geaunt  at  him  stones  caste 

Out  of  a  fel  staf-slinge; 
But  faire  escapeth  child  Thopas, 
And  al  it  was  thursjh  Goddes  gras,  120 

And  thurgh  his  fair  beringe. 

Yet  listeth,  lordes,  to  my  tale 
Merier  than  the  nightingale, 

For  now  1  wol  yow  roune  5 
How  sir  Thopas  with  sydes  smale,6 
Priking  over  hil  and  dale, 

Is  come  agayn  to  tonne. 

His  merie  men  comanded  he 

To  make  him  bothe  game  and  glee, 

For  nedes  moste  he  fighte  130 

i  retreat.         *  a  stringed  instrument.         8  prosper. 
•  sourly,  i.e.  dearly,  pay  for  it.     &  tell.     «  slim  waist. 


With  a  geaunt  with  hevedes 7  three, 
For  paramour  and  jolitee 

Of  oon  that  shoon  ful  brighte. 

4  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  cardinales, 

And  eek  of  love-lykinge.' 

They  fette  8  him  first  the  swete  wyn,        140 
And  mode  eek  in  a  maselyn,9 

And  royal  spicerye 
Of  gingebreed  that  was  ful  fyn, 
And  lycorys,  and  eek  comyn,10 

With  sugre  that  is  so  trye.11 

He  dide  next  his  whyte  lere  M 
Of  clooth  of  lake 18  fyn  and  clere 

A  breech  and  eek  a  sherte; 
And  next  his  sherte  an  aketoun,14 
And  over  that  an  habergeoun  15  150 

For 16  percinge  of  his  herte ; 

And  over  that  a  fyn  hauberk,17 
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.18 

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  19  were  of  quirboilly,20 
His  swerdes  shethe  of  yvory, 

His  helm  of  laton  21  bright; 
His  sadel  was  of  rewel-boon,22 
His  brydel  as  the  sonne  shoon, 

Or  as  the  mone  light. 

His  spere  was  of  fyn  ciprees,  i70 

That  bodeth  werre,  and  no-thing  pees, 
The  heed  ful  sharpe  y-grounde; 

7  heads.  s  fetched.  •  mazer,  or  maple-bowl. 
10  cummin.  "  delicious.  12  flesh.  is  linen. 
"  padded  doublet.  »  coat-of-mail. 

i«  against,  to  prevent. 

"  Hauberk  is  usually  coat-of-mail,  but  here  it  is,  ap 
parently,  plate-armour.     Thopas  was  well  protected  ! 
18  fight.  i»  shin-pieces. 

20  hard  leather,  boiled  and  moulded. 

21  a  composite  metal.  »  probably  iyory. 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


His  stede  was  al  dappel-gray, 
It  gooth  an  ambel  in  the  way 

Ful  softely  and  rouude 

In  londe. 

Lo,  lordes  myne,  heer  is  a  fit ! 
If  ye  wol  any  more  of  it, 

To  telle  it  wol  I  foiide. 

[  The  Second  Fit.] 

Now  hold  your  mouth,  par  charitee,          180 
Bothe  knight  and  lady  free, 

And  herkneth  to  my  spelle; 
Of  bataille  and  of  chivalry, 
And  of  ladyes  love-drury l 

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  2 

As  sparkle  oiit  of  the  bronde; 
Up-on  his  crest  he  bar  a  tour, 
And  ther-in  stiked  a  lily-flour. 

God  shilde  his  cors  fro  shoude  !  8 

And  for  he  was  a  knight  auntrous,4 
He  uolde  slepen  in  non  hous, 

But  liggen  in  his  hode;  200 

His  brigh te  helm  was  his  wonger,5 
And  by  him  baiteth  his  dextrer6 

Of  herbes  fyne  and  gode. 

Him-self  drank  water  of  the  wel, 
As  did  the  knight  sir  Percivel, 

So  worthy  under  wede, 
Til  on  a  day 

Here  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,  somdel  stope7  in  age, 
Was  whylom  dwelling  in  a  narwe  cotage, 
Bisyde  a  grove,  stonding  in  a  dale. 
This  widwe,  of  which  1  telle  yow  my  tale, 

1  passion.       (  glided.        *  harm.       *  adventurous, 
•rraiit.         &  pillow.         •  war-horse.         7  advanced. 


Sin  thilke  day  that  she  was  last  a  wyf, 
In  pacience  ladde  a  ful  simple  lyf, 
For  litel  was  hir  catel8  and  hir  rente; 
By  housbondrye  9  of  such  as  God  hir  sente 
She  fond 10  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  bour,  and  eek  hir  halle, 
In  which  she  eet  ful  many  a  sclendre  meel. 
Of  poynaunt  sauce  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  n  dyete  was  al  her  phisyk, 
And  exercyse,  and  hertes  suffisaunce. 
The  goute  lette  hir  no-thing 12  for  to  daunce, 
N'apoplexye  shente  18  iiat  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, 
Seynd14   bacoun,  and   somtyme  an   ey  OP 

tweye, 

For  she  was  as  it  were  a  maner  deye.16 
A  yerd  she  haJde,  enclosed  al  aboute 
With  stikkes,  and  a  drye  dich  with-oute, 
In  which  she  hadde  a  cok,  hight  Chauute- 

cleer. 

In  al  the  land  of  crowing  nas  his  peer;      30 
His  vois  was  merier  than  the  rnery  orgon  10 
On  messe-dayes  that  in  the  chirche  gon; 
Wel  sikerer  n  was  his  crowing  in  his  logge, 
Than  is  a  clokke,  or  an  abbey  orlogge. 
By  nature  knew  he  ech  ascencioun 
Of  equinoxial  in  thilke  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.         4o 
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  gentil  cok  hadde  in  his  governannce 
Sevene  hennes,  for  to  doon  al  his  plesatince, 
Whiche  were  his  sustres  and  his  paramours, 
And  wonder  lyk  to  him,  as  of  colours. 

8  chattels.  »  economy.  10  provided  for. 

11  Temperate.  1J  hindered  her  not  at  all.  l3  hurt, 
i*  Singed.  «  farming  or  dairy  woman.  "  organ 
pipes  (plural).  "  more  accurate. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


137 


Of  whiche  the  faireste  hewed  on  hir  throte 
Was  cleped  faire  dainoysele  Pertelote.      50 
Curteys  she  was,  discreet,  and  debonaire, 
And  coin  paiguable,  and  bar  hir-self  so  faire, 
Sin  thilke  clay  that  she  was  seven  night  old, 
That  trewely  she  hath  the  herte  in  hold 
Of  Chauntecleer  loken  in  every  lith;  1 
He  loved  hip  so,  that  wel  was  him  therwith. 
But  such  a  joye  was  it  to  here  hem  singe, 
Whan  that  the  brighte  soune  gan  to  springe, 
In  swete  accord,  '  My  lief  is  faren  in  londe.' 
For  thilke  tyme,  as  I  have  understonde,   60 
Bestes  and  briddes  coude  speke  and  singe. 

And  so  bifel,  that  in  a  daweninge, 
As  Chauntecleer  among  his  wyves  alle 
Sat  on  his  perche,  that  was  in  the  halle, 
And  next  him  sat  this  faire  Pertelole, 
This  Chauntecleer  gan  gronen  in  his  throte, 
As   man  that  in   his  dreein   is  drecched2 

sore. 
And  whan  that  Pertelote  thus  herde  him 

rore, 

She  was  agast,  and  seyde,  *  O  herte  dere, 
What  eyleth  vow,  to  grone  in  this  inan- 

ere  ?  7o 

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,  rne  mette8  I  was  in  swich  mes- 

chief 
Right  now,   that  yet  myn   herte  is   sore 

afright. 
Now  God,'  quod  he,  <my  swevene  recche4 

aright. 

And  keep  my  body  out  of  foul  prisonn  ! 
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! 


i  limb.  *  troubled. 

>  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  feitli. 
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,5 
Ne  noon  avauntour,6  by  that  God  above  ! 
How  dorste  ye  seyn  for  shame  unto  your 

love, 

That  any  thing  mighte  make  yow  aferd  ? 
Have   ye   no    mannes    herte,   and    han   a 

berd  ?  100 

Alias !  and  conne  ye  been  agast  of  swe- 

venis  ? 
No-thing,  God  wot,  but  vanitee,  in  sweven 

is. 

Swevenes  engendren  of  replecciouns,7 
And  ofte  of  fume,8  and  of  complecciouns9 
Whan   humours   been   to  habundant  in  a 

wight. 

Certes  this  dreem,  which  ye  han  met  to 
night, 

Cometh  of  the  grete  superfluitee 
Of  youre  rede  colera,10  pardee, 
Which   causeth    folk    to  dreden    in  here 

dremes 

Of  arwes,  and  of  f yr  with  rede  lemes ; u     no 
Of  grete  bestes,  that  they  wol  hem  byte, 
Of  contek,12  and  of  whelpes  grete  and  lyte; 
Right  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,18  which  that  was  so  wys  a 

man,  120 

Seyde  he  nat  thus,  "Ne  do  no  fors14  of 

dremes  "  ? 
Now,  sire,'  quod  she,  *  whan  we  flee  fro  the 

bemes, 

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 

5  weapon.  «  boaster.  *  repletions. 

8  the  vapors  from  a  disordered  stomach. 

9  dispositions,  mixtures  of  humors. 

10  red  bile.  Choler  was  one  of  the  four  "humours," 
the  others  being  blood,  black  bile,  and  phlegm. 

11  flames.  12  strife, 
i"  The  mediaeval  Dionysius  Cato. 

"  Pay  no  attention. 


133 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Ye  purge  yow ;  and  for  ye  shul  uat  tarie, 
Though  in  this  toun  is  noon  apotecarie, 
I  shal  iny  self  to  herbes  techen  yow, 
That  shul  ben  for  your  hele,  and  for  your 

prow;1  130 

And  in  our  yerd  tho  herbes  shal  I  finde, 
The  whiche  hau  of  hir  propretee,  by  kiade, 
To  purgen  yow  binethe,  and  eek  above. 
Forget  not  this,  for  Goddes  owene  love ! 
Ye  been  ful  colerik  of  compleocioun. 
Ware  the  soime  in  his  ascencioun 
Ne  fynde  yow   nat  repleet  of    humours 

tote; 

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,2  centaure,8  and  fumetere,4 
Or  elles  of  ellebor,  that  groweth  there, 
Of  catapuce,6  or  of  gaytres  6  beryis, 
Of  erbe  yve,7  growing  in  our  yerd,  that 

mery  is; 
Pekke  hem  up  right  as  they  growe,  and  etc 

hem  in. 

Be  inery,  housbond,  for  your  fader  kin  ! 
Dredeth  no  dreem;  I  can  say  yow  nainore.' 
'  Madame,'  quod  he,  '  graunt  mercy  8  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  auctoritee 
Than  ever  Catoun  was,  so  mote  I  thee, 
That  al  the  revers  seyn  of  his  sentence, 
And  han  wel  founden  by  experience, 
That  dremes  ben  signiticaciouns, 
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  9  that  men 

rede 

Seith  thus,  that  whylom  two  felawes  weute 
On  pilgrimage,  in  a  ful  good  entente; 
And  happed  so,  thay  come  into  a  toun, 
Wher-as  ther  was  swich  congregacioun 
Of  peple,  and  eek  so  streit10  of  herbergage 
That  they  ne  founde  as  tnuche  as  o  cotage 
In  which  they  bothe  mighte  y-logged  be.  171 
Wherfor  thay  mosten,  of  necessitee, 

i  profit.        a  laurel.        *  centaury.        *  fumitory. 

*  lesser  spurge.         6  dogwood,  or  possibly  buckthorn. 

*  ground-pine.  8  many  thanks.  *  Perhaps 
Cicero  in  De  Divinalione,  I,  27.            «  limited. 


As  for  that  night,  departen  compaignye; 
And  ech  of  hem  goth  to  his  hostelry e, 
And  took  his  logging  as  it  wolde  falle. 
That  oon  of  hem  was  logged  in  a  stalle, 
Fer  in  a  yerd,  with  oxen  of  the  plough; 
That  other  man  was  logged  wel  y-nough, 
As  was  his  aveuture,  or  his  fortune, 
That  us  governeth  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  stnlle 
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 ; ll 
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  vauitee. 
Thus  twyes  in  his  sleping  dremed  he. 
And  atte  thridde  tyme  yet  his  felawe 
Cam,  as  him  thoughte,  and  seide,  "  I  am 

now  si  a  we; 

Bihold  my  blody  woundes,  depe  and  wyde! 
Arys  up  erly  in  the  morwe-tyde, 
And  at  the  west  gate  of  the  toun,"  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 

trewe; 

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  in  suspecionn, 
Remembring  on  his  dremes  that  he  mette, 
And   forth    he    goth,  no  lenger  wolde  he 

lette,12 

Unto  the  west  gate  of  the  toun,  and  fond 
A  dono-carte,  as  it  were  to  donge  lond, 
That  was  arrayed  in  the  same  wyse 
As  ye  han  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.  l~  delay. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


I  crye  out  on  the  ministres,"  quod  he, 
"That  sholden  kepe  and  reulen  this  citee; 
Harrow  !  alias  !  her  lyth  my  felawe  slayn  ! " 
What  sholde  I  more  uu-to  this  tale  sayn  ? 
The  peple  out-sterte,  and  caste  the  cart  to 

grounde, 

And  in  the  middel  of  the  dong  they  founde 
The  dede  man,  that  mordred  was  al  newe. 

0  blisful   God,  that   art    so    just    and 

trewe !  230 

Lo,  how  that  thou  biwreyest  mordre  al  way! 
Mordre  wol  out,  that  see  we  day  by  day. 
Mordre  is  so  wlatsotn  l  and  abhonmiuble 
To  God,  that  is  so  just  and  resonable, 
That  he  ne  wol  nat  suffre  it  heled2  be; 
Though  it  abyde  a  yeer,  or  two,  or  three, 
Mordre  wol  out,  this  my  conclusion!!. 
.And  right  anoon,  ministres  of  that  toun 
Han  hent  the  carter,  and  so  sore  him  pyned,8 
Aud  eek  the  hostiler  so  sore  engyned,4    240 
That  thay  biknewe  6  hir  wikkednesse  anoon, 
And  were  an-hanged  by  the  nekke-boon. 
Here  may  men  seen  that  dremes  been  to 

drede. 

And  certes  in  the  same  book  I  rede, 
Right  in  the  nexte  chapitre  after  this, 
(I  gabbe6  nat,  so  have  I  joye  or  blis,) 
Two  men  that  wolde  ban  passed  over  see, 
For  certeyn  cause,  in-to  a  fer  con  tree, 
Tf  that  the  wind  ne  hadde  been  contruirie, 
That  made  hem  in  a  citee  for  to  tarie,    250 
That  stood  ful  mny  upon  an  haven-s^de. 
But  on  a  day,  ageyn  the  even-tyde, 
The  wind  gan  chaunge,  and  blew  right  as 

hem  leste. 

Jolif  and  glad  they  wente  un-to  hir  reste, 
And  casten  hem7  ful  erly  for  to  saille; 
But  to  that  oo  man  fil  a  greet  mervaille. 
That  oon  of  hem,  in  sleping  as  he  lay, 
Him  mette  a  wonder  dreem,  agayn  the  day; 
Him  thoughte  a  man  stood  by  his  beddes 

syde, 
And     him     comaunded     that    he    sholde 

abyde,  260 

And  seyde  him  thus,  "  If  thou  to-morwe 

wende, 
Thou  shalt  be  dreynt;8  my  tale  is  at  an 

ende." 
He  wook,  and  tolde   his   felawe  what  he 

mette, 

And  preyde  him  his  viage  for  to  lette;9 
As  for  that  day,  he  preyde  him  to  abyde. 
His  felawe,  that  lay  by  his  bedfles  syde, 

1  disgusting.     2  concealed.      8  tortured.      *  racked. 
•  confessed.     •  lie.     7  planned,     s  drowned.    •  delay. 


Gan  for  to  laughe,  and  scorned  him  ful  faste. 
"  No  dreem,"  quod  he,  "  may  so  myn  herte 

ngaste, 

That  I  wol  lette  for  to  do  my  thinges. 
I  sette  not  a  straw  by  thy  dremiuges,      270 
For  swevenes  been  but  vauitees  and  japes. 
Men  dreme  al-day  of  owles  or  of  apes, 
And  eek  of  many  a  mase10  ther  withal; 
Men  dreme  of  thing  that  never  was  ne  shal. 
But  sith  I  see  that  thou  wolt  heer  abyde, 
And  thus  for-sleuthen  n  wilfully  thy  tyde, 
God  wat  it  reweth  me;12  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   mischaunce   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  sholde  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  \\as  Kenulphus  sone,  the  noble  king 
Of   Meicenrike,18   how   Kenelm    mette   a 

thing; 

A  lyte  er  he  was  mordred,  on  a  day, 
His  mordre  in  his  avisioun  he  say. 
His  norice  him  expouned  every  del 
His  sweven,  and  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  Aft'rike  of  the  worthy  Cipioun,14 
Affermeth  dremes,  and  seith  that  they  been 
Warning  of  thinges  that  men  after  seen. 

And  foi-ther-more,  I  pray  yow  loketh  wel 
In  the  olde  testament,  of  Daniel, 
If  he  held  dremes  any  vanitee. 
Reed  eek  of  Joseph,  and  ther  shul  ye  see  310 
i"  astounding  thing.        n  idle  away.        12  I  lament. 

13  Mercia.  in  central  England. 

14  Macrobius's    commentary   on  Cicero's  Dream  oj 
Scipio. 


140 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Wher  dremes  ben  somtyine  (I  seynat  alle) 
Warning  of  thiuges  that  shul  after  falle. 
Loke  of  Egipt  the  king,  daun l  Pharao, 
His  bakere  and  his  boteler  also, 
Wher  they  ne  felte  noon  effect  in  dremes. 
Who-so  wol  seken  actes  of  soiidry  remes  2 
May  rede  of  dreines  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  Andromacha,  EC  tores  wyf, 
That  day  that  Ector  sholde  lese  his  lyf, 
She  dremed  on  the  same  night  biforn, 
How  that  the  lyf  of  Ector  sholcle  be  lorn 
If  thilke  day  he  wente  in-to  bataille; 
She  warned  him,  but  it  uiighte  nat  availle; 
He  wente  for  to  fighte  nathelees, 
But  he  was  slayn  anoon  of  Achilles. 
But  thilke  tale  is  al  to  long  to  telle, 
A  nd  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,8 
For  they  ben  venimous,  I  woot  it  wel; 
I  hem  defye,  I  love  hem  never  a  del. 

Now  let  ua  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,  34o 
Ye  ben  so  scarlet-reed  about  your  yen, 
It  maketh  al  my  drede  for  to  dyen; 
For,  also  siker  as  In  principio, 
Midler  est  hominis  confusio. 
Madame,  the  sentence  of  this  Latin  is  — 
Wominan  is  inannes  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  donn  fro  the 

bee  m, 

For  it  was  day,  and  eek  his  h<Mines  alle; 
And  with  a  chuk  he  gan  ham  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  loketh  as  it  were  a  grim  leoun; 
And  on  his  toos  he  roineth  up  and  doun,  360 
Him  deyned  not  to  sette  his  foot  to  gronnde. 
He  chukketh,  whan  he  hath  a  corn  y-f  ounde, 

i  lord,  dominut.        »  realms.  '  set  no  store  by- 


And  to  him  rennen  tbanne  his  wyves  alle. 
Thus  royal,  as  a  prince  is  in  his  halle, 
Leve  I  this  Chauntecleer  in  his  pasture; 
And  after  wol  I  telle  his  aventure. 

Whan  that  the  month  in  which  the  world 

bigan, 
That  highte  March,  whan  God  first  maked 

man,4 

Was  complet,  and  [y]-passed  were  also, 
Sin  March  bigan,  thritty  dayes  and  two,  370 
Bifel  that  Chauntecleer,  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,6  and  by  noon  other 

lore, 
That  it  was  pryme,6  and  crew  with  blisful 

stevene. 
1  The  sonne,'  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  rethor7  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,8 
That  worn  men  holde  in  ful  gret  reverence. 
Now  will  I  tome  agayn  to  mv  sentence. 

A  col-fox,9  ful  of  sly  iniquitee, 
That  in  the  grove  hadde  woned  yeres  three, 
Bv  heigh  imaginacioun  forn-cast, 
The  same  night  thurgh-out  the  heggesbrast 10 
Into  the  yerd,  ther  Chauntecleer  the  faire 
Was  wont,  and  eek  his  wyvos,  to  repaire; 
And  in  a  bed  of  wortes  n  stille  he  lay,     4oi 
Til  it  was  passed  undern 12  of  the  Hay, 
Way  ting  his  tyme  on  Chauntecleer  to  falle, 
As  gladly  doon  thise  homicydes  alle, 

*  So  they  called  March  the  first  month  of  the  year. 

*  nature.        •  nine  A.M.        7  a  master  of  eloquence. 
8  A  long-winded  prose  romance,  of  which  Malory 

made  much  use. 

»  blaok  or  black-tipped  fox.  «  burst. 

"  vegetables.  "  middle  of  the  morning. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


141 


That  in  awayt  liggen  to  mordre  men. 

O  false  mordrer,  lurking  in  thy  den  ! 

O  nevve  Scariot,1  newe  Genilon  !  2 

False  dissimilour,  O  Greek  Sinon, 

That  broghtest  Troye  al  outrely  3  to  sorwe  ! 

0  Chauntecleer,  acursed  be  that  inorwe,  410 
That  thou  into  that  yerd  flough  fro  the 

bemes ! 

Thou  were  f ul  wel  y-warned  by  thy  dremes, 
That  thilke  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  altercacioun 
In  this  matere,  and  greet  disputisoun, 
And   hath    ben    of  an   hundred   thousand 

men. 

But  I  ne  can  not  bulte  it  to  the  bren,4     420 
As  cun  the  holy  doctour  Augustyn, 
Or  Boece,5  or  the  bishop  Bradwardyn,6 
Whether  that  Goddes  worthy  forwiting 
Streyneth7  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  noght, 
Though  God    forwoot  it,  er   that   it   was 

wro^ht; 

Or  if  his  witing  streyneth  nevere  a  del 
But  by  necessitee  condicionel.  430 

1  wol  not  han  to  do  of  swich  matere; 
My  tale  is  of  a  cok,  as  ye  may  here, 
That  took  his  couuseil    of   his  wyf,  with 

sorwe, 

To  walken  in  the  yerd  upon  that  morwe 
That  he  had  met  the  dreem,  that  I  yow 

tolde. 

Wommennes  counseils  been  ful  ofte  colde;8 
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  my  game. 
Rede  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, 
i  Judas  Iscariot.      2  Roland's  betrayer.      «  entirely. 
«  sift  it  thoroughly.  8  Boethius. 

6  English  theologian,  d.  1349. 
1  coiistraineth.  8  disastrous,  —  a  proverb. 


Agayn  the  sonne;  and  Chauntecleer  so  free 
Song  merier  than   the   mermayde  in  the 

see ;  45o 

For  Phisiologus9  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  crycie  anon, '  cok,  cok,'  and  up  he  sterte, 
As  man  that  was  aff rayed  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  aff  rayed  of  me  that  am  your  f  reeud  ? 
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  coniinge 
Was  only  for  to  herkne  how  that  ye  singe. 
For  trewely  ye  have  as  mery  a  stevene    471 
As  eny  auugel  hath,  that  is  in  hevene; 
Therwitb  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  brouke10  wel  myu  eyeu  tweye,  4&> 
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  nckke  long  and  smal. 
And  eek  he  was  of  swich  discrecioun, 
That  ther  nas  no  man  in  no  regioun         490 
That  him  in  song  or  wisdom  mighte  passe. 
I  have  wel  rad  in  daun  Burnel  the  Asse,11 
Among  his  vers,  how  that  ther  was  a  cok, 
For  that  a  preestes  sone  yaf  him  a  knok 

9  The  medieval  "  Bestiary,"  a  collection  of  moral 
ized  descriptions  of  beasts. 

10  Our  " brook "  vb.,  here  " use  "  or  "enjoy." 

"  Nigellus  Wireker's  "  Burnellus "  or  "Speculum 
Stultorum"  (Mirror  of  Fools),  Anglo-Latin  satirical 
poem  written  about  1190. 


142 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Upon  his  leg,  whyl  he  was  yong  and  nyce,1 
He  made  hiin  for  to  lese  his  henet'yee. 
But  certeyn,  ther  uis  no  comparisouu 
Bitwix  the  wisdom  and  discrecioun 
Of  youre  fader,  and  of  his  subtiltee. 
Now  singeth,  sire,  for  seinte  Charit.ee,      500 
Let  see,  conne  ye  your  fader  couutrefete  ?  ' 2 
This  Chauntecleer  his  winges  gaii  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  iu  your  courtes,  and  many  a  losengeour,8 
That  plesen  yow  wel  more,  by  my  feith, 
Than  he  that  soothfastnesse  unto  yow  seith. 
Redeth  Ecclesiaste  4  of  flaterye; 
Beth  war,  ye  lordes,  of  hir  trecherye.       510 
This  Chauutecleer  stood  hye  up-on  his 

toos, 
Strecching  his  nekke,  and  heeld  his  eyen 

cloos, 

And  gan  to  crowe  loude  for  the  nones;5 
And  daun  Russel  the  fox  sterte  up  at  ones, 
And  by  the  gargat6  hente  Chauntecleer, 
And  on  his  bak  toward  the  wode  him  beer, 
For  yetne  was  ther  no  man  that  him  sewed.7 
O  destinee,  that  mayst  nat  been  eschewed  ! 
Alias,  that  Chauntecleer  Heigh  fro  the  bemes! 
Alias,  his  wyf  ne  roghte  nat  of  dremes !  520 
And  on  a  Friday  fil  al  this  meschaunce. 
O  Venus,  that  art  goildesse  of  plesaunce, 
Sin  that  thy  servant  was  this  Chauntecleer, 
And  in  thy  service  dide  al  his  poweer, 
More  for  delyt,  than  world  to  multiplye, 
Why  woldestow  suffre  him  on  thy  day  to 

dye  ? 

O  Gaufred,8  dere  mayster  soverayn, 
That,  whan  thy  worthy  king  Richard  was 

slayn 

With  shot,9  compleynedest  his  deth  so  sore, 
Why  ne  hadde  1  now  thy  sentence  and  thy 

lore,  53o 

The  Friday  for  to  chyde,  as  diden  ye  ? 
(For  on  a  Friday  soothly  slayn  was  he.) 
Than  wolde  I  she  we  yow  how  that  I  coude 

pleyne 
For  Chauntecleres  drede,  and  for  his  peyne. 

Certes,  swk'h  cry  ne  lamentacioun 
Was  never  of  ladies  maad,  whan  Ilioun 

foolish.  *  imitate.  »  flatterer. 

Perhaps Ecclesiasticus  xii,  10  f.  in  the  Apocrypha. 

"  Fo^  the  nonce,"  a  meaningless  phrase. 

gorge,  throat.  1  pursued. 

Geoffrey  de  Vinsauf  (fl.  1200)  who  wrote  the  Nora 
Poftria  to  show  what  good  verse  should  be.  It  contains 
an  overdone  lament  for  Richard  I. 

*  He  was  deeply  wounded  near  the  nape  of  the  neck 
by  an  arrow. 


Was   wonne,  and  Firms   with  his   streite 

swtrd, 
Whan  he  hadde  hent  10  king  Priam  by  the 

berd, 

And  slayn  him  (as  saith  us  Eneydos)^- 
As  maden  alle  the  heunes  in  the  clos,       540 
Whan  they  had  seyn  of  Chauntecleer  the 

sighte. 

But  sovereynly  dame  Pertelote  shrighte, 
Ful  louder  than  dide  Hastlrubales12  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  stedfast  herte. 
O  wo  ful  hennes,  right  so  cry  den  ye, 
As,  whan  that  Nero  brende  the  citee        550 
Of  Rome,  cryden  senatoures  wyves, 
For   that   hir   housboudes   losten  alle   hir 

lyves; 

Withouten  gilt  this  Nero  hath  hem  slayu. 
Now  wol  I  torne  to  niy  tale  agayn. 

This  sely  13  widwe,  and  eek  hir  doghtres 

two, 

Herden  thise  hennes  crye  and  inaken  wo, 
And  out  at  dores  sterteii  they  auoon, 
And  syen  the  fox  toward  the  grove  goon, 
And  bar  upon  his  bak  the  cok  away; 
And  cryden,    *  Out !   harrow  !   and  weyla- 

way  !  56o 

Ha,  ha,  the  fox  ! '  and  after  him  they  ran, 
And  eek  with  staves  many  another  man ; 
Ran  Colle  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 


And  shouting  of  the  men  and  wiminen  eke; 
They  ronne   so,    hem  thoughte   hir    herte 

breke. 

They  yelleden  as  feendes  doon  in  nolle; 
The   dokes   cryden    as    meu   wolde    hem 

quelle;14  57o 

The  gees  for  fere  flowen  over  the  trees; 
Out  of  the  hyve  cam  the  swarm  of  bees; 
So  hidous  was  the  noyse,  a !  bcnedicite! 
Certes,  he  Jakke  Straw,15  and  his  meynee, 

»o  seized.  11  JEnfid,  II,  544. 

i*  King  of  Carthage,  who  slew  himself  when  the 
Romans  captured  it  in  14G  B.  c. 

»»  helpless.  w  kill. 

15  Leader  of  the  London  insurreetion  of  1381.  He 
slew  many  Flemings. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


'43 


Ne  made  never  shoiites  half  so  shrille, 
Whan  that  they  wolden  any  Fleming  kille, 
As  thilke  day  was  maad  upon  the  fox. 
Of  bras  thay  broghten  bemes,1  and  of  box, 
Of  horn,  of  boon,  in  whiehe  they  blewe  and 

pouped, 
And   therewithal  thay   shryked   and  they 

houped;  58o 

It  semed  as  that  heven  sholde  falle. 
Now,  gode  men,  I  pray  yow  herkneth  alle! 

Lo,  how  fortune  turneth  sodeiuly 
The  hope  and  pryde  eek  of  hir  enemy! 
This  cok,  that  lay  upon  the  foxes  bak, 
In  al  his  drede,  un-to  the  fox  lie  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, 
Maugree3  your   heed,  the   cok  shal  heer 

abyde; 

I  wol  him  ete  in  feith,  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  moutn  deliverly,4 
And  heighe  up-on  a  tree  he  fleigh  anon. 
And  whan  the  fox  saugh  that  he  wasy-gon, 
'  Alias  ! '  quod  he,  '  O  Chauntecleer, 'alias  ! 
I  have  to  yow,'  quod  he,  '  y-doon  trespas, 
In-as-muche  as  I  makecl  yow  aferd,         60 1 
Whan  I  yow  hente,  and  broghte  out  of  the 

yerd; 

But,  sire,  I  dide  it  in  no  wikke  entente; 
Comdoun,  and  T  shaltelleyowwhatl  nifnte. 
I  shal  seye  sooth  to  yow,  God  help  me  so.' 
'  Nay  than,'  quod  he,  '  I  shrewe  6  us  bothe 

two, 
And  first  I    shrewe  my-self,  bothe  blood 

and  bones, 

If  thon  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  Bhold"  see, 
Al  wilfully,  God  lat  him  never  thee  ! '  6 
'  Nay,'  quod   the  fox,  '  but  God  yeve  him 

meschaunce, 

That  is  so  undiscreet  of  governaunce, 
That   jangleth    whan  he  sholde   holde  his 

pees.' 

Lo,  swich  it  is  for  to  be  recchelees, 
And  necligent.  and  trnste  on  flaterye. 
But  ye  that  holden  this  tale  a  folye, 


i  trumpets. 
«  deftly. 


1  surely. 
*  curse. 


»  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  out-  doctryne  it  is  y-write,  y-wis.7 
Taketh  the  f ruyt,  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  Tale. 

THE  PROLOGUE  OF  THE 
PARDONERS  TALE 

Here  fol-weth  the  Prologe  of  the  Pardoners  Tale 

Radix  ntalorum  est  Cufiditas:  Ad  Thimotheum, 
sexto. 

'LoRDiNGS,'  quod  he,  'in  chirches  whan  I 

preche, 

I  peyne  me  to  han  an  hauteyn  speche,8 
And  ringe  it  out  as  round  as  gooth  a  belle, 
For  I  can  al  by  rote  9  that  I  telle. 
My  theme  is  alwey  oon,  and  ever  was  — 
"  Radix  malorum  est  Cupiditas" 10 

First  I  pronounce  whennes  that  I  come, 
And   than    my  bulles   shewe   I,   alle   and 

soiiime. 

Our  lige  lordes  seel  on  my  patente,11 
That  shewe  I  first,  my  body  to  wareute,  10 
Tliat  no  man  be  so  bold,  ne  preest  nc  clerk, 
Me  to  destourbe  of  Cristes  holy  werk; 
And  after  that  than  telle  I  forth  nay  tales, 
Bulles  of  popes  and  of  cardinales, 
Of  patriarkes,  and  bishoppes  I  shewe; 
And  in  Latyn  I  speke  a  wordes  fewe, 
To  saffron  with  my  predicacioun,ia 
And  for  to  stire  men  to  devocioun. 
Than  shewe  I  forth  my  longe  cristal  stones, 
Y-crammed  ful  of  cloutes  and  of  bones;   ao 
Reliks  been  they,  as  wenen  they  echoon. 
Than  have  I  in  latonn  13  a  sholder-boon 
Which  that  was  of  an  holy  Jewes  shepe.14 
"  Good  men,"  seye  I,  "  tak  of  my  wordes 


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,16 
Tak  water  of  that  welle,  and  wash  his  tonge, 

2  Timothy,  Hi,  16. 

I  take  pains  to  preach  in  a  lofty  vein, 
know  by  heart.  '<>  1  Timothy,  vi,  10. 

warrant,  privilege. 

To  colour,  make  more  impressive,  my  preaching. 
Saffron  was  a  beloved  spice  and  garnish. 

lr>tten,  a  mixed  metal  resembling  brass. 
Jacob's?  «  heed. 

16  If  it  has  eaten  a  snake,  or  if  a  suake  has  stung  it. 


144 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


And  it  is  hool  anon;  and  furthermore, 
Of  pokkes  and  of  seabbe,  and  every  sore  30 
Shal  every  sheep  be  hool,  that  of  this  welle 
Drinketh  a  draughte;  tak  kepe  eek  what  I 

telle. 
If   that   the    good-man,    that    the   bestes 

oweth,1 
Wol   every   wike,2   er   that   the   cok   him 

croweth, 

Fastinge,  drinken  of  this  welle  a  draughte, 
As  thilke  holy  Jewe  our  eldres  tauyhte, 
His  bestes  and  his  stoor  shal  multiply e. 
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  initeyn  eek,  that  ye  may  see. 
He  that  his  hond  wol  putte  in  this  miteyn, 
He  shal  have  multiplying  of  his  greyn, 
Whan  he  hath  sowen,  be  it  whete  or  otes, 
So  that  he  ofifre  pens,  or  elles  grotes. 

Good  men  and  wommen,  o  thing  warne 

I  yow, 

If  any  wight  be  in  this  chirche  now,  50 

That  hath  doon  sinne  horrible,  that  he 
Dar  nat,  for  shame,  of  it  y-shriven  be, 
Or  any  worn  man,  be  she  yong  or  old, 
That  hath  y-maad  hir  housbond  cokewold, 
Swieh  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."  60 

By  this  gaude  8  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  preche,  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,4 
As  doth  a  dowve  sitting  on  a  berne. 
Myn  hondes  and  my  tonge  goon  so  yerne,5  70 
That  it  is  joye  to  see  my  bisinesse. 
Of  avaryce  and  of  swich  curseduesse 
Is  al  my  preching,  for  to  make  hem  free 
To  yeve  her  pens,  and  namely  6  un-to  me. 

i  "  Own  "  and  "  owe  "  are  the  same  word. 

1  nppirently  "week." 

•  trifle.         <  nod.         *  actively.        •  especially. 


For  my  entente  is  nat  but  for  to  winne, 
And  no-thing  for  correccioun  of  sinne. 
I  rekke  never,  whan  that  they  ben  bt-ried, 
Though    that    her    soules    goon    a-blake- 

bened  ! 7 

For  certes,  many  a  predicacioun 
Comth  ofte  tyme  of  yvel  enteneioun;         80 
Som  for  plesannce  of  folk  and  fiaterye, 
To  been  avaunced  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  veiiim  under  he  we 
Of  holynes.se,  to  seme  holy  and  trewe. 

But  shortly  myii  entente  I  wol  devyse; 
I  preche  of  no-thing  but  for  coveityse. 
Therfor  my  theme  is  yet,  and  ever  was  — 
"  Radix  malorum  est  cupiditas." 
Thus  can  I  preche  agayn  that  same  vyce 
Which  that  I  use,  and  that  is  avaryce.     100 
But,  though  my-self  be  gilty  in  that  sinne, 
Yet  can  I  maken  other  folk  to  twinne  8 
From  avaryce,  and  sore  to  repente. 
But  that  is  nat  my  principal  entente. 
I  preche  no-thing  but  for  coveityse; 
Of  this  matere  it  oughte  y-nogh  sutfyse. 
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  preche, 
And  winne  gold  and  silver  for  1  tec  he, 
That  I  wol  live  in  povert  wilfully  ? 
Nay,  nay,  I  thoghte  it  never  trewely  ! 
For   I  wol  preche   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. 
I  wol  non  of  the  apostles  counterfete; 
I  wol  have  money,  wolle,  chese,  and  whete, 
Al 9  were  it  yeven  of  the  povrest  page,    m 
( )r  of  the  povrest  widwe  in  a  village, 
Al  sholde  hir  children  sterve  for  famyne. 
Nay  !  I  wol  drinke  licour  of  the  vyne, 
1  a-blackberrying.        8  separate.        *  Although. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


'45 


And  have  a  joly  wenche  in  every  toun. 
But  herkueth,  lordings,  in  oonclusiouu; 
Your  lyking  is  that  I  shal  telle  a  tale. 
Now,  have  I  dronke  a  draughte  of  corny  ale, 
By  God,  I  hope  I  slial  yow  telle  a  thing 
That  shal,  by  resoun,  been  at  vour  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  Flanndres  whylom  was  a  companye 
Of  yonge  folk,  that  haunteden  *  folye, 
As  ryot,  hasard,  stewes,'2  and  tavernes, 
Wher-as,  with  harpes,  lutes,  and  giternes,8 
They  dannce  and  pleye  at  dees  bothe  clay 

and  night, 

And  ete  also  and  drinken  over  hir  might, 
Thurgh  which  they  dooii  the  devel  sacri- 

fyse 

With-in  that  develes  temple,  in  cursed  wyse, 
By  superfluitee  abhominable; 
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;4 
Hem   thoughte    Jewes   rente    him    noght 

y-nongh; 

And  ech  of  hem  at  otheres  sinne  lough.6 
And  right  anon  than  comen  tombesteres  6 
Fetys 7  and  smale,  and  yonge  fruytesteres,8 
Singers  with  harpes,  baudes,  wafereres,9 
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,10 
Lay  by  his  doghtres  two,  unwitingly; 
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  heste11 
To  sleen  the  Baptist  John  ful  giltelees. 
Senek  seith  eek  a  good  word  doutelees;  30 

i  followed.        »  brothels.        »  citherns,  mandolins. 
4  Tlie  church  taught  that  Christ  was  pained  again  in 
whatever  part  of  his  body  a  profane  person  swore  by. 
B  laughed.  «  tumbling  girls. 

7  well  formed.  s  K\ris  wi,o  8oi&  fruit. 

*  venders  of  wafers,  i.e.  waffles. 
10  against  nature.  "  gave  the  order. 


40 


He  seith,  he  can  no  difference  finde 
Bitwix  a  man  that  is  out  of  his  minde 
And  a  man  which  that  is  dronkelewe,12 
But  that  wooduesse,  y-fallen  in  a  shrewe,18 
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 ! 

Lo,  how  dere,  shortly  for  to  sayn, 
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;14 
For  whyl  that  Adam  fasted,  as  I  rede, 
He  was  in  Paradys;  and  whan  that  he 
Eet  of  the  fruyt  defended  16  on  the  tree, 
Anon  16  he  was  out-cast  to  wo  and  peyne. 

0  glotonye,  on  thee  wel  oghte  ns  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,  iu  eir,  in  water  men  to-swinke  17 
To    gete    a    glotoun    deyntee    mete    and 

drinke  ! 

Of  this  matere,  o  Paul,  wel  can  stow  trete, 
'  Mete  un-to  wombe,  and  worn  be  eek  uu-to 

mete,  60 

Shal  God  destroyen  bothe,'  as  Paul  us  seith.18 
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,19 

That  of  his  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  enetnys  of  Cristes  croys,  70 
Of  whiche  the  ende  is  deeth,  wombe  is  her 


O  wombe!  O  bely!  O  stinking  cod,21 
Fulfild  of  donge  and  of  corrupcioun! 
At  either  ende  of  thee  foul  is  the  soun. 

12  drunken.  The  termination  is  Scandinavian, 
is  madness,  happening  to  a  person  of  evil  nature. 
"  beyond  doubt.          «  forbidden.          i«  Instantly. 
»  labour  overmuch.  «  1  Corinthians,  vi,  13. 

w  wines.          w  PhUippians,  iii,  19.          «  bag. 


146 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


How  greet  labour  and  cost  is  thee  to  finde! 1 
Thise  cokes,  how  they  stauipe,  and  streyne, 

and  grinde, 

And  turnen  substaunce  in-to  accident,2 
To  fulrille  al  thy  likerous  talent8  ! 
Out  of  the  harde  bones  knokke  they 
The  mary,4  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  appotyt. 
But  certes,  he  that  haunteth  swich  delyces 
Is  deed,  whyl  that  he  liveth  in  tho  vyces. 
A  lecherous  thing  is  wyn;  and  dronke- 

nesse 

Is  ful  of  stryving  and  of  wrecchednesse. 
()  drouke  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;6 
For  dronkenesse  is  verray  sepulture 
Of  mannes  wit  and  his  discrecioun. 
In  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,6 
That  is  to  selle  in  Fish-strete  or  in  Chepe.7 
This  wyn  of  Spayne  crepeth  subtilly 
In  othere  wynes,  growing  faste  by,8 
Of  which  ther  ryseth  swioh  furnositee,9 
That  whan  a  man  hath  dronken  draughtes 

three, 

And  weneth  that  he  be  at  boom  in  Chepe, 
He  is  in  Spayne,  right  at  the  toune  of  Lepe, 
Nat  at  the  Rochel,  ne  at  Burdeux  toun; 10 
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, 

i  to  provide  for. 

»  A  scholastic  distinction:  the  cooks  change  the  very 
nature  of  the  food.  a  gourmandizing  appetite. 

<  marrow.  *  decent  personal  care. 

•  Near  Cadiz;  the  wine  is  perhaps  natural  sherry. 

T  Cheapside,  London. 

8  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  prey  ere; 
Loketh  the  Bible,  and  ther  ye  may  it  lere. 

Loke,  Attila,  the  grete  conquerour, 
Deyde  in  his  sleep,  with  shame  and  dishon 
our, 

Blediuge  ay  at  his  nose  in  dronkenesse; 
A  capitayn  shoulde  live  in  sobrenesse.     120 
And  over  all  this,  avyseth  yow  right  wel 
What  was  comaunded  un-to  Lamuel — n 
Nut  Samuel,  but  Lamuel,  seye  I  — 
Redeth  the  Bible,  and  finde  it  expresly 
Of  wyn-yeving  to  hem  that  ban  jtistyse. 
Na-more  of  this,  for  it  may  wel  suffyse. 

And  now  that  I  have  spoke  of  glotonye, 
Now  wol  I  yow  defenden  12  hasardrye. 
Hasard  is  verray  moder  of  lesinges,          129 
And  of  deceite,  and  cursed  forsweringes, 
Blaspheme    of    Crist,    manslaughtre,   and 

wast  also 

Of  catel 18  and  of  tyme;  and  forthermo, 
It  is  repreve  14  and  contrarie  of  honour, 
For  to  ben  holde  a  commune  hasardour. 
And  ever  the  hye'r  he  is  of  estaat, 
The  more  is  he  holden  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,16  that  was  a  wys  embassadour, 
Was  sent  to  Corinthe,  in  ful  greet  honour, 
Fro  Lacidomie,  to  make  hir  alliaunce. 
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  all  ye  un-to  none  hasard  ours. 
Sendeth  othere  wyse  embassadours. 
For,  by  my  trouthe,  me  were  lever  dye, 
Than  I  yow  sholde  to  hasardours  all  ye. 
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.          i»  chattels,  property.          "  reproach, 
is  Apparently  for  Chilon.    The  story  is  in  John  of 

Salisbury's  Pohcraticus,  book  I,  chap.  5. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


Loke  eek  that,  to  the  king  Demetrius 
The    king   of   Parthes,   as  the   book  seith 

US,1  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   I   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;  2  but  in  special 
Of  swering  seith  the  holy  Jeremye,8 
'  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  4 
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  6  he  forbedeth  swich  swering 
Than  homicyde  or  many  a  cursed  thing; 
I  seye  that,  as  by  ordre,  thus  it  stoudeth; 
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,6 
That  vengeance  shal  nat  parten  from  his 

hous, 

That  of  his  othes  is  to  outrageous. 
'By  Goddes  precious   herte,   and    by  his 

nayles, 
And  by  the   blode  of  Crist,  that  it  is  in 

Hayles,7  190 

Seven  is  my  chaunce,  and  thyn  is  cink  and 

treye ; 8 
By  Goddes  armes.  if  thou  falsly  pleye, 

1  John  of  Salisbury's  Polici-aticus,  after  the  place 
last  cited. 

2  Matthew,  v.  34.  »  Jeremiah,  iv,  2. 

4  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. 

5  He  forbids  it  sooner,  i.e.  earlier  among  the  com 
mandments. 

6  And  furthermore  I  say  flatly. 

7  At  Anh ridge  in   Gloucestershire.      This  precious 
blood  in  a  phial  was  visible  only  to  the  truly  penitent. 

8  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  bicched9  bones 

two, 

Forswering,  ire,  falsnesse,  homicyde. 
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  whiche  I  telle, 
Longe  erst  er  pryme  rong  of  any  belle,    200 
Were  set  hem  in  a  taverue  for  to  drinke; 
And  as  they  satte,  they  herde  a  belle  cliuke 
Biforn  a  cors,  was  caried  to  his  grave; 
That  oon  of  hem  gan  callen  to  his  knave, 
'  Go  bet,' 10  quod  he.  *  and  axe  redily, 
What  cors  is  this  that  passeth  heer  forby; 
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  felawe  of  youres;  210 
And  sodeynly  he  was  y-slayn  to-night, 
For-dronke,11  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  byue, 

and  page. 

I  trowe  his  habitacioun  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). 

»  quickly,  literally  "  better."       "  Dead  drunk. 


143 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


And  we  wol  sleen  this  false  traytour  Deeth; 
He  shal  be  slayn,  which  that  so  many  sleeth, 
By  Goddes  dignitee,  er  it  be  night.' 

Togidres  him   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  rnge, 
And  forth  they  goon  towardes  that  village, 
Of  which  the  taverner  had  spoke  biforn, 
And  many  a  grisly  ooth  than  han  they 

sworn, 

And  Cristes  blessed  body  they  to-rente  — 
Deeth  shal  be  deed,  it'  that  they  may  him 

heute. 

Whan  they  han  goon  nat  fully  half  a  myle, 
Right  as  they  wolde   han  trod  en  over  a 

style,  250 

An  old  man  and  a  povre  with  hem  mette. 
This  olde  man  ful  mekely  hem  grette,1 
And   seyde   thus,  'Now,  lordes,  God  yow 

see!'2 

The  proudest  of  thise  ryotoures  three 
Answenle  agayu,  *  What  ?  carl,  with  sory 

grace,3 

Why  artow  al  f  orwrapped  4  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  in-to  Inde,  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!  270 

Alias!  whan  shul  my  bones  been  at  reste  ? 
Moder,  with  yow  wolde  I  chaunge  my 

cheste, 

That  in  my  chambre  longe  tyme  hath  be, 
Ye!  for  an  hey  re  clout  to  wrappe  me!"  6 
But  yet  to  me  she  wol  nat  do  that  grace, 
For  which  ful  pale  and  welked  6  is  my  face. 

i  greeted.  *  save.  *  confound  you. 

*  concealed  with  wrappings. 

*  I  would  change  all  the  treasure  that  is  in  the  chest 
at  the  foot  of  my  bed  for  a  haircloth  (shroud). 

*  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 
"Agayns7  an  old  man,  hoor  upon  his  heed, 
Ye  sholde  aryse;"8  wherfor  I  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  ye  go9  or  ryde. 
I  moot  go  thider  as  1  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   thilke  traitour 

Deeth,  291 

That  in  this  contree  alle  our  f rendes  sleeth. 
Have  heer  my  trouthe,  as  thou   art  his 

aspye,10 

Tel  wher  he  is,  or  thou  shalt  it  abye,11 
By  God,  and  by  the  holy  sacrament! 
For  soothly  thou  art  oon  of  his  assent, 
To  sleen  us  yonge  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 ;       3oi 
Nat  for  your  boost   he   wol  him  no-thing 

hyde. 
See  ye  that  ook  ?  Right  ther  ye  shul  him 

finde, 

God  save  yow,  that  boghte  agayn  mankiude, 
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  thanne  after  Deeth  they  soughte, 
But  ech  of  hem  so  glad  was  of  that  sighte, 
For    that    the   florins   been    so   faire   and 

brighte,  312 

That  doun  they  sette  hem  by  this  precious 

hord. 

The  worste  of  hem  he  spake  the  firste  word. 
'Brethren,'  quod  he,  'tak  kepe  what  I 

seye; 
My  wit  is  greet,  though  that  I  bourde 12  and 

pleye. 


»  When  you  meet. 
•  walk.  10  spy. 


Leviticus,  xix,  32. 
pay  for.  «  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  wende 
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  cures  — 
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.1 
This  tresor  moste  y-caried  be  by  nighte 
As  wysly  and  as  slyly  as  it  mighte.          330 
Wherfore  I  rede  that  cut 2  among  us  alle 
Be  drawe,  and  lat  see  wher  the  cut  wol 

falle; 

And  he  that  hath  the  cut  with  herte  blythe 
Shal   renne    to    the    toune,   and    that    ful 

swythe,3 

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 

t  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  sworne 

brother, 

Thy  profit  wol  I  telle  tliee  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  35I 

That  it  departed  were  among  us  two, 
Hadde  I  nat  doon  a  freendes  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  conseii  ? ' 4  seyde  the  firste 

shrewe,5 

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.  5  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,  36o 

That,  by  my  trouthe,  I  wol  thee  nat  bi- 

wreye.' 
'  Now,'  quod  the  firste,  '  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  clere  freend,  bitwixen  me  and  thee;  370 
Than  may  we  bothe  our  lustes  al  fulfille, 
And  pleye  at  dees  righte   at   our  oweiie 

wille.' 

And  thus  acorded  been  thise  shrewes  tweye 
To  sleen  the  thridde,  as  ye  han  herd  me 

seye. 
This  yongest,  which  that  wente  un-to  the 

toun, 

Ful  ofte  in  herte  he  rolleth  up  and  doun 
The   beautee   of    thise  florins    newe  and 

brighte. 
4  O   lord  1 '   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  poysoii 

beye, 
With  which  he  mighte  sleen  his  felawes 

tweye; 
For-why   the    feend   fond   him    in    swich 

lyvinge, 

That  he  had  leve  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 ; 6 

And  eek  ther  was  a  polcat  in  his  hawe,7 
That,  as  he  seyde,  his  capouns  hadde  y-sla  we, 
«  kill.  7  yard,  hen-yard,  literally  "hedge." 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


And  fayn  he  wolde  wreke  him,  if  he  mighte, 
On  vermin,  that  destroyed  him  by  nighte. 
The  pothecarie  answerde, '  Aud  thou  shalt 

have 

A  thing  that,  al-so  God  my  soule  save, 
In  al  this  world  ther  nis  no  creature, 
That  etc  or  dronke  hath  of  this  confiture 
Noght  but  the  mountance l  of  a  corn  of 
whete,  401 

That  he  ne  shal  his  lyf  anon  forlete; 
Ye,  sterve  2  he  shal,  and  that  in  lasse  whyle 
Thau  thou   wolt   goon  a   paas  nat  but   a 

myle; 
This  poyson  is  so  strong  and  violent.' 

This  cursed  man  hath  in  his  houd  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  botels  three; 
And  in  the  two  his  poysou  poured  he;      410 
The  thridde  he  kepte  clene  for  his  drinke. 
For  al  the  night  he  shoop  him  8  for  to  swinke  4 
In  caryinge  of  the  gold  out  of  that  place. 
And  whan  this  ryotour,  with  sory  grace, 
Had  filled  with  wyn  his  grete  botels  three, 
To  his  felawes  agayn  repaireth  he. 

What  nedeth  it  to  sermone  of  it  more? 
For  right  as  they  had  cast  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  poyson  was, 
And  drank,  and  yaf  his  felawe  drinke  also, 
For  which  anon  they  storven 5  bothe  two. 

But,  certes,  I  suppose  that  Avicen 
Wroot  never  in  no  canon,  ne  in  no  fen,6 
Mo  wonder  7  signes  of  empoisoning 
Than  hadde  thise  wrecches  two,  er  hir  end 
ing.  430 
Thus  ended  been  thise  homicydes  two, 
And  eek  the  false  empoysoner  also. 

0  cursed  sinne,  ful  of  cnrsednesse  ! 
O  tray  tours  homicyde,  o  wikkednesss  ! 
O  g'otonye.  luxurie,  and  hasardrye  ! 
Thou  blaspiiemour  of  Crist  with  vileinye 
And  othes  grefce,  of  usage  and  of  pryde ! 
Alias !  mankinde,  how  may  it  bityde, 

1  amount.     *  die.      *  intended.      4  labour.      B  died. 

•  Aviceima  (fl.  1000  A.D.),  the  great  Arabian  phy 
sician,  wrote  a  medical  treatise  called  the  "Canon," 
with  chapters  termed  "fens." 

T  wondrous. 


That    to    thy   creatour   which    that    thee 

wroghte, 
And   with   his   precious    herte-blood   thee 

boghte,  44o 

Thou  art  so  fals  and  so  unkinde,  alias  ! 
Now,  goode  men,  God  forge ve  yow  your 

trespas, 

And  ware  yow  fro  the  sinne  of  avaryce. 
Myn  holy  pardoun  may  yow  alle  waryce,8 
80  that  ye  offre  nobles  or  sterlinges,9 
Or  elles  silver  broches,  spones,  ringes. 
Boweth  your  heed  under  this  holy  bulle  ! 
Cometh  up,  ye  wyves,  offreth  of  your  wolle  ! 
Your  name  I  entre  heer  in  my  rolle  anon ; 
In-to  the  blisse  of  hevene  shul  ye  gun;     45o 
I  yow  assoile,  by  myn  heigh  power, 
Yow  that  wol  offre,  as  cleue  and  eek  as 

deer 

As  ye  were  born;  and,  lo,  sirs,  thus  I  preche. 
And  Jesti  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  hond. 
If  any  of  yow  wol,  of  devoeioun,  461 

Offren,  and  han  myn  absolticioun, 
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,       47i 
For  aventures  which  that  may  bityde. 
Pera venture  ther  may  falle  oon  or  two 
Doun   of   his   hors,  and   breke   his   nekke 

at  wo. 

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  sonle  shal  fro  the  body  passe. 
I  rede  that  our  hoste  heer  shal  biginue, 
For  he  is  most  envoluped  in  sinne.  480 

Com  forth,  sir  hoste,  and  offre  first  anon, 
And  thou  shalt  kisse  the  reliks  evericlion, 
Ye,  for  a  grote  !  unbokel  anon  thy  purs. 
1  Nay,  nay,'  quod  he,  '  than  have  1  Cristes 
curs ! 

•  save.  •  silver  coins. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


Lat  be,'  quod  he, '  it  shal  nat  be,  so  thee'ch  ! l 
Thou    woldest    make   me    kisse   thyu    old 

breech,2 
And  swere  it  were  a  relik  of  a  seint.'  * 


Here  is  ended  the  Pardoners  Tale. 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  WYF  OF 
BATHE 

Here  biginneth  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  fulfild  of  fayerye. 
The  elf-queen,  with  hir  joly  companye, 
Daunced  ful  ofte  in  ninny  a  grene  inede; 
This  was  the  olde  opinion,  as  I  rede. 
I  speke  of  nianye  hundred  yeres  ago; 
But  now  can  no  man  see  none  lives  mo. 
For  now  the  grete  charitee  and  jtrayeres 
Of  liniitours  and  othere  holy  freres,  10 

That  serchen  every  lond  and  every  streem, 
As  thikke  as  motes  in  the  sonne-beem, 
Blessinge      halles,      chambres,     kichenes, 

boures, 

Citees,  burghes,  castels,  hye  toures, 
Thropes,4  bernes,  shipnes,5  dayeryes, 
This  maketh  that  ther  been  no  fayeryes. 
For  ther  as  wont  to  walken  was  an  elf, 
Ther  walketh  now  the  limitour  himself 
In  undermeles  6  arid  in  morweninges,         19 
And  seyth  his  matins  and  his  holy  thinges 
As  he  goth  in  his  limitacionn. 
Woinmen  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  non7  dishonour. 
And  so  bifel  it,  that  this  king  Arthour 
Hadde  in  his  hous  a  lusty  bacheler, 
That  on  a  day  cam  rydinge  fro  river;8 
And  happed  that,  allone  as  she  was  born, 
He  saugh  a  mayde  walkings  him  biforn,  30 
Of  whiche  mayde  anon,  nmugree  hir  heed,9 
By  verray  force  he  raf te  hir  maydenheed ; 
For  which  oppressioun  was  swich  clamour 
And  swich  pursute  un-to  the  king  Arthour, 


I 


i  as  I  may  prosper.  *  breeches. 

*  Here  follows  for  a  few  lines  a  coarse  quarrel  be 
tween  the  two,  but  the  knight  reconciles  them. 

*  Thorps,  villages.  5  cow-barns. 

•  Here  apparently  mid-afternoon. 

Most  M'SS.  read  !mt.  »  That  is,  from  hawking. 

•  iii  spite  of  all  resistance. 


That  dampned  was  this  knight  for  to  be 

deed 
By  conrs  of  lawe,  and  sholde  ban  lost  his 

heed 

Paraventure,  swich  was  the  statut  tho; 
But  that  the  queue  and  othere  ladie^  mo 
So  longe  preyeden  the  king  of  grace, 
Til  he  his  lyf  him  graunted  in  the  plnce,  40 
And  yaf  him  to  the  queue  al  at  hir  wille, 
To  chese,  whether  she  wolde  him  save  or 

spille.10 
The  queue  thanketh  the  king  with  al  hir 

might, 

And  after  this  thus  spak  she  to  the  kniglit, 
Whan  that  she  saugh   hir  tyme,  up-ou  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  telleu  me 
What  thing  is  it  that  woimnen  ino-t  de- 
syren. 
Be   war,  and  keep  thy  nekke-boou   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  suffisant  in  this  matere. 
And  suretee  wol  I  ban,  er  that  thou  pace, 
Thy  body  for  toyelden  in  this  place.' 
Wo  was  this  knight  and  sorwefully  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 
vey  e  ; 
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.11 

Somme  seyde,  wommen  loven  best  rich- 

esse, 
Somme  seyde  honour,  somme  seyde  joly- 

nesse;  70 

Somme   riche   array,   somme  S' yden   lust 

abedde, 
And  ofte  tvme  to  be  widwe  and  weclde. 


10  destroy. 


"  agreeing  together. 


'52 


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  slial  winne  us  best  with  flaterye; 
And  with  attendance  and  with  bisinesse 
Been  we  y-lymed,1  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  no-thing 

nyce.2 

For  trewely,  ther  is  noon  of  us  alle, 
If  any  wight  wol  clawe  us  on  the  galle, 
That  we  nil  kike,8  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  cleue  of 

sinne. 
And  somme  seyn,  that  greet  delyt  hau 

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;4 
Pardee,  we  wommen  conne  no-thing  hele ; 6 
Witnesse  on  Myda;6  wol  ye  here  the  tale  ? 

Ovyde,  amonges  othere  thinges  smale, 
Seyde  Myda  hadde,  under  his  longe  heres, 
Growinge  up-on  his  heed  two  asses  eres, 
The    whiche   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  han  so  foul  a  name; 
She  nolde  nat  telle  it  for  hir  owene  shame. 
But  nathelees,  hir  thoughte  that  she  dyde,7 
That  she  so  longe  sholde  a  conseil  hyde;  no 
Hir  thoughte  it   swal  so  sore  aboute  hir 

herte, 
That  nedely  som  word  hir  moste  asterte ; 8 

i  caught,  as  birds  by  lime-twigs.  *  silly. 

•  If  any  touch  us  on  a  tender  spot  we  '11  kick.   Some 
M8S.  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. 
8  know  how  to  conceal  nothing. 

•  Midas,  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  XI,  174,  though  the 
versions  do  not  agree. 

7  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  must  perish. 
«  she  had  to  say  something. 


And  sith  she  dorste  telle  it  to  no  man, 
Doun  to  a  mareys9  fuste  by  she  ran; 
Til  she  came  there,  hir  herte  was  a-fyre, 
And,  as  a  bitore  bombleth 10  in  the  myre, 
She  leyde  hir  mouth  un-to  the  water  doun: 
'  Biwreye   me   nat,  thou   water,  with  thy 

soun,' 

Quod  she,  *  to  thee  I  telle  it,  and  namo;  119 
Myn  housboud  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, 
Redeth  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-inue  his  brest  ful  sorweful  was  the 


>  130 

But   boom   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  forest-syde, 
Wher-as  he  saugh  up-on  ll  a  daunce  go 
Of  ladies  foure  and  twenty,  and  yet  mo; 
Toward  the  whiche   daunce   he   drow  ful 

yerne,12 

In  hope  that  som  wisdom  sholde  he  lerne. 
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  1 

wyf; 

A  fouler  wight  ther  may  no  man  devyse. 
Agayn  the  knight  this  olde  wyf  gan  ryse, 
And  seyde,  '  Sir  knight,  heer-forth  ne  lytl 

no  wey. 

Tel  me  what  that  ye  seken,  by  your  fey. 
Paraventure  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,18  I  wolde  wel  quyte 

your  hyre.'14 

•  marsh.  1°  as  a  bittern  bumbles  or  booms. 

11  in.         i*  eagerly.         13  show.         "  reward  you. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


153 


'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.' 
4  Have  heer  my  trouthe,'  quod  the  knight, 

'  I  grante.' 
'  Tlianne,'   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.   160 
Lat  see  which  is  the  proudeste  of  hem  alle, 
That  wereth  on  a  coverchief  or  a  culle,1 
That  dar  seye  nay,  of   that   I   shal  thee 

teche ; 

Lat  us  go  forth  with-outen  lenger  speche.' 
Tho  rouned  she  a  pistel2  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 

bight,8 

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  quene  hir-se!f  sittinge  as  a  justyse, 
Assembled  been,  his  answere  for  to  here; 
And  afterward  this  knight  was  bode  appere. 

To  every  wight  com:mded  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  questioun  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  housbond  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 

quene ! 
1  caul,  head-dress.    2  whispered  a  tale.    *  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  firste  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  auswerde,  'Alias!  and  weyla- 

wey! 
I  woot  right  wel  that  swich  was  my  bi- 

heste.4 

For  Goddes  love,  aschees  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  V  '  quod  he;  'nay,  my  dampna- 

cioun!  2it 

Alias!  that  any  of  my  nacioun 
Sholde  ever  so  foule  disparaged  be!' 
But  al  for  noght,  the  eude  is  this,  that  he 
Constreyned     was,    he    nedes    moste    hir 

wedde; 
And   taketh   his   olde   wyf,  and   gooth   to 

bedde. 

Now  wolden  sorn  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  whiche  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- 

broght; 

He  walweth,6  and  he  turneth  to  and  fro. 
His  olde  wyf  lay  smylinge  evermo,  230 

And  seyde,  '  O  dere  housbond,  benedicite  I 
Fare*h  every  knight  thus  with  his  wyf  as 

.  ye? 

Is  this  the  lawe  of  king  Arthures  lions? 
Is  every  knight  of  his  so  dangerous  ?  6 
*  promise.         *  wallows,  turns.         «  distant. 


'54 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


I  am  your  owene  love  and  eek  your  wyf; 
I  am  she  which  that  saved  hath  your  lyf ; 
And  certes,  yet  dide  1  yow  never  uiiright; 
Why  fare  ye  thus  with  me  this  hrste  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.1 

So  wolde  God  myn  herte  wolde  breste!' 
'Is  this,'  quod  she,  'the  cause  of  your 

unreste  ? ' 

'  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  ricliesse, 
That  therfore  sholden  ye  be  gentil  men, 
Swich  arrogance  is  nat  worth  an  hen. 
Loke  who  that  is  most  vertuous  alway, 
Privee  and  apert,  and  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  eld  res  for  hir  old  richesse. 
For  tho»h  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  meu  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  rym8  is  Dantes  tale:  271 
"Ful   selde4  up   ryseth    by   his   branches 

s  male 

Prowesse  of  man;  for  God,  of  his  good- 
nesse, 

Wol   that   of   him  we   clayme  our  grentil- 
i~«,«.»» 


For  of  our  eldres  may  we  no-thing  clayme 
But  temporel  thing,  that  man  may  hurte 
and  mayme. 


i  twist. 

•  rhyme.  —  Purgatorio,  VII,  121. 


»  kindred. 
4  seldom. 


Eek  every  wight  wot  this  as  wel  as  I, 
If  gentillesse  were  planted  naturelly 
Uii-to  a  certeyn  linage,  doun  the  lyne, 
Privee   ne   apert,  than   wolde   they  never 


fyne 


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  breune, 
As  twenty  thousand  men  mighte  it  biholde; 
His  office  naturel  ay  wol  it  holde, 
Up  peril  of  my  lyf,  til  that  it  dye. 

Heer  may  ye  see  wel,  how  that  genterye 
Is  nat  annexed  to  possessioun,  291 

Sith  folk  ne  doon  hir  operacioun 
Alwey,  as  dooth  the  fyr,  lo!  in  his  kinde. 
For,  God  it  woot,  men  may  wel  often  iinde 
A  lordes  sone  do  shame  and  vileinye; 
And  he  that  wol  han  prys  of  his  gentrye 
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  auncestre  that  deed  is, 
He  nis  nat  gentil,  be  he  duk  or  erl;          3oi 
For  vileyns  sinful  dedes  make  a  cherl. 
For  gentillesse  nis  but  renomee  6 
Of  thyne  auncestres,  for  hir  heigh  bountee, 
Which  is  a  strange  thing  to  thy  persone. 
Thy  gentillesse  cometh  fro  God  allone; 
Than  cointh  our  verray  gentillesse  of  grace, 
It  was  no-thing  biquethe  us  with  our  place. 

Thenketh  how  noble,  as  seith  Valerius,7 
Was  thilke  Tullius  Hostilius,  3i0 

That  out  of  povert  roos  to  heigh  noblesse. 
Redeth  Senek,  and  redeth  eek  Boece, 
Ther  shul  ye  seen  expres  that  it  no  drede  8 

is, 

That  he  is  gentil  that  doth  gontil  dedis; 
And  therfore,  leve  housbond,  I  thus  con 
clude, 

Al  were  it  that  myne  auncestres  were  rude, 
Yet  may  the  hye  God,  and  so  hope  I, 
Grante  me  grace  to  liven  vertuously. 
Thanne  am  I  gentil,  whan  that  I  biginne 
To  liven  vertuously  and  weyve9  sinne.     320 

And  ther-as  ye  of  povert  me  repreve, 
The  hye  God,  on  whom  that  we  bileve, 
In  wilful  povert  chees  to  live  his  lyf. 
And  certes  every  man,  mayden,  or  wyf, 

8  cease. 

•  renown. 

*  Valerius    Maximus    (first    century  A.D.)  bk.  HI, 
chap.  4,  of  his  De  Fact!*  Dictisque  Meinorabilibus. 

«  doubt.  •  shun. 


THE   CANTERBURY   TALES 


'55 


May  understonde  that  Jesus,  hevene  king, 
Ne  \volde  nat  chese  a  vicious  living. 
Glad  povert  is  an  honest  thing,  certeyn; 
This  wol  Senek  and  othere  elerkes  seyn. 
Who-so  that  halt  him  payd1  of  his  poverte, 
I  liolde  him  riche,  al  hadde  he  mitasherte, 
He  that  covey teth  is  a  povre  wight,         33i 
For  he  wolde  han  that  is  nat  in  his  might. 
But  he  that  noght  hath,  ne  covey  teth  have, 
Is    riche,  al-though  ye    holde    him  but  a 

knave. 

Verray  povert,  it  singeth  proprely; 
Juvenal  seith  of  povert  meiily: 
"  The  povre  man,  whan  he  gotli  by  the  weye, 
Bifore  the  theves  he  may  singe  and  pleye."  2 
Povert  is  hateful  good,  and,  as  I  gesse, 
A  ful  greet  bringer  out  of  bisinesse;        340 
A  greet  amender  eek  of  sapience 
To  him  that  taketh  it  in  patience.3 
Povert  is  this,  al-though  it  seine  elenge  4 
Possessioun,  that  no  u  ight  wol  chalenge. 
Povert  ful  ofte,  whan  a  man  is  lowe, 
Maketh  his  God  and  eek  him-self  to  knowe.6 
Povert  a  spectacle6  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  elde7  ye  repreve  me; 
And  certes,  sire,  tbogh  noon  anctoritee 
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  8  shal  I  finden,  as  I  gesse. 

Now  therye  seye  that  I  am  foul  and  old, 
Than  drede  you  noght  to  be  a  coke  wold; 
For  filthe  and  elde,  al-so  mote  I  thee, 
Been  grete  wardeyns  up-on  chastitee.      360 
But  nathelees,  sin  I  knowe  yonr  delyt, 
I  shal  fulfille  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  nnd  fair, 
And  take  your  a  venture  9  of  the  repair 

i  pleased.  2  Juvenal's  Satires,  X,  22. 

1  These  sentiments  are  found  in  Vincent  of  Beauvafs' 
Speculum  Hisioriale,  bk.  X,  chap.  71,  and  in  other 
writers.  <  wearisome. 

6  Causes  a  man  to  know  himself  and  God. 

•  lens,  pair  of  spectacles.  1  age. 

•  authorities  to  support  me  in  this.        •  risk. 


That  shal  be  to  yonr  hous,  by-cause  of  me, 
Or  in  som  other  place,  may  \vel  he.          370 
Now  chees  your-selveu,  whether 10  that  yow 

lyketh.' 
This  knight  avyseth  him  and  sore  syk- 

eth,u 

But  atte  laste  he  seyde  in  this  nianere, 
4  My  lady  and  my  love,  and  wyf  so  dere, 
I  put  me  in  your  wyse  governance; 
Chese th  your-self,  which  may  be  most  ples- 

ance, 

And  most  honour  to  yow  and  me  also. 
I  do  no  fors  the  whether 12  of  the  two; 
For  as  yow  lyketh,  it  suffiseth  me.1 

*  Thanne  have  I  gete  of  yow  maistrye,' 

quod  she,  380 

*  Sin  I  may  chese,  and  governe  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,18 
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,  einperyce,  or  queue,  390 

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  arnies  .two, 
His  herte  bathed  in  a  bath  of  blisse; 
A  thousand  tyme  a-rewe14  he  gan  hir  kisse. 
And  she  obeyed  him  in  every  thing          399 
That  mighte  doon  him  plesance  or  lyking. 
And  thus  they  live,  un-to  hir  lyves  ende, 
In  parfit  joye;  and  Jesu  Crist  us  sende 
Housbondes     meke,    yonge,    and    fresshe 

a-bedde, 

And  grace  t'overbyde15  hem  that  we  wedde. 
And  eek  I  preye  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.  n  sighs. 

«  I  care  not  which.  1*  die  nind. 

«  in  succession.  «  outlive. 


THE   ROMAUNT   OF  THE   ROSE 


MANY  men  seyn  that  in  sweveninges l 

Ther  nis  but  fables  and  lesinges;2 

But  men  may  somme  swevenes  seen, 

Which  hardely  8  ne  false  been, 

But  afterward  ben  apparaunte. 

This  may  I  drawe  to  waraunte 

An  authour,  that  hight  Macrobes, 

That  halt  not  drenies  false  ne  lees,2 

But  imdoth 4  us  the  avisioun 

That  why  lorn  mette  king  Cipioun.5  10 

And  who-so  sayth,  or  weneth  it  be 
A  jape,  or  elles  nycetee  6 
To  wene  that  dremes  after  falle, 
Let  who-so  liste  a  fool  me  calle. 
For  this  trowe  I,  and  say  for  me, 
That  dremes  signifiaunce  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  corage  7 
Of  yonge  folk,  I  wente  sone 
To  bedde,  as  I  was  wont  to  done, 
And  fast  I  sleep;  and  in  sleping, 
Me  mette  8  swiche  a  swevening, 
That  lykede  me  wonders  wel; 
But  in  that  sweven  is  never  a  del 
That  it  nis  afterward  befalle, 
Right  as  this  dreem  wol  telle  us  alle.        30 
Now  this  dreem  wol  I  ryme  aright, 
To  make  your  hertes  gave  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,9  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  gree10  that  she  it  take 
For  whom  that  it  begonnen  is  ! 
And  that  is  she  that  hath,  y-wis, 

i  dreams.  *  lies.  *  surely.  *  explains.  *  The 
S omnium,  Scipionis  of  Cicero,  known  in  the  commen 
tary  by  Macrobius  (fl.  400  A.D.).  '  A  J°ke  or  a  «Uy  thing. 
i  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  dreiued  me, 
In  tyme  of  love  and  jolitee, 
That  al  thing  ginneth  waxen  gay, 
For  ther  is  neither  busk  nor  hay11 
In  May,  that  it  nil  shrouded  been, 
And  it  with  newe  leves  wreen.12 
These  wodes  eek  recovered  grene, 
That  drye  in  winter  been  to  sene; 
And  th'  erthe  wexeth  proud  withiille, 
For  swote  13  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  qneynt  his  robe  and  fayr 
That  it  hath  hewes  an  hundred  payr 
Of  gras  and  floures,  inde  and  pers,14 
And  many  hewes  ful  dyvers: 
That  is  the  robe  I  mene,  y-wis, 
Through  which  the  ground  to  preisen  is.  70 

The  briddes,  that  han  left  hir  song, 
Whyl  they  han  snffred  cold  so  strong 
In  wedres  15  grille,16  and  derk  to  sighte, 
Ben  in  May,  for  the  sontie  brighte, 
So  glade,  that  they  she  we  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,17  80 

The  chelaundre 18  and  the  papingay.19 
Than  yonge  folk  entenden  20  ay 
For  to  ben  gay  and  amorous, 
The  tyme  is  than  so  savorous.21 
Hard  is  his  herte  that  loveth  nought 
In  May,  whan  al  this  mirth  is  wrought; 
Whan  he  ma.y  on  these  braunches  here 
The  smale  briddes  singen  clere 
Hir  blisful  swete  song  pitous; 
And  in  this  sesoun  delitous,22 


11  bnsh  nor  hedge.       1J  cover 
blue  and  light  blue.      15  storms. 


sweet. 

18  savage. 


9° 

i«  dark 
«  time. 


18  a  kind  of  lark.     1*  properly  parrot;  lie  re  green  wood 
pecker.     «  are  disposed.     "  pleasant.    «  delightful. 


THE   ROMAUNT   OF  THE   ROSE 


'57 


Whan  love  affrayeth1  alle  thing, 

Me  though te  a-night,  in  my  sleping, 

Right  in  my  bed,  ful  redily, 

That  it  was  by  the  morowe  erly, 

And  up  I  roos  and  gan  me  clothe; 

Auoon  I  wissh  2  myn  hondes  bothe; 

A  sylvre  nedle  forth  I  drogh 

Out  of  an  aguiler  8  queynt  y-nogh, 

And  gan  this  nedle  threde  anon; 

For  out  of  toun  me  list  to  gon  100 

The  sowne  of  briddes  for  to  here, 

That  on  thise  busshes  singen  clere. 

And  in  the  swete  sesoun  that  leef  4  is, 

With  a  threde  basting  my  slevis,6 

Aloou  I  wente  in  my  playing, 

The  smale  foules  song  harkning; 

That  peyned  hem  6  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  play  en  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,  iao 

The  water  that  so  wel  lyked7  me; 

And  wonder  glad  was  I  to  see 

That  lusty  place,  and  that  riveer; 

And  with  that  water  that  ran  so  deer 

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 8  right  on  the  water-syde. 

Ful  cleer  was  than  the  morow-tyde,         130 

And  ful  attempre,9  out  of  drede. 

Tho  gan  I  walke  through  the  mede, 

Doun  ward  ay  in  my  pleying, 

The  river-syde  costeying.10 

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  u    140 

1  distracts.  a  washed.  8  needle-case.  *  dear. 
B  They  often  sewed  on  the  long  drooping  sleeves  each 
time  the  garment  was  donned.  8  took  pains.  7  pleased. 
8  Impinged.  *  temperate.  10  coasting,  following 
along.  »  decorated. 


With  many  riche  portraitures; 

And  bothe  images  and  peyntures 

Gan  I  biholde  bisily. 

And  I  wol  telle  you,  redily, 

Of  thilke  images  the  semblaunce, 

As  fer  as  I  have  remembraunce. 

HATE 

A-midde  saugh  I  HATE  stonde, 
That  for  hir  wrathe,  ire,  and  onde,12 
Seined  to  been  a  moveresse,18 
An  angry  wight,  a  chideresse;14  150 

And  ful  of  gyle,  and  fel  corage,16 
By  semblauut  was  that  ilke  image. 
And  she  was  no-thing  wel  arrayed, 
But  lyk  a  wood 16  womman  af rayed; 
Y-frounced  17  foule  was  hir  visage, 
And  grenning 18  for  dispitous 19  rage; 
Hir  nose  snorted  up  for  tene.20 
Ful  hidous  was  she  for  to  sene, 
Ful  foul  and  rusty  was  she,  this. 
Hir  heed  y-writhen  21  was,  y-wis,  160 

Ful  grimly  with  a  greet  towayle. 

FELONYE 

An  image  of  another  entayle,22 
A  lift  half,28  was  hir  faste  by: 
Hir  name  above  hir  heed  saugh  I, 
And  she  was  called  FELONYE. 

VILANYE 

Another  image,  that  VILANYE 
Y-cleped  was,  saugh  I  and  fond 
Upon  the  walle  on  hir  right  houd. 
Vilanye  was  lyk  somdel 24 
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  swiche  image  coude  make. 
Ful  foul  and  cherlish  semed  she, 
And  eek  vilaynous  for  to  be, 
And  litel  coude  of  norture, 
To  worshipe  any  creature.26  180 

\The  descriptions  of  Covetoumess,  Ava 
rice,  Envy,  and  Poverty  are  omitted.'] 

Tho  gan  I  go  a  ful  gret  pas 
Envyroning  even  in  compas  2* 
The  closing  of  the  square  wal, 
Til  that  I  fond  a  wiket  smal 

12  malice.  "  fomentress  of  quarrels.  14  scolder. 
IB  bad  disposition,  i8  mad.  "  wrinkled.  18  grinning. 
i»  spiteful.  20  vexation.  21  encircled.  22  fashion.  «  On 
the  left  side.  *4  somewhat.  25  knew  little  of  manners 
to  be  polite  to  any.  «  Going  quite  about  the  circuit. 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


530 


540 


sso 


So  shet,  that  I  ne  inighte  in  goon, 
And  other  entree  was  ther  noon. 

THE  DOOR 

Upon  this  dore  I  gan  to  smyte, 
Tiiat  was  [so]  fetys 1  and  so  lyte; 
For  other  wey  coude  I  not  seke. 
Ful  long  I  slioof,2  and  knokked  eke, 
And  stood  ful  long  and  oft  herkning 
If  that  I  herde  a  wight  coming; 
Til  that  the  dore  of  thilke  entree 
A  mayden  curteys  opened  me. 

YDELNESSE 

Hir  heer  was  as  yelowe  of  hewe 

As  any  basin  8  scoured  newe. 

Hir  flesh  [as]  tendre  as  is  a  cliike, 

With  bente  4  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  month,  and  round  to  see; 

A  clove  6  chin  eek  hadde  she. 

Hir  nekke  was  of  good  fasoun 

In  lengthe  and  gretnesse,  by  resoun, 

Withoute  bleyne,  scabbe,  or  royne.6 

Fro  Jerusalem  unto  Burgoyue 

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  braunche  snowed  newe. 

Of  body  ful  wel  wrought  was  she; 

Men  necled  not,  in  no  cuntree,  S6o 

A  fairer  body  for  to  seke. 

And  of  fyn  orf rays 7  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  gay8  rnirour, 

And  with  a  riche  gold  tressour  9 

Hir  heed  was  tressed  queyntely; 

Hir  sieves  sewed  fetisly.  S70 

And  for  to  ktpe  hir  hondes  faire 

Of  gloves  whyte  she  hadde  a  paire. 

And  she  hadde  on  a  cote  of  grene 

Of  cloth  of  Gaunt;10  withouten  wene,11 

Wel  semed  by  hir  apparayle 

i  well-made.  2  shoved.  »  The  basin  would  be  of 
latten.  4  arched.  6  cloven,  i.e.  dimpled.  «  roughness. 
i  gold-work,  s  pretty.  •  head-dress,  caul.  ">  Ghent. 
»  beyond  doubt. 


She  was  not  wont  to  greet  travsiyle. 

For  whan  she  kempt 12  was  fetisly, 

And  wel  arayed  and  richely, 

Thanne  had  she  doon  al  hir  journee; 13 

For  mery  and  wel  bigoon  14  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  15  hir  wel  and  uncouthly.16 

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,17 
And  what  she  was,  1  axede  eke. 
And  she  to  me  was  nought  uniueke,         S90 
Ne  of  hir  answer  daungerous,18 
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,  nnmely; 19 
For  I  entende  *°  to  no-thing 
But  to  my  joye,  and  my  pleying, 
And  for  to  kembe  and  tresse  21  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  woxeu  ^  on  highte, 
This  wal,  that  stant  here  in  thy  sighte, 
Dide  Mirthe  enclosen23  al  aboute; 
And  these  images,  al  withoute, 
He  dide  hem  bothe  entaile24  and  peynte, 
That  neither  ben  jolyf  ne  queynte,  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  walke'h  to  solace 
Him  and  his  folk;  for  swetter  place 
To  pleyen  in  he  may  not  finde, 
Although  he  soughto  oon  in-til  Inde. 
The  alther-fairest26  folk  to  see 
That  in  this  world  may  founde  be 

"  combed,  dressed.        i»  day's  work.       "  satisfied. 

clothe.        16  rarely.       "  was  called.        i»  haughty. 

especially.  20  apply  myself.  21  do  iny  hair. 

11  waxed.  "  had  it  enclosed.  «  carve.  «  fairest 
of  all. 


THE   ROMAUNT  OF  THE   ROSE 


Hath  Mirtbe  with  him  in  his  route, 
That  folowen  him  alwayes  aboute.' 
When  Ydelnesse  had  told  al  this, 
And  I  hadde  herkned  wel,  y-wis,  630 

Than  seide  I  to  dame  Ydelnesse, 
'  Now  al-so  wisly l  God  me  blesse, 
Sith  Mirthe,  that  is  so  fair  and  free, 
Is  in  this  yerde  with  his  meynee,2 
Fro  thilke  assemblee,  if  I  may, 
Shal  no  man  werne  8  me  to-day, 
Tiiat  I  this  night  ne  mote  it  see. 
For,  wel  wene  I,  ther  with  him  be 
A  fair  and  joly  companye 
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  [therjin,  y-wis, 
Myn  herte  was  ful  glad  of  this. 
For  wel  wende  I  ful  sikerly 
Have  been  in  paradys  erth[e]ly; 
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  d  we  lie  or  be 
As  in  that  GARDIN,  thoughte  me; 
For  there  was  many  a  brid  singing, 
Throughout  the  yerd  al  thringing.4 
In  many  places  were  nightingales, 
Alpes,5  finches,  and  wode  wales,6 
That  in  her  swete  song  delyten 
In  thilke  place  as  they  habyten.7  660 

Ther  mighte  men  see  many  flokkes 
Of  turtles  and  [of]  laverokkes. 
Chalaundres  8  fele  saw  I  there, 
That  wery,  nigh  forsongen9  were. 
And  thrustles,  terins,10  and  mavys,11 
That  songen  for  to  winne  hem  prys,12 
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  BO  sure  as.  2  retinue.  *  forbid.  4  thronging. 
8  Bullfinches.  «  green  woodpeckers.  7  In  that  place 
which  they  inhabit,  «  Larks.  »  snng  out.  10  taring, 
•iakins.  u  song-thrush.  12  reputation. 


Swich  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  inermaydens  clepe  hem  here 

In  English,  as  in  our  usaunce, 

Men  clepe[n]  hem  sereyns  18  in  Fraunce. 

Ententif  14  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  1  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  served16  there, 
And  eek  what  folk  ther  with  him  were, 
Without[e]  fable  I  wol  descryve. 
And  of  that  gardin  eek  as  blyve 16 
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.17  720 

And  whan  that  I  hadde  herd,  I  trowe, 
These  briddes  singing  on  a  rowe, 
Than  mighte  I  not  withholde  me 
That  I  ne  wente 18  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. 


i»  sirens.          M  Eager.          «  employed  himself. 
16  immediately.        "  rejoicing.        «  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,1 
Al  this  inene  I  by  love,  that  my  feling 
Astonyeth  with  his  wonderful  worching 
So  sore  y-wis,  that  whan  I  on  him  thiuke, 
Nat  wot  I  wel  wher  that  I  wake  or  winke. 

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      10 
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,2 
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  yerue.8 

For  out  of  olde  feldes,  as  men  seith, 
Cometh  al  this  nevve  corn  fro  yeer  to  yere; 
And  out  of  olde  bokes,  in  good  feith, 
Cometh  al  this  newe  science  that  men  lere.4 
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';5 
Chapitres  seven  hit  hadde,  of  hevene  and 

belle, 

And  erthe,  and  soules  that  therinne  dwelle, 
Of  whiche,  as  shortly  as  I  can  hit  trete, 
Of  his  sentence  1  wol  you  seyn  the  grete.6 

i  slideth,  slips  away,  so  soon. 

*  Habitually,  sometimes  for  pleasure,  sometimes  for 
edification. 

1  I  read  closely  and  eagerly.  *  learn. 

»  Cicero's  Somninm  Sdpioni*  in  the  commentary  of 
Macrobiua.  See  line  111,  below.  •  gist. 


First  telleth  hit,  whan  Scipioun  was  come 
In  Afrik,  how  he  mette  Massinisse, 
That  him  for  joye  in  armes  hath  y-nome.7 
Than  telleth  hit  hir  speche  and  al  the  blisse 
That  was   betwix   hem,  till  the   day  gan 
misse  ;  8  40 

And  how  his  auncestre,  African  so  dere, 
Gan  in  his  slepe  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-  the  wed,9 
He  shal  unto  a  blisful  place  wende, 
Ther  as  joye  is  that  last  withouten  ende. 

Than  asked  he  if  folk  that  heer  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 

heer  is, 

At  regard  of10  the  hevenes  quantite; 
And  after  shewed  he  him  the  nyne  speres,11 
And  after  that  the  melodye  herde  he        60 
That  cometh  of  thilke  speres  thryes  three, 
The  welle  12  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  shulde13  out  of 
ininde  69 

That  in  this  worlde  is  don  of  al  maukiude. 

Than  prayde  him  Scipioun  to  telle  him  al 
The  wey  to  come  un-to  that  hevene  blisse; 


7  taken.        8  fail. 
with,      "  spheres. 


•  virtuous.         ">  As  compared 
source.     i»  Supply  "depart." 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF   FOULES 


161 


And   he   seyde,   *  Know  thy-self  first  im 
mortal, 

And  loke  ay  besily  thou  werke  and  wisse 1 
To  comuu  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  1 '  — 

The  day  gan  fallen,  and  the  derke  night, 
That  reveth  bestes  from  hir  besmesse, 
Berafte  me  my  book  for  lakke  of  light, 
And  to  my  bedde  I  gan  me  for  to  dresse, 
Fultild  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,2  as  I  lay, 
How  African,  right  in  that  selfe  aray 
That  Scipiouu  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,8 

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  soindel  of  thy  labour  wolde  I  quyte! ' — 
1  teach.  »  dreamed.  »  foes.  A.S.  gefan. 


Citherea  !  thou  blisful  lady  swete, 

That  with  thy   fyr-brand  dauiitest  whom 

thee  lest, 

And  inadest  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 i ' 

*  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  bere. 
This   streem   you   ledeth    to   the   sorwful 

were,4 

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  stounde6  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.  *  a  while. 


162 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Right  as,  betwixen  adamauntes1  two 

Of  even  might,  a  pece  of  iren  y-set, 

That  hath  no  might  to  meve  to  ne  fro —  150 

For  what  that  on  may  hale,  that  other  let  —  2 

Ferde  I,  that  uiste  whether  me  was  bet,8 

To  entre  or  leve,  til  African  my  gyde 

Me  hente,  and  shoof4  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  inent  by  6  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  tbou  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!  e 
For  over-al,  wher  that  I  myn  eyeu  caste, 
Were  trees  clad  with  leves  that  ay  shal 

laste, 

Eche  in  his  kinde,  of  colour  fresh  and  grene 
As  euieraude,  that  joye  was  to  sene. 

The  bilder  ook,  and  eek  the  hardy  asshe; 
The  piler7  elrn,  the  cofre  unto  careyne;8 
The  boxtree  piper;9  holm  to  whippes 

lasshe;10 
The    sayling11   firr;    the   cipres,   deth    to 

pleyne;  ,79 

The  sheter 12  ew,  the  asp  for  shaf tes  pleyne ; 
The  olyve  of  pees,  and  eek  the  drunken 

vyne, 
The  victor  palm,  the  laurer  to  devyne.18 

»  magnets.     *  one  pulls,  the  other  hinders.     »  knew 
not  which  was  better  for  me.  *  seized  and  shoved. 

*  concerning.  •  situated.  7  for  posts.  8  coffins 
for  corpses.  •  for  making  whistles.  1°  Apparently, 
furnishing  handles  for  lashes.  "  good  for  masts. 

«  "shooter,"  because  used  for  bows.  *»  used  in 

di  filiation. 


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  finiies  rede  and  scales  silver-brighte. 

On  every  bough  the  briddes  herde  I  singe, 
With  voys  of  aungel  in  hir  armonye,  191 
Som  besyed  hem  hir  briddes  forth  to 

bringe.14 

The  litel  conyes  to  hir  pley  gunne  hye; 
And  further  al  aboute  I  gan  espye 
The  dredf  ul 15  roo,  the  buk,  the  hert  and 

hinde, 
Squerels,  and  bestes  smale  of  gentil  kinde. 

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,  unnethe 16  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  17  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  told 
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  his  fete  his  bo  we  al  redy  lay; 
And  wel  his  doghter  tempred  al  the  whyle 
The  hedes  in  the  welle,  and  with  hir  wyle 18 
She  couched  19  hem  after  as  they  shulde 

serve, 
Som  for  to  slee,  and  som  to  wounde  and 

kerve. 

Tho  was  I  war  of  Plesaunce  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  folye  — 
Disfigurat  was  she,  I  nil  not  lye; 

"  to  rear  their  chicks.  «  timid.  18  hardly. 

17  temperate.  *8  guile,  subtlety.  "  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,  withouten  any  atyr, 
And  Youthe,  fill  of  game  and  Jolyte, 
Fool-hardinesse,  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-fouiided  stronge. 

Aboute  the  temple  daunceden  alway 
Wommen  y-nowe,  of  whiche  sornme  ther 

were 
Faire  of  hem-self,  and  somme  of  hem  were 

gay; l 

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 
hond :  240 

And  hir  besyde,  wonder  discretly, 
Daine  Pacience  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  folke  a  route. 

Within  the  temple,  of  syghes  hote  as  fyr 
I  herde  a  swogh2  that  gan  aboute  renne; 
Which  syghes  were  engendred  with  desyr, 
That  maden  every  auter  for  to  brenue 
Of  newe  flaume;  and  wel  aspyed  I  thenne 
That   al   the   cause   of   sorwes   that   they 
drye 8  351 

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,4  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  Richesse, 
That  was  ful  noble  and  hautey u  of  hir  porte. 


*  dressed-up. 
»  suffer. 


*  murmur. 

«  Ovid'a  Fasti,  I,  450. 


Derk  was  that  place,  but  afterward  light- 

nesse 

I  saw  a  lyte,  unnethe  6  hit  might  be  lesse; 
And  on  a  bed  of  golde  she  lay  to  reste, 
Til  that  the  hote  soniie  gan  to  weste. 

Hir  gilte  heres  with  a  golden  threde 
Y-boundeu  were,  untressed  as  she  lay, 
And  naked  fro  the  breste  unto  the  hede 
Men  might  hir  see;  and,  sothly  for  to  say,  270 
The  reineriant  wel  kevered  to  my  pay  6 
Right  with  a  subtil  kerchef  of  Valence,7 
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;s 
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  ferther  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  tymea 

waste 

In  hir  servyse ;  and  peynted  over  al 
Of  many  a  story,  of  which  I  touche  shal 
A  fewe,  as  of  Calixte  9  and  Athalaunte  10 
And  many  a  mayde  of  which  the  name  I 

wante; 

Semyramus,  Candace,11  and  Ercules, 
Biblis,12  Dido,  Tisbe  and  Piramus, 
Tristram,  Isonde,18  Paris,  and  Achilles,  290 
Eleyne,14  Cleopatre,  and  Troilus, 
Silla,15  and  eek  the  moder  of  Romulus  — 
Alle  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  quene 
That,  as  of  light  the  somer-sonne  shene 
Passeth  the  sterre,  right  so  over  mesure  300 
She  fairer  was  than  any  creature. 

*  scarcely.  •  content.  »  thin  silk.  •  cause* 
relief  from  hunger.  »  Callisto.  ."  Atalauta,  the 
fleet-footed.  "  An  Indian  queen  who  fascinated 

Alexander  the  Great.  »*  Who  loved  vainly  in  Ovid'i 
Metamorphoses,  IX.  1S  Iseult.  14  Helen  of  Troy, 
or  possibly  Lancelot's  Elaine.  »*  Bcylla  of  Megar*, 
whom  Minos  would  not  have. 


i64 


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  coineth  of  eugen- 

drure,1 

That  they  ne  were  prest 2  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  huge  a  noyse  gan  they  make, 
That  erthe  and  see,  and  tree,  and  every  lake 
So  ful  was,  that  unuethe  was  ther  space 
For  me  to  stonde,  so  ful  was  al  the  place. 

And  right  as  Aleyn,  in  the  Pleynt  of  Kinde,8 

Devyseth  Nature  of  aray  and  face, 

In  swich  aray  men  mighte[n]  hir  ther  finde. 

This  noble  emperesse,  ful  or  grace, 

Bad  every  foul  to  take  his  owne  place,     320 

As  they  were  wont  alwey  fro  yeer  to  yere, 

Seynt  Valeutynes  day,  to  stonden  there. 

That  is  to  sey,  the  fonles  of  ravyne  4 
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  in  the  dale; 
And  foul  that  liveth  by  seed  sat  on  the  grene, 
And  that  so  fele,5  that  wonder  was  to  sene. 

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  donne 
And  greye,  I  ineue  the  goshauk,  that  doth 

pyne 
To  briddes  for  his  outrageous  ravyne. 

The  gentil  fan  con,  that  with  his  feet  dis- 

treyueth  6 

The  kiuges  hond;  the  hardy  sperhauk  7  eke, 
The  quayles  foo;  the  tnerliou  8  that  peyneth 
Him-self  ful  ofte  the  larke  for  to  seke;  34o 
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; 

i  begetting.  «  ready.  •  Alan  us  de  Insulis'  De 
Planctu  Naturae  (c.  1170).  «  birds  of  prey.  *  many. 
e  grasps.  i  sparrow-hawk.  «  the  merlin. 


The  crane  the  geaunt,9  with  his  trompes 
soune; 

The  theef,  the  chogh;10  and  eek  the  jang 
ling  u  pye ; 

The  scorning  jay;  the  eles  foo,  the  heroune; 

The  false  lapwing,  ful  of  trecherye; 12 

The  stare,13  that  the  counseyl  can  bewrye; 14 

The  tame  ruddok;16  and  the  coward  kyte; 

The  cok,  that  orloge  is  of  thorpes  lyte; 16  350 

The  sparow,  Venus  sone;  the  nightingale, 
Thatclepeth  forth17  the  fresshelevesnevve; 
The  swalow,  mordrer  of  the  foules  18  srnale 
That  maken  honyof  floures  fresshe  of  he  we; 
The  wedded  turtel,  with  hir  herte  trewe; 
The  pecok,  with  his  aim  gels  fethres  brighte; 
The  fesaunt,  scorner  of  the  cok  by  nig-hte; 

The  waker19  goos;  the  cukkow  ever  un- 

kinde;20 

The  popinjay,  ful  of  delicasye ;  21 
The  drake,  stroyer  of  his  owne  kinde;     360 
The  stork,  the  wreker  of  avouterye;  ^ 
The  hote  cormerauut  of  glotonye; 
The  raven  wys,  the  crow  with  vois  of  care; 
The  throstel  olde;  the  frosty  23  feldefare. 

What  shulde  I  seyn?  Of  foules  every  kinde 
That  in  this  worlde  ban  fethres  ami  stature, 
Men  mighten  in  that  place  assembled  finde 
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  24  or  his  make. 

But  to  the  poynt — Nature  held  on  hir  honde 
A  formel  egle,  of  snap  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,25  that  Nature  hir-self  had  blisse 
To  loke  on  hir,  and  ofte  hir  bek  to  kisse. 

Nature,  the  vicaire  of  th'almyofhty  lorde, 
That  hoot,  cold,  hevy,  light,  [and]  moist 
and  dreye  380 

Hath  knit  by  even  noumbre  of  acorde, 
In  esy  vois  beg-an  to  speke  and  seye, 
*  Foules,  tak  hede  of  my  sentence,  I  preye, 

•  giant.  1°  chough,  crow.  "  chattering. 

»  because  she  misleads  those  seeking  her  nest. 

«  etarling.      »  that  tells  tales.      «  robin  redbreast. 

»•  the  timepiece  of  little  villages.       »  announces. 

is  Another  reading  is  flyes.  «  watchful.  *°  un 
natural  (about  its  eggs).  21  wantonness.  2J  avenger 
of  adultery.  "  Because  he  comes  in  the  winter. 

14  the  female  of  a  bird  of  prey.  25  To  such  a  degree. 


THE  PARLEMENT  OF  FOULES 


And,  for  your  ese,  in  furthering  of  your  nede, 
As  faate  as  I  may  speke,  I  wol  me  spede. 

Ye  know  wel  how,  seynt  Valentynes  day, 
By  my  statut  and  through  my  governaunce, 
Ye  come  for  to  chese  —  and  flee  your  way  — 
Your  makes,  as  I  prik  yow  with  plesauiice. 
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 1  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.2 

And  after  him,  by  order  shul  ye  chese,    400 
After  your  kinde,  everich  as  yow  lyketh, 
And,  as  your  hap  is,  shul  ye  winne  or  lese; 
But  which  of  yow  that  love  most  entry keth,3 
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  condicioun 
Mot4  be  the  choys  of  everich  that  is  here, 
That  she  agree  to  his  eleccioun,  409 

Who-so  he  be  that  shulde  been  hir  fere; 6 
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  with  f  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 

thought, 

The  formel  on  yourhond  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  6  every  veyne ; 
Having  reward  7  [al]  only  to  my  trouthe, 
My  dere  herte,  have  on  my  wo  som  ronthe. 

1  the  male  of  a  Mrd  of  prey  —  perhaps  so   called 
because  a  third  smaller  than  the  female.        *  way. 
»  pesters.      *  must.       *  mate.       •  cut.       7  regard. 


And  if  that  I  to  hir  be  founde  untrewe, 
Disobeysaunt,  or  wilful  negligent, 
Avauntour,8  or  iu  proces9  love  a  newe,    430 
I  pray  to  you  this  he  my  jugeinent, 
That  with  these  foules  I  be  al  to-rent, 
That  ilke  day  that  ever  she  me  finde 
To  hir  untrewe,  or  in  my  gilte  uukin.de. 

And  sin  that  noon  loveth  hir  so  wel  as  I, 
Al  be  she  never  of  love  me  behette,10 
Than  oghte  she  be  myn  thourgh  hir  mercy, 
For  other  bond  can  I  noon  on  hir  knette.11 
For  never,  for  ne  wo,  ne  shal  I  lette  u      439 
To  serven  hir,  how  fer  so  that  she  wende; 
Sey  what  yow  list,  my  tale  is  at  an  ende.' 

Right  as  the  fresshe,  rede  rose  newe 
Ay  en  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  ahasshed  was  she,  til  that  Nature 
Seyde,  '  Doghter,  drede  yow  noght,  I  yow 
assure.'  18 

Another  tercel  egle  spak  anoon, 
Of  lower  kinde,  and  seyde,  '  That  shal  not 
be;  45o 

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  degree, 
And  if  she  shulde  have  loved  for  long  loving, 
To  me  allone  had  been  the  guerdoning.14 

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  suffyse,  460 

Fro  poynt  to  poynt,  hir  honour  for  to  save, 

Tak  she  my  life,  and  al  the  good16  I  have.' 

The  thridde  tercel  egle  answerde  tho,16 
'  Now,  sirs,  ye  seen  the  litel  leyser17  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  tarvinghere,  noght  half  that  I  wolde  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 


s  boaster.    »  in  time.    10  promised.    n  knit. 
i*  protect.   "  rewarding.   "  goods.   "  then.    "  leisure. 


i66 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Thise  twenty  winter,  and  wel  happen  may 
A  man  may  serven  bet  and  more  to  pay  1 
In  half  a  yere,  al-though  hit  were  no  more, 
Than  sum  man  doth  that  hath  served  ful  yore. 

I  ne  say  not  this  by 2  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  fey  nest  wolde  hir  ese; 
At  shorte  wordes,  til  that  deth  me  sese, 
I  wol  ben  hires,  whether  I  wake  or  winke, 
And  trewe  in  al  that  herte  may  bethiuke.' 

Of  al  my  lyf,  sin  that  day  I  was  born, 
So  gentil  plee  in  love  or  other  thing 
Ne  herde  never  no  man  me  beforn, 
Who[-so]  that  hadde  leyser  and  cunning 
For  to  renerse  hir  chere  and  hir  speking; 
And  from  the  morwe  gan  this  speche  laste 
Til    dounward    drow    the    sonne    wonder 
faste.  490 

The  noyse  of  foules  for  to  ben  delivered 
So  londe  rong,  *  Have  doon  and  let  us  wende ! ' 
That  wel  wende  8  I  the  wode  had  al  to-shiv 
ered. 
'Come  of!'4  they  cryde,  'alias!  ye  wil  us 

shende! 
When  shal  your  cursed  pleding  have   an 

ende? 

How  shulde  a  jnge  eyther  party  leve,6 
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  tho. 
The  goos  seyde,  '  Al  this  nis  not  worth  a 

flye!  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  comune  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> 

i  please.   »  about.   *  thought.    «  Hurry  up.    »  believe. 
•  if  a  man  is  to  apeak  after  your  fashion,  he  might  as 
well  be  silent. 


I  am  a  seed-foul,  oon  the  unworthieste, 
That  wot  I  wel,  and  litel  of  kunninge; 
But  bet  is  that  a  wightes  tonge  reste 
Thau  entremeten  him 7  of  such  doinge 
Of  which  he  neyther  rede  can  nor  singe. 
And  who-so  doth,  ful  f  oule  himself  acloy  eth,8 
For  office  uncommitted  ofte  anoyeth.'9 

Nature,  which  that  alway  had  an  ere 

To  murmour  of  the  lewednes  behinde,     520 

With  facound10  voys   seide,   'Hold  your 

tonges  there! 

And  I  shal  sone,  I  hope,  a  counseyl  finde 
You  to  delivere,  and  fro  this  noyse  unbimle; 
I  juge,  of  every  folk  men  shal  oon  calls 
To  seyn  the  verdit  for  you  foules  alle.' 

Assented  were  to  this  conclusionn 
The  briddes  alle;  and  foules  of  ravyne 
Han  chosen  first,  by  pleyn  eleccioun, 
The  tercelet  of  the  faucon,  to  diffyne       529 
Al  hir  sentence,11  and  as  him  list,  termyne;12 
And  to  Nature  him  gonnen18  to  presente, 
And  she  accepteth  him  with  glad  entente. 

The  tercelet  seide  than  in  this  manere: 
'  Ful  hard  were  hit  to  preve  hit  by  resoun 
Who  loveth  best  this  gentil  formel  here; 
For  everich  hath  swich  replicacioun14 
That  noon  by  skilles15  may  be  broght  a-doun; 
I  can  not  seen  that  arguments  avayle; 
Than  semeth  hit  ther  moste  be  batayle.' 

'  Al  redy! '  quod16  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,17  I  preye, 
It  may  noght  gon,  as  ye  wolde,  in  this  weye; 
Oure   is  the  voys  that  han  the  charge  in 

honde, 
And  to  the  juges  dome  ye  moten  stonde; 

And  therfor  pees!  I  seye,  as  to  my  wit, 
Me  wolde  thinke18  how  that  the  worthieste 
Of  knighthode,  and  longest  hath  used  hit,19 
Moste  of  estat,  of  blode  the  gentileste,    55o 
Were  sittingest20  for  hir,  if  that  hir  loste; 
And  of  these  three  she  wot  hir-self,  I  trowe, 
Which  that  he  be,  for  hit  is  light  to  knowe.' 

i  meddle.  •  overburdens. 

•  A  proverb;  cf.  "Proffered  service  stinketh." 

10  fluent,  ready.     »  their  sentiments.     1*  determine. 

11  proceeded       M  repartee.      »  reasons.      »•  quoth. 
»  in  bad  part.       "  It  would  seem  to  me.        19  Who 

has  been  longest  a  good  knight.         so  most  suitable. 


THE   PARLEMENT  OF  FOULES 


167 


The  water-foules  ban  her  hedes  leyd 
Togeder,  and  of  short  avysement, 
Whan  everich  had  his  large  golee1  seyd, 
They  seyden  sothly,  al  by  0011  assent, 
How   that   'the   goos,   with    hir   facounde 

gent,2 

That  so  desyreth  to  pronounce  our  nede, 
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  kepe8   every 

man, 
And    herkeneth  which    a4  reson    I   shal 

bringe ; 

My  wit  is  sharp,  I  love  no  taryinge; 
I  seye,  I  rede6  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!6 
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!7 

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  preyse  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.  mouthful.      *  gentle  eloquence.      8  pay 
heed.     *  what  sort  of.     *  advise.     •  thrive.     »  folly. 


'Wei  bourded!'8  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,  cherl!  '  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,9  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,10 
So  I,'  quod  he,  '  may  have  my  make  n  in 

pees, 

I  recche  not  how  longe  that  ye  stryve; 
Lat  ech  of  hem  be  soleyn  12  al  hir  ly  ve, 
This  is  my  reed,  sin  they  may  not  acorde; 
This  shorte  lesson  nedeth  noght  recorde.'  13 

'  Ye  !  have  the  glotoun  fild  ynogh  his 
paunche,  610 

Than  are  we  wel!  '  seyde  the  merlioun; 

'  Thou  mordrer  of  the  heysugge  14  on  the 
braunche 

That  broghte  thee  forth,  thou  rewthelees 
glotoun  ! 

Live  thou  soleyn,15  wormes  corrupcioun  !  16 

For  no  fors  is  of  lakke  of  thy  nature  ;  17 

Go,  lewed   be   thou,  whyl  the  world  may 


'Now  pees,'  quod  Nature,  'I  comaunde 

here; 

For  I  have  herd  al  your  opinioun, 
And  in  effect  yet  be  we  never  the  nere;19 
But  fynally,  this  is  my  conclusioun,          620 
That  she  hir-self  shal  han  the  eleccioun 

s  jested.  »  blindeth.  10  promptly.  »  mate. 
i*  lone.  is  to  be  put  on  record.  14  haysuck,  hedge- 
sparrow.  IB  solitary.  19  Because  his  diet  was  worms. 
"  It  would  not  matter  if  there  were  a  dearth  of  such 
as  thou.  1S  endure.  M  nearer. 


1 68 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


0  F  whom  hir  list,  who-so  be  wrooth  or  blythe, 
Him  that  she  cheest,1  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  uon  other  ye.8         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 4  vois  the  formel  hir  answerde, 
'  My  rightful  lady,  goddesse  of  Nature, 
Soth  is  that  I  am  ever  under  your  yerde,5 
Lyk  as  is  everiche  other  creature,  641 

And  moot  be  youres  whyl  my  lyf  may  dure; 
And  therfor  graunteth  me  my  firste  bone, 
And  myn  entente  I  wol  yow  sey  right  sone.' 

'I  graunte  it  you,'  quod  she;   and   right 

anoon 

This  formel  egle  spak  in  this  degree, 
'  Almighty  quene,  unto  this  yeer  be  doon 

1  aske  respit  for  to  avysen  me. 

And  after  that  to  have  my  choys  al  free; 
This  al  and  som  6  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  foules  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, 

»  chooseth.       »  forthwith.      »  eve.       *  deferential. 
*  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  befalle, 
This  entremes 7  is  dressed  for  you  alle.' 

And  whan  this  werk  al  broght  was  to  an 

ende, 

To  every  foule  Nature  yaf  his  make 
By  even  acorde,  and  on  hir  wey  they  wende. 
A !  lord !    the   blisse   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  trowe,  maked  was  in  Fraunce ; 
The  wordes  were  swich  as  ye  may  heer 

finde, 
The  nexte  vers,  as  I  now  have  in  minde. 

Qui  bien  dime  a  tard  oublie.8 

1  Now  welcom  somer,  with  thy  sonne  softe, 
That     hast     this     wintres     weders    over- 
shake,  681 
And  driven  awey  the  longe  nightes  blake  ! 

Seynt  Valentyn,  that  art  ful  hy  onlofte, 
Thus  singen  smale  foules  for  thy  sake: 
Now  welcom  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  welcom  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  so  som  day 
That  I  shal  mete  som  thing  for  to  fare 
The  bet;  and  thus  to  rede  I  nil  not  spare. 

*  intermission;  between-course. 

•  Who  loves  truly  forgets  late. 


TROILUS  AND   CRISEYDE 


BOOK   I 

1.  THE  double  sorwe  of  Troilus  to  tellen, 
That  was  the  king1  Priam  us  sone  of  Troye, 
In  lovinge,  how  his  aveutures  fellen 

Fro  wo  to  wele,  and  after  out  of  joye, 
My  purpos  is,  er  that  I  parte  fro  ye. 
Thesiphone,  thou  help  me  for  t'endyte 
Thise  woful  vers,  that  wepen  as  I  wryte! 

2.  To  thee  clepe  I,  thou  goddesse  of  tor 

ment, 

Thou  cruel  Furie,  sorwing  ever  in  peyne ;  9 
Help  me,  that  am  the  sorwf  ul  instrument 
That  helpeth  lovers,  as  I  can,  to  pleyne! 
For  wel  sit l  it,  the  sothe  for  to  seyne, 
A  woful  wight  to  hau  a  drery  fere,2 
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  avavle,  20 
Have  he  my  thank,  and  myn  be  this  tra- 

vayle! 

4.  But  ye   loveres   that  bathen  in  glad 

nesse, 

If  any  drope  of  pitee  in  yow  be, 
Remembreth  yow  on  passed  hevinesse 
That  ye  hau  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  3  aventure. 

»  is  becoming.         *  companion.         '  hapless. 


6.  And  biddeth  eek  for  hem  that  been  de- 

speyred 

In  love,  that  never  nil  recovered  be, 
And  eek  for  hem  that  falslybeen  apeyred4 
Thorugh  wikked  tonges,  be  it  he  or  she; 
Thus  biddeth  God,  for  his  benignitee,       40 
To  gi  aunte  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  enteucioun, 
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  toun  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, 
Dauu  Phebus  or  Apollo  Delphicus.  70 

*  disparaged . 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


With  pilous  voys,  and  tendrely  wepinge, 
His  mercy  bad,  hir-selven  excusinge. 

17.  Now  was  this  Ector  pitous  of  nature, 
And  saw  that  she  was  sorwfully  bigoon,10 
And  that  she  was  so  fair  a  creature; 

Of  his  goodnesse  he  gladed  hir  anoon, 
And  seyde,  '  Lat  your  fadres  treson  goon 
Forth  with  inischaunce,  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,  i20 

As  ferforth  as  your  fader  dwelled  here, 
Ye  shul  hau,  and  your  body  shal  men  save, 
As  fer  as  I  may  ought  euquere  or  here.' 
And  she   him   thonked   with  ful  humble 

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  u 

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  i3o 

Ful  wel  beloved,  and  wel  men  of  hir  tolde. 
But  whether  that  she   children   hadde  or 

noon, 
I  rede  it  nought;  therfore  I  lete  it  goon. 

20.  Thethingesfellen,astheydoonof  werre, 
Bitwixen  hem  of  Troye  and  Grekes  ofte; 
For  som  day  boughten  they  of  Troye  it 

derre, 

And  eft12  the  Grekes  fonnden  no  thing  sof  te 
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- 

cioun  i4 1 

Ne  falleth  nought  to  purpos  me  to  telle; 
For  it  were  here  a  long  digressioun 
Fro  my  matere,  and  yow  to  longe  dwelle.18 
But  the  Troyane  gestes,  as  they  felle, 
In  Omer,  or  in  Dares,14  or  in  Dyte,15 
Who-so  that  can,  may  rede  hern  as  they 

wryte. 

10  in  distress.         »  retinue.       i»  again.        «  delay, 
bore,  too  long.    "  Dares  Pbrygiua.    »  Dictya  Cretenai'a. 


11.  So  whan  this  Calkas   knew  by  calcu- 

linge, 

And  eek  by  answere  of  this  Appollo, 
That  Grekes  sh olden  swich  a  peple  bringe 
Thorugh  which  that  Troye  inoste  been  ior- 

do, 

He  caste  !  anoon  out  of  the  toun  to  go; 
For  wel  wiste  he,  by  sort,2  that  Troye  sholde 
Destroyed  been,  ye,  wolde  who-so  nolde.8 

12.  For  which,  for  to  departen  softely 
Took  purpos  ful  this  forknowinge  wyse,4 
And  to  the  Grekes  ost  ful  prively  80 
He  stal6  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  6 

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,  fel7  and  bones. 

14.  Now  hadde  Calkas  left,  in  this  mes- 

chaunce, 

Al  unwist 8  of  this  false  and  wikked  dede, 
His  doughter,  which  that  was  in  gret  pen- 

aunce, 

For  of  hir  lyf  she  was  ful  sore  hi  drede, 
As  she  that  niste  what  was  best  to  rede;9 
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  falsnesse  andtresoun, 
Wel  nigh  out  of  hir  wit  for  sorvve  and  fere, 
In  widewes  habit  large  of  samit  broun, 
On  knees  she  fil  biforn  Ector  a-doun;        no 

i  planned.  *  divination.  »  in  spite  of  those  for  or 
•gainst.  «  gage.  «  gtole.  «  they  planned  to  be 
avenged.  »  skin.  «  unknowing.  •  to  plan. 


TROILUS   AND   CRISEYDE 


171 


22.  But  though  that  Grekes  hem  of  Troye 

shetten,1 

And  hir  citee  bisegede  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  everichon. 

23.  And  so  bifel,  whan  comen  was  the  tyme 
Of  Aperil,  whan  clothed  is  the  mede 
With  newe  grene,  of  lusty  Ver  2  the  pryme, 
And  swote  smellen  floures  whyte  and  rede, 
In  sondry  wyses  shewed,  as  I  rede, 

The  folk  of  Troye  hir  observaunces  olde,  160 
Pulladioiies  feste  for  to  holde. 

24.  And  to  the  temple,  in  al  hirbeste  wyse, 
In  general,  ther  wente  many  a  wight, 

To  herknen  of  Palladion  the  servyse; 
And  namely,  so  many  a  lusty  knight, 
So  many  a  lady  fresh  and  mayden  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,8 

In  beautee  first  so  stood  she,  makelees;4 
Hir  godly  looking  gladede  al  the  prees. 
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,6 
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  6  whom  him 

leste. 

1  shut  up.  *  the  sprinp. 

*  Alluding  to  Richard  Il'a  qn«pn,  Anne. 

*  peerless.         *  space.         •  criticize. 


28.  And   in   his  walk  ful  fast  he  gan  to 

wayten 7  190 

If  knight  or  squyer  of  his  companye 
Gan  for  to  syke 8  or  lete  his  eyen  bayten  9 
On  any  woman  that  he  coude  aspye ; 
He  wolde  smyle,  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  ban  in  winninge 
Of  love,  and,  in  the  keping,  which  dou- 

taunces;  200 

And  whan  your  preye  is  lost,  wo  and  pen- 

aunces; 

0  verrey  foles!  nyce  and  blind e  be  ye; 
Ther  nis  not  oon  can  war  by  other  be.' 

30.  And  with  that  word  he  gan  cast  up  the 

browe, 
Ascaunces,10  *Lo!    is   this    nought  wysly 

spoken  ? ' 

At  which  the  god  of  love  gan  loken  rowe  n 
Right  for  despyt,  and   shoop  for  to  ben 

wroken;1^ 

He  kidde 18  anoon  his  bowe  nas  not  broken; 
For  sodeynly  he  hit  him  at  the  fulle; 
And  yet  as  proud  a  pekok  can  he  pulle.14  210 

31.  O  blinde  world!  O  blinde  entencioun! 
How  ofte  falleth  al  th'effect  contraire 
Of  surquidrye15  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  foles  wenden. 

32.  As  proude  Bayard16  ginneth  for  to 

skippe 

Out  of  the  wey,  so  priketh  him  his  corn, 
Til  he  a  lash  have  of  the  longe  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 

1  moot  endure,  and  with  my  feres  drawe.' 

i  take  heed.        8  giph.       •  feed.        ">  As  if  to  say. 
»  cross.  »  determined  to  wreak  vengeance. 

i*  showed.  u  pluck  as  proud  a  bird.      t 

15  over-confidence.  "  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,1 
Yet  with  a  look  his  herte  wex  a-fere,2 
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  scornen  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  proved8  and 

doth  yit; 

For  this  trowe  I  ye  knowen,  alle  or  some,  240 
Men  reden  not  that  folk  han  gretter  wit 
Than   they   that  han  be  most  with  love 

y-nome ; 4 

And  strongest  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  tber-with  ben  plesed ; 
And  they  that  han  ben  aldermost  in  wo, 
With  love  han  been  comforted  most  and  esed ; 
And  ofte  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 
Thau  that  that  brest; 6  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  I  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.6 

*  stir.        2  afeared.        »  hath  been  proved. 
«  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  touue,  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  gaii  hire  bet  biholde  in  thrifty7  wyse: 
'  O  mercy,  God! '  thoughte  he,  *  wher  has  tow 

woned,8 

That  art  so  fair  and  goodly  to  devyse  ? ' 
Ther-with  his  herte  gan  to  sprede  and  ryse, 
And  softe  sighed,  lest  men  mighte  him  here, 
And  caughte  a-yein    his    firste    pleyinge 

chore.  280 

41.  She  nas  not  with  the  leste  of  hir  stature, 
But  alle  hir  limps  so  wel.  answeringe 
Weren  to  womanhode,  that  creature 

Was  never  lasse  mannish  in  seminge. 
And  eek  the  pure  wyse  of  here  meninge 
Shewede  wel,9  that  men  might  in  hir  gesse 
Honour,  estat,10  and  wommanly  noblosse. 

42.  To  Troilus  right  wonder  wel  with-alle 
Gan  for  to  lyke  hir  mening  and  hir  chere, 
Which  somdel  deynous11  was,  for  she  leet 

falle  290 

Hir  look  a  lite  a-side,  in  swich  man  ere, 
Ascaunces,12  « What !  may  I   not  stonden 

here?' 

And  after  that  hir  loking  gan  she  lighte,18 
That  never  thoughte  him  seen  so  good  a 

sighte. 

43.  And  of  hir  look  hi  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  winke. 

44.  Lo,  he  that  leet14  him-selven  so  kon- 

ninge, 

And  scorned  hem  that  loves  peynes  dryen,lfi 
Was  ful  unwar  that  love  hadde  his  d  weilinge 

»  discreet.  8  dwelt. 

•  The  very  nature  of  her  disposition  was  apparent. 
10  rank.          "  disdainful.          ^  As  much  as  to  say. 
»  make  cheerful.         "  considered.        «  endure. 


TROILUS   AND   CRISEYDE 


173 


With-inne  the  subtile  stremes  of  hir  yen ; 
That  sodeynly  him  thoughte  he  felte  dyen, 
Rig-fat  with  hir  look,  the  spirit  in  his  herte ; 
Blessed  be  love,  that  thus  can  folk  cou- 
vertel 

45.  She,  this  in  blak,  lykinge  to  Troilus 
Over  alle  thing,  he  stood  for  to  biholde;   310 
Ne  his  desir,  ne  wherfor  he  stood  thus, 
He  neither  chere  made,  ne  worde  tolde; 
But  from  a-fer,  his  maner  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    fulliche    al    a- 

whaped,1 

Out  of  the  temple  al  esiliche  he  wente, 
Repentinge  him  that  he  hadde  ever  y-japed 
Of  loves  folk,  lest  fully  the  descente 
Of  scorn   fille  on  him-self;  but,  what  he 

mente,  320 

Lest  it  were  wist  on  any  maner  syde,2 
His  wo  he  gan  dissimulen  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  chere  and  speche  also  he  born- 

eth;8 

And  ay,  of  loves  servants  every  whyle, 
Him-self  to  wrye,4  at  hem  he  gan  to  smyle. 

48.  And  seyde, '  Lord,  so  ye  live  al  in  lest,6 
Ye  loveres!  for  the  conninofest  of  yow,    331 
That  serveth  most  ententiflich  and  best, 
Him  tit6  as  often  harm  ther-of  as  prow;7 
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-certeyn  8  ben  alle  your  observ- 

aunces, 

But  it  a  sely  fewe  poyntes  be;  338 

Ne  no-thing  asketh  so  grete  attendaunces 
As  doth  your  lay,9  and  that  knowe  alle  ye; 
But  that  is  not  the  worste,  as  mote  I  thee; 
But,  tolde  I  yow  the  worste  povnt,  I  leve, 
Al  seyde  I  sooth,  ye  wold  en  at  me  greve! 

1  bewildered.  2  anyhow,  anywhere.  '  burnishes, 
brightens.  *  conceal.  5  pleasure.  8  betideth. 
'  advantage.  8  uncertainty.  »  faith,  creed. 


50.  But  tak  this :  that  ye  loveres  ofte  es- 

cbuwe 

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  enchesoun,10 
Be  wrooth,  than  shalt  thou  han  a  groyn  n 

anoon: 
Lord !  wel  is  him  that  may  be   of  yow 

oon ! '  350 

61.  But  for  al  this,  whan  that  he  say 12  his 

tyrne, 
He  held  his    pees,  non  other  bote   him 

gayned;18 

For  love  began  his  fetheres  so  to  lyme,14 
That  wel  unnethe 16  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. 

52.  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-outeu 

lette, 

That,  as  he  sat  and  wook,  his  spirit  mette 
That  he  hir  saw  a16  temple,  and  al  the  wyse 
Right  of  hir  loke,  and  gan  it  newe  avyse. 

53.  Thus  gan  he  make  a  mirour  of  his 

minde, 

In  which  he  saugh  al  hoolly  hir  figure; 
And  that  he  wel  conde  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,  37o 

Or  elles,  for  oon  of  hir  servaunts  pace: 

54.  Imagininge  that  travaille  nor  grame  n 
Ne  mighte,  for  so  goodly  oon,  be  lorn 

As  she;  ne  him  for  his  desir  no  shame,18 
Al  were  it  wist,  but  in  prys  and  up- born 19 
Of  alle  lovers  wel  more  than  biforn ; 
Thus  argumented  he  in  his  ginninge, 
Ful  unavysed  of  his  wo  cominge. 

w  occasion.  "  rebuff.  1*  saw. 

i»  no  other  remedy  profited  him.    i«  As  with  bird-lime. 

»  with  great  difficulty.  i«  in  the.  "  pain. 

is  Supply  "  come  upon"  (with  object  him). 

"  Supply  "  would  he  be." 


174 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


56.  Thus  took  he  purpos  loves  craft  to 

suwe,1 

And  thoughte  he  wolde  werken  prively,  380 
First,  to  hyden  his  desir  in  nmwe  2 
From  every  wight  y-born,  al-outrely, 
But  he  niighte  ought  recovered  be  therby: 
Remembring  him,  that  love   to   wyde  y- 

blowe 
Yelt8  bittre  fruyt,  though  swete  seed  be 

sowe. 

56.  And  over  al  this,  yet  muchel  more  he 

thoughte 
What  for  to  speke,  and  what  to  holden 

inne, 

And  what  to  arten  4  hir  to  love  he  soughte, 
And  on  a  song  anoon-right  to  biginne,     389 
And  gan  loude  on  his  sorwe  for  to  whine; 
For  with  good  hope  he  gaii  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,6 
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  shal  seyn;  and  who-so  list  it  here, 
Lo  !  next  this  vers,  he  may  it  fiuden  here. 

CANTUS  TROILI 

68.  '  If  no  love  is,  O  God,  what  fele  I  so?  4oo 
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. 

69.  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! 

i  follow. 

»  secret ;  literally,  "hawk's  moulting  place." 

»  Yieldeth.  «  incite. 

*  A  puzzling  name  — here  for  Petrarch,  whose  88th 
sonnet  follows ;  elsewhere  for  Boccaccio.  Bee  Skeat'i 
note. 


How  may  of  thee  in  me  swich  quantitee, 
But-if  that  I  consente  that  it  be  ? 

60.  And  if  that  I  consente,  I  wrongfully 
Compleyne,   y-wis;   thus  possed6   to   and 

fro, 

Al  sterelees 7  with-inue  a  boot  am  I 
A-mid  the  see,  by-twixen  windes  two, 
That  in  contrarie  stonden  ever-mo. 
AllasI  what  is  this  wonder  maladye? 
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  un-to  your  vertu  digne; 
Wherfove,  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  lust  to  hir,  gan  qniken  and  encrese, 
That  every  other  charge  he  sette  at  nought; 
For-thy  fill  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   neer8  he  was,  the  more  he 

brende. 

65.  For  ay  the  neer  the  fyr,  the  hotter  is, 
This,  trowe  I,  knoweth  al  this  companye. 
But  were  he  fer  or  neer,  I  dar  seye  this,  451 
By  night  or  day,  for  wysdom  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. 

•  pushed,  tossed.         1  rudderless.         »  higher. 


TROILUS   AND   CRISEYDE 


175 


66.  Eek  of  the  day  ther  passed  nought  an 

boon 
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 l  and  he  we 
And  lyf  is  lost,  but  ye  wole  on  me  rewe.' 

67.  Alle  othere   dredes  weren  from  him 

fledde, 

Bothe  of  th'assege  and  his  savacioun; 
Ne   in   him    desyr    noon    othere   fownes2 

bredde 

But  arguments  to  this  conclusioun, 
That  she  on  him  wolde  han  conipassioun, 
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 8  of   armes 

preve,  47o 

That  Ector  or  his  othere  bretheren  diden, 
Ne  made  him  only  ther-fore  ones  meve; 
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 4  of  the  toun, 
Ne  made  him  thus  in  armes  for  to  madde,6 
But  only,  lo,  for  this  conclusioun,  480 

To  lyken  6  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   he  we,   bothe   eve   and 

morwe; 

Therfor  a  title  he  gan  him  for  to  borwe 
Of  other  syknesse,  lest  of  him  men  wende 
That  the  hote  fyr  of  love  him  brende ;     49o 

»  health.    *  younglings  (lit.  fawns).     *  An  adjective. 
4  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  felte  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  hent,  now  gnaw  thyn    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  seyn  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." 


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 1 
J  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-eaught,  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  ! ' 2 

78.  This  wordes  and  ful  manye  an-other  to 
He   spak,  and   called   ever    in    his    com- 

pleyute  541 

Hir  name,  for  to  tellen  hir  his  wo, 
Til  neigh  that  he  in  salte  teres  dreynte.8 
Al  was  for  nought,  she  herde  nought  his 

pleynte; 

And  whan  that  he  bithoughte  on  that  folye, 
A  thousand  fold  his  wo  gau  multiplye. 

79.  Bi-wayling  in  his  chambre  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  rnene  ? 
Hau  now  thus  sone  Grekes  maad  yow  lene  ? 

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  ?6 
God  save  hem  that  bi-seged  han  our  tonn, 
And  so  can  leye  our  jolytee  on  presse,6 
And  bring  our  lusty  folk  to  holinesse !  *  560 

81.  These  wordes  seyde  he  for  the  nones 

alle,' 
That  with    swich  thing  he    mighte   him 

angry  maken, 

And  with  an  a?igre  don  his  sorwe  falle, 
i  abroad.         *  promise.        »  drowned.         *  ado. 

*  horror  of  sin  through  fear  of  punishment. 

*  make  us  put  it  away  —  as  iu  a  clothes-press. 

*  merely  for  the  nonce. 


As  for  the  tyme,  and  his  corage  awaken; 
But  wel  he  wiste,  as  fer  as  tonges  spaken, 
Tlier  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  8  a-way,  for  certes,  my  deyinge 
Wol  thee  disese,9  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  scorne  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,10  580 

Be  thou  nought  wrooth,  I  hyde  it  for  the 

beste.' 

84.  This  Pandare,  that  neigh  malt11  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.  I  wole  parten  w  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 12  wo,  as  glad  desport. 

I  have,  and  shal,  for13  trewe  or  fals  report, 
In  wrong  and  right  y-loved  thee  al  my  lyve; 
Hyd  not  thy  wo  from  me,  but  telle  it  blyve.' M 

86.  Then  gan  this  sorwfnl  Troilus  to  syke, 
And  seyde  him  thus,  '  God  leve  15  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. 

»  hence.  •  make  uncomfortable.  10  do  not  care 
to  tell  it  thee.  "  melted.  "  share.  "  iu  spite 
of.  "  quickly.  »  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 l  avayleth, 
With  desespeir  so  sorwfully  me  offendeth, 
That  streyght  un-to  the  deeth  myn  herte 

sayleth. 

Ther-to  desyr  so  brenningly  me  assaylleth, 
That  to  beu  slayn  it  were  a  gretter  joye 
To  me  than  king  of  Grece  been  and  Troye  ! 

88.  Suffiseth  this,  my  fulle  freend   Pan- 

dare,  6 10 

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.' 2 

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;8 
How  devel  may  stow  bringen  me  to  blisse  ? ' 

90.  «Ye,  Troilus,  now  herke,'  quod  Pan- 

dare, 

'  Though  I  be  nyce; 4  it  happeth  ofte  so, 
That  oon  that  exces  doth  ful  yvele  fare  5 
By  good  counseyl  can  kepe  his  freend  ther- 

fro. 

I  have  my-self  eek  seyn  a  blind  man  go 
Ther-as  he  fel  that  cotide  loke  wyde; 
A  fool  may  eek  a  wys  man  ofte  gyde.      630 

91.  A  whetston  is  no  kerving  instrument, 
And  yet  it  rnaketh  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. 

i  foaat  of  all.        *  my  distress  being  unknown. 

*  guide.     <  foolish.     »  that  passion  causes  to  fare  ill. 


If  thou  do  so,  thy  wit  is  wel  biwared ; 6 
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,7 
I,  that  have  in  love  so  ofte  assayed 
Grevaunces,   oughte  conne,8  and  wel  the 

more 

Counsayllen  thee  of  that  thou  art  amayed.9 
Eek  thee  ne  oughte  nat  ben  yvel  apayed,10 
Though  I  desyre  with  thee  for  to  bere     650 
Thyn  hevy  charge; n  it  shal  the  lasse  dere.13 

94.  I  woot  wel  that  it  fareth  thus  by  me 
As  to  thy  brother  Parys  an  herdesse, 
Which  that  y-cleped  was  Oenone, 
Wroot  in  a  compleynt  of  Mr  hevinesse: 
Ye  sey  the  lettre  18  that  she  wroot,  y  gesse  ? ' 
*  Nay,  never  yet,  y-wis,'  quod  Troilus. 

1  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 

Remede   and   reed,14  by  herbes  he  knew 

fyne» 

Yet  to  him-self  his  conninge  was  ful  bare; 
For  love  hadde  him  so  bounclen  in  a  snare, 
Al  for  the  doughter  of  the  kinge  Ad  mete, 
That  al  his  craft  ne  coude  his  sorwe  bete." lfl 

96.  Right  so  fare  I,  unhappily  for  me; 

I  love  oon  best,  and  that  me  srnerteth  sore; 
And  yet,  paraunter,  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  pi  eye, 
But  to  thyn  help  yet  som  what  can  I  seye. 

97.  And  of  o  thing  right  siker  maystow  be, 
That  certayn,  for  to  deyen  in  the  peyne,17 

•  spent.       i  one  lesson.      8  to  know.       »  dismayed. 
i°  pleased.          u  load.          "  hurt.          »  See  Ovid, 
ffernides,v.     i«  remedy  and  counsel.     15  An  a  "jective. 
16  amend.        »  though  I  had  to  die  by  torture. 


i78 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


That  I  shal  never-mo  discoveren1  thee; 
Ne,  by  my  trouthe,  I  kepe  nat2  restreyne 
Thee   fro   thy   love,   thogh    that   it   were 

Eleyne, 

That  is  thy  brotheres  wyf,  if  ich  it  wiste; 
Be  what  she  be,  and  love  hir  as  thee  liste. 

08.  Therfore,  as  freend  fullich  in  me  as 
sure,8  680 
And  tel  me  plat4  what  is  thyn  enchesoun,6 
And  final  cause  of  wo  that  ye  endure; 
For  douteth  no-thing,  myn  entencioun 
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;6 
But  wel  I  woot,  the  mene  of  it  no  vyce  is, 
For  for  to  trusten  sum  wight  is  a  preve    690 
Of  trouthe,  and  for-thy  wolde  I  fayn  remove 
Thy  wrong  conceyte,  and  do  thee  som  wight 

triste,7 
Thy  wo  to  telle;  and  tel  me,  if  thee  liste. 

100.  The  wyse  seyth,  "Wo  him  that  is 

all  one, 
For,  and  he  falle,  he  hath  noon  help  to 

ryse;" 

And  sith  thou  hast  a  felawe,  tel  thy  mone; 
For  this  nis  not,  certeyn,  the  nexte  wyse 
To  winnen  love,  as  techen  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  8  wo  with  other  speche ; 
So  may  thy  woful  tyme  seme  lesse. 
Delyte  not  in  wo  thy  wo  to  seche, 

As  doon  thise  foles  that  hir  sorwes  eche  9 
With  sorwe,  whan  they  han  misaventure, 
And  listen10  nought  to  seche  hem  other 
cure 

102.  Men  seyn, "  To  wrecche  is  consolacioun 
To  have  an-other  felawe  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! 

i  disclose.      *  care  not  to.     *  trust.      4  downright. 

*  occasion.        •  to  believe.         7  cause  thee  to  trust 
some  one.        *  alleviate.        •  augment,  eke  out. 

w  desire. 


103.  If  God  wole  thou  art  not  agast  of  me, 
Lest  I  wolde  of  thy  lady  thee  bigyle, 
Thow    wost    thy-self   whom   that   1   love, 

pardee, 

As  I  best  can,  gon  sithen  longe  whyle.11 
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,12 
And  to  Pandarus  voys  he  lent  his  ere, 
And  up  his  eyen  caste  he,  that  in  fere 
Was  Pandarus,  lest  that  in  frenesye 

He  sholde  falle,  or  elles  sone  deye: 

105.  And  cryde  *  A-wake ! '  ful  wonderly  and 

sharpe ; 

'What?  slombrestow  as  in  a  lytargye?   730 
Or  artovv  lyk  an  asse  to  the  harpe, 
That  hereth  soun,  whan  men  the  strenges 

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;18 

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  of te  a  yerde 14 
With  which  the  maker  is  him-self  y-beten 
In  sondry  maner,'  as  thise  wyse  treten, 

107.  And  namely,  in  his  counseyl  tellinge 
That  toucheth  love  that  oughte  be  secree; 
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  hunte  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 ;  now  pees,  and  cry  no  more; 

For  I  have  herd  thy  wordes  and  thy  lore; 

11  since  long  ago.    "  started.     »  oeased.     "  rod. 


TROILUS   AND   CRISEYDE 


179 


But  suffre  me  my  mischef  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 

4  No,'  quod  tho  Pandarus,  '  therfore  I  seye, 
Swich  is  delyt  of  foles  to  biwepe 
Hir  wo,  but  seken  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    misaunter1 

ayleth, 

Dorstestow  2  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  ! '  77o 

111.  *  What?  not  as  bisily,'  quod  Pandarus, 
*As   though   myn  owene  lyf   lay  on   this 

nede  ? ' 

*  No,  certes,  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 

wonne.' 

112.  Quod  Pandarus,  « Alias!   what  may 

this  be, 

That  thou  despeyred  art  thus  causelees? 
What  ?  liveth  not  thy  lady  ?  benedicite  1  780 
How  wostow  so  that  thou  art  gracelees  ? 
Swich  yvel  is  not  alwey  botelees.8 
Why,  put  not  impossible  thus  thy  cure, 
Siu  thing  to  come  is  ofte  in  aveiiture. 

113.  I  graunte  wel  that  thou  endurest  wo 
As  sharp  as  doth  he,  Ticius,4  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  opiuiouu  790 

That  of  thy  wo  is  no  curacioun. 


1  misadventure. 
*  without  remedy. 


*  Wouldst  thou  dare. 
«  Tityus. 


114.  But    ones     niltow,   for    thy   coward 

herte, 

And  for  thyn  ire  and  folish  wilfulnesse, 
For  wantrust,5  tellen  of  thy  sorwes  smerte, 
Ne  to  thyn  owene  help  do  bisiuesse 
As  muche  as  speke  a  resoun  more  or  lesse, 
But    lyest    as    he   that   list    of    no-tbing 

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   toun  at 

ones, 
"  The  wrecche  is  deed,  the  devel  have  his 

bones!" 

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  f ele ; 

Unknowe,  unkist,  and  lost  that  is  un 
sought. 

What!  many  a  man  hath  love  ful  dere 
y-bought  gio 

Twenty  winter  that  his  lady  wiste, 

That  never  yet  his  lady  mouth  he  kiste, 

117.  What?  shulde  he  thertor  fallen  in 

despayr, 

Or  be  recreaunt  for  his  owene  tene,8 
Or  sleen  him-self,  al  be  his  lady  fayr  ? 
Nay,  nay,  but  ever  in  oou  7  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  anoon  what  folye  he  was 

inne,  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;8 
For  of  his  wo,  God  woot,  she  knew  ful  lyte. 
»  distrust.     «  vexation.      '  continuously.     *  blame. 


i8o 


GEOFFREY  CHAUCER 


119.  Aud  with   that   thought  he  gan   ful 

sore  syke, 

And  seyde, '  Alias!  what  is  me  best  to  do?  ' 
To  whom  Pandare  answerde,  *  If  tbee  lyke, 
The  best  is  that  thou  telle  me  thy  wo;  830 
And  have  my  trouthe,  but  thou  it  finde  so, 
I  be  thy  bote1  or  that  it  be  ful  longe, 
To  peces  do  me  drawe,  and  si  then  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.' 


84o 


121.  Quod    Pandarus,   'Than  blamestow 

Fortune 

For  thou  art  wrooth,  ye,  now  at  erst 2  I  see; 
Wostow  nat  wel  that  Fortune  i.s  commuue 
To  every  inaner  wight  in  som  degree  ? 
And  yet  tliou  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 

torne, 

Than  cessed  she  Fortune  anoon  to  be: 
Now,  sith  hir  wheel  by  no  wey  may  so- 

jorne,  850 

What  wostow  if  hir  mutabilitee 
Right  as  thy-selven  list,  wol  doon  by  thee, 
Or  that  she  be  not  fer  fro  tliyn  helpinge  ? 
Parauuter,  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  uuwrye  8  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  np,  I  seye,  and  tel  me  what  she  is 
Anoon,  that  I  may  goon  aboute  thy  nede; 
Knowe  ich  hir  ought  ?  For  my  love,  tel  me 

this; 

Than  wolde  I  hopen  rather  4  for  to  spede.' 
Tho  gan  the  veyne  of  Troilus  to  blede, 


That  I  am  your  remedy. 
3  uncover. 


for  the  first  time, 
sooner. 


For  he  was  hit,  and  wex  al  reed  for  shame ; 
*  A   ha  ! '   quod  Pandare,   *  here    bigiuneth 
game  ! ' 

125.  And  with  that  word  he  gan  him  for  to 

shake, 
And  seyde,  'Theef,  thou  shalt  hir  name 

telle.'  87o 

But  tho  gan  sely  6  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,6 

Lord,  he  was  glad,  and  seyde,  'Freend  so  dere, 
Now  fare  a- right,  for  Joves  name  in  hevene, 
Love  hath  biset 7  thee  wel,  be  of  good  chere; 
For  of  good  name  and  wysdoin  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  m;iy  strecche,9 
A  kinges  herte  semeth  by  hires  a  wrecche. 

128.  And  for-thy10  loke  of  good  comfort 

thou  be;  890 

For  certeinly,  the  firste  poynt  is  this 
Of  noble  corage  and  wel  ordeyne,11 
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, 
Requere  nought  that  is  ayein  hir  name; 
For    vertue    streccheth    not    him-self    to 

shame.12 

*  poor.  •  named.  7  bestowed. 

8  the  more  to  enhance.      9  within  her  proper  sphere. 
10  therefore.  u  regulated. 

»  Virtue  goes  not  to  the  extent  of  shaming  virtue; 
or,  virtue  does  nothing  shameful. 


TROILUS   AND   CRISEYDE 


181 


130.  But  wel  is  me  that  ever  I  was  born, 
That  tliou  biset  art  in  so  good  a  place; 
For  by  my  trouthe,  in  love  I  dorste  have 

sworn, 
Thee   sholde  never   ban   tid   thus   fayr   a 

grace ; 
And  wostow  why  ?  For  thou  were  wont  to 

chace 

At  love  in  scorn,  and  for  despyt  him  calle 
"  Seynt  Idiot,  lord  of  thise  foles  alle."    910 

131.  How  often  hastow  niaad  thy  nyce 

japes,1 

And  seyd,  that  loves  servants  everichone 
Of  nycetee  ben  verray  Goddes  apes; 
And  some  wolde  in  one  he  2  hir  mete  alone, 
Ligging   a-bedde,  and   make   hem   for  to 

grone; 
And  som,  thou  seydest,  hadde  a  blaunche 

f  eve  re,8 
And  preydest  God  he  sholde  never  kevere! 4 

132.  And  some  of  hem  toke  on  hem,  for 

the  colde, 

More  than  y-nough,5  so  seydestow  fill  ofte; 
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,6 

And  nathelees  were  under  at  the  laste; 
Thus  seydestow,  and  japedest  f  ul  faste. 

133.  Yet  seydestow,  that,  for  the  more 


part, 
love 


These  loveres  wolden  speke  in  general,7 
And  thoug-hten  that  it  was  a  siker  art, 
For  fayling,8  for  to  assayen  over-al.9 
Now  may  I  jape  of  thee,  if  that  I  shal ! 
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, 

i  foolish  jests.        *  munch. 

*  Jocose  —  a  white  fever.        <  recover. 

8  Made  over-much  pretense  of  being  afflicted  by  the 
lady's  coldness. 

*  advanced  themselves.        7  in  generalities. 

*  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 10  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  netle,  rough  and  thikke, 
The   rose  waxeth  swote  and   smothe  and 

softe ; 

And  next  the  valey  is  the  hill  a-lofte;  950 
And  next  thederke  night  the  glade  morwe; 
And  also  joye  is  next  the  fyn  n  of  sorwe. 

137.  Now  loke  that  atempre  be  thy  brydel,12 
And,  for  the  beste,  ay  suffre  to  the  tyde,18 
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,  if  thou  werke  in  this  wyse. 

138.  But  he  that  parted  is  in  every  place  960 
IB  no-wher  hool,  as  writen  clerkes  wyse; 
What  wonder  is,  though  swich  oou  have  no 

grace  ? 

Eek  wostow  how  it  f areth  of  som  servyse  ? 
As  pi  an  nte  a  tre  or  herbe,  in  sondry  wyse, 
And  on  the  morwe  pulle  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,  bnt-if  drerinesse 
Or  over-haste  our  bothe  labour  shende, 
I  hope  of  this  to  maken  a  good  ende. 

140.  And  wostow  why  I  am  the  lasse  a- 

fered 
Of  this  matere  with  my  nece  trete  ?  14 

10  rises.          »  end.  «  temperate  be  thy  bridle. 

«  accommodate  thyself  to  the  occasion.      "  to  treat. 


182 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


For  this  have  I  herd  seyd  of  wyse  y-lered,1 
"  Was  never  man  ne  woman  yet  bigete 
That  was  nnapt  to  suffren  loves  hete 
Celestial,  or  elles  love  of  kinde;" 
For-thy  som  grace  I  hope  in  hir  to  finde.  980 

141.  And  for  to  speke  of  hir  in  special, 
Hir  beautee  to  bithinken  and  hir  youthe, 
It  sit2  hir  nought  to  be  celestial 

As  yet,  though  that  hir   liste   bothe   and 

couthe; 

But  trewely,  it  sete 8  hire  wel  right  nouthe  4 
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-afterward;  for  ye  beth  bothe  wyse, 
And  conne  it  counseyl   kepe  in  swich  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  conceyt  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,6 1  leve, 
Of  al  his  lay,6  and  most  his  foos  to-greve.7 

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  ban  most  God  in 

awe, 

And  strengest-feythed  been,  I  understonde, 
And  conne  an  errour  alder-best  withstonde.' 

145.  Whan  Troilus  had  herd  Pandare  as 

sented 

To  been  his  help  in  loving  of  Criseyde,  1010 
Wexof  his  wo,  as  who  seyth,8  untormented; 
But  hotter  wex  his  love,  and  thus  he  seycle, 
With  sobre  chere,  al-though  his  herte pleyde 
'  Now  blisful  Venus  helpe,  er  that  I  sterve, 
Of  thee,  Pandare,  I  may  som  thank  deserve. 

*  learned  ones.        *  becometh.        *  would  become. 
«  now.  *  pillar.  •  religion. 

7  grieve  excessively.  8  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.         102° 
Al  this  drede  I,  and  eek  for  the  manere 
Of  thee,  hir  eem,9  she  nil  no  swich  thing 

here.' 

147.  Quod  Pandarus,  '  Thou  hast  a  ful  gret 

care 
Lest  that  the  cherl  may  falle  out  of  the 

mone  ! 

Why,  lord  !  I  hate  of  thee  thy  nyce  fare!10 
Why,  entremete  of  that  thou  hast  to  done  1 u 
For  Goddes  love,  I  bidde  thee  a  bone,12 
So  lat  me  alone,  and  it  shal  be  thy  beste.'  — 
1  Why,  freend/  quod  he,  *  now  do  right  as 

thee  leste. 

148.  Bnt  herke,   Fandare,  o  word,  for  I 

nolde  1030 

That  thou  in  me  wendest  so  greet  folye, 
That  to  my  lady  I  desiren  sholde 
That  toucheth  harm  or  any  vilenye; 
For  dredelees,  me  were  lever  dye 
Than  she  of  me  ought  elles  understode 
But  that  that  mighte  sonnen  18  in-to  gode.' 

149.  Tho  lough  u  this  Pandare,  and  anoon 

answerde, 
« And  I  thy  borw  ? 15   Fy  !   no  wight  dooth 

but  so; 
I  ronghte  16  nought  though  that  she  stode 

and  herde  1039 

How  that  thou  seyst;  but  fare- wel,  I  wol  go. 
A-dieu  !  be  glad  !  God  specie  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,17   lo,   som  of  hem  shal 

smerte ; 
And  yet  me  athinketh  that  this  avaunt  me 

asterte  ! 18  1050 

•  uncle;  cf.  Ger.  Oheim.      i«  foolish  fuss.     »  mind 

your  own  business.       12  ask  a  favor  of  you.       13  tend. 

i*  laughed.         »  backer,  security.         «  should  reck. 

"  before  God.     »  I  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 

art  al ! 
My  lyf,  my  deeth,  hool  in  thyn  honde  I 

leye; 
Help  now,'  quod  he.  *  Yis,  by  my  trouthe, 

I  shal.' 

'God  yelde l  thee,  freend,  and  this  in  special,' 
Quod  Troilus,  '  that  thou  me  recomauude 
To  hir  that  to  the  deeth  me  may  com- 

auude.' 

152.  This  Pandarus  tho,  desirous  to  serve 
His  fulle  freend,  than  seyde  in  this  manere, 
4  Far-wel,  and  theuk  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 

founde 

Ne  renneth  nought  the  werk  for  to  biginne 
With   rakel2    hond,   but   he   wol   byde   a 

stounde,3 

And  sende  hishertes  lyne  out  fro  with-inne 
Alderfirst  his  purpos  for  to  winue. 

i  reward.  •  rash.  »  time. 


Al  this  Pandare  in  his  herte  thoughte,    1070 
And  caste4   his  werk  ful   wysly,  or6  he 
wroughte. 

154.  But  Troilus  lay  tho  no  lenger  doun, 
But  up  anoon  up-on  his  stede  bay, 

And  in  the  f eld  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  bicom  the  frendlyeste  wight, 
The  gentileste,  and  eekthe  moste  free,  1080 
The  thriftieste  6  and  oon  the  beste  knight, 
That  in  his  tyme  was,  or  mighte  be. 
Dede  were  his  japes  and  his  crueltee, 

His  heighe  port  and  his  manere  estiaunge, 
And  ech  of  tho  gan  for  a  vertu  chaunge. 

156.  Now  lat  us  stinte  of  Troilus  a  stounde, 
That  fareth  lyk  a  man  that  hurt  is  sore, 
And  is  somdel  of  akinge  of  his  wounde 
Y-lissed7  wel,  but  heled  no  del  more: 
And,  as  an  esy  pacient,  the  lore  1090 
Abit8  of  him  that  gooth  aboute  his  cure; 
And  thus  he  dryveth  forth  his  aventure. 

Explicit  Liber  Primus. 


«  planned.         »  before. 
»  Relieved. 


•  most  successful. 
8  Abideth. 


THE  LEGEND   OF   GOOD   WOMEN 


PROLOGUE   A 
The  prologe  of  .ix.  goode  Wimmen. 

A  THOU8AND  sythes1  have  I  herd  men 

telle, 
That  ther  is  joye  in  heven,  and  peyue  in 

helle; 

And  I  acorde  wel  that  hit  be  so; 
But  natheles,  this  wot  I  wel  also, 
That  ther  nis  noon   that  dwelleth  hi  this 

contree, 

That  either  hath  in  helle  or  heven  y-be, 
Ne  may  of  hit  lion  other  weyes  witen,2 
But  as  he  hath  herd  seyd,  or  founde  hit 

writen; 

For  by  assay  ther  may  no  man  hit  preve. 
ButGoddes  forbode,8butmenshulde  leve4  10 
Wel  more  thing  then  men  hau  seen  with  ye  1 s 
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  monk6  ne  saugh  nat  al,  parde! 

Than  mote  we  to  bokes  that  we  finde, 
Through  which  that  olde  thinges  been  in 

luinde, 

And  to  the  doctrine  of  these  olde  wyse, 
Yeven  credence,  in  every  skilful 7  wyse,   20 
And  trowen  on  these  olde  aproved  stories 
Of  holinesse,  of  regnes,8  of  victories, 
Of  love,  of  hate,  of  other  sundry  thinges, 
Of  whiche  I  may  not  inaken  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.9 
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  swich  cre 
dence, 

That  ther  is  wel  unethe  game  noon10 
That  from  my  bokes  make  me  to  goon, 

1  times.       s  know.      *  God's  prohibition  —  i.e.  God 
forbid  !      <  believe.      »  eye.      •  Bernard  of  Clairvaux. 
i  reasonable.    8  empires.     •  testing  by  experiment. 
10  scarcely  any  game. 


But  hit  be  other  up-on  the  haly-day, 
Or  elles  in  the  joly  tyine  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  condieioun11      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  hern  have  I  so  greet  affeceiouu, 
As  I  seyde  erst,  whan  cornen  is  the  May, 
That  in  my  bed  ther  daweth 12  me  no  day 
That  I  nani  up,  and  walking  in  the  inedo 
To  seen  these  floures  agein  the  sonne  sprede, 
Whan  it  up-riseth  by  the  morwe  sheue,     49 
The  longe  day,  thus  walking  in  the  grene. 
And  whan  the  sonne  ginneth  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,18  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  f  resshe  songes  snyd, 
I  hope  that  they  wil  nat  ben  evel  apayd,14 
Sith  hit  is  seid  in  forthering  and  honour 
Of  hem  that  either  serven  leef  or  flour.15  70 
For  trusteth  wel,  I  ne  have  nat  undertake 
As  of  the  leef,  ageyn  the  flour,  to  make ; 1C 
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 17  yit  with  never  nother. 

"  peculiarity.  12  dawns. 

is  Reaped  the  poetic  field  ;  an  allusion  to  the  French 
"  Marguerite  "  poets.  "pleased. 

16  Apparently  poets  sided  in  playful  allegory  with 
one  or  the  other.  "  compose  poetry.  "returned. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  GOOD  WOMEN 


185 


I  not  who  serveth  leef,  ne  who  the  flour; 
That  nis  nothing  the  enteut  of  my  labour. 
For  this  werk  is  al  of  another  tuiine,1 
Of  olde  story,  er  swich  stryf  was  beguune.  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  inyti  entent  is,  or  I  fro  yow  fare, 
The  naked  text  in  English  to  declare 
Df  many  a  story,  or  elles  of  many  a  gest, 
A.S  autours  seyu;  leveth  hem  if  yow  leste! 
Wiiaii   passed  was   almost   the   month   of 

May, 

\nd  I  had  romed,  al  the  someres  day,      9° 
The  grene  medew,  of  which   that  1  yow 

tolde, 

Up'ni  the  f  resshe  daysy  to  beholde, 
And  that  the  soune  out  of  the  south  gan 

weste, 

And  closed  was  the  flour  and  goon  to  reste 
For  derkuesse  of  the  night,  of  which  she 

dredde, 

Hooni  to  myn  hons  fill  swiftly  I  me  spedde; 
And,  in  a  litel  erber  2  that  I  have, 
Y-benched3  newe  with  turves  fresshe  y- 

grave, 

I  Lad  men  shulde  me  my  couche  make; 
For  deyntee  of  the  newe  someres  sake,    roo 
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  emhrowded  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. 
Forge  ten  had  the  erthe  his  pore  estat 
Of  winter,  that  him  naked  made  and  mat,4 
And  with  his  swerd  of  cold  so  sore  had 

greved. 

Now  had  the  atempre  sonne  althat  releved, 
And  clothed  him  in  grene  al  newe  agayn. 
The  smale  foules,  of  the  seson  fayn, 
That  from  the  panter6  and   the  net  ben 

scaped, 
Upon  the  fouler,  that  hem  made  a-whaped  6 

i  of  quite  another  matter.      *  arbor.    »  With  raised 
Beats  of  turf.      «  dead.       '  large  bird-net.      6  scared. 


In  winter,  and  distroyed  had  hir  brood, 
In  his  despyt,  hern  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  bit  was  to 

here, 

In  worship  and  in  preysing  of  hir  make,7 
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  1  dide  al  myn  entente, 
For- why  I  mette  8  I  wiste  what  they  mente. 
Til  at  the  laste  a  larke  song  above:          141 
4 1  see,  quod  she,  '  the  mighty  god  of  love  ! 
Lo !   yond   he   cometh,   1   see   his  wiuges 

sprede  ! ' 

Tho  gan  I  loken  endelong  the  mede, 
And  saw  him  come,  and  in  his  hond  a  qu«ne, 
Clothed  in  ryal  abite  al  of  grene. 
A  fret 9  of  gold  she  hadde  next  hir  heer, 
And  up-on  that  a  whyt  coroun  she  beer 
With  many  floures,  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  corouu,  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 10  f  nl  of  grene  groves; 
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-stoued   was  the 

sighte; 

A  fnrlong-wey  I  mighte  him  nat  beholde. 
But  at  the  laste  in  hande  I  saw  him  holde 


i  their  mate. 
*  ornament. 


8  Because  I  dreamt. 
10  embroidered. 


i86 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Two  fyry  dartes,  as  the  gledes 1  rede; 
And  aungellich  his  wenges  gan  lie  sprede. 
And  al  be  that  men  seyn  that  blind  is  he, 
Al-gate2me   thoughte   he   miglite   wel  y- 

seej  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, 
Coi'ouned  with  why  to,  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  fiude 
In  creature  that  formed  is  by  kinde, 
Hir  name  was  Alceste  the  debonayre; 
I  prey  to  God  that  ever  falle  she  fay  re!  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. 
By  hind  this  god  of  love,  up-on  this  grene, 
I  saw  cominge  of  ladye's  nyntene 
In  ryal  abite,  a  ful  esy  pas, 
And  after   hem  com   of   wemen  swich  a 

tras8 

That,  sin  that  God  Adam  made  of  erthe, 
The  thredde  part  of  wemen,  ne  the  fertile, 
Ne  wende  I  nat  by  possibilitee  191 

Had  Jen  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  aiioon  as  that  they  gonne  espye 
This  flour,  which  that  I  clepe  the  dayesye, 
Ful  sodeinly  they  stinten  alle  at-ones, 
And   kneled   adoun,   as    it   were   for   the 

nones. 

And  after  that  they  wenten  in  compas, 
Daunsinge  aboute  this  flour  an  esy  pas,    200 
And  sougen,  as  it  were  in  carole-wyse, 
This  balade,  which  that  I  shal  yow  devyse. 

BALADE 

Hyd,  Absolon,  thy  gilte  tresses  clere; 
Ester,  ley  thou  thy  meknesse  al  a-doun  ; 
Hyd,  Jonathan,4  al  thy  friendly  manere; 
Penalopee,  and  Marcia  Catoun, 
Mak  of  your  wyf hod  no  comparisoun ; 
Hyde  ye  your  beautes,  Isoude6  and  Eleyne,6 
Alceste  is  here,  that  al  that  may  desteyne.7 

»  firebrands.  »  Nevertheless.  »  heap.  «  Jona 
than.  5  Iseu It,  Isolde.  •  Elaine  who  loved  Lancelot, 
or  Helen  of  Troy.  T  bedim. 


Thy  faire  bodye,  lat  hit  nat  appere,         210 
Lavyne ;  and  thou,  Lucresse  of  Koine  toun, 
And  Folixeiie,  that  boghte  love  so  dere, 
Eek  Cleopatre,  with  al  thy  passionn, 
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  desteyue. 

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  bost  ne  souu; 
Nor  Ypermistre  8  or  Adriane,9  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,10  230 
As  they  were  of  degree,11  ful  curteisly; 
Ne  nat  a  word  was  spoken  in  the  place 
The  mountance  of  a  f urlong-wey  of  space.1* 

I,  lening  faste  by  under  a  bente,13 
Abood,  to  knowen  what  this  peple  mente, 
As  stille  as  any  stoon;  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  salued  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  fo,  and  me  warreyest,16 
And  of  myne  olde  servaunts  thou  misseyest, 
And  hinderest  hem,  with  thy  translacioun, 
And  lettest 16  folk  to  han  devocioun         251 

8  Hypermnestra.  •  Ariadne.  10  alongside. 

11  according  to  rank.  n  The  amount  of  time  it  takes 
to  go  a  furlong.  "  little  hill,  "suitable.  »  makest 
war  upon.  16  dost  hinder. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  GOOD   WOMEN 


187 


To  serven  me,  and  baldest  hit  folye 

To  troste  on  me.     Thou    mayst  hit   nat 

denye; 

For  in  pleyu  text,  hit  nedeth  nat  to  glose,1 
Thou  hast  translated  the  Rouuauus  of  the 

Rose, 

That  is  an  heresye  ageyns  my  lawe, 
And  makest  wyse  folk  fro  me  withdrawe. 
And  thiukest  in  thy  wit,  that  is  ful  cool,2 
That  he  nis  but  a  verray  propre  fool 
That    loveth  paramours,3    to    harde    and 

hote.  260 

Wei  wot  I  ther-by  thou  beginnest  dote 
As  olde  foles,  whan  hir  spirit  fayleth ; 
Thau  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  weuien,as  thou  hast  seyd  wikkednesse? 
Wasther  no  good  uiatere  in  thy  minde,  270 
Ne  in  alle  thy  bokes  ooudest  thou  nat  finde 
Sum  story  of  wemen  that  were  goode  and 

trewe  ? 

Yis  !  God  wot,  sixty  bokes  olde  and  newe 
Hast  thou  thy-self,  alle  i'ulle  of  stories  grete, 
That  bothe  Romaius  and  eek  Grekes  trete 
Of  sundry  women,  which  lyf  that  they  ladde, 
And  ever  an  hundred  gode  ageyn  oon  badde. 
This  knoweth  God,  and  alle  clerkes  eke, 
That  usen  swiche  materes  for  to  seke.     279 
What  seith  Valerie,4  Titus,6  or  Claudian6  ? 
What  seith  Jerome  ageyns  Jovinian?7 
How  clene  maydens,  and  how  trewe  wyves, 
How  stedfast  widwes  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,8 
And  some  dreynt,9  for  they  wolden  nat  be 

fals. 

1  explain  It  away.          2  stupid.          *  like  a  lover. 

4  Supposed    author  of   a  bitter  mediaeval   treatise 
against  marriage. 

5  Livy.        «  In  his  De  Raplu  Proserpinae  f 

7  The  Saint's    famous    tirade    against  women   and 
marriage.        *  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,1* 
And  yit  they  weren  hethen,  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  ?  n 
Eek  al  the  world  of  autours  maystow  here, 
Cristen  and  hethen,  trete  of  swieh  matere; 
It  nedeth  nat  alday  thus  for  t'endyte,      310 
But  yit  I  sey,  what  eyleth  thee  to  wryte 
The  draf  12  of  stories,  and  forgo  the  corn  ? 
By  seint  Venus,  of  whom  that  I  was  born, 
Although    [that]  thou    reneyed   hast  my 

'ay> 

As  othere  olde  foles  many  a  day, 
Thou    shalt   repeute  hit,  that  hit  shal  be 
sene! 

Than  spak  Alceste,  the  worthieste  quene, 
And  seyde,  '  God,  right  of  your  curtesye, 
Ye  moteu  herknen  it  he  can  reply e 
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-feyned. 
For  in  your  court  is  many  a  losengeour,14 
And  many  a  queynte  totelere15  accusour, 
That  tabouren 16  in  your  eres  many  a  thing 
For  hate,  or  for  jelous  imagining,  33i 

And  for  to  han  with  yow  som  daliaunce. 
Envye  (I  prey  toGodyeve  hir  mischanncel) 
Is  lavender  17  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  him  oghte  been  excused. 

10  reproach.      u  The  Speculum  H istoriale  of  Vincent 
of  Beauvais,  thirteenth  century.         1Z  chaff. 

n  renounced  my  religion.      1*  flatterer.      "  tattling. 

"  drum.      «  laundress,  harlot.      "  Inferno,  xiii,  64. 


1 88 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Or  elles,  sir,  for  that  this  man  is  nyce,1  340 
He  may  translate  a  thing  in  no  malyce, 
But  for  he  useth  bokes  for  to  make, 
And  taklh  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  nat  with- 

seye; 

For  he  hath  writen  many  a  book  er  this. 
He  ne  hath  nat  doon  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  nat  be  lyk  tiraunts  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,2  to  doon  the  harm  he 

can. 

He  moste  thinke  hit  is  his  lige  man, 
And  that  him  oweth,  of  verray  due  tee,    36° 
Shewen  his  peple  pleyn  benignitee, 
And  wel  to  here  hir  excusaciouns, 
And  hir  compleyntes  and  peticiouns, 
In  duewe  tyme,  whan  they  shal  hit  prof  re. 
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] 

riche, 

Al  be  that  her  estat  be  nat  a-liche, 
And  han  of  pore  folk  compassions. 
For  lo,  the  gentil  kind  of  the  lioun  ! 
For  whan  a  flye  offendeth  him  or  byteth, 
He  with  his  tayl  awey  the  flye  smyteth 
A-l  esily;  for,  of  his  genterye,  380 

Him  deyneth  nat  to  wreke  him  on  a  flye, 
As  doth  a  curre  or  elles  another  beste. 
In  noble  corage  oghte  been  areste, 
And  weyen  every  thing  by  equitee, 
And  ever  han  reward  to  his  owen  degree. 
i  foolish.  *  farmer  of  taxes,  extortioner. 


For,  sir,  hit  is  no  maystrie  for  a  lord 

To  dampue  a  man  with-oute  answere  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  y  re,  and  beth  som  what  tretable  ! 
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 

Fume, 
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  ympne8  for  your  halydnyes, 
That  highten  Balades,  Roundels,  Virelayes; 
And  for  to  speke  of  other  besinesse,        412 
He  hath  in  prose  translated  Boece; 
And  of  the  Wreched  Eugendring  of  Man- 

kinde, 

As  man  may  in  pope  Innocent  y-finde; 
And  mad  the  Lyf  also  of  seynt  Cecyle; 
He  made  also,  goon  si  then  a  greet  whyl, 
Origenes  upon  the  Maude leyne; 
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  Alceste,  whylom  quene  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,4 
He  shal  no  more  agilten6  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  a<?oou 
•  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  f oryeve,  with-outen  lenger  space ; 
For  who-so  yeveth  a  yift,  or  doth  a  grace, 
Do   hit   by   tyme,   his    thank    is   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 l  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  hau  me  holpen,  and  put  hi  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  uat  to  parten  with  2  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  falsnesse  and  fro  vyce 
By  swich  ensample;  this  was  my  meninge.' 
And  she  answerde,  '  Lat  be  thyn  argu- 

inge; 

For  Love  ne  wol  nat  countrepleted  8  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,  47i 

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 
i  Repay.        2  has  no  part  in.        »  pleaded  against. 


How  many  wemen  they  may  doon  a  shame; 
For  in  your  world  that  is  now  liolden  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?  49o 
But  pitee  reuneth  sone  in  gentil  herte; 
That  mayst  thou  seen,  she  kytheth 4  what 

she  is.' 

And  I  answerde,  '  Nay,  sir,  so  have  I  blis, 
No  more  but  that  I  see  wel  she  is  good.' 

1  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  1  wel  the  goodnesse  of  this  wyl. 
That  bothe  after  hir  deeth,  and  in  hir  lyf, 
Hir  grete  bountee  doubleth  hir  renoun!  510 
Wel  hath  she  quit  me  myn  affeccioun 
That  I  have  to  hir  flour,  the  dayesye! 
No  wonder  is  thogh  Jove  hir  stellitye, 
As  telleth  Agaton,6  for  hir  goodnesse! 
Hir  whyte  coroun  berth  of  hit  witnesse; 
For  also  many  vertues  hadde  she, 
As  smale  floures  in  hir  coroun  be. 
In  reniembraunce  of  hir  and  in  honour, 
Cibella6  made  the  dayesy  and  the  flour 
Y-coroned  al  with  whjt,  as  men  may  see,  520 
And  Mars  yaf  to  hir  coroun  reed,  pnrdee, 
In  stede  of  rubies,  set  among  the  whyte.' 
Therwith  this  quene  wex  reed  for  shame 

a  lyte, 

«  makes  known.         »  Possibly  the  Athenian  tragio 
poet  of  the  fifth  century  B.C.  «  Cybele. 


190 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


Whan  she  was  preysed  so  in  hir  presence. 
Than  seyde  Love,  '  A  ful  gret  negligence 
Was  hit  to  thee,  to  write  unstedl'astnesse 
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  l  is  she 
Of  goodnesse,  for  she  taughte  of  fyu  lov- 

inge, 

And  namely  of  wyfhood  the  livinge, 
And  alle  the  bouudes  that  she  oghte  kepe; 
Thy  litel  wit  was  thilke  tyine  a-slepe. 
But  now  I  charge  thee,  upon  thy  lyf,       538 
That  in  thy  legend  thou  make  of  this  wyf , 
Whan  thou  hast  othere  smale  niaad  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 

whine.' 

And  with  that  word  of  sleep  I  gan  a-awake, 
And  right  thus  on  my  Legend  gaii  I  make. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   CLEOPATRA 

Incipit  Legenda  Cleopatrie,  Marttris,  Egipti 
regine. 

AFTER  the  deeth  of  Tlmlomee  2  tlie  king, 
That  al  Egipte  hadde  in  his  governing, 
Regned  his  quone  Cleopataras; 
Til  on  a  tyme  befel  ther  swiche  a  cas, 
That  out  of  Rome  was  sent  a  senatour, 
For  to  conqueren  regnes  and  honour 
Unto  the  toun  of  Rome,  as  was  usaunce, 
To  have  the  world  unto  her  obeisaunee; 
And,  sooth  to  seye,  Antonius  was  his  name. 
So  fil  hit,  as  Fortune  him  oghte  3  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  al  gates  hail  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 

aple.  »  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  4  nat  in  armes  for  to  sterve 
In  the  defence  of  hir,  and  of  hir  right. 

This   noble   queue   eek    lovede   so    this 

knight, 

Through  his  desert,  and  for  his  chivalry e; 
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;5 
For  men  may  overlade  a  ship  or  barge; 
And  forthy  to  th'effect  than  wol  I  skippe, 
And  al  the  remenant,  I  wol  lote  hit  slippe. 

Octovian,  that  wood  6  was  of  this  dede, 
Shoop  7  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 
snile. 

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  anoon,  no  lenger  they  ne  stente; 
And  in  the  see  hit  happed  hem  to  mete. 
Up  goth8  the  trompe,  and  for  to  shoute 

and  shete,9 

And  peynen  hem  to  sette  on  with  the  sonne.10 
With  grisly  soun  out  goth  n  the  grete  gonne, 
And  heterly  12  they  hurtlen  1S  al  at  ones, 
And  fro  the  top  14  doun  corneth  the  grete 
stones.  60 

In  goth  the  grapenel  so  ful  of  crokes 
Among  the  ropes,  and  the  shering-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;16 

4  recked.  5  weight.  «  angry.  ^  Shaped,  i.e.  pre 
pared.  »  sounds.  »  shoot,  loose  infinitive.  10  To  attack 
with  the  sun  at  their  back.  "  off  goes.  12  ferociously. 
ia  clash  together.  "  station  up  on  the  mast.  «  point. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   GOOD   WOMEN 


191 


He  rent  the  sail  with  hokes  lyke  a  sythe; 
He  briiigeth  the  cuppe,  and  biddeth  heiu  be 

blythe; 

He  poureth  pesen  upon  the  hacches  slider; l 
VVitb    j)ottes   ful   of   lyin2   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,8and  put  him  to  the  flighte, 
And  al  his  folk  to-go,4  that  best  go  tuighte. 
Fleeth  eek  the  queen,  with  al  her  ptirpre 

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  5  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    swich 

routhe  90 

That   ther  nis   tonge   noon   that   may  hit 

telle. 
But   on    the   morwe   she   wol    no    lenger 

dwelle, 
But    made    hir  subtil    workmen   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,  ioo 

*  Apparently  "ponrs  peas  upon  the  slippery  deck," 
i.e.  to    make   the   deck    slippery.     But   v.  Kith-edge 
Anniversary  Papers,  p.  149,  for  another  explanation. 

*  Loose  quicklime  to  blind  the  enemy. 
1  ruined.        *  disperse.        6  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,  Antonius  my  knight  ! 
That  never  waking,  in  the  day  or  night. 
Ye  nere  out  of  myn  hertes  remembraunce 
For  wele  or  wo,  for  carole  or  for  daunce; 
And  in  my-self  this  covenant  made  I  tho, 
That,   right   swich   as  ye   f  el  ten,  wele   or 

WO,  i  jo 

As  ferforth  as  hit  in  my  power  lay, 
Unreprovable  unto  my  wyfhood  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  quene.' 
And  with  that  word,  naked,  with  ful  good 

herte, 

Among  the  serpents  in  the  pit  she  sterte, 
And  ther  she  chees  to  han  hir  buryinge. 
Anoou    the     neddres    gonne    hir    for    to 

stinge,  120 

And  she  hir  deeth  receyveth,  with   good 

chere, 
For    love    of    Antony,    that   was    hir    so 

dere: — 

And  this  is  storial  sooth,8  hit  is  no  fable. 
Now,  er  I  fiude  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,  Martiris. 

Now  moot  I  seyn  the  exiling  of  kinges 
Of  Home,  for  hir  horrible  doinges, 
And  of  the  laste  king  Tarquinius, 
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         ic 
•  historical  truth. 


I92 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


The   grete   Austin,1   hath    greet    compas- 

sioun 
Of    this    Lucresse,    that    starf    at    Koine 

toun; 
And   in    what    wyse,  I    wol   but   shortly 

trete, 
And  of  this  thing  I  touche  but  the  grete.2 

Whan  Ardea  beseged  was  aboute 
With  Remains,  that  ful  sterue  were  and 

stout  e, 

Ful  longe  lay  the  sege,  and  litel  wroghte,8 
So   that    they   were    half    ydel,   as    hem 

thoghfce; 

And  in  his  pley  Tarquinius  the  yonge 
Gail    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 

sterte, 

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;  3o 

Go  we   to-night  to  Home,  and  we  shul 

see.' 

Tarquinius  answerde,  '  That  lyketh  me.' 
To  Rome   be  they  come,  and  faste  hem 

dighte 4 

To  Colatynes  hous,  and  doun  they  lighte, 
Tarquinius,  and  eek  this  Colatyne. 
The  husbond   knew  the  estres  6   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  nohle  wyf  sat  by  her  beddes  syde      40 
Disehevele,  for  no  malice  she  ne  tlioghte; 
And  softe  wolle  our  book  seith  that  she 

wroghte 

To  kepen  her  fro  slouthe  and  ydelnesse ; 
And  bad  her  servants  doon  hir  businesse, 
And  axeth  hem,  'What  ty dings  heren 

ye? 
How  seith  men  of  the  sege,  how  shal  hit 

be? 

God  wolde  the  walles  weren  falle  adoun; 
Myu  husbond  is  so  longe  out  of  this  toun, 

i  St.  Augustine  in  his  City  of  God.       »  main  points. 
8  The  beleaguering  was  long  and  ineffective. 
*  repaired.        *  rooms. 


For   which    the   dreed   doth    me   so   sore 

smerte, 
Right   as  a  swerd    hit  stingeth   to    myn 

herte  50 

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  countenaunce  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.6 

Tarquinius,  this  proude  kinges  sone, 
Conceived 7  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   crafte   her  beautee    nas   nat 

feyned;  70 

And  caughte  to  this  lady  swich  desyr, 
That  in  his  herte  brende  as  any  fyr 
ISo  woodly,  that  his  wit  was  al  forgeten. 
For  wel,  thoghte  he,  she   sholde  uat  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,  thus  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  ngo, 
Yet  wol  the  water  quappe 8  a  day  or  two, 
Right  so,  thogh  that  her  forme   wer  ab 
sent, 

The  plesaunce  of  her  forme  was  present;  90 
•  wont,  custom.      7  Perceived.      B  be  tempestuous. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   GOOD  WOMEN 


'93 


But  natheles,  nat  plesaunce,  but  delyt, 
Or  an  unrightful  talent 1  with  despyt; 
'  For,  maugre  her,2  she  shal  my  lemman  8 

be; 

Hap  helpeth  hardy  man  alday,' 4  quod  he ; 
'What  eude  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  fl 
Unto  the  house  of  Colatyn  ful  right. 
Doun  was  the  sonne,  and  day  hath  lost  his 

light;  joo 

And  in  lie  com  un-to  a  privy  halke,7 
And  in  the  night  ful  theefly  8  gan  he  stalke, 
Whan  every  wight  was  to  his  reste  broght, 
Ne  no  wight  had  of  tresoun  swich  a  thoght. 
Were  hit  by  window  or  by  other  gin,9 
With  swerde  y-drawe,  shortly  he  cointh  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  vveyeth 

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 10  a  lomb  aloon, 
To   whom    shal   she   compleyne,  or  make 

moon  ?  120 

What !    shal   she    fighte   with    an    hardy 

knight  ? 

Wei  wot  men  that  a  woman  hath  no  might. 
What !    shal   she   crye,  or   how   shal   she 

a sterte 
That  hath  her  by  the  throte,  with  swerde 

at  herte  ? 
She   axeth   grace,   and   seith   al   that   she 

cnn. 
'Ne  wolt  thou  nat,'  quod   he,   this  cruel 

man, 

'  As  wisly  n  Jupiter  my  soule  save, 
As  I  shal  in  the  stable  slee  thy  knave, 
i  passion.         2  in  spite  of  herself.         s  mistress. 
4  Fortune  always  favors  the  brave.         6  rideth. 
«  taken.     »  corner.      «  like  a  thief.      9  contrivance. 
w  findeth.        "  80  sure  as. 


And  leye  him  in  thy  bed,  and  londe  crye, 
That  I  thee  finde  in  suche  avouterye ; 12  130 
And  thus  thou  shalt  be  deed,  and  also  lese  18 
Thv  name,  for  thou  shalt  none  other  chose.' 
Thise  Remain  wyves  loveden  so  hirname 
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  swough14  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;15 
And  al  dischevele,  with  her  heres  clere,  150 
In  habit  swich  as  women  used  tho 
Unto  the  burying  of  her  frendes  go, 
She  sit  in  ha  lie  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  hern  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.16 
Al  hadde  folkes  hertes  been  of  stones, 
Hit  mighte  have  maked  hem  upon  her  rew% 
Her  herte  was  so  wyfly  and  so  trewe. 
She   seide,  that,  for  her  gilt  ue  for  her 

blame, 
Her  husbond  sholde  nat  have   the  foult 

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  forgift 17  for  no-thing.' 


i*  adultery. 
»  together. 


"  lose. 
10  at  once. 


14  swoon. 

17  forgiveness. 


194 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


But  prively  she  caughte  forth  a  knyf, 
And  therwith-al  she  rafte  her-self  her  lyf ; 
And  as  she  fel  adoun,  she  caste  her  look, 
And  of  her  clothes  yit  she  hede  took; 
For  in  her  falling  yit  she  hadde  care 
Lest  that   her   feet  or   swiche   thing   lay 
bare ;  180 

So  wel  she  loved  clennesse  and  eek  trouthe. 
Of  her  had  al  the  toun  of  Rome  ronthe, 
And  Brutus  by  her  chaste  blode  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  bere 
Through  al  the  toun,  that  men  may  see  and 

here 

The  horrible  deed  of  her  oppressions 
Ne  never  was  ther  king  in  Rome  toun     190 
Sin  thilke  day;  and  she  was  holden  there 
A  seiut,  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  wille  she  chaunged  for  no  newe. 
And  for  the  stable  herte,  sad  and  kinde, 
That  in  these  women  men  may  alday  finde; 
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 
Theydoon  alday;  assay  hem  who  so  liste. 
The  trewest  is  ful  brotel l  for  to  triste. 

Explicit  Legenda  Lucrecie  Rome,  Martiris. 
»  brittle. 


MINOR   POEMS 


CHAUCERS    WORDES    UNTO 

ADAM, 
HIS   OWNE   SCRIVEYN1 

ADAM  scriveyn,  if  ever  it  tbee  bifalle 
Boece  or  Troilus  to  wryten  newe, 
Under  thy  lokkes  thou  most  have  the  scalle,2 
But 8  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.4 


THE   FORMER   AGE 

A  BLISFUL  lyf ,  a  paisible  and  a  swete 

Ledden  the  peples  in  the  former  age; 

They  helde  hem  payed 5  of  fruites,  that 
they  ete, 

Which  that  the  feldes  yave  hem  by  usage; 

They  ne  were  nat  forpampred  with  out 
rage;6 

Unknowen  was  the  quern7  and  eek  the 
melle;8 

Theyeten  mast,  hawes,  and  swich  pounage,9 

And  dronkeu  water  of  the  colde  welle. 

Yit  nas  the  ground  nat  wounded  with  the 

plough, 
But   corn    up-sprong,   unsowe  of    mannes 

hond,  10 

The  which  they  gniden,10  and  eete  nat  half 

y-nough. 

No  man  yit  knew  the  forwes11  of  his  lond; 
No  man  the  fyr  out  of  the  flint  yit  fond; 
Un-korven  and  un-grobbed12  lay  the  vyne; 
No  man  yit  in  the  morter  spyces  grond 
To  clarre,18  ne  to  sause  of  galantyne.14 

No  mader,  welde,  or  wood  no  litestere 
Ne  knew ; 15  the  flees  was  of  his  former  hewe ; 

1  scrivener,  scribe.  2  scab.  »  Unless.  *  destruc- 
tiveness.  *  pleased.  •  spoiled  by  pampering  with 
excessive  luxury.  1  hand-mill.  8  mill.  s  swine's 
food.  10  bruised.  "  furrows.  "  Unpmned  and 
uncultivated.  13  For  spiced  wine.  "  Galantine  was 
an  elaborate  fish-sauce. 

18  No  dyer  knew  the  use  of  madder,  weld,  or  woad  — 
three  dye-plants. 


No  flesh  ne  wiste  offence  of  egge 16  or  spere; 
No  coyn  ne  knew  man  which  was  fals  or 

trewe;  2o 

No  ship   yit   karf  the  wawes  grene  and 

ble  we ; 
No   marcimunt   yit   ne  fette  outlandish 17 

ware ; 

No  trompes  for  the  werres  folk  ne  knewe, 
No  toures  heye,  and  walles  rounde  or  square. 

What  sholde  it  han  avayled  to  werreye? 18 
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  wilclnesse19  ne  no  busshes  for  to  winne 
Ther  poverte  is,  as  seith  Diogenes, 
Ther  as  vitaile  is  eek  so  skars  and  thinne 
That  noght  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  ost  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  with-oute  walles, 
On  gras  or  leves  in  parfit  qniete. 
No  doun  of  fetheres,  ne  no  bleched  shete 
Was   kid20   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;21 
The  lainbish22  peple,  voyd  of  alle  vyce,    50 
H add en  no  fantasye  to  debate,23 
But  ech  of  hem  wolde  other  wel  cheryce ; 24 

"  edge,  knife.       "  foreicrn.       "  fight.       «  wilder 
ness.        «o  known.        «  plate-armor.        «  innocent. 
2»  no  inclination  to  contend.        »  cherish. 


196 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


No  pryde,  non  euvye,  non  avaryce, 
No  lord,  no  taylage  J  by  no  tyrannye; 
Humblesse  and  pees,  good  feith,  the  em- 

perice, 
[Fulfilled  erthe  of  olde  curtesye.]  2 

Yit  was  not  Jupiter  the  likerous,8 
That  first  was  fader  of  delicacye,4 
Conie  in  this  world;  ne  Nembrot,*    de 
sirous  59 
To  reynen,  had  nat  maad  his  toures  hye.6 
Alias,  alias  !  now  may  men  wepe  and  crye! 
For  in  our  dayes  nis  but  covetyse 
fAnd]  doublenesse,  and  tresoun  and  euvye, 
Poysoun,  raanslauhtre,  and  mordre  in  son- 
dry  wyse. 


MERCILES   BEAUTE:  A  TRIPLE 
ROUNDEL 

I.   CAPTIVITY 

YOUR  yen  two  wol  slee  me  sodenly, 
I  may  the  beaute  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  beaute  fro  your  herte  chaced 
Pitee,  that  me  ne  availeth  not  to  pleyne; 
For    Daunger  halt7    your    mercy  in  his 
cheyne. 

Gil  ties  my  deeth  thus  han  ye  me  purchaced; 

I  sey  yow  sooth,  me  nedeth  not  to  feyne; 
So  hath  your  heaute  fro  your  herte  chaced 
Pitee,  that  me  ne  availeth  not  to  pleyne.    to 

Alias!  that  nature  hath  in  yow  compassed 
So  greet  beaute,  that  no  man  may  atteyne 
To  mercy,  though  he  sterve  for  the  peyne. 

i  taxation.        »  Line  supplied  by  Skeat.        »  lustful. 
*  sinful  luxury.        «  Nimrod.        •  i.e.  Babel. 
»  Disdain  holdeth. 


So  hath  your  beaute  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  theuk  to  beu  in  his  prison  lene; 

Sin  I  am  free,  I  counte  him  not  a  bene. 

He  may  answere,  and  seye  this  or  that;    30 
I  do  no  fors,8 1  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,9 

And  he  is  strike  out  of  my  bokes  cleue 
For  ever-mo;  ther  is  nou  other  mene. 
Sin  I  fro  Love  escaped  am  so  fat, 
1  never  thenk  to  ben  in  his  prison  lene  ; 
Sin  I  am  free,  I  counte  him  not  a  bene. 


TRUTH  » 

FLEE  fro  the  prees,  and  dwelle  with  soth- 

fastnesse, 

Suffyce  unto  thy  good,11  though  hit  be  smal; 
For  hord    hath  hate,  and   climbing  tikel- 

nesse,12 

Prees  hath  envye,  and  wele  blent18  overal; 
Savour  14  no  more  than  thee  bihove  shal; 
Werk  wel  thy-self,   that  other  folk  canst 

rede; 
And  trouthe  shal  delivere,  hit  is  no  drede.16 

Tempest 16  thee  noght  al  croked  to  redresse, 
In  trust  of  hir  that  turneth  as  a  bal: 17 
Gret  reste  stant  in  litel  besinesse;  10 

And  eek  be  war  to  sporne  ageyn  an  al ; 18 
Stry ve  noght,  as  doth  the  crokke 19  with  the 

wal. 
Daunte20  thy-self,  that  dauntest  otheres 

dede; 
And  trouthe  shal  delivere,  hit  is  no  drede. 

That  thee  is  sent,  receyve  in  buxumnesse,21 
The  wrastling  for  this  worlde  axeth  a  fal. 

*  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  Modern 
Philology,  xi,  p.  209. 

11  Be  satisfied  with  your  possessions.       "  precariouB- 
ness.       «  success  blindeth.       «  Relish.       1S  without 
doubt.        «  Vex.        "  i.e.  Fortune.        «  kick  against 
an  awl.        "  pitcher.        *°  Subdue.       "  submission. 


LENVOY  DE  CHAUCER  A  SCOGAN 


197 


Her  nis  non  hoom,  her  nis  but  wildernesse: 
Forth,  pilgrim,  forth!    Forth,  beste,  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    vache,1    leve   thyn    old 

wrecchednesse 

Unto  the  worlde;  leve  now  to  be  thral; 
Crye  him  mercy,  that  of  his  hy  goodnesse 
Made  thee  of  noght,  and  in  especial 
Draw  unto  him,  and  pray  in  general 
For  thee,  and  eek    for  other,   hevenlich 

mede; 
And  trouthe  shal  delivere,  hit  is  no  drede. 

Explicit  Le  bon  counseill  de  G.  Chaucer. 


GENTILESSE 

THE  firste  stok,  fader  of  gentilesse  —  2 
What  man  that  claymeth  gentil  for  to  be, 
Must  folowe  his  trace,  and  alle  his  wittes 

dresse 

Vertu  to  sewe,8  and  vyces  for  to  flee. 
For  unto  vertu  longeth  dignitee, 
And  noght  the  revers,  saufly  dar  I  deme, 
Al  were  4  he  mytre,  croune,  or  diademe. 

This  firste  stok  was  ful  of  rightwisnesse, 
Trewe  of  his  word,  sobre,  pitous,  and  free, 
Clene  of  his  goste,  and  loved  besinesse,     I0 
Ageinst  the  vyce  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  ther  may  no  man,  as  men  may  wel  see, 
Bequethe  his  heir  his  vertu  ous  noblesse 
That  is  appropred  unto  no  degree, 
But  to  the  firste  fader  in  magestee, 
That  maketh  his  heir  him  that  can   him 
queme,5  20 

Al  were  he  mytre,  croune,  or  diademe. 

1  Cow,  beast,  a  play  on  la  Vache's  name.     His  crest 
was  a  cow's  hoof. 

2  The  original   gentle-man.      These  words  without 
corresponding  verb  supply  the  antecedent  to  his  in 
line  3. 

*  follow.        *  Though  he  wear.        *  please. 


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  douu 
Is  al  this  world  for  mede  and  wilf ulnesse, 
That  al  is  lost  for  lak  of  stedf astnesse. 

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-if  he  can,  by  som  collusioun, 
Don  his  neighbour  wrong  or  oppressioun. 
What  causeth  this,  but  wilful  wrecchednesse, 
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  merciable. 
Through  covetyse  is  blent 6  discrecioun; 
The  world  hath  mad  a  permutacioun 
Fro  right  to  wrong,  fro  trouthe  to  fikel- 
nesse,  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! 
Suffre  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  dure, 

Sith  that  I  see  the  brighte  goddes  sevene  7 

Mow  wepe  and  wayle,  and  passiouu  endure, 

As  may  in  erthe  a  mortal  creature. 

Alias,  fro  whennes  may  this  thing  precede? 

Of  whiche  errour  I  deye  almost  for  drede. 

By  worde  eterne  whylom  was  hit  shape 
That  fro  the  fifte  cercle,  in  no  manere, 
Ne  mighte  a  drope  of  teres  doun  escape.  10 
«  blinded.  T  the  planets. 


i98 


GEOFFREY   CHAUCER 


But  now  so  wepeth  Venus  in  hir  spere, 
That  with  hir  teres  she  wol   dreuche  us 

here. 

Alias,  Scogan!  this  is  for  thyn  offence! 
Thou  causest  this  deluge  of  pestilence.1 

Hast  thou  not  seyd,  in  blaspheme  of  this 

goddes, 
Through  pryde,  or  through  thy  grete  rakel- 

nesse,2 
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 

touge! 

Thou  drowe  in  scorn  Cupyde  eek  to  record 
Of  thilke  rebel  word  that  thou  hast  spoken, 
For  which  he  wol  no  leiiger  be  thy  lord. 
And,  Scogan,  thogh  his  bowe  be  nat  broken, 
He  woi  nat  with  his  arwes  been  y-wroken8 
On  thee,  ne  me,  ne  noon  of  our  figure;  4 
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. 

*  This  wretched  deluge.    Perhaps  alluding  to  the 
floods  of  1393.        »  rashness.        *  wreaked,  revenged. 
«  i.e.  portly  figure,  cf.  1.  31. 


ENVOY 

Scogan,  that  kuelest  at  the  stremes  heed  6 
Of  grace,  of  alle  honour  and  worthinesse, 
In  th'ende  of  which  streme  I  am  dul  as  deed, 
Forgete  in  solitarie  wildernesse ;  6 
Yet,  Scogan,  thenke  on  Tullius  kindenesse, 
Minne  7  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  uou  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  chere, 
Me  were  as  leef  be  leyd  up-on  my  bere; 
For  whiche  un-to  your  mercy  thus  I  crye: 
Beth  hevy  ageyn,  or  elles  mot  I  dye! 

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,    10 
That  of  yelownesse  hadde  never  pere, 
Ye  be  my  lyf,  ye  be  myn  hertes  stere,8 
Queue  of  comfort  and  of  good  compauye: 
Beth  hevy  ageyn,  or  elles  mot  I  dye! 

Now  purs,  that  be  to  me  my  lyves  li^ht, 
And  saveour,  as  doun  in  this  worlde  here, 
Out  of  this  toune  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:  z« 

Beth  hevy  ageyn,  or  elles  mot  I  dye! 

LENVOY  DE   CHAUCER 
O  conquerour9  of  Brutes  Albioun! 
Which  that  by  lyne  and  free  eleccioun 
Ben  verray  king,  this  song  to  you  I  sende; 
And  ye,  that  mowen  al  our  harm  amende, 
Have  minde  up-on  my  supplicaciouu! 

*  Probably  Windsor,  where  the  court  was. 

•  Probably  Greenwich.  7  Remember. 
8  steersman.           •  Henry  IV,  1399. 


THOMAS    HOCCLEVE 


EXTRAVAGANCE   IN    MEN'S 

DRESS 
(  The  Regement  of  Princes,  §§  61-77) 

BUT  this  me  thinkith  an  abusioun, 
To  se  on x  walke  in  gownes  of  scarlet, 
xii  yerdes  wyd,  with  pendant  sieves  downe 
On  the  grounde,  and  the  f  urrour  therin  set 
Amounting  unto  twenty  pound  or  bet;  2 
And  if  he  For  it  payde  have,  he  no  good 
Hath  lef te  him  where-with  for  to  bye  an 
hood. 

For  thogh  he  jette  8  forth  among  the  prees, 
And  overloke  everey  pore  wight, 
His  cofre  and  eke  his  purs  bea  penylees,  10 
He  hath  no  more  than  he  goth  in  ryght.4 
For  lond,  rent,  or  catel,6  he  may  go  light; 
The   weght   of  hem   schal   not   so   moche 

ryse6 
his  gowue.    Is   swiche   array  to 
preyse  ? 

Nay  sothely,  sone,  it  is  al  amys  me  think- 

yth; 

So  pore  a  wight  his  lord  to  counterfete 
In  his  array,  in  my  conceyit  it  stynkith. 
Certes  to  blame  ben  the  lordes  grete, 
If  that  I  durste  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  folke;  but  now 
A  man  schal  stody  and  musen  a  long 

thro  we  7 

Whiche  is  whiche:  O  lordes,  it  sit8  to  yowe 
Amende  this,  for  it  is  for  youre  prowe.9 
If  twixt  yow  and  youre  men  no  difference 
Be  in  array,  lesse  is  youre  reverence. 

Also  ther  is  another  newe  get,10 

A  foul  wast  of  cloth  and  an  excessyf ;        8° 

Ther  goth  no  lesse  in  a  mannes  tipet 

i  one,  people.        2  better.        '  strut.        4  merely. 
*  personal  property,  chattels,  money.         •  weigh. 
»  while.          s  belongs.          •  profit.         »  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  chekelew  bane.11 

Let  evere  lord,  his  owne  men  deffende  12 
Swiche  gret  array,  and  than,  on  my  peryl, 
This  land  within  a  while  schal  amende. 
In  Goddys  name,  putte  it  in  exyl ! 
It  is  synne  outragious  and  vyl ;  *° 

Lordes,  if  ye  your  estat  and  honour 
Loven,  fleemyth  13  this  vicius  errour ! 

What  is  a  lord  withouten  his  meynee  ? 
I  putte  cas  that  his  foos  hym  assaile 
Sodenly  in  the  stret.  What  help  schale  he, 
WTos  sleeves  encombrous  so  syde 14  traille, 
Do  to  his  lord  ?  He  may  hym  nat  availle; 
In  swych  a  cas  he  nys  but  a  wominan; 
He  may  nat  stand  hym  in  steed  of  a  man. 

His  arrays  two  han  ryght  ynow  to  done,  ^ 
And  sum  what  more,  his  sleeves  up  to  holde; 
The  taillours,  trow  I,  moot  heerafter  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  doou  his  craft;  sum  tyme  it  was  nat  so. 
O  lordes,  yeve  unto  your  men  hir  pars  16  ** 
That  so  doon,  and  aqwente  hem  bet  with 

Mars, 

God  of  bfitaile;  he  loveth  non  array 
That  hurty  th  manhode  at  preef 16  or  assay. 

Who  now  moost  may  bere  on  his  bak  at  ones 
Of  cloth  and  furrour,  hath  a  fresseh  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. 
"  forbid.  1S  banish.  14  wide. 

»  parts,  portions.  »•  proof. 


2OO 


THOMAS   HOCCLEVE 


That  troppid l  is   with  curses   heere   aud 
there,  69 

And  ay  schal,  til  thei  paid  be  for  hir  gere. 

In  dayes  olde,  whan  smal  apparaille 
Suffisid  unto  hy  estat  or  mene, 
Was  gret  housholdwel  stuffid  of  victaille; 
But  now  housholdes  ben  ful  sclender  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  bere  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  loiule  on  pylgrymage; 
But  I  suppose  he  schal  resorte  as  blyve,2 
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 8  sholde  up  be  take  and  usicl, 

And  al  this  costelew  outrage  4  refusid. 

Of   Lancastre   Duk   lohn,    whos   soule   in 

Hevene 

I  fully  deme,  and  trnste  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  6 
Bet  like  his  estat;  al  knyghtly  prowesse 
Was  to  hym  girt:  O  God  1  his  soule  blisse  ! 

His  garnamentes  weren  noght  ful  wyde, 
And  yit  thei  hym  becam  wonderly  wel.    10° 
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,7  — 

i  sprinkled.  »  very  quickly.  «  fashion. 

<  costly  extravagance.       5  name.       '  guide.       7  aim. 


Nat  for  ray  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  lordesj  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.    ' t  . 
0  Engelond  !  stand  upryght  on  thy  feet ! 
So  foul  a  wast  in  so  symple  degree 
Bannysshe  !  or  sore  it  schal  repeute  the. 


BADBY'S  HERESY « 
(The  Regement  of  Princes,  §§  41-47) 

SOM  man,  for  lak  of  occupacioun, 
Museth    forther    thanne   his   wyt    may 

strecche, 
And,  at  the  fendes  instigacioun, 

Dampnable  eiTour  holdeth,  and  can  not 

flecche9 

For  no  counseil  ne  reed,  as  dide  a  wrecche 
Not  fern 10  agoo,  whiehe  that  of  heresye 
Convyct,  and  brent  was  un-to  asnen 
drye. 

The  precious  body  of  oure  lorde  Jhesu 
In  forme  of   brede,  he  leved11  not  at 

al; 

He  was  in  no  thing  abassht,  ne  eschu   '  \jo 
To  seye  it  was  but  brede  material;   * 
He  seyde,  a  prestes  power  was  as  smal 
As  a    rakers,12  or  swiche    an  other 

wighte, 

And    to    mak  it,  hadde    no   gretter 
myght. 

My  lorde  the  prince 18  —  God  him  save 

and  blesse!  — 

Was  at  his  deedly  castigacioun, 
And  of  his  soule  hadde  grete  tendernesse, 
Thristynge  sore  his  savacioun: 
Grete  was  his  pitous  lamentacioun, 
Whan   that   this   renegat    not   wolde 
blynne 14  20 

Of  the  stynkyng  errour  that  he  was 
inne. 

8  John  Badby  was  burned  at  Smithfield  in  1410.  This 
extract  shows  the  feelings  of  a  temperate,  intelligent 
person  regarding  heresy. 

•  escape.  10  long.  "  believed.  «  street- 
cleaner.  M  Prince  Hal,  later  Henry  V. 


WOMAN'S   SUPERIORITY 


201 


This  good  lorde  highte  hym  to  be  sweche 

a  mene l 

To  his  fader,  oure  lige  lorde  sovereyne, 
If  he  renounce  wolde  his  errour  dene, 
And  come  un-to  oure  good  byleve  ageyne, 
He  schulde  of  his  lif  seure  ben  and  cer- 

teyne, 
-And  sufficiant  Jyflode  2  eek  scholde  he 

have, 
Un-to  the  day  he  clad  were  in  his  grave. 

Also    this    nobyl    prince    and    worthy 

v  knyght  — 

God  quyte  hym  his  charitable  labour!  — 
,    Or  any  stikke  kyndled  were  or  light,         31 
The  sacrement,  oure  blissed  Saveoure, 
With  reverence  grete  and  hye  honoure 
'He  fecche  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  f eude  acceptable. 
By  any  outward  tokyn  resonable,  40 

If  he  inward  hadde  any  repentaunce, 
,  ,,,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  schai  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 

(The  Regement  of  Princes,  §§  728-742) 

THER  is  also  a  pees  inordinat, 
Whan  the  gretter  obeith  to  the  lesse; 
And  thus,  whan  to  his  soget  8  a  prelat 
Obeyeth;  and   whan   reson    the   blynd- 

nesse 
Sueth  4  of  sensualitees  madnesse, 

Obeying  it:  al  swich  pees  is  haynous, 
For  it  is  goode  pees  contrarious. 

*  Promised  to  be  such  an  intermediary. 

*  livelihood.        *  subject.        «  Follows. 


Right  swich  a  pees,  Adam  had  with  Eve 
Whan  that  he  unto  hir  desire  obeyde; 
He  was,  per  caas,6adradde  for  to  greve;  10 
Wheref  or  he  did  as  that  she  to  hym  seide : 
In  that  obedience  lie  foleyde,6 

For  God  hir  him  bytoke 7  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:  8 
For  that  I  touche  of  swich  obedience, 
Many  a  browe  shal  on  me  be  bent; 
Thei  wolden  waite  to  ben  equipollent,9 
And   sumwhat   more,  unto   hir   hous- 
bondis,  20 

And  sura  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;10 
Thei  made  were  of  a  ribbe,  it  is  no  doute, 
Which  more  strong  is,  and  substaneial, 
Than  slyme  of  eerthe,  and  clenner  ther- 
withal. 


Wherfor  it  semeth  that  the  worthynesse 
Of     women,     passyth     mennes     encer- 
teyne; u  30 

And  yit  sum  nyse 12  men,  of  lewdenesse,18 
In  repref  of  hem  holden  ther-a-geyn, 
For  crokid  was  that  ribbe ;  and  speke  and 

seyne, 

That  also  crokid  is  hir  curtaisie; 
But  agayn  that,  strongly  wil  I  replie; 

For  in  the  writyng  and  in  the  scripture 
Of  philosophers,  men  may  see  and  reede, 
Cercly 14  shap  is  most  perfite  figure, 
Bitokenyng,  in  gemetrie,  onhede;16 
And  crokydnesse  a  part  is,  that  may  lede 
Sumwhat  unto  cercle  or  a  cumpas:    41 
What  so  men  seyen,  women  stonde  in 
gode  caas. 

For  therby  she  with  it,  that  crokydnesse 
Streccheth  unto  the  gretter  perfeccioun 
Than  doth  a  thing  that  is  of  evenesse; 
Of  this  helpith  no  contradiccioun, 
For  it  soth  is;  it  is  no  ficcioun; 

»  perchance.        •  did  folly.        *  gave  her  to  him. 
s  undone.     »  of  equal  power,     "bow.     "certainly. 
"  silly.      "  ignorance.       "  circular.       "  oneness. 


202 


THOMAS   HOCCLEVE 


Every  perfit  body  that  man  kan  iievene, 
Is    rounde    and    crokyd,    and    noght 
streghte  ne  evene. 

Bygynne  first  at  He  ven,  and  rounde  it  is ;  50 
The  sonne  and  mone,  and  the  sterres  also; 
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; 

80  biddeth  pees,  and  that  to  folwe  I 


Now  for  to  speke  or  touchen  of  the  place 
In  which  that  man  and  worn  man  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  fonnacioun 
Of  bothe  two  herkenth  now  wel  I  prey; 
The  token  or  the  signifieacioun 

Of  making  of  Adam,  may  be  no  way 
Strecche  to  so  perfyte  a  goode,  I  say, 
As  dide  the  formacioun  of  Eve; 
And   that  as   s withe  here  I  sehal  it 
preve.  70 

For  more  have  I  for  hir  party e  yit; 
Making  of  Eve  tokned  the  makyng 
Of  holy  chirehe,  and  sacramentes  of  it; 
As  of  the  syde  of  Adam,  him  slepyng, 
Eve  was  made,  so  our  lorde  Crist  deyeng 
Upon  the  crois,  holy  chirche  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  tooke  the  way      81 
Fro  He  ven  hiddir,  and  mekenesse  verray 
Taught  he,  the  moste  partie  of  his  lyf, 
Whil  be  was  with  his  modir  and  his 
wyfe; 

For  she  was  bothe  two;  and  syn  she  had 
So  long  t>f  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  palle! 

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  ?  i 

That  text  I  undirstonde  thus  alwey: 
Whan  that  housbondes  hem  my  stake 

and  erre, 
Ageyn  that  vice  wy  ves  maken  werre. 

Thogh  a  woman  hir  housbonde  contrarie 
In  his  oppynyoun  erroneous,  100 

Shul  men  lor  that  deme  hir  his  adversarie  ? 
Straw  !  be  he  never  so  harrageous,2 
If  he  and  she  shul  dwellen  in  on  house, 
Goode  is  he  suffre ;  therby  pees  may 

spring ; 
Housbondes  pees  is  pesible  snffryng. 


TRIBUTES  TO  CHAUCER  AND 
GOWER  \ 

(The  Regement  of  Princes,  §§  267,  280-283,  297- 
301.  712-716) 

'  WHAT  schal  I  calle  the  ?  What  is  thi 

name  ?.' 

1  Hoccleve,  fadir  myn,  men  clepen  me/ 
1  Hoccleve,    sone  ? '     *  I-wis,     fadir,     that 

same.' 
'  Sone,  I  have  herd,  or  this,  men  speke 

of  the; 
Thou    were    aqueynted   with   Caucher,8 

pardee  — 

God  have  his  soule  best  of  any  wyght ! —  J 
Sone,  I  wole  holde  the  that  I    have* 
hyght.' 4 

*  With  hert  as  tremblyng  as  the  leef  of 

aspe,5 

Fadir,  syn  6  ye  me  rede7  to  do  so, 
Of  my  symple  conceyt  wole  I  the  claspe    10 
Undo,  and  lat  it  at  his  large  go.8 
But  weylaway  !  so  is  myn  herte  wo, 
That  the  honour  of  Englyssh  tonge  is 

deed, 

Of  which  I  wont  was  han9  consail  and 
reed. 

1  though.  *  violent.  s  Chaucer.  4  what  I  have 
promised.  B  aspen.  •  since.  1  counsel.  8  let  it 
go  free.  *  to  have. 


TRIBUTES  TO   CHAUCER  AND  GOWER 


203 


'  O,  maister  deere,  and  fadir  reverent ! 
Mi  maister  Chaucer,  Hour  of  eloquence, 
Mirour  of  fructuous  entendement,1 
O,  universel  fadir  in  science  ! 
Alias  !  that  thou  thyn  excellent  prudence 
In  tin  bed  inortel  mightist  uaght  by- 
qwethe;  20 

What  eiled  Deth ?  Alias !  whi  wolde  he 
sle  the  ? 

•O  Deth  !  thou  didest  naght  harme  sin- 

guleer 
In  sluglitere  of  him;  but  al  this  laud  it 

smertith ; 

But  nathelees,  yit  hast  thou  no  power 
His  name  sle ;  his  hy  vertu  astertith  2 
Unslay n  fro  the,  which  ay  us  ly fly  hertyth,8 
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  scars  my  let- 

terure,4 

Unto  your  excellence  for  to  write 
]\(Iyn  inward  love,  and  yit  in  aventure 
Wyle  I  me  putte,  thogh  I  can  but  lyte. 
Mi  dere  maistir  —  God  his  soule  qnyte!  — 
And  fadir,  Chaucer,  fayn  wolde  han 
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  tin  deth,  bath  harme  irreparable 
Unto  us  doon;  hir  vengeable  duresse  6 
Despoiled   hath   this  land   of   the  swet- 

nesse 

Of  rethorik;  for  un-to  Ttillius 
Was  never  man  so  lyk  a-monges  us. 

Also,  who  was  bier0  in  philosophic         50 
To  Aristotle,  in  our  tonge,  but  thow  ? 
The  steppes  of  Virgile  in  poesie 

i  beneficial  understanding,  intelligence. 

*  escapes,         s  always  heartens  us  vigorously. 

«  learning.        *  cruelty.  •  heir. 


Thow    filwedist7    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;8  60 
A-niong  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  had  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;  69 

O  maister,  maister,  God  thi  soule  reste! 

The  firste  fyndere  of  our  faire  langage, 
Hath  seyde  iu  caas  semblable,  and  othir 

moo, 
So  hyly  wel,  that  it  is  my  dotage 

For  to  expresse  or  tonche  any  of  thoo.9 
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, 
W^ith  lovyng  hert  and  hye  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  fructifie. 

Al-though  his  lyf e  be  queynt,10  the  resem- 

blaunce 

Of  him  hath  in  me  so  fressh  lyflynesse, 
That,  to  putte  othir  men  in  remembraunce 

7  didst  follow. 

8  one  proved  a  vicious  roaster  rascal. 
»  those.  ">  quenched. 


204 


THOMAS   HOCCLEVE 


Of  his  persone,  I  have  heere  his  lyknesse 
Do  make,  to  this  eiide  in  sothfastnesse, 

That  thei  that  have  of  him  lest  thought 
and  mynde,  90 

By  this  pey  nture  may  ageyn  him  f  ynde.1 

The  ymages  that  in  the  chirche  been, 
Maken  folk  thenke  on  God  and  on  his 

seyntes, 

Whan  the  ymages  thei  he-holden  and  seen ; 
Were2  oft  unsyte8  of  hem  causith  re- 

streyntes 
Of  thouglites.gode:  whan  a  thing  depeyut 

is, 

Or  entailed,4  if  men  take  »f  it  heede, 
Tlioght  of  the  lykuesse  it  wil  in  hem 
brede. 

Yit  somme  holden  oppynyomi,  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  bemes  of  brightnesse, 
To  man  so  kyndly  is,  and  norisshynge, 
That  lakkyng  it  day  nere  but  dirknesse: 
To  day  he  yeveth  his  enlumynynge, 
And    cansith    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: 
Aftir  your  good  lust,6  be  the  sesonynge 
Of  our  fruytes  this  laste  Mighelmesse, 
The  tyme  of  yeer  was  of  our  seed  ynnynge,6 
The  lak  of  which  is  our  greet  hevynesse. 

We  truste  up-on  your  freendly  gentillesse, 
Ye  wole  us  helpe  and  been  our  supportaille. 
Nowyeve  us  cause  ageyn  this  Cristemesse 

»  Here  follows  the  famous  portrait  of  Chaucer. 
•  Where,  whereas.        !  not  seeing.          *  carved. 
«  pleasure.  •  harvest,  i.e.  payment. 


For  to  be  glad,  o  lord,  whethir  our  taille  7   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    Offorde,   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  maunes  sustenance 
With   hoi  sum   hete   of   the  sonnes  warin- 

nesse, 
Al  kynde  of  man  thee  holden  is  to  blesse! 

Ay  thankid  be  thy  freendly  governance, 
And  thy  fressh  look  of  mirthe  and  of  glad- 
nesse! 

Somer  etc. 

To  hevy  folk  of  thee  the  remembraunce 
Is  salve  and  oynement  to  hir  seeknesse. 
For  why  we  thus   shul  syuge  in  Christe- 
messe,  40 

Somer  etc. 


BALADE  TO   MY  GRACIOUS 
LORD   OF  YORK8 

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  hummVsse, 
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,  i. 
How  ones  at  London,  desired  he, 
Of  me  that  am  his  servant,  and  shal  ay, 
»  tally.  «  The  father  of  Edward  IV. 


THE   COMPLAINT 


205 


To  have  of  my  balades  swich  plentee 
As  ther  weren  reuieynynge  unto  me; 
And  for  nat  wole  I  to  his  will  seyn  nay, 
But  fulnlle  it  as  ferfoorth  as  I  may, 
Be  thow  an  owter l  of  my  nycetee,2 
For  my  good  lordes  lust,  and  game,  and  play. 

My  lord  beseeke  eek  in  humble  maneere, 
That  he  nat  souffre  thee  for  to  appeere    20 
In  th'onurable  sighte,  or  the  presence, 
Of  the  noble  Princesse  and  lady  deere, 
My  gracious  lady,  my  good  lordes  feere,8 
The  mirour  of  womrnanly  excellence. 
Thy  cheer  is  naght,  ne  haast  noon  eloquence 
To  moustre  4  thee  before  hir  yen  cleere: 
For   my  n    honour  were    hoi  sum  thyn   ab 
sence.6 

Yit  ful  fayn  wolde  I  have  a  messageer 
To  recommande  me,  with  herte  enteer, 
To  hir  benigne  and  humble  womimmliede;  30 
And  at  the  tyme  have  I  noon  othir  heer 
But  thee;   and  smai  am  I,  for  thee,  the 

neer,6 

And  if  thow  do  it  naf,  than  shal  that  dede 
Be  left  and  that  nat  kepte  I,  out  of  drede. 
My  lord,  nat  I,  shal  have  of  thee  poweer. 
Axe   him   a  licence;   upon   him   crie   and 

gredel7 

Whan  that  thow  hast  thus  doon,  than  af tir- 

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,8  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,9 
As  I  do  ofte  (I  can  it  nat  withseye), 
Meetrynge  amis  10  or  speke  unfittyngly, 
Or  nat  by  just  peys  n,my  sentences  weye, 
And  nat  to  the  ordre  of  endytyng  obeye,  50 
And  my  colours12  sette  ofte  sythe  awry, — 
With  al  myn  herte  wole  I  buxumly, 
It  to  amende  and  to  correct,  him  preye; 
For  nndir  his  correccioun  stande  Y. 

i  utterer.      2  folly.      *  companion,  mate.      «  show. 
B  Thy  absence  would  be  good  for  my  honor. 

•  little  the  nearer.         ^  call.          8  no  matter. 

•  utter  folly.  10  making  false  metre. 

»  weight,  poise.  «  rhetorical  decorations. 


Thow  foul  book,  unto  my  lorde  seye  also, 
That  pryde  is  unto  me  so  greet  a  fo, 
That  the  spectacle  iorbedith  he  me,18 
And  hath  y-doon  of  tyme  yore  ago; 
And  for  my  sighte  bly ve  14  hastith  me  fro, 
And   lakkith  that  that  sholde  his  confort 
be,  60 

No  wonder  thogh  thow  have  no  beautee. 
Out  upon  pryde,  causer  of  my  wo! 
My  sighte  is  hurt  thurgh  hir  adversitee. 

Now  ende  I  thus.  The  holy  Trinitee, 
And  our  Lady,  the  blissid  maydeu  free, 
My  lord  and  lady  have  in  governance! 
And  graunte  hem  joie  and  hy  prosperitee, 
Nat  to  endure  oonly  two  yeer  or  three, 
But  a  thousand  !  and  if  any  plesance 
Happe  niighte,  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  grene  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  chaunge  and  vari- 

aunce;  ;o 

How  welthye  a  man  be,  or  well  begone,15 
Endure  it  shall  not;  he  shall  it  forgon. 
Deathe  under  fote  shall  hym  thrist  adowne: 
That  is  every  wites  conclusyon.16 

Whiche   for  to  weyve17  is  in  no  mannts 

myght, 
How  riche  he  be,  stronge,  lusty,  freshe,  and 

gay- 

And  in   the  ende  of  Novembar,  upon   a 
nyght, 

"  Will  not  let  me  wear  spectacles.  Hoccleve  mentions 
them  again  in  his  poem  To  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  1.  417. 
"  swiftly.     »  situated.      »  man's  end.      »  avoid. 


206 


THOMAS   HOCCLEVE 


Syghenge  sore  as  I  in  my  bed  lay, 

For  this  and  othar  thowghts,  whiche  many 

a  day 
Before  I  toke,  sleape  came  none  in  myne 


So  vexyd  me  the  thowghtfull  maladye. 

I  see  well,  sythen  I  with  sycknes1  last 
Was  scourged,  clowdy  hath  bene  the  fa- 

voure 

That  shone  on  me  full  bright  in  tyrnes  past; 
The  sonne  abatid  and  the  derke  showre 
Hildyd2  dowue  right  on  me;  and  in  laiigour 
He  made  me  swyine,  so  that  my  wite 
To  lyve  no  lust  Jiatld,  ue  no  delyte. 

The  grefe  abowte  my  harte  so  sore  swal,8 
And  bolued  4  ever  to  and  to  so  sore,  30 

That  nedes  oute  I  muste  there-with-all; 
I  thowght  I  nolde  it  kepe  cloos  no  more, 
Ne  lett  it  in  me  for  to  olile  and  hore;* 
And  for  to  pi-eve  I  cam  of  a  woman, 
1  brast  oute  on  the  morowe  and  thus  began. 

(Here  endythe    my  prolate  and  foloivythe   my 
complaynt.) 

Allmyghty  God  as  lykethe  his  goodnes, 
Visytethe  folks  alday  as  men  may  se, 
With  lose  of  good  and  bodily  sikenese, 
And  amonge  othar  he  forgat  not  me; 
Witnes  upon6  the  wyld  iniirmytie7  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   cownsell8  was  it  none,  ne  none   be 

myghte. 
How  it  with  me  stode  was  in  every  mans 

mowthe, 

And  that  full  sore  my  fryndes  affrighte. 
They  for  myne  helthe  pilgrimages  highte,9 
And  sowght  them,  some  on  hors  and  some 

on  foote,  — 
God  yelde  it  them — to  geten  me  my  bote.10 

But  althowghe  the  substaunce  of  my  mem 
ory  s° 
Wente  to  pley  as  for  a  certayne  space, 
Yet  the  Lorde  of  Vertew,  the   Kynge  of 

Glory, 

i  The  insanity  spoken  of  below.  *  Poured. 

»  swelled.  «  raged.  5  prow  old  and  hoary. 

•  As  is  shown  by.  7  Hi*  insane  fit. 

•  secret.  _  •  promised.  ">  cure. 


Of    his    highe    myght    and    his   benynge 

grace, 

Made  it  to  returne  into  the  place 
Whenues   it   cam  ;   whiche   at   all-hall we- 

messe, 
Was  five  yeere,  neyther  more  ne  lesse. 

And  evere  sythen  —  thanked  be  God  owr 

Lord  4 

Of  his  good  reconsiliacion,  — 
My  wyt  and  I  have  bene  of  such  accorde 
As  we  were  or  n  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  dysdayue; 
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.12  7° 


HOCCLEVE'S   GAY   YOUTH 

(La  Male  Regie,  §§  16-26) 

THE  outward  signe  of  Bachus  and  his  lure, 
That  at  his  (lore  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  daunger18  thidir  for  to  hye  me. 
But  if  swich  charge  upon  my  bake  lay, 
That  I  moot  it  f orbere  as  for  a  tyme ; 

Or  but  I  were  nakidly  bystad 14 
By  force  of  the  penylees  maladie,  ro 

For  thanne  in  herte  kowde  I  nat  be  glad, 
Ne  lust  had  noon  to  Bachus  hows  to  hie. 
Fy  !  Lak  of  coyn  departith  conpaignie; 
And  hevy  purs,  with  herte  liberal, 
Qwenchith  the  thirsty  hete  of  hertes  drie, 
Wher   chynchy15  herte    hath    therof    but 
smal. 

I  dar  nat  telle  how  that  the  fresshe  repeir 
Of  Venus  femel  lusty  children  deere, 
That  so  goodly,  so  simply  were,  and  feir, 
And  so  pleasant  of  port  and  of  maneere,  20 

11  before.  1Z  countenance.  1S  hesitation. 

»«  in  great  straits.  »  stingy. 


HOCCLEVE'S   GAY  YOUTH 


207 


And  feede  cowden  al  a  world  with  cheere, 
And  of  atyr  passyngly  wel  byseye,1 
At  Poules  Heed  me  rnaden  otte  appeere, 
To   talks   of   mirthe  and   to  disporte  and 
pleye. 

Ther  was  sweet  wyn  ynow  thurghout  the 

hous, 

And  waf res  thikke,  for  this  conpaignie 
That  I  spak  of  been  sum  what  likerous,2 
Where  as  they  mowe  a  draght  of  wyn  espie, 
Sweete  and  in  wirkynge  hoot  for  the  inais- 

trie8 
To  warme    a  stomak  with,  thereof  they 

drauke.  30 

To  suffre  hem  paie  had  been  no  courtesie: 
That  charge  I   tooke  to  wynne   love  and 

thauke. 

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:4 
Whan  that  men  speke  of  it  in  my  presence: 
For  shame  I  wexe  as  reed  as  is  the  gleede.6 
Now  wole  I  torne  ageyn  to  my  sentence.  40 

Of  him  that  hauntith  taverne  of  custume, 

At  shorte  wordes  the  profyt  is  this: 

In  double  wyse  his  bagge  it  shal  consume, 

And  make  his  tonge  spoke  of  folk  amis; 

For  in  the  cuppe  seelden  fownden  is 

That  any  wight  his  neigheburgh  commend- 

ith. 

Beholde  and  see  what  avantage  is  his, 
That   God,   his   freeud,  and   eek   himself, 

offendith. 

But  oon  avauntage  in  this  cas  I  have: 
I  was  so  ferd  with  any  man  to  fighte,        50 
Cloos  kept  I  me;  no  man  durst  I  deprave  6 
But  rownyngly,7 1  spak  no  thyng  on  highte. 

1  provided.  >  fond  of  good  fare. 

»  excellent,  sovereign.       «  doubt.       «  glowing  coal. 

6  speak  slightingly  of.  1  whispering. 


And  yit  my  wil  was  good,  if  that  I  mighte, 
For  lettynge  of  my  manly  cowardyse, 
That  ay  of  strookes  impressid  the  wighte,8 
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  pynchid  9  nat  at  hem  in  myn  acate,10 
But  paied  hem  as  that  they  axe  wolde; 
Wherfore  I  was  the  welcoraere  algate,11 
And  for  a  verray  gentil  man  y-holde. 

And  if  it  happid  on  the  someres  day 
That  I  thus  at  the  taverne  hadde  be, 
Whan  I  departe  sholde  and  go  my  way 
Hoom  to  the  privee  seel,12  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,1* 

For  they  my  riot14  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,15in  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.  "  purchasing. 

11  always.  12  The  office  of  the  Privy  Seal. 

"  paid  attention  to  me.  "  extravagance. 

»  servile  throng. 


JOHN    LYDGATE 


THE   CHURL   AND   THE  BIRD* 

PROBLEMYS  of  olde  Hkeiiesse  and  figures, 
Whiche  proved  been  fructuous  of  sentence,2 
And  hath  auctorite  grownded  in  scriptures, 
.        By  resem blaunces  of  nohille  apparence, 
Withe  moralites  concluding  of  prudence, 
Like  as  the  Bibylle  rehersithe  by  writing, 
How  trees  somtyme  chase  8  hemself  a  kyng. 

Fir-st  in  their  choise  thay  named  the  olive, 
To  reigne  amonge  hem,  Judicum4  dothe  ex- 

presse, 

But  he  hym  dide  excuse  blyve,5  10 

He  myght  not  forsake  his  fatnesse, 
Ner  the  figge  tree  his  amorows  swettnes, 
Ner  the  vyne  his  holsom  fressh  tarage,6 
Whiche  yeveth  comforte  to  al  maner  age. 

And  semlably  7  poetis  laureate, 
By  dyrke  parables  ful  convenient, 
Feyne  that  birddis  and  bests  of  estate, 
As  royalle  egles  and  lyons  be  assent, 
Sent  out  writtes  to  olde8  a  parliament, 
And  made  decres  brefly  for  to  saye,          20 
Some  for  to  have  lordskjppe  and  some  for 
obeye. 

Egles  in  the  heyre9  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  quene; 
Thus  of  al  thing  ther  beene  diversites, 
Some  of  estate  and  some  of  lowe  degres. 

Poetes  writin  wonderf  ulle  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  cast  unto  my  purpose, 

i  A  favorite  Old-French  tale,  perhaps  of  oriental 
origin.  See  .T.  O.  Halliwell's  remarks  in  his  edition  of 
Lydgate's  Minor  Poems,  Percy  So.,  vol.  n,  p.  179, 
whence  our  text. 

s  fruitful  in  teaching.     *  chose.     *  Judges,  ix.      5  at 
ce.        •  flavor.        1  similarly.        »  hold.         •  air. 


Out  of  the  Frenssh  a  tale  to  translate, 
Whiche  in  a  paunfiet  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,  in  order  I  shal  expresse. 

Whilom  ther  was  in  a  smal  village, 
As  myn  autor  makethe  rehersayle, 
A  chorle 10  whiehe  hadde  lust  and  a  grete 

corage,11 

Within  hymself  be  diligent  travayle 
To  array  his  gardeyn  withe  notable  appar- 

ayle, 
Of  lengthe  and  brede  yeliche 12  square  and 

longe, 
Hegged  and  dyked  to  make  it  sure  and 

strong.  49 

Alle  the  aleis  were  made  playne  with  sond, 
The    benches    turned    with    newe    turvis 

grene, 

Sote  herbers,18  withe  condite 14  at  the  honde, 
That  wellid  up  agayne  the  sonne  shene, 
Lyke  silver  stremes  as  any  cristale  clene, 
The  burbly  wawes  in  up  boy  ling, 
Rounde  as  byralle  ther  beamys  out  shyny  nge. 

Amyddis  the  gardeyn  stode  a  fressh  lawrer,15 
Theron  a   bird   syugyng    bothe    day   and 

nyghte, 
With  shynnyng  fedres  brightar  than  the 

golde  weere,16 
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  amouiousiy   to 

synge. 

10  churl,  boor.     "  inclination.     «  alike.     «  Sweet 
arbors.  "  fountain.  »  laurel.  «  wire. 


THE   CHURL   AND   THE   BIRD 


209 


Esperns  enforced  hir  corage,1 

Toward  evyn  whan  Phebus  gan  to  west, 

Amid  2  the  braunches  to  hir  avauntage 

To  syng  hir  complyn3  and  than  go  to  rest; 

And  at  the  rysing  of  the  quene  Alcest,4 

To  synge  agayne,  as  was  hir  due, 

Erly  on  morowe  the  day  sterre  to  salue.  70 

It  was  a  verray  h  evenly  meloclye, 

Evyiie  and  morowe  to   here  the   byrddis 

songe, 

And  the  soote  sugred  armonye, 
Of  uucouthe  5  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.6 

The  chorle  was  gladde  that  he  this  birdde 

hadde  take, 

Mery  of  chere,  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  corage, 
Til  at  the  last  the  sely  birdde  abrayed,7 
And  sobirly  unto  the  chorle  she  sayde. 

'I  am  now  take  and  stand  undir  dautiger,8 

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  pynacles  of  birrale  and  cristale, 
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  aceordaunce; 
Trowest  thou  I  wolle  syng  in  prisoun  ?    100 

1  HRsperus  prompted  her. 

2  Halliwell  reads  And,  but  the  emendation  seems  to 
be  required  by  the  sense. 

*  compline,  last  service  of  the  day. 

4  Alcestes  is  here  a  constellation  of  the  dawn.  In 
Chaucer's  f,r(jend  of  Good  Women  (Prol.  A  .r>07)  shp.  is 
the  daisy  (day's  eye).  Cf.  Schick's  note  to  1.  70  of  The 
Temple  of  Gins. 

&  rare.     6  large  bird-net.     7  started  up.     *  control. 


Song  procedethe  of  joy  and  of  pleasaunce, 
And  prison  cansethe  dethe  and  destruc- 

cionn; 
Ryngyng    of    fe tires    makethe    no    mery 

sounde, 

Or  how  shuld  he  be  gladde  or  jocounde 
Agayne  his  wylle,  that  ligthe  in  chayn0r 

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,9 
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  repay  re  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,       MI 
Thouhe   I   were    fedde    with   mylke   and 

wastelbrede,10 

And  soote  cruddes  11browteunto  my  pasture, 
Yet  had  I  lever  to  do  my  besy  cure, 
Herly  in  the  morowe  to  shrapyn  u  in  the 

vale, 
To  fynde  my  dyner  amonge  the  wormes 

smale. 

'  The  laborare  is  gladdare  at  his  ploughe, 
Herly  on  morne  to  fede  hym  withe  bacon, 
Than  som  man  is  that  hathe  tresourf 

i-noughe, 

And  of  alle  deyntes  plente  and  foison,18  ij 
And  no  fredom  with  his  possessioun 
To  go  at  large,  but  as  here  to  stake  14 
To  passe  his  bouudis  but  if  he  leve  take. 

*  Take  this  aunswere  for  full  conclusion  — 
To  syn^e  in  prison  thou  shalt  me  not  con- 

strayne, 

Till  I  have  fredom  in  wodis  up  and  downe, 
To  flien  at  large  on  boughes  ronhe  15  and 

plnyne; 

•  escape,  be  avoided.        10  The  finest  sort  of  bread. 
11  sweet  curds.  1*  scrape.  is  abundance. 

u  a  bear  bound  to  a  stake.  "  rough. 


210 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


And  of  resoun  thou  shuldest  not  disdayue, 
Of  my  desire  laugh  and  have  game;1 
But  who  is  a  chorle  wolde  eche  a2  man  were 
the  same.'  140 

'  Wele,'  quod  the  chorle,  'syth  it  will  not  be 

That  1  desire  as  be  3  thy  talkyng, 

Magry  4  thi  will  thou  slialt  chese  on  of  thre : 6 

Withinne  a  cage  inerily  to  synge, 

Or  to  the  kechen  I  shal  thy  body  bringe, 

Pulle   thi  fedris  that  bene  so  bright   and 

clere, 
And  aftir   the  rooste  and  baake   to  my 

dyuer.' 

'Than,'  quod  the  birdde,  'to  reson  saye 

not  nay, 
Towching  my  songe  a  f ulle  aunswer  thou 

haste ; 

And  when  my  fedres  pulled  been  awayj  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.6 

'  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  disceyve.' 
'  Wele,'  quod  the  chorle,  « telle  oon,  anone 

let  se.' 
*  Nay,'  quod  the  byrdde, '  thou  must  afore 

conceyve, 

Who  that  shalteche  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; 

»  Nor  laugh  to  scorn  my  desire.  »  every. 

»  "That  which  I  desire  concerning."        «  Maugre. 

•  Why  "  three  "  ?  Possibly  "  thre  "  should  be  "  the," 
these.  But  we  have  three  returns  offered  by  the  bird 
presently.  6  use. 


And  toke  hir  flight  upon  the  lawreer  tre. 
Than  thought  she  thus,  '  Now  1  stand  fre, 
With   snares   pauters   I   cast 7    not  al  uiy 

lyve, 
Ner  withe  no  lyme-twygges  ony  more  to  > 

stryve. 

'  He  is  a  fole  that  scaped  is  daunger, 

And   broken   his  fedres 8  and   fled   is  fyo 

prisoun, 
For  to  resorte,9  for  brent  childe  dredethe 

fire.  ; 

Eche  a  man  beware  of  wisdom  and  resoun, 
Of  sugre  strowed  that  hydethe  fals  poyson; 
Ther  is  no  venome  so  parlious  in  sharp- 

nes,  181 

As  whan  it  hathe  of  treacle 10  a  lyknes. 

'  Who  dredeth  no  parelle,11  in  parelle  he 

shalfalle; 

Smothe  waters  ben  ofte  sithes  depe; 
The  quayle-pype  can  moste  falsly  calle, 
Till  the  quayle  undir  the  net  doth  crepe; 
Ablery-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, 
I  wil  be  ware  and  afore  provide,  191 

That  of  no  fowler  I  wil  no  more  be  japed,12 
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 

speeche, 
Of  thre  wisdomes  that  I  shal  the  teche. 

*  Yeve  not  of  wisdom  to  hasty  credence 
To  every  tale  nor  to  eche  tyding;  \ 

But  considre  of  resoun  and  prudence, 
Among  many  tails  is  many  gret  lesyng;182oo 
Hasty  credence  hathe  causpd  gret  hy  miring; 
Reporte  of  talis,  and  tydinges  broute  up 

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  oondicioun 
Thing  which  is  impossible  to  recure;14 
Wordly  desires  stand  alle  in  adventure, 

i  reckon.  »  For  "fetres,"  fetters?  •  return. 
10  medicinal  syrup.  "  peril.  "  deceived.  »  lie. 
u  obtain. 


THE   CHURL   AND   THE   BIRD 


211 


And  who  desire  to  clymbe  highe  on  lofte, 
liy  sod  en  tome  felethe  ofte  his  ful  unsofte. 

'The  thirdde    is  this;   beware  bothe  even 
v     and  morowe,  211 

Forge  te  it  not,  but  lerne  this  of  me: 
For  tresoure   loste  niaketh  never  to  gret 

sorovve, 

Which  1  in  no  wise  may  not  recovered  be; 
^For  wlio  takthe   sorovve  for  losse  in  that 

degre, 
Reknethe  first  his  losse  and  aftir  rekyn  his 

peyne, 
And  ot   oon  sorowe    make  the   he  sorowes 

,tweyne.' 

Aftir  this  lessone  the  birdde  begane  a  songe, 
Of  hir  escape  gretly  rejoysing, 
And  she  remembryng  also  the  wronge     220 
Don  by  the  chorle  tirst  at  hir  takynge, 
Of  hir  affray  and  hir  enprisonyng; 
GJaUde  that  she  was  at  large  and  out  of 

dre;!e, 
Said  unto  hyin,  hovyng'2  above  his  hedde: 

'Thou  were/  quod  she,    'a  very  naturall 

fole 

To  suffre  me  departe  of  thy  lewdnesse;8 
Thou  owglitest  oft  to  complayiie  and  make 

dole, 

And  in  thyne  herte  to  have  grot  hevynesse, 
Tliat  then  hast  loste  so  passing  gret  richesse, 
Whiche  myght  suffice,  by  vale  we  in  rek- 

enyng,  230 

To  pay  the  raunsoum  of  a  myghty  kynge. 

'  There  is  a  stone  whiche  called  is  jagounce,4 
Of   olde   engendered    withinne    inyne   en- 
tray  le, 
Whiche  of   fyne  golde  peyssethe5  a  gret 

unce,6 
Cytryne 7  of  colour,  lyke  garnettes  of  en- 

tayle,8 

Which  niaketh  men  victorious  in  batayle, 
And  so9  ever  here  on  hym  this  stone 
Is  fully  assured  agayne  his  mortal  foone. 

'  Who  hathe  this  stone  in  possession, 
Shal  snffre  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. 

i  The  antecedent  of  which  is  tresoure.  *  poising. 
8  ignorance.  *  a  kind  of  gem.  B  weighs.  *  ounce. 
7  yellow.  «  cub.  »  "  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  sorowfull,  and  maketh  heavy 

herttes  lighte; 

Lyke  topasion10  of  colours  sonny ssh  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,11 
As  rubies,  saphires,  or  othir  stones  hynde,12 
Emeraudes  ner 18  rounde  perles  whig'nt, 
To-fore  rude  swyiie  that  loven  dfVjaffe1* 

of  kynde; 

For  a  sowe  delightethe,  as  I  fynde, 
More  in  foule  draffe  hir  pigges  for  to  glade, 
That  in  al  the  perre 16  that  comethe  out  of 

Garnade.16 

*  Eche  thing  draueth  unto  his  semlable,17  260 
Fysshes  on  the  see,  bestes  on  the  stronde, 
The  eyere  for  fowllis  of  nature  is  couveu- 

*  able, 

To  a  ploughe  man  to  tille  the  lande, 
And  a  chorle  a  mokefoike13  in  his  hande; 
I  lese  my  tyme  ouy  more  to  tarye, 
To  telle  a  bowen 19  of  the  lapidarye.20 

'That  thou  haddest,    thou  gettest  never 

agayne ; 

Thi  lym-twigges  and  panters  I  defye: 
To  leteme  go  thou  waro  foule  over  ssiyne,21 
To  lese  thi  richesse  ouly  of  foly.  ayo 

I  am  now  fre  to  syng,  and  to  flye 
Where  that  me  lust,  and  he  is  a  foole  at  alle,22 
That  gothe  at  large  and  makethe  himselff 

thralle. 

'To  here  a  wisdom   thyn   eres   been  half 

deef, 

Lyke  an  asse  that  listithe  on  an  harppe; 
Thou  mayst  go  pype  in  an  yve-leffe; 
Better  is  to  me  to  synge  on  thorites  sharppe, 
Thau  in  a  cage  withe  a  chorle  to  carppe:28 

10  topaz.        11  gem.        12  refined,  gentle.        1S  nor. 

«  swill.  is  jewelry.  «  Granada?  "  Birds 
of  a  feather  flock  together.  l»  dungt'ork.  19  For 
"  bovver,"  i.e.  boor  ?  Cf.  "  boueer  "  below  »o  treatise 
on  gems.  2l  it  was  a  great  oversight  in  thee.  "  in 
all  ways.  2J  conreroe,  wrangle. 


212 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


For  it  was  saide  of  folkes  yore  a  gone, 

A  chorles  ehorle  is  ot'te  wo  begone.'         280 

The  ehorle  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 l  to  thryve, 
But  for  to  endure  in  poverte  al  my  live; 
For  of  foly  and  of  wilfulnesse, 
I  have  now  lost  al  holy  my  richesse. 

*  I  was  a  lorde,  I  crye  out  of  2  fortune, 
And  hadde  gret  tresoure  late  in  my  kep- 

iug» 
Whiche  myghte  have  made  ine  long  to  con- 

tyuue,  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  neded  to  goon  to  the 

ploughe.' 

Whan  the  birdde  sawe  the  ehorle   thus 

morue, 

And  houghe  8  that  he  was  hevy  of  his  chere, 
She  toke  hir  flighte  and  gayn4  a-gayue  re- 

torne 
Towards  hym,and  said  as  ye  shal  here;  — 

*  O  dul  chorle  wysdoms  for  to  lere  ! 

That  I  the  taughte,  al  is  lefte  behynde,  300 
Raked  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  ignot  fiolde  that  shynetbe  goldissbe  hewe. 
jNor  stonys  al  by  nature,  as  I  fynde, 
Be  not  saphires  that  she  we  the  colour  ynde.5 

'  In  this  doctryne  I  loste  my  laboure,       309 

To  teche  the  suche  proverbis  of  substaunce ; 

Now  mayst  thou  se  thyn  owue  blynde 
errour,  o 

For  al  ray  body  peyssed  6  in  balaunce, 

Weiethe  not  an  unce;  rude  is  thi  remem- 
braunce, 

I  to  have  more  payee7  clos  in  myne  en- 
tray  le, 

Than  al  my  body  set  for  the  countirvayle  ! 


»  like.          »  upon. 
•  blue.         •  weighed. 


»  how.          «  did. 

7  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  alinoste  gone; 
Of  thre  wisdoms  thou  hast  forgeten  0011,  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 ; 8 
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:       33o 
I  badde  thou  shuldest,  in  no  maner  wyse, 
Covey te  thing  whiche  thou  maist  not  have, 
In  whiche  thou  hast  forgoten   myne  em- 

pryse;9 

That  I  may  sey  playnly  to  devyse,  _ 

Thou  hast  of  madnesse  forgoteii  al  thre 
Notable  wysdoms  that  I  taught  the. 

1  It  ware  but  foly  withe  the  more  to  carpe, 10 
Or  to  preche  of  wysdoms  more  or  lasse; 
I  holde  hym  madde  that  bryngeth  forth  his 

harppe, 

Therone  to  teche  a  rude  for-dulle  n  asse;  340 
And  madde  is  he  that  syngeth  a  fole  a  masse ; 
And  he  is  inoste  madde  that  dothe  his  besy- 

nesse, 
To  techeu  chorle  termys  of  gentilnesse. 

'  And  semlably  in  Apprille  and  in  May, 
Whan  gentille  birddes  mostmaketh  melodie, 
The  cokkowe  syng  can  than  but  oon  lay, 
In  othir  tymes  she  hathe  no  fantasve; 
Thus  every  thing,  as  clerks  specif  ye, 
As  frute  and  trees,  and  folke  of  every  der 
gre,  349 

Fro  whens  they  come  thei  take  a  tarage.12 

'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  fressh  r^ver, 
Of  tilthe  of  lande  tretethe  the  boueer,18 
The  chorle  delitethe  to  speke  of  rybaudye,14 
The  hunter  also  to  speke  of  venerye. 

8  recover.        '  undertaking.  i"  talk. 

*i  very  dull.     a  flavor.     l*  farmer.    **  coarse  jests. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF  GLAS 


213 


*  Al  oon  to  the  a  ffaucion  and  a  kyghte,1 
As  goode  an  howle  as  a  popingaye,'2         359 
A  downghille  doke  as  deyute  as  a  snyghte; 8 
Who  servethe  a  chorle  hathe  many  a  ear 
ful  day. 

Adewe!  sir  chorle,  farwele!  I  flye  my  way. 
O  caste  4  me  never  aftir  my  lyfe  enduring 
A-fore  a  chorle  any  more  to  syng.' 

Ye  folke  that  shal  here  this  fable,  see  or 

rede, 

Now  forged  tails  I  counsaille  you  to  fie, 
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 5  gret  sorowe  and  mys- 

chaunce. 

Who  hathe  fredom  hathe  al  suffisaunce; 
Bettir  is  fredom  withe  litelle  in  gladnesse, 
TFhan  to  be  thralle  withe  al  worldly  rich- 


Go,  gentille  quayer! 6  and  recommaunde  me 
Unto  my  maister  with  humble  effect  ion; 
Beseke  hym  lowly,  of  mercy  and  pite,     381 
Of  this  rud«  makyng  to  have  compassion; 
And  as  touching  the  translacioun 
Oute  of  Frenshe,  hough  ever  the  Englisshe 

be, 

Al  thing  is  saide  undir  correctioun, 
With  supportacion  of  your  benignite. 


THE  TEMPLE  OF   GLAS7 

FOR  thought,  constreint,  and  grevous  hevi- 

nes, 

For  pensifhede,  and  for  heigh  distres, 
To  bed  T  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  and  a  kite.  »  parrot.  »  snite  i.e.  plover  or 
snipe.  4  arrange,  plan.  5  time.  «  quire,  i.e.  book. 

7  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  House  oj  Fame. 


Ther  be  kalendes  of  the  nwe  yere, 
And  derk  Diane,  ihorned,  nothing  clere, 
Had  hid  hir  betnys  uiidir  a  my  sty  cloude: 
Within  my  bed  for  sore 8 1  gan  me  shroude,  10 
Al  desolate  for  constreint  of  my  wo, 
The  longe  nyght  waloh.g  to  and  fro, 
Til  atte  last,  er  I  gan  taken  kepe,9 
Me  did  oppresse  a  sodein  dedeli  slepe, 
With-in  the  which  methoughte  that  I  was 
Ravysshid  in  spirit  in  a  temple  of  glas  — 
I  nyste  10  how,  ful  fer  in  wildirnes — 
That  foundid  was,  as  bi  liklynesse, 
Not  opon  stele,  but  on  a  craggy  roche, 
Like  ise  ifrore.11  And  as  I  did  approche,  20 
Again  the  sonne  that  shone,  me  thought,  so 

clere 

As  eny  cristal,  and  ever  neie  and  nere 
As  I  gan  neigh  this  grisli,  dredful  place, 
I  wex  astonyed :  the  light  so  in  my  face 
Bigan  to  smyte,  so  persing  ever  in  one 
On  evere  part,  where  that  I  £an  gone, 
That  I  ne  myght  nothing,  as  1  would, 
Abouten  me  considre  and  bihold 
The  wondre  estres,12  for  brightness  of  the 

sonne; 

Til  atte  last  certein  skyes  donne,18  30 

With  wind  ichaced,  have  her  conrs  iwent 
To-fore  the  stremes  of  Titan  and  iblent,14 
So  that  I  myght,  with-in  and  with-oute, 
Where  so  I  walk,  bihold  en  me  aboute, 
For  to  report  the  fasoun  and  manere 
Of  al  this  place,  that  was  circulere 
In  compaswise,  round  bentaile  15  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 16  aloft. 
And  right  anone,  as  I  gan  walken  soft, 
If  I  the  soth  aright  reporte  shal, 
I  sanghe  depeynt  opou  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  lifli  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  compleint,  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. 

s  sorrow.      9  heed.       10  did  not  know.        "  frozen. 
»  interior  rooms.  i«  dark  clouds.         14  mingled 

(so  as  to  produce  shade).          15  upper  part  of  a  wall; 
exact  meauiug  obscure.  16  again. 


214 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


And  first  of  al  I  saugh  there  of  Cartage 
Dido  the  queue,  so  goodli  of  visage, 
That  gan  coiiiplein  hir  adventure  and  caas, 
How  she  deceyved  was  of  Eneas, 
For  al  his  hestis  and  his  othis  svvorne, 
And  said:  '  alas,  that  ever  sbe  was  home,'  60 
Whau  that  she  saugh  that  ded  she  nioste  be. 
And  next  I  saugh  the  compleint  of  Medee, 
Hou  that  she  \v«s  falsed  of  lason. 

And  nygh  bi  Venus  saugh  I  sit  Addoun, 
And  al  the  manvr,  how  tlie  bore  him  slough, 
For  whom  she  wepte  and  hade  pein  inoughe. 

There  saugh  1  also,  how  Penalope, 
For  she  so  long  hir  lord  ne  inyghte  se, 
Ful  of  te  wex  of  colour  pale  and  grene. 

And  aldernext 1  was  the  f  resshe  quene,  70 
I  mene  Alceste,  the  noble  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  meui  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  inaner,  hou  that  Theseus 
The  Minatawre  slow  amyd  the  hous 
That  was  for-wrynkked2  bi  craft  of  Dedalus, 
When  that  he  was  in  prison  shette  in  Crete. 

And  hou  that  Phillis  felt  of  loves  bete 
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  bow  that  Paris  wan 
The  faire  Helevne,  the  lusri  fresshe  quene, 
And  hou  Achilles  was  for  Policene 
I-slain  unwarli  within  Troie  toune: 
Al  this  sawe  I,  walkynge  up  and  doun. 
Ther  sawe  I  writen  eke  the  hole  tale, 
Hou  Philomene  into  a  nyghtyngale 
Iturned  was,  and  Progne  unto  u  swalow; 
And  how  the  Sabyns  in  hir  maner  halowe  100 
The  fest  of  Lncresse  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  bis  hert, 
Was  hurt  unwarli  thurugh  casting  of  aneyghe 
Of  faire  fressh,  the  yunge  Emelie, 


next  of  all. 


*  built  as  a  labyrinth. 


And   al    the   strife   bitweue   him   and  his 

brothir, 

And  hou  that  one  f  aught  eke  with  that  oiliir 
With-iu  the  grove,  til  thei  bi  Theseus 
Acordid  were,  as  Chaucer  tellith  us.          110 
And  forthirmore,  as  I  gan  bibold, 
I  sawgh  how  Phebus  witii  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  chauuge  his 

cope  8 

Oonli  for  love  of  the  faire  Europe, 
And  into  a  bole,  when  he  did  hir  sue,4      119 
List  of  his  godhode  his  fourme  to  transmwe; 
And  hou  that  he  bi  transmutacioun 
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,5  130 

And  hou  that  she,  for  hir  sapience, 
Iweddit  was  to  god  of  eloqence, 
And  hou  the  Musis  lowli  did  obeJe, 
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  f oule  the  ledne  and  the  song      139 
Coud  undirstond,  as  sbe  welk  hem  among; 
And  hou  hir  brothir  so  oft  holpen  was 
In  his  myschefe  6  bi  the  stede  of  bras. 

And  furthermore  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, 
Hou  thei  were  hindrid,  some  for  envie, 
And  hou  the  serpent  of  fals  jelonsie 
Ful  many  a  lover  hath  iput  o  bak,7 
And  causeles  on  hem  ilaid  a  lak.8  150 

And  some  ther  were  that  pleyned  on  absence, 
That  werin  exiled  and  put  oute  of  presence 

»  disguise  himself.  4  pursue. 

s  An  allusion  to  the  famous  didactic  allegorical  work 
of  Martisxnus  Capella  (fifth  century),  De  tf*pttt»Phtlol>' 
ogine  et  Me.rcurii,  mentioned  by  Chaucer  in  the  House 
of  Fame. 

•  distress.          *  aback.         »  alleged  some  blemish. 


THE  TEMPLE   OF   GLAS 


2IS 


Thurugh  wikkid  tungis  and  fals  suspec'.ioun, 
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  fur  poverte 
Durst  in  no  wise  hir  grete  adversite          160 
Discure  l  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  gi-ete  wite* 
On  double  lovers,  that  love  thingis  nwe, 
Thurgh  whos  falsnes  kindred  be  the  trwe. 
And  some  ther  were,  as  it  is  ofte  found, 
That  for  her  ladi  ineny  a  Llo<U  wounde    170 
Endurid  h*th  in  rnaui  a  regioun, 
Whiles  that  an  other  hath  possession 
Al  of  his  ladi,  and  berith  awai  the  fruyte 
Of  his  labur  and  of  al  his  suyte. 
And  other  eke  uompleyned  of  Riches, 
Hou  he  with  Tresour  doth  his  besines 
To  wvnnen  al,  againes  kynd  and  rvght, 
Wher  trw  lovers  liave  force  noon  ne  mygkt. 
And  some  ther  were,  as  maydeus  yung  of 

age, 
That  pleined  sore  with  peping  8  and  with 

rage,  180 

That  thei  were  coupled,  againes  al  nature, 
With  croked  elde,  that  inai  not  long  endure 
Forto^perfounne  the  lust  of  loves  plai: 
For  it  ne  sit4  not  unto  fresshe  May 
,FortO  be  coupled  to  oolde  lanuari  — 
Thei  b'.jn  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  kithe5 
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  lamentacioim, 
That  were  constrayned  in  hir  tender  youthe, 
And  in  childhode,  as  it  is  ofte  coutke,8     200 
Y-entred  were  into  religioun, 
Or  thei  hade  yeris  of  discresioun, 


i  reveal. 
*  becomes. 


*  blame. 

'•>  show. 


*  screaming. 

6  known. 


That  al  her  life  cannot  but  eomplein, 

In  wide  copis  perfeccion  to  feine, 

Ful  covertli  to  curen  al  hir  smert, 

And  shew  the  contrarie  outward  of  her  hert. 

Thus  saugh  I  wepen  many  a  faire  maide, 

That  on  hir  freeudis  al  the  vvite  7  tht  i  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  liberte, 

Would  freli  chese,  and  not  with  such  trete.8 

And  other  saugh  I  ful  oft  wepe  and  wring, 

That  they  in  men  founde  swyck  vari  ynge, 

To  love  a  seisoun,  while  that  beaute  floureth, 

And  bi  disdein  so  ungoodli  loureth 

On  hir  that  whilom  he  callid  his  ladi  dcre, 

That  was  to  him  so  plesaunt  and  eutere;  9  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  plevne, 

That  ever  thei  would  on  eny  creature 

So  muck  beaute,  passing  bi  mesure, 

Set  on  a  woman,  to  yeve  occasiouu 

A  man  to  love  to  his  confusioun, 

And  nameli  there  where  he  shal  have  no 

grace  ; 

For  with  a  loke,  forth-bi  as  he  doth  pace,  230 
Ful   ofte   falletk,   thurugk   casting   of  an 


A   man   is    woundid,   that  ke  most   nedis 

deye, 

That  never  efter  peraventure  shal  kir  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,10  whom  ke  skal  in  no  wise 
Rejoise  never,  but  so  forth  in  jewise  u 
Ledin  his  life,  til  that  he  be  grave.13 
For  he  ne  durst  of  hir  no  merci  crave,     240 
And  eke  peraventure,  tkougk  ke  durst  and 

would, 

He  can  not  wit,  where  he  kir  finde  skuld. 
I  saugh  there  eke,  and  therof  hade  I  routhe, 
Tkat  som  were  kindred  for  covetise  and 

sloutk, 

And  some  also  for  ker  kastines, 
And  otker  eke  for  kir  reklesnes—  - 

But  alderlast  as  I  walk  and  bibeld, 
Beside  Pallas  witk  kir  cristal  skeld, 
Tofore  the  statue  of  Venus  set  on  heigkt, 
How  that  ther  knelid  a  ladi  in  my  syght  250 

i  blame.  8  treat,  have  to  do.  9  devoted. 

10  parcliance.     ll  judgmeut,  i.e.  sorrow.     l*  buried. 


2l6 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


Toforo  the  goddes,  which  right  as  the  sonne 
Passeth  the  sterres  and  doth  hir  stremes 

donne,1 

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  fairues  and  beaute, 
And  as  the  rose  in  swetnes  and  odoure 
Surinoiinteth  floures,  and  bawme  of  al  licour 
Haveth  the  pris,  and  as  the  rubie  bright 
Of  al  stones  in  beaute  and  in  sight,  260 

As  it  is  know,  now  the  regalie: 
Right  so  this  ladi  with  hir  goodli  eighe, 
And  with  the  stremes  of  hir  loke  so  bright, 
Surinoiinteth   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  ferny nyn  or  passing  of  beaute,  270 

Whos  sonnyssh   here,2  brighter  than  gold 

were,8 

Lich  Phebus  bemys  shynyng  in  his  spere  — 
The  goodlihed  eke  of  hir  fresshli  face, 
So  replenysshid  of  beaute  and  of  grace, 
So  wel  ennuyd4  by  Nature  and  depeiut, 
That  rose  and  lileis  togedir  were  so  meint,5 
So  egalli  by  good  proporcioun, 
That,  a<?  me  thought,  in  niyn  inspeccioun 
I  gan  mervaile,  hou  God,  or  werk  of  kynd, 
Mighten  of  beaute  such  a  tresour  find,     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  condicioun, 
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  lowly nes, 
Of  curtesie,  or  of  goodlihed, 
Of  spech,  of  chere,  or  of  semlyhed,          290 
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  maistres, 
To  sue  vertu,  whoso  list  to  lere.6 
And  so  this  ladi,  benigne  and  humble  of 
chere, 


i  bedim. 
«  tinted. 


*  sunny  hair. 

*  mingled. 


3  wire. 
8  teach. 


Kneling  I  saugh,  al  clad  in  g-rene  and  white, 
Tofore  Venus,  goddes  of  al  delite,  300 

Enbrouded  al  with  stones  and  perre  7 
So  richeli,  that  joi  it  was  to  se, 
With  sondri  rolles  on  hir  garnement, 
Forto  expoune  the  trouth  of  hir  entent, 
And  shew  fulli,  that  for  hir  humbilles, 
And  for  hir  vertu,  and  hir  stabilnes, 
That  she  was  rote  of  womanli  plesaunce. 
Therfore  hir  woord  withoute  variauuce 
Enbrouded  was,  as  men  myghte  se: 
'  De  mienlx  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  sum  what  bi  hir  chere, 
Forto  compleyne  she  hade  gret  desire; 
For  in  hir  bond  she  held  a  litel  bil, 
Forto  declare  the  sonmie  of  al  hir  will, 
And  to  the  goddes  hir  quarel  forto  she  we, 
Theffect    of    which   was    this    in    wordys 

fewe:  — 8  320 


NEW  TROY 
(The  Troy  Book,  11.  479-768)8 

THE  sorwe  aswaged,  and  the  syghes  olde, 
By  longe  processe,  liehe  as  I  yovv  tolde, 
This  worthi  kyng,  callyd  Priamus, 
Is  in  his  herte  no  we  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  schal  th'assautys  outterly  defye 

*  gems.  v 

s  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." 

•  Lydgate's  Troy  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.     Wartou   in   his 
History  of  English  Poetry,  London,  1840,  vol.  11,  §23, 
has  a  good  description  of  the  Troy  Book.  Our  text  is 
that  of  Bergen  in  his  edition  for  the  Early  English  Text 
8oc.,  with  a  few  unimportant  modifications  in  typog 
raphy. 


NEW   TROY 


217 


Of  alle  enmyes,  and  his  mortal  foon, 
With   riche   tourys    and   wallys    of    hard 
stoon.  10 

And  al  aboute  the  centres  enviroun, 
He  made  seke  in  every  regioun 
For  swiche  werkemeu  as  were  corious, 
Of  wyt  inventyf,  of  castyng l  merveilous; 
Or  swyche  as  coude  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  founde,  owther  fer  or  nere;  20 
For   swyche   as   koude    grave,   grope,2   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  hed, 
Alabastre,  owther  white  or  redde, 
Or  marbil  graye  for  to  pulsche3  it  pleyn, 
To  make  it  smothe  of  veynes  and  of  greyn. 
He  sent  also  for  every  ymagour, 
Bothe  in  entaille,4  and  every  purtreyour  30 
That  coude  drawe,  or  with  colour  peynt 
With  hewes   fresche,  that  the  werke   nat 

feynt;5 
And  swiche  as  coude  with  countenaunces 

glade 

Make  an  ymage  that  wil  nevere  fade: 
To  counterfet  in  metal,  tre,  or  stoon 
The  sotil  werke  of  Pigmaleoun, 
Or  of  Appollo,  the  whiche  as  bokis  telle, 
In  ymagerye  alle  other  dide  excelle; 
For  by  his  crafty  werkyng  corious, 
The  towmbe  he  made  of  kyng  Daryus      40 
Whiche  Alysaundre  dide  on  heyghte  reise, 
Only  for  men  sehuld  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  famus, 
Was  after  sent  to  come  to  Priamus. 
For  he  purposeth,  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. 


i  planning,  reckoning. 
»  polish.        *  engraving. 


groove, 
fade. 


And  first  the  grounde  he  made  to  be  sought, 
Ful  depe  and  lowe,  that  it  faille  nought 
To  make  sure  the  foundaciouu; 
In  the  place  where  the  olde  touu  60 

Was  first  ybilt,  he  the  wallis  sette; 
And  he  of  loud  many  myle  out  mette,6 
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  ruyne 
Of  walles  old,  was  made  pleyn  as  lyne, 
The  werkmen  gan  this  cite  for  to  founde, 
Ful    myght^ly    with    stonys    square    and 

rounde,  70 

That  in  this  world  was  to  it  noon  lyche 
Of  werkmanschip,  nor  of  bildyng  riche, 
Nor  of  crafte  of  coryous  masounry. 
I  can  no  termys  to  speke  of  gemetrye, 
Wherfore  as  now  I  muste  hem  sette  a-syde; 
For  douteles  I  radde  never  Euclide, 
That  the  maister  and  the  foundour  was 
Of  alle  that  werkyn  by  squyre  or  compas, 
Or  kepe  her  mesour  by  level  or  by  lyne;      « 
1  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  Neptune,      90 
And  namyd  Troye,  as  it  was  to-forn, 
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  fnndacioun, 
So  huge  in  compas  nor  of  swiche  larges, 
Nor  to  counte  so  passyng  of  fay  rues, 
So  edyfied  or  lusty  to  the  syght. 
And,  as  I  rede,  the  walles  wern  on  highte 
Two  hundrid  cubites,  al  of  marbil  gray,   101 
Maskowed8  with-oute  for  sautis9  and  assay; 
And  it  to  make  more  pleasnunt  of  delyt, 
A-mong  the  marbil  was  alabaster  white 
Meynt10  in  the  walles,  rouude    the  toun 

aboute, 
To  make  it  schewe  with-inne  and  witli-oute 


8  measured.        '  continue. 

•  assaults. 


»  Machicolated. 
10  Mingled. 


2l8 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


So  fresehe,  so  riche,  and  so  delitable, 

That  it  aioae  was  incomparable 

Of  alle  ci.es  that  any  mortal  man 

Siiwe  ever  yit,  sithe  the  world  began.       no 

And  at  the  corner  of  every  wal  was  .set 

A  crowne  of  golde  with  riche  stonys  fret,1 

That  sclione  ful  bright  ageyn   the   sonne 

schene; 

And  euery  tour  bretexed  2  was  so  clene 
Of  chose  stooa,  that  wer  nat  tVr  a-sondre, 
That  to  beholde  it  was  a  verray  wonder. 
Ther-to  this  cite  compassed  euviroun, 
Hadde  sexe  gatis  to  entre  in- to  the  toun: 
The  first  of  al  and  strongest  eke  with  al, 
Largest  also  and  most  principal,  120 

Of  myghty  bildyuge  all  one  peereles, 
Was  by  the  kyng  callyd  Dardanydea; 
And  in  story,  lyche  as  it  is  fownde, 
Tymbria  was  named  the  secouude ; 
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, 
Wiih  square  toures  set  on  every  syde. 
At   whos   corners,   of  verray   pompe   and 

pride,  130 

The   werkmen   han,   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. 
Aud  thorugh  the  wal,  her  fomen  for  to 

lette, 

At  every  tour  wer  grete  gunnys  sette, 
For  assaut  and  sodeyn  aventurys; 
And  on  tourettis  wer  reysed  up  fignrys 
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  unicornes, 
Buglis,3  bolys,  and  many  grete  grifoun, 
Forged  of  hrasse,  of  copur  and  latoun, 
That  cruelly  by  sygnes  of  her  facys 
Up-on  her  foon  made  fel  manacys. 
liarbykans  and  bolewerkys  huge, 
A-fore  the  toun  made  for  highe  refuge, 
Yift'e  nede  were,  erly  and  eke  late; 
And  portecolys  stronge  at  every  gate,      150 
That  hem  thar  nat  noon  assailyng  charge; 
And  the  lowkis  thikke,  brode,  and  large, 
Of  the  gatys  al  of  yoten  4  bras. 
And  with-inue  the  myghty  schittyng5  was 


1  onmmonted. 
*  Buffaloes. 


*  battlpmented. 
4  cast.          *  fastening. 


Of  strong  yrne  barres  square  and  rounile, 
And  gret  barrerys  picched  6  in  the  gronnde, 
With  huge  cheynes  forged  for  diffence, 
Whiche  nolde  '  breke  for  no  violence, 
That  hard  it  was  through  hem  for  to  wynne. 
And  every  hous,  that  was  bilt  with-inue,   160 
Every  paleys  and  every  mancioun, 
Of  marbil  werne  thorughout  al  the  toun, 
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  aur- 

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  paly s  asounder  for  to  knowe,      170 
So  egaly  of  tymbre  and  of  stoou 
Her  housis  wern  reysed  everychon. 
And  if  I  schulde  rehersen  by  and  by. 
The  korve8  knottes  by  crafte  of  ms.sounry, 
The  fresche  eubowyng,9  with  veigis  10  right 

as  linys, 

And  the  vowsyng  n  ful  of  babewynes,12 
The  riche  koynyng,13  the  lusty  tablementis,14 
Vynnettis  16  rennynge  in  the  casementis  — 
Though  the  termys  in  Kngliseh  wolde  ryme, 
To  rckne  hem  alle  I  have  as  now  no  tyme, 
Ne  no  langage  pyked  for  the  nonys, 1G      181 
The  sotil  joynyng  to  tellen  of  the  stonys, 
Nor  how  thei  patten  in  stode  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  17  bright, 
To  make  the  werke  gletere  18t>n  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  thinges  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  silveu  to  dis 
port. 

8  set.        ^  would  not.        8  carved.        »  arching. 
1°  columns.     u  vaultings,  tabernacles,     n  proteseue 
figures,  images.     ls  quoining,  corner-work.     14  panels. 
15  Carved  tendrils.        16  suitable  for  the  ooca&iou. 
»  burnished.        «  smoother. 


NEW   TROY 


219 


And  thorugh   the  touu,    by  crafty  purvi- 

aunoe, 

By  gret  avys  and  discret  ordynaunce, 
By  compas  cast,  and  squared  out  by  squires,1 
Of  pulsched  niarbil  up-ou  strong  pilleris, 
Devised  wern,  longe,  large,  and  wyde, 
In  the  frountel2  of  every  stretis  syde, 
Fresche  alures  3  with  lusty  highe  pynacles, 
And  monstryng 4  outward  riclie  tabernacles, 
Vowted  6  above  like  reciinatories,6  211 

That  called  werne  deambnlatories, 
Men  to  walke  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  cured7  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,8 
Voyding  iilthes  low  in-to  the  gronnde,  221 
Thorngh  gratis  pei  cid  of  yrenpereid  rounde; 
The  stretis  paved  bothe  in  leuglhe  and 

brede, 

In  cheker  wyse  with  stonvs  white  and  rede. 
And  every  craft,  that  any  maner  man 
In  any  lond  devise  or  rekene  can, 
Kytig  Prinmus,  or  higlie  discrecionn, 
Otdt-ynt-d  hath  to  dwellyu  in  the  toun, 
And  in  strelis,  severvd  her  and  yonder, 
Everyche  from  otlit-r  to  be  sette'a-sonder, 
That  thei  myght,  for  more  comodite,        231 
Kclie  be  hym  hilfe  werke  at  liberte: 
Gold-smythes  first,  and  riclie  jowellers, 
And  by  Jiem  silf  crai'ty  browdereris,9 
Wevers  also  of  wolne  and  of  Jvue, 
Of  cloth  of  gold,  damaske,  and  satyn, 
Of  welwet,  cendel,10  and  double  samyt  eke, 
A~7i7l  every  clothe  that  men  li.-t  to  seke; 
Smythes  also,  that  koude  forge  wele          239 
Swerdis,  pollex,11  and  speris  scharp  of  stele, 
Dartis,  da.g£eris,  for  to  mayme  and  wounde, 
And    qnarel 12   hedis   scharp    and  square- 

yorounde. 

Ther  wer  also  crafty  armoureris, 
Bowyere,13  and  faste  by  fleccheris,14 
And  swyche  as  konde  make  schaftes  pleyn, 
And  other  eke  that  dide  her  besy  peyn 

1  squares.         z  front,  facade.       '  revered  passages. 
<  showing.        *  Vaulted.  «  couches  (New  Eng. 

Diet.);  better,  confessionals?       1  covered,      s  reached 
to  the  gutter.         »  embroiderers.         10  tliin  silk. 
*l  polftaxe         12  quarrel,  arrow  for  the  crossbow. 
"  Bow-uiakers.         "  arrow-featherers. 


For  the  werre  to  make  also  trappuris,15 
Bete  16  baners  and  royal  cote  armuris, 
And  by  devise  stondardis,  and  penowns, 
And   for   the   felde  fresche   and  gay  gy- 

touus.17  250 

And  every  crafte  that  may  rekned  be, 
To  tell  schortly,  was  in  his  cite. 
And  thorugh  this  toun,  so  riche  and  excel 
lent, 

Iii  the  myddes  a  large  river  went, 
Causyng  to  hem  ful  gret  commodite; 
The  vvhiche  on  tweyne  hath  partid  the  cite, 
Of  cours  ful  swyft,  with  fresche  stremys 

clere, 
And   highte  Xanctus,  as  Guy  do   doth  us 

lore. 

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  fysche  ful  pleLtevons, 
Devidtd  was  by  werkmen  corious 
So  craf tely,  thorough  castyng  18  sovereyne, 
That  in  his  course  the  stremys  myght  at- 

teyn 

For  to  areche,19  as  Guydo  doth  conjecte,20 
By  archis  stror.g  his  cours  for  to  reflVcte 
Thorngh    condut    pipis,    large    and    wyde 

with-al, 

By  certeyn  meatis  21  artificial,  270 

Tliat  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  sene; 
For  the  canel  skonred  was  so  dene, 
And  devoyded22  in  so  secre  wyse, 
That  no  man  myght  espien  nor  devyse 
By  what  engyn  tlie  filthes,  fer  nor  ner, 
Wern  born  a-way  by  cours  of  the  ryver  — 
So  covertly  every  thing  was  cured.23        281 
Wher-by  the  tonn  was  outterly  assurt-d 
From  engenderyng  of  al  corrupcioun, 
From  wikked  eyr  and  from  infeecioun, 
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 


'5  trappings, 
is  device. 
11  channels. 


is  Embroider. 
'»  reach. 
22  emptied. 


"  small  flaps. 
20  conjecture. 
2J  covered. 


22O 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


BYCORNE   AND    CHICHEVACHE1 

First  ther  shal  stonde  an  ymagc  in  poet  wise, 
seyeng  these  iij  baiades 

O  PRUDENT  folkes  takithe  lieede, 
And  remeinbrithe  in  youre  lyves, 
How  this  story  dotlie  procede, 
Of  the  husbandes  and  theyr  wyfes, 
Of  theyr  accorde  and  theyr  stryves, 
Withe  lyf  or  dethe  whiche  to  derayue  2 
Is  graunted  to  these  bestes  twayne. 

Than  shal  be  portrayed  two  bestis,  oon  fatte, 
another  leene. 

For  this  Bycorne  of  his  nature 

Will  non  other  maner  foode, 

But  pacient  husks  never  in  his  pasture,     10 

And  Chichevache  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  Chychevache  and  of  Bycorne 

Tretitlie  holy  this  matere, 

Whos  story  hathe  taught  us  beforn, 

Howe  these  bestes  bothe  in  feere  8 

Have  ther  pasture,  as  ye  shal  here, 

Of  men  and  wymmen  in  sentence,  20 

Thurghe  suflraunce  or  thurghe  impacience. 

Than  shal  be  prot rayed  a  fatte  beste  callid  By 
corne,  of  the  cuntrey  of  Bycornoys,  and  seyn  these 
thre  baladis  folowyng. 

Of  Bycornoys  I  am  Bycorne, 

Ful  fatte  and  ronnde  here  as  I  stonde, 

And  in  mariage  bounde  and  sworne 

To  Cliivache,  as  hir  husbonde, 

Whiche  will  nat  eete,  on  see  nor  londe, 

But  pacient  wyfes  debonayre, 

Whiche  to  her  husbondes  be  nat  contrayre, 

Ful  scarce,  God  wote!  is  hir  vitaile, 
Humble  wyfes  she  fynt  4  so  fewe,  30 

For  alweys  at  the  countre-taile  6 
Theyr  tunge  clappithe  and  dotlie  hewe;6 
Suche  meke  wyfes  I  be-shrewe, 

i  "  Two-Horn  "  and  "  Lean-Cow  "  are  the  English 
renderings  of  the  mediaeval  French  "  Bigorne  "  (mean 
ing  uncertain)  and  Chicheface  (lean-face).  Chaucer  in 
the  Clerk's  Tale,  1.  1131,  warns  wives  not  to  be  so  pa 
tient  as  Oriselda  "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  ehanmbre  "  ;  v.  Anylia,  xxn,  3C4.  The  text  is 
J.  O.  Halliwell's  in  the  Percy  Society  Edition  of  Lyd- 
gate's  Minor  Poems,  London.  1840,  p.  129. 

*  adjii'lg".  3  together.  «  findeth. 

1  in  retaliation.          •  make  outcry. 


That  ueyther  can  at  bedde  ne  boorde 
Theyr  husboudes  nat  forbore  oou  woorde. 

But  my  foode  and  my  cherisshynge, 

To  tflle  plainly  aiid  nat  to  varye, 

Is  of  suche  folke  whiche  theyr  livynge 

Dare  to  theyr  wyfes  be  nat  contrarye, 

Ne  from  theyr  lustis  dare  nat  varye,         40 

Nor  withe  hem  holde  no  champartye, 7 

Al  suche  my  stomack  wil  defye.8 

Than  shal  be  portrayed  a  company  of  men  com- 
yng  toward  is  this  beste  Bycorne,  and  sey  these 
foure  baladis. 

Felawes,  takethe  heede,  and  ye  may  see 
How  Bycorne  castithe  hyin  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 
Makeu  maystresses  of  theyr  wyfes. 

Who  that  so  dothe,  this  is  the  lawe,  50 

That  this  Bycorne  wil  hym  oppresse, 

And  devouren  in  his  mawe, 

That  of  his  wife  makithe  his  maystresse; 

This  wil  us  bryng  in  grete  distresse, 

For  we,  for  on  re  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  devoureu  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, 
i  rivalry.  •  digest. 


A   DIETARY 


221 


Or  Chichevache  ne  wil  uat  faile 
Yow  for  to  swolow  in  bis  eutraile. 

Than  shal  ther  be  portrayed  a  long  horned 
beste,  sklendre  and  leene,  with  sharp  tethe^  and  on 
his  body  nothyng  sauf  skyn  and  boon, 

Chichevache  this  is  my  name, 

Hungry,  megre,  sklendre,  and  leene, 

To  she  we  my  body  I  have  gret  shame;      80 

For  hunger  I  feele  so  grete  teene,1 

On  me  no  fatnesse  wil  be  seene, 

By  cause  that  pasture  I  fvnde  none, 

Therfor  1  am  but  skyii  and  boon. 

For  my  fedying  in  existence 

Is  of  wymmen  that  ben  meke, 

And  liche  Gresield  in  pacience, 

Or  more  theyr  bounte  for  to  eeke; 

But  1  ful  longe  may  gon  and  seeke, 

Or  I  can  fynde  a  good  repast  90 

A  morwe  to  broke  with  my  fast. 

I  trowe  ther  be  a  deere  yeere  2 
Of  pacieut  wymmen  now  these  dayes; 
Who  grevithe  hem  withe  word  or  chere, 
Lete  hym  be  ware  of  snche  assayes, 
For  it  is  more  than  thritty  Mayes, 
That  I  have  sought  from  lond  to  lond, 
But  yit  oon  Gresield  never  I  fond. 

I  fonde  but  oon  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  woxen  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  wyfe. 

My  wife,  alias!  devoured  is, 

Most  pacient  and  most  pesible, 

She  never  sayde  to  me  amysse, 

Whom  ha  the  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,8 
The  wyfes  of  ful  hie: he  prudence 
Have  of  nssent  made  ther  avow, 
For  to  exile  forever  pacience, 
And  cryed  wolfes  hede  obedience,4 

i  suffering.         2  dearth.         J  advantage. 
4  outlawed  obedience. 


To  make  Chichevaehe  faile 
Of  hem  to  fyude  more  vitaile. 

Now  Chichevache  may  fast  longe,  120 

And  dye  for  al  hir  cruel  tee, 

Wymmen  hav  made  hemself  so  stronge 

For  to  ontraye5  humylite. 

O  cely  6  husbondes,  wo  been  yee  ! 

Suche  as  can  have  no  pacience 

Ageyns  yowre  wyfes  violence. 

If  that  ye  suffre,  ye  be  but  ded, 
This  Bycorne  awuitethe  yow  so  sore; 
Eeke  of  yowre  wyfes  ye  stand  in  drede, 
Yit'  ye  geyn-seyn  hem  any  more;  130 

And  thus  ye  stonde  and  have  don  yore, 
Of  lyfe  and  dethe  betwixt  coveyne,7 
Lynkede  in  a  double  cheyne. 


A   DIETARY8 

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  drynke  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  i^e 
thynges  iii,  —  10 

Temperat  dyete,  temporat  travaile, 

Nat  malicious  for  none  adversite; 
Meke  in  trouble,  gladde  in  poverte; 

Riche  vtith  litel,  content  with  sutlisaunce, 
Nat  grucchyng,9  but  rnery  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 

•  crush.  •  silly,  hapless.  1  conspiracy. 

8  Translated  from  the  Latin,  which  is  given,  with  an 
other  version  of  the  English,  by  F.  J.  Furnivall,  Babee* 
Book,  p.  55,  Early  Ens;.  Text  Soc.,  London,  18G8.  Our 
text  is  from  tlie  Percy  Society  edition  of  the  Minor 
Poer/B,  London,  1840,  p.  GG.  »  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  alvvey   thy    pies- 


Have  in  hate  mowthes  that  ben  double; 

Suffre  at  thy  table  no  distractioun; 
Have  despite  of  folkos  that  ben  trouble, 

Of  false  rowners1  and  adulacioun; 
Withyn  thy  court,  suffre  no  division^         -^ 

Whiche,  in  thi  household,  shal  cause  grete 
encrese  30 

Of  al  welfare,  prosperite,  and  foyson; 

With  thy  neyghburglis  lyve  in  rest  and 


Be  clenly  clad  after  thyn  estate; 

Passe  nat  thy  bowudis,  kepe  thy  promyse 

blyth; 

With  thre  folkes  thow  be  nat  al  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  counsaile  thow  pursue  al  thy 

lyve, 

To  lyve  in  peas  and  gete  the  a  goode 
name.  40 

Fuyre 2   at  morowe,  and   towards  bed  at 
eve, 

For  mystis  blake,  and  eyre 3  of  pestilence; 
Betyine  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  compassion  n, 
And  God  shal  sende  grace  and  influence, 

To  encrese  the  and  thy  possessioun. 

Suffre  no  surfetis  in  thy  house  at  nyght, 

Ware  of  reresoupers,4  and  of  grete  ex- 
cesse,  50 

Of  noddyng  hedys  and  of  candel  light, 

And  slowth  at  inorowe  and  slomberyng 

idelnes, 
Whiche  of  al  vices  is  chief  porteresse; 

Voyde  al  drunklew,6  lyers,  and  lechours; 
Of  al  unthriftes  exile  the  mastres, 

That  is  to  say,  dyse,  players,  and  haserd- 


i  whisperers,  tale-tellers.  2  Fire.   'air.  <  late  suppers. 
i  drunken  peraous.    Strictly,  "  drunkenness." 


After   mete    beware,   make    nat    to   long 

slepe; 
Ilede,  foote,aud  stomak  preserve  ay  from 

cold; 
Be  nat   to   pensyf,  of   thought  6   take  no 

kepe; 

After   thy  rent   mayntene  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 7  whan_thou. 
art  olde.  \~~ 

Dyne  nat  at  morwe  aforne  thyn  appetite, 
Clere  eyre  and  walkyng  inukith  goode 

digestioun; 
Betweue  meles  drynk  nat  for  no  froward 

delite 

But  thurst  or  travaile  yeve  the  occasioun; 
Over  salt  mete  doth  grete  oppressiuun 
Totieble  stomakes,whan  they  can  nat  re- 

freyne, 

For  nothyng  more  contrary  to  theyr  coin- 
plexioun ;  -   70 

Of  gredy  handes  the  stomak  hath  grete 
peyue. 

Thus  in  two  thyngs  standith  al  the  welthe 

Of  sowle  and  body,  who  so  lust  tosewe;8 
Moderate  foode  gjve.thiiL.inHn  his  helthe, 

And  al  surfetis  doth  from  liym  ien\ewe, 
And  chnrite  to  the  sowle  is  dewe; 

This  ressayt  is  bought  of  no  poticarye, 
Of  mayster  Antony,  nor  of  maister  Jdfewe; 

To  al  indifferent,  richest  diatorye. 


ON   WOMEN'S   HORNS9 

OF  God  and  kynd  procedyth  all  beaulte; 
Crafte  may  shew  a  foren  apparence, 
But  nature  ay  must  haf  the  soveraynte. 
Thyng  couutirfetyd  hath  non  existence; 
Twene  gold   and  gossorner  is  gret  differ 
ence  ;  J* 
Trewe  inetall  requirith  non  alay; 
Unto  purpose  by  clere  experience, 
Bewtey  will  shewe,  thow  hornys  be  away. 

•  anxiety.  7  serious.  8  give  attention,  follovr^ 
9  These  great  horned  headdresses  were  favorite  tar 
gets  for  satire.  For  cuts  and  descriptions  of  them  see 
Mrs.  C.  H.  Ash'lown's  British  Costumes,  frontispiece, 
and  pp.  107  f.  Our  text  is  from  Political,  Religious,  and 
Love  Poems,  ed.  F.  J.  Furnivall,  E.  E.  T.  Soc.,  1893. 
The  pieoe  is  also  found  in  the  Percy  Soc.  edition  of  the 
Minor  Poems,  and  in  R'llquiae  Anliquae,  ed.  Wright 
aud  Halliwell,  London,  1341,  i,  79. 


LYDGATE'S   MUMMING   AT   HERTFORD 


223 


Riche  attyrys  of  gold  and  of  perry,1 
Charbiinclys,  rtibeys  of  most  excellence,  10 
Shew  in  derknes  lyght,  whereso  they  be, 
By  their  natural  hevenly  influence; 
Uoblettes  of  glasse  yeve  a  gret  evidence, 
Thyng  cunutirfet  wyl  fallen  at  assay; 
On  thys  iriater,  concludyng  in  sentence, 
Bewte  wyll  shew,  thow  homes  be  away. 

Aleyn  2  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,8 
None  othyr  riches  of  countyrfet  aray; 
T'exemplifye  by  kyudly  providence, 
Bewte  wyll  shew  thow  hornys  be  away. 

Famose  poetys  of  antiquite 

In   Grece   and   Troy,    renowmyd   of  pru 
dence, 

Wrote  of  qwene  Helene,  and  Penolope, 

Of  Policene  4  with  hyr  chast  innocence; 
•   For  wyfys  trew  call  Lucrece  to  presence; 

That  they  were  fayre,  ther  can  no  man  say 
nay;  3o 

Kynd5    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  bestis  for  diffence, 
A  thyng  contrary  to  feminite, 
To  be  mad  sturdy  of  resistence ; 
But  archwyfes,  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 

LENVOYE 

Noble  princesse,  thys  litell  short  ditey, 
Rudely  compilyd,  lat  it  be  none  offence 
To  yowre  womanly  mercifull  pyte, 
Thow  it  be  radd  in  yowr  audience. 

i  jewelry. 

»  Alain  de  1'Isle  (Lille),  Alanns  de  Insiilis,  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, 
alludes  to  this  same  description  of  Nature. 

'  A  thin,  fine  material.  Such  a  kerchief  is  Venus's 
whole  array  in  the  Parliament  of  Fowls,  1.  272. 

*  Polyxeoa,  the  love  of  Achilles.          *  Nature. 


Payse6  every  thyng  in  yowre  just  adver 
tence. 

So  it  be  no  displesance  to  yowre  pay,7 
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  keverche;  hornys  were  cast 
away. 

Of  byrthe  she  was  hyghest  of  degre, 
To  whom  all  angelles  did  obedience, 
Of  Davides  lyne,  which  sprong  out  of  lesse, 
In  whom  all  verteu  is,  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  nor  thowght  that  never  did  offence ; 
Trew  examplire  of  virginite, 
Hede-spryngand  well  of  parfite  continence  ! 
Was  never  clerk,  by  retoryk  or  science, 
Cowde  all  hyr  verteus  reherse  to  this  day. 
Noble  princesse,  of  meke  benivolence,       71 
By  example  of  hyr,  yowre  hornys  cast  away. 
Explicit. 


LYDGATE'S   MUMMING  AT 
HERTFORD « 

MOST  noble  prynce,  with  support  of  your 

grace 

Ther  been  entred  into  youre  royal  place, 
And  late  coomen  in  to  youre  castell 
Youre  poure  lieges,  wheche  lyke  nothing 

weel, 

8  Weigh.  i  pleasure. 

8  This  jocose  piece,  printed  by  Miss  Hammond  in 
AncjHd  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  Kynjr,  holding  his  noble 
feast  of  Christmaase  in  the  Castel  of  Hertford,  as  in  a 
disguysing  of  the  rude  upplandisxhe  people  compleyn- 
ing  on  hir  wy ves.  With  the  boystous  aunswere  "of  hir 
wyves.  Devysed  by  Lydgate  at  the  request  of  the 
Countre  Roullour. 


224 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


No  we  in  the  vigyle  of  this  nuwe  yeere 
Certeyne  sweynes  f  ul  froward  of  ther  chere 
Of  entent  comen,  fallen  on  ther  kne, 
For  to  compleyue  unto  yuoure  magestee 
Upon  the  niescheef  of  gret  adversytee, 
Upon  the  trouble  and  the  cruweltee,          10 
Which  that  they  have  endured  in  theyre 

lyves 

By  the  felnesse  of  theyre  fierce  wyves; 
Which  is  a  tourinent"  verray  importable, 
A  bonde  of  sorowe,  a  kuott  unremuwable; 
For  whoo  is  bounde  or  locked  in  maryage, 
Yif  he  beo  olde,  he  f allethe  in  dotage ; 
And  yong  folkes,  of  theyre  lymmes  sklen- 

dre, 

Grene  and  lusty  and  of  brawne  but  tendre — 
Phylosophres  callen  in  suche  age 
A   chylde    to   wyve   a    woodnesse1  or  a 

raage;  20 

For  they  afferme  ther  is  noon  eorthely  stryff 
May  bee  compared  to  wedding  of  a  wyff. 
And  who  that  ever  stondethe  in  the  cas, 
He  with  his  rebecke2    may  sing  ful  offt 

'Ellas!' 
Lyke  as  theos  hynes  here  stouding  oon  by 

oon, 

He  may  with  hem  upon  the  daunce  goon, 
Leorne  the  traas,  boothe  at  even  and  mor- 

pwe, 

Of  Karycantowe  8  in  tourment  and  in  sor 
owe, 

Weyle  the  whyle,  ellas,  that  he  was  borne. 
For  Obbe  the  Reeve  that  goothe  here  al  to 

forne  3o 

He  pleynthe  sore  his  mariage  is  not  meete, 
For  his  wyff,  Beautryce  Bittersweete, 
Cast  upon  him  an  hougly  cheer  4  f  ul  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, 
Thanue  sittethe  Beautryce  boiling  at  the 

nale,5 

As  she  that  gyvethe  of  him  no  roaner  tale; 
For  she  al  day  with  hir  jowsy  nolle8 
Hathe  for  the  colly k  pnuped7  in  thebolle;  40 
And  for  heedache,  with  pepir  and  gynger 
Drank  dolled8  ale  to  make  hir  throte  cleer; 
And  kemethe  hir  hoome  whane  hit  drawethe 

to  eve. 

And  thanne  Robyn,  the  cely9  poure  Reeve, 
»  madness.       2  fiddle.       »  The  traas  of  K.  is  appar 
ently  the  dance  of  the  henpecked.  4  ugly  counte 
nance.       *  quaffing  at  the  tavern.        •  drunken  head. 
7  tooted,  gulped.         *  mulled.         •  silly,  harmless. 


Fynde  noone  amendes  of  harome  10  ne  dam* 

age, 

But  leene  growell,11  and  soupethe  colde  pot- 
age; 

And  of  his  wyf  hathe  noone  other  cheer 
But  cokkroworthes  12  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 

uekke 

For  a  medecyne  to  chawf  18  with  his  blood. 
With  suche  a  metyerde  14  she  hathe  shape 

him  an  hoode.15 

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  hathe  taught  him  to  pleyne  at16 

the  staff, 
Hir  quarter,  strookis  were   so   large   and 

rounde, 
That  on  his  rigge 17  the  towche  was  alyoey 

founde.  60 

Cecely    Soure-Chere,   his    owen  precyous 

spouse, 
Kowde  him   reheete  18  whane  he   came  to 

house. 

Yif  he  ought  spake  whanne  he  felt  peyne, 
Ageyne  on  worde  alweys  he  hade  tweyne. 
Sheo  qwytt  him  ever  — ther  was  nothing  to 

seeche  — 

Six  for  on  of  worde  and  strookes  eche. 
Ther  was  no  meen  bytweene  hem  for  to 

goone. 

Whatever  he  wan  clowting  olde  shoorie 
The  wykday  —  pleynly  this  is  no  tale  — 
Sheo  wolde  on  Sondayes   drynk  it  at  the 

nale.19  7o 

His   part   was  noon;   he   sayde   not  onys 

nay. 

Hit  is  no  game,20  but  an  hernest  play, 
For  lack  of  wit  a  man  his  wyf  to  greeve. 
Theos  housbondemen  —  whoso  wolde  hem 

leeve21  — 

Koude,  yif  they  dourst,  telle  in  audyence 
What  followthe  ther,  of  wyves  to  doone 

offence. 

Is  noon  so  olde  ne  ryveld  22  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.         J1  gruel.         12  heated-up  vegetablps. 
18  heat.  i«  measuring-stick.         "  Figuratively, 

"  fooled  him."  *•  play  at  —  or,  possibly,  complain  of. 
"  back.  w  comfort.  The  word  also  means  assail. 
i*  alehouse.  2°  joke.  «  believe.  «  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  they  re  fistes  wyves  wol  be  \vrooke.1 
Blessed  thoo  men  that  cane  in  suche  offence 
Meekly  souffre,  take  al  in  pacyence, 
Tendure  suche  wytty  purgatorye, 
Heven  for  theyre  met-de,  to  regue  ther  in 

glorye. 
God  graunt  al  housbandes  that  beon  in  this 

place 

To  wynne  so  Hevon,  for  his  hooly  grace.  9o 
Nexst  in  order  this  bochier2  stoute  and 

bolde, 

That  killed  hathe  bulles  and  boores  olde, 
This  Berthilmewe,  for  al  Ins  broode  kuyff, 
Yit  durst  he  never  with  his  sturdy  wyff 
In  no  mater  holde  chaumpartye.8 
And  if  he  did,  sheo  wolde  anoon  defye 
His  pom  pe,  his  pryde,  with  a  sterne  thought, 
And  sodeynly  setten  him  at  nought. 
Thoughe  his  bely  were  rounded  lyche  an 

ooke,  99 

She  wolde  not  fayle  to  gyf  the  first  strooke; 
For  proude  Pernelle  lyche  a  chaumpyoun 
Wolde  leve  hir  puddinges  4  in  a  gret  caw- 

droun, 
Suffre  hem  boylle  and  take  of  hem  noon 

heede, 
But  with  hir  skumour  5  reeche  him  on  the 

heved. 

Sh6e  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  cast  hir  not  to  dyen  in  his  dette.        no 
She  made  no  taylle,  but  qwytt  him  by  and 

by;6 
His  quarter  sowde v  she  payde  him  feyth- 

fully, 

And  his  waages,  with  al  hir  best  entent; 
She  made  therof  noon  assignement. 
Eeke  Thomme  Tynker,  with  alle  hees  pannes 

olde, 
And  alle  the  wyres   of  Banebury  that  he 

solde, 

His  styth,8  his  hamour,  his  hagge  portatyf, 
Bare  up  his  arme  whane  he  faught  with  his 

wyff  — 

i  avenged.      *  butcher.      3  dispute  the  sovereignty. 
*  sausages.          *  skimmer.  «  ran  up  no  account 

but  paid  iustautly.  »  hire.  «  anvil. 


He  foonde  for  haste  no  better  bokeller, 
Upon  his  cheke  the  distaff  came  so  neer.  120 
Hir  name  was  cleped  Tybot  Tapister. 
To  bravvle  anil  broyle  she  nad  no  maner  fer, 
To  thakke    his   pilche   stoundemel9  nowe 

and  thanne 
Thikkcr  thane  Thome  koude  clowten  any 

panne. 

Nexst  Colle  Tyler,  ful  hevy  of  his  cheer, 
Compleynethe   on   Phelyce   his   wyff,   the 

wafurer.10 

Al  his  bred  with  sugre  nys  not  baake, 
Yit  on  his  cheekis  some  tyme  he  hathe  a  caake 
So  hoot  and  nuwe  or  he  can  taken  heede 
That  his  heres  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  in  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  conduy t  to  sauf  him  frome  damage, 
Eeke  under  support  of  youre  hyeghe  reiioun 
Graunt  hem  also  a  proteceyoun. 
Conquest  of  wyves  is  rone  thoroughe  this 

lande, 
Cleyming  of  right  to  have   the  hyegher 

hande ; 

But  if  you  list  of  yonre  regallye 
The  olde  testament  for  to  modefye, 
And  that  thee  list  asselen  theyre  u  request, 
That  theos  poure  husbandes  might  lyf  in 

rest, 
And  that   theyre   wyves,  in  theyre  felle 

might, 
Wol   medle    amonge   mercy   with   theyre 

rights  150 

For  it  came  never  of  nature  ne  raysoun 
A  lyonesse  t'oppresse  the  lyoun; 
Ner  a  wolfesse  for  al  hir  thyrannye, 
Over  the  wolf  to  haven  the  maystrye, 
Ther  beon  nowe  wolfesses  moo  thane  twoo 

or  three, 
The  bookys13  recorde,  wheeche  that  yonder 

bee. 

9  To  thwack  his  hide  by  the  hour.      1°  wafer-maker, 
n  seal  or  grant  their  (the  husbands').  "  mingle 

mercy  with  justice.  IS  The  MS.  has  Rooky s. 


226 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


Seothe 1  to   this   mater   of   mercy  and   of 

grace ; 
And  or  thees  dotardes   parte  out  of  this 

place, 

Upon  theyre  compleynt  to  shape  remerlye, 
Or  they  be  likly  to  stande  in  jupardye,    160 
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   substaunce  of   this  hyeghe 

discorde, 

We  six  wyves  beon  ful  of  oon  accorde. 
Yif  worde  and  chyding  may  us  not  avaylle, 
We  wol  darrein  2  it  in  chaumpcloos  3  by  ba- 

taylle 

In  part4  oure  right,  laate  or  ellys  raathe;* 
And  for  oure  partye  the  worthy  wyff  of 

Bathe 

Cane  she  we  statutes  moo  than  six  or  seven, 
Howe  wyves  make  hir  liousbandes  wynne 

Heven,  170 

Maugre  the  feonde  and  al  his  vyolence; 
For  theyre  vertu  of  parfyte  pacyenee 
Partenethe  not  to  wyves  nowe  adnyes 
Saut'  on  theyre  housbandes  for  to  make  as 
say  es. 

Ther  pncyence  was  buryed  long  agoo; 
Gresyldes  story  recordethe  pleinly  soo. 
It  longethe  to  us  to  clappen  as  a  inylle, 
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  wyif 
Hathe   redy  aunswere  in  al   suche   maner 

stryff, 
Thoughe     theos    dotardes     with     theyre 

dokked  berdes, 
Which  strowtethe  out  as  they  were  made 

of  herdes,6 

Have  ageyn  hus  a  gret  quarell  nowe  sette. 
I  trowe  the  bakenn  was  never  of  hem  fette  7 
Awaye  at  Dounmowe  in  the  Pryorye.8 
They  weene  of  us  to  have  ay  the  inays- 

trye. 

1  Imperative  of  "  see."          *  decide. 

»  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. 

»  early.       •  stick  out  as  if  made  of  hards,  flax  fibres. 

i  won  by  them. 

s  An  allusion  to  the  celebrated  Dnnmore  flitch  for 
happy  couples,  given  yearly  ever  since  the  early  thir 
teenth  century.  Chaucer  (Wife  of  Bath'*  Prologue, 
218)  and  Lan  gland  (Piers  Plowman  A,  X,  188)  allude  to 
it.  See  Skesit's  note  to  the  latter  passnpe  and  the  Illus 
trated  London  News  for  Aug.  24th,  1U12,  p.  289. 


Ellas!  theos  fooles!  Let  hem  aunswere  hero 

to, 
Who  cane  hem  wasshe  who  can  hem  wringe 

{ll.SOO.  190 

Wryng  hem  —  yee  wryng  —  so  als  God  us 

speed, 
Til   that   some   tyme  we  make  hir  nases 

bleed; 
And  so  we  hir  cloothes  whane  they  bethe 

to  rent, 
And  clowthe  hir  bakkes  til  some  of  us  be 

shent. 
Loo  yit  theos  fooles  —  God  gyf  hem  sory 

chaunce! 

Wolde  sette  hir  wyves  under  gouvernaunce; 
Make  us  to  hem  for  to  lowte9  lowe. 
We  knowe   to   well   the   bent   of   Jackys 

bowe. 
Al  that  we   clayme,  we  clayme  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  gruchche,10  but  they  shal  not 

cheese.11 

Custurne  is  us  for  nature  and  usaunce 
To  let  oure  housbandes  lyf  in  great  noy- 

situnce, 

Humbelly  byseching  nowe  at  oon  worde 
Unto  oure  liege  and  moost  soverein  lord  210 
Us  to  defende  of  his  regallye,12 
And  of  his  grace  susteenen  oure  partye, 
Requering  the  statuyt  of  olde  antiquytee, 
That  in  youre  tynie  it  may  conformed  bee. 

The  complaynte  of  the  lewed  housbandes  -with 
the  cruwell  aunswers  of  theyre  -wyvcs  herde,  the 
kyng  yivethe  t  her  upon  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  sodeyue  doome,  for  he  takethe  heede 
To  eythe.r  partye  as  juge  indifferent, 
Seing  the  paryll  of  hasty  jugement; 
Pourposithe  him  in  this  contynude  stryff 
To  gif  no  sentence  therof  diffynytyff 
Til  ther  be  made  examynacyoun. 
•  bow.        1°  grumble.        ll  choose.       la  royalty. 


THE   LEGEND   OF   DAN   JOOS 


227 


He  consideretlie  and  makethe  raysoun  his 

guyde, 

-As  egal  juge,  enclyning  to  noo  syde, 
Notwithstanding  he  hathe  compassyoun 
Oi  the  poure  housbandes  trybulacyoun,  229 
J$o  otft  arrested  with  theyre  wyves  rokkes,1 
Which  of   theyre  distaves  have   so   many 

knokkes; 

Peysing2  also  in  his  regallye 
The  lawe  that  wymmen  allegge  for  theyre 

partye, 

Custuine,  Nature,  and  eeke  prescripcyoun, 
Statuyt  used  by  confirmaeyoun, 
Processe  and  daate  of  tyine  oute  of  mynde, 
Recorde    of    cronycles,    witnesse    of    hir 

kuynde ; 

Who  rf ore  the  kyng  wol  al  this  nexst  yeere 
That  wyves  fraunchyse  stonde  hoole  and 

entier; 
And  that  no  man  withstonde  it,  ne  with- 

drawe,  240 

Til  man  may  fynde  some  processe  oute  by 

lawe, 

That  they  should  by  nature  in  theyre  lyves 
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 ; 
Ran  nsoun  might  help  his  peyne  to  aswaagr ; 
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   JOOS8 

O  WELLE  of   swetnesse   replete   in  every 

veyne ! 
That  all  mankynde  preservyd   hast  from 

dethe, 

And  all  oure  ioyfro  langourdydest  restreyne 
At  thy  Nativite,  O  floure  of  Nazareth! 
Whan  the  Holygost  with  hys  swete  breth 

i  distaffs.  »  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  sacred  i 


Gan  to  enspyre  the,  as  for  hys  chosyn  place, 
For  love  of  man  by  influence  of  hys  grace, 

And   were    invyolate,    O   bryght   hevynly 

sterre! 

Mong  celestynes,  reynyng  without  memory, 
That   by  thyne   empryse   in   thys   mortal! 

werre,  10 

Of  oure  captyvyte  gatest  the  full  vyctory, 
Whom  I  beseche  for  thyne  excellent  glory, 
Som  drope  of  thy  grace  adowne  to  me  con- 

styll,4 
In  reverence  of  the  thys  dyte  to  fulfyll. 

That  ounely  my  rewdenes  thy  myracle  nat 
deface 

Whyche  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 5  bettyr  then  they  de 
serve. 

Ensample  of  whyche  here  ys  in  portreture, 
Withoutyn  fable,  ryght  as  hit  was  in  dede, 
O  refuge  and  welthe  to  every  creature! 
Thy  clerke  to  further  helpe  now  at  thys 

nede. 

For  to  my  purpose  I  wyll  anone  procede, 
The  trowthe  to  recorde,  I  wyll  no  lengor 

tary, 
Ryght  as  hit  was,  a  poynt  I  wyll  nat  vary. 

Vincencius  in  hys  speculatyf  historiall 6 
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.7 

In  whiche  Psalmes,  standyng  eche  in  here 

degre, 
Whoso   lyst   take  hede  in  syngler  lettres 

fyve, 

«  distil.       »  times.       •  Vincent  of  Beauvais'  Specie 
lum  Historiale.       '  Redeemer  of  ua  all. 


228 


JOHN   LYDGATE 


This  blessyd  name  MARIA  there  may  he  se 
That  furst  of  all  cure  thraldam  can  de- 

pryve, 
To  the  haven  of  dethe  when  we  gan  ar- 

ryve,  4o 

And  fro  the  wawes  l  of  this  mortall  see, 
Made  us  to  escape  from  all  adversite. 

Dystynctly  in  Latyn  here  may  ye   rede 

echone, 
Folowyng  these  baladys  as  for  youre  ples- 

aunce, 
To  whom  the  bysshop  hade  sayde  hys  inedi- 

tacione, 
The  monke  anone  delytyd  in  his  remem- 

braunce, 
And  thought  he  wold  as  for  his  most  affi- 

aunce 


That  fro  all  grevaunce  hys  sorowes  my£ht 
appese. 

And  there  withall  he  wrote  hem  in  hys 
mynde,  50 

So  stedfastly  with  devoute  and  hy  corage, 
That  never  a  day  a  worde  he  foryate  be- 

hynde, 

But  seyde  hem  enty^rly  in-to  hys  last  age, 
Hys  olde  gyltes  bothe  to  a  soft3  and  swage4 
Af  tyr  hyr  matyns,  as  was  hys  appetyte, 
To  sey  hem  ever  was  hys  most  delyte. 

Therto  his  dylygence  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  gan  aryse, 
As  ys  here  usage,  to  do  to  God  servyse.    61 
So  when  they  were  assemblyd  there  in  gen- 

erall, 
The  suppryour  beholdyng  aboute  over  all, 

As  ys  hys  offyce  that  noone  of  theym  were 

absent, 

But  of  Dan  loos  he  cowde  no  wyse  aspy, 
He  roose  hym  up  and  privy  ly  he  went 
In-to  hys  chambre,  and  there  he  fond  hym  ly 
Deede  as  a  stooue,  and  lowde  he  gan  to 

cry 
'  Helpe,'  quoth  he,  *  for  the  love  of  cure 

lady  bryght, 
Dan  loos  on  re  brother  ys  sodenly  dede  to- 

"~  qyght^  7° 

i  waves.  J  Daily. 

*  Construction  not  clear.  «  assuage. 


The  covent  anone  gan  renue  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  fioure  in  May; 
And  other  tweyne  out  of  Lis  eyen  gi'ay; 
Of  hys  eares  as  many  full  fresslily  tiowryng 
That  never  yet  in  gatdyne  half  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   bornyd6 

golde,  80 

MARIE  full  cnryously  as  hit  ys  specyfyed, 
In  bookes  oolde;  and  anone  they  have  hem 

hyed 
Unto  the  temple,  with  lawde  &  hye  solemp- 

nyte, 
Beryng  the  corse  that  all  men  myght  hit  se. 

Whyche  they  kepte  in  ryalte  &  hy  perfec- 
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  6  hert  and 
myght: 

*  Lawde,  honour,  pryce,  and  hygh  i%everence 
Eternally  be  to  thee,  O  hevyuly  luge, 
And  to  thy  modyr  that  of  her  gret  beiiyvo- 

lence 
Preserveth  from  hevynes,  in  this  derke  del- 

-  u£e' 
That "'  doone  her  magnyfy,  and  ys  her  hoole 

refuge; 
More  then  they  serve  8  sche  quyteth  a  thow- 

sand  folde, 
Hyr  passyng  goodnes  of   us  may  nat  be 

tolde.' 

Thus  when  these  bysshops  &  clerk  is  many 
oon  99 

Had  thankyd  God,  as  ferforth  as  they  can, 
And    thys    lady    that    bathe    thys    grace 

ydoon, 
•  burnished.      <  their.       1  Those  that.      '  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,1  prose  ne 

ryme, 
Of  halfe  the  gladnes  J?at  was  withyu  hem 

that  tyme. 

Sone  aftyr  thys  her  iorney  gan  they  holde, 

Eche  in  hys  syde,a  in-to  hys  propre  place. 

Ryght  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  ioy  ys  medlyd  8  ay  with  byttyr- 

nesse, 
Now  glad,  now  sory,  now  lyte,  now  pen- 

syfe, 

Thus  with  your-self  ye  fall  ever  at  stryfe, 
Betwene  two  wawes  ay  possyd  4  to  and  fro, 
That  in  contraryosnes  ye  stryvyn  evyr  mo. 

Youre    blynde    fantasyes    now    in    hertes 

weyve,5  120 

Of  chyldysshe  vanyte   and  let  hem  over- 

slyde, 


i  song. 
*  mingled. 


s  in  his  own  direction. 
«  pushed.  *  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  MARIA  oouly  for  hys  sake. 

That  for  youre  travayle  so  well  [will]  yow 

avaunce, 
Nat  as  these  wemen  on  the  6  whyche  ye  doon 

delyte, 
That  fedyn  yow  all  day  with  feynyd  pleas- 

aunce, 
Hyd  undyr  tresoun    with    many    wordys 

whyte,  i3o 

But  bet  then   ye   deserve  she   woll  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  dedystoure  sorowes 

fyne 
In  honour  of  the  that  done  thy  psalmes 

rede 
As  was  Dan  loos,  so  quyte  hem  for  theyre 

xnede.  140 

Amen. 
•  ye  in  MacCracken. 


JOHN   SKELTON 


PHILIP  SPARROW1 

Pla  ce  6o,a 

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,  10 

And  for  all  sparrows'  souls, 

Set  in  our  beadrolls, 

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  4  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. 

i  This  sparkling  piece  is  an  elegy  for  the  Heath  of 
Mistress  Jane  Scrope'a  pet  sparrow.  Such  mock  ele 
gies,  though  shorter,  had  been  in  vogue  since  Catullus' 
lament  for  his  Lesbia's  sparrow  (o.  60  B.C.)I  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. 

»  So  begins  a  verse  in  the  Office  for  the  Dead  — 
Psalms  cxvi  (Vulgate  cxiv),  9. 

•  Psalms,  cxvi,  1.    Cf.  last  note.        <  worried. 


Unneth  6  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  re  wed  6  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,  50 

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  at7  me  ! 
Such  pains  did  me  freat,8 
That  mine  heart  did  beat, 
My  visage  pale  and  dead,  60 

Wan,  and  blue  as  lead; 
The  pangs  of  hateful  death 
Wellnigh  had  stopped  my  breath. 

Heuj  keu,  me, 
That  I  am  woe  for  thee  ! 
Ad  Dominum,  cum  tribularer,  clamavi.9 
Of  God  nothing  else  crave  I 
But  Philip's  soule  to  keep 
From  the  marees  10  deep 
Of  Acherontes  well,  70 

That  is  a  flood  of  Hell; 
And  from  the  great  Pluto, 
The  prince  of  endless  woe; 
And  from  foul  Alecto, 
With  visage  black  and  bio;  u 
And  from  Medusa,  that  mare,12 
That  like  a  fiend  doth  stare: 
And  from  Megeras  edders.13 
For  ruffling  of  Philip's  feathers, 
And  from  her  fiery  sparklings, 
From  burning  of  his  wings; 

B  With  difficulty.     «  had  pity.      »  from.     «  fret,  gnaw. 

•  I  cried  unto  the  Lord  when  I  was  in  trouble. 

10  marsh.        "  blue.  "  spectre.        "  adders. 


PHILIP   SPARROW 


231 


90 


And  from  the  smokes  sour 
Of  Proserpina's  bower; 
And  from  the  dens  dark, 
Where  Cerberus  doth  bark, 
Whom  Theseus  did  affray, 
Whom  Hercules  did  outray,1 
As  famous  poets  say; 
From  that  hell  hound, 
That  lieth  in  chaines  bound, 
With  ghastly  heades  three, 
To  Jupiter  pray  we 
That  Philip  preserved  may  be  I 
Amen,  say  ye  with  me ! 

Do  mi  nus, 

Help  now,  sweet  Jesus  ! 
Levavi  oculos  meos  in  monies  :  2 
Wolde  God  I  had  Zenophontes,8 
Or  Socrates  the  wise, 
To  shew  me  their  devise,  10° 

Moderately  to  take 
This  sorrow  that  I  make 
For  Philip  Sparrow's  sake  ! 
So  fervently  I  shake, 
I  feel  my  body  quake; 
So  urgently  I  am  brought 
Into  careful  thought.4 
Like  Andromach,  Hector's  wife, 
Was  weary  of  her  life, 
When  she  had  lost  her  joy,  110 

Noble  Hector  of  Troy; 
In  like  manner  also 
Encreaseth  my  deadly  woe, 
For  my  sparrow  is  go. 

It  was  so  pretty  atool, 
It  wold  sit  on  a  stool, 
And  learned  after  my  school 
For  to  keep  his  cut,6 
With,  Philip,  keep  your  cut ! 

It  had  a  velvet  cap,  iao 

And  would  sit  upon  my  lap, 
And  seek  after  small  worms, 
And  sometime  white  bread  crumbs; 
And  many  times  and  oft 
Between  my  breastes  soft 
It  would  lie  and  rest; 
It  was  proper  and  prest.6 

Sometime  he  would  gasp 
When  he  saw  a  wasp; 
A  fly  or  a  gnat,  18° 

He  would  fly  at  that; 
And  prettily  he  would  pant 
When  he  saw  an  ant; 


i  vanquish.  z  I  lifted  mine  eyes  unto  the  moun 

tains,        s  Xenophon.        *  melancholy.        *  distance. 
•  clean  and  tidy. 


Lord,  how  he  would  pry 

After  the  butterfly ! 

L6rd,  how  he  would  hop 

After  the  grasshop ! 

And  whan  I  said,  Phip,  Phip, 

Than  he  woul^leap  and  skip, 

And  take'  me  by  the  lip.  140 

Alas,  it  will  me  slo,7 

That  Philip  is  gone  me  fro! 

Sin  in  i  qui  ta  tes 
Alas,  I  was  evil  at  ease  ! 
De  pro  fun  dis  da  ma  vi, 
When  I  saw  my  sparrow  die! 

Now,  rafter  my  dome,8 
Dame  Sulpicia,9  at  Rome, 
Whose  name  registered  was 
For  ever  in  tables  of  brass,  150 

Because  that  she  did  pass 
In  poesy  to  endite, 
And  eloquently  to  write, 
Though  she  would  pretend 
My  sparrow  to  commend, 
I  trow  she  could  not  amend 
Reporting  the  virtues  all 
Of  my  sparrow  royal. 

For  it  would  come  and  go, 
And  fly  so  to  and  fro;  160 

And  on  me  it  would  leap 
When  I  was  asleep, 
And  his  feathers  shake, 
Wherewith  he  would  make 
Me  often  for  to  wake, 
And  for  to  take  him  in 
Upon  my  naked  skin; 
God  wot,  we  thought  no  sin: 
What  though  he  crept  so  low  ? 
It  was  not  hurt,  I  trow;  170 

He  did  nothing  perdie 
But  sit  upon  my  knee, 
Philip,  though  he  were  nice, 
In  him  it  was  no  vice; 
Philip  had  leave  to  go 
To  pick  my  little  toe; 
Philip  might  be  bold 
And  do  what  he  wold; 
Philip  would  seek  and  take 
All  the  fleas  black  180 

That  he  could  there  espy 
With  his  wanton  eye. 

O  pe  ra, 
La,  soil,  fa,  fa, 

Confitebor  tibi,  Domine,  in  toto  corde  meo* 
Alas,  I  would  ride  and  go 

7  slay.  8  judgment. 

•  An  amorous  poetess  of  Domitiau's  reign. 


232 


JOHN   SKELTON 


A  thousand  mile  of  ground  ! 

If  any  such  might  be  found, 

ft  were  worth  an  hundred  pound 

Of  king  Crcesus'  gold,  190 

Or  of  Attains  the  old, 

The  rich  prince  of  Pargamee,1 

Who  so  list  the  story  to  see. 

Cadmus,  that  his  sister'2  sought, 

And  he  should  be  bought 

For  gold  and  fee, 

He  should  over  the  sea, 

To  wete  8  if  he  could  bring 

Any  of  the  offspring, 

Or  any  of  the  blood.4  200 

But  whoso  understood 

Of  Medea's  art, 

I  would  I  hud  a  part 

Of  her  crafty  magic  ! 

My  sparrow  then  should  be  quick 

With  a  charm  or  twain, 

And  play  with  me  again. 

But  all  this  is  in  vain 

Thus  for  to  complain. 

I  took  my  sampler  once,  »io 

Of  purpose,  for  the  nonce, 
To  sew  with  stitches  of  silk 
My  sparrow  white  as  milk, 
That  by  representation 
Of  his  image  and  fashion, 
To  me  it  might  import 
Some  pleasure  and  comfort 
For  my  solace  and  sport: 
But  when  I  was  sewing  his  beak, 
Methought  my  sparrow  did  speak,   aao 
And  opened  his  pretty  bill, 
Saying,  '  Maid,  ye  are  in  will 6 
Again  me  for  to  kill, 
Ye  prick  me  in  the  head  ! ' 
With  that  my  needle  waxed  red, 
Methought,  of  Philip's  blood; 
Mine  hair  right  upstood, 
And  was  in  such  affray,6 
My  speech  was  taken  away. 
I  cast  down  that  there  was,  330 

And  said,  '  A'las,  alas, 
How  cometh  this  to  pass  ? ' 
My  fingers,  dead  and  cold, 
Could  not  my  sampler  hold; 
My  needle  and  thread 
I  threw  away  for  dread. 

i  Pergamus.  '  Europa.  «  know. 

«  This  appears  to  mean:  If  Cadmus,  the  great 
searrher,  could  by  any  ninans  be  Lad,  over  the  sea  he 
should  be  sent  in  order  to  seek  the  offspring  or  blood 
relations  of  my  lost  sparrow  ;  so  that  I  might  keep  up 
the  prized  stock.  *  intending.  •  fright. 


The  best  now  that  I  may, 

Is  for  his  soul  to  pray  : 

A  porta  inferi, 

Good  Lord,  have  mercy  249 

Upon  my  sparrow's  soul, 

Written  in  my  beadroll  ! 

Au  di  vi  vo  cem, 
Japhet,  Cam,  and  Sem,7 
Ma  gniji  cat, 
Shew  me  the  right  path 
To  the  hills  of  Armony,8 
Wherefore  the  birds  yet  cry  9 
Of  your  father's  boat , 
That  was  sometime  afloat,  250 

And  now  they  lie  and  rot. 
Let  some  poets  write 
Deucalion's  flood  it  hight ; 
But  as  verily  as  ye  be 
The  natural  sones  three 
Of  Noe  the  patriarch, 
That  made  that  great  ark, 
Wherein  he  had  apes  and  owls, 
Beasts,  birds,  and  fowls, 
That  if  ye  can  find  260 

Any  of  my  sparrow's  kind, 
God  send  the  soul  good  rest ! 
I  would  have  yet  a  nest 
As  pretty  and  as  prest 10 
As  my  sparrow  was. 
But  my  sparrow  did  pass 
All  the  sparrows  of  the  wood 
That  were  since  Noe's  flood, 
Was  never  none  so  good  ; 
King  Philip  of  Macedon.  270 

Had  no  such  Philip  as  I, 
No,  no,  sir,  hardely.11 

That  vengeance  I  ask  and  cry, 
By  way  of  exclamation, 
On  all  the  whole  nation 
Of  cats  wild  and  tame; 
God  send  them  sorrow  and  shame  ! 
That  cat  specially 
That  slew  so  cruelly 
My  little  pretty  sparrow  280 

That  I  brought  up  at  Carow. 

O  cat  of  carlish 12  kind, 
The  fiend  was  in  thy  mind 
When  thou  my  bird  untwined  ! 1S 
I  would  thon  haddest  been  blind  1 
The  leopards  savage, 
The  lions  in  their  rage, 

*  Ham  and  Shem. 

s  Armenia,  where  the  ark  grounded. 

•  Text  doubtful ;  possibly  we  should  read  "whereon 
the  bordes  yet  lye."  Dyce. 

10  tidy.        "  certainly.        »  churlish.        »  killed. 


PHILIP   SPARROW 


233 


Might  catch  thee  in  their  paws, 
And  gnaw  thee  in  their  jaws  ! 
The  serpents  of  Libany  l  290 

Might  sting  thee  venomously! 
,  The  dragons  with  their  tongues 
Might  poison  thy  liver  and  lungs! 
The  manticors  2  of  the  mountains 
Might  feed  them  on  thy  brains! 

Melanchates,3  that  hound 
That  plucked  Acteon  to  the  ground, 
Gave  him  his  mortal  wound, 
Changed  to  a  deer, 

The  story  doth  appear,  300 

Was  changed  to  an  hart: 
So  thou,  foul  cat  that  thou  art 
The  self  same  hound 
Might  thee  confound, 
That  his  own  lord  bote,4 
Might  bite  asunder  thy, throat! 

Of  Inde  the  greedy  "gripes6 
Might  tear  out  all  thy  tripes! 
OT  Arcady  the  bears 
Might  pluck  away  thine  ears!  310 

The  wild  wolf  Lycaon  6 
Bite  asunder  thy  backbone! 
Of  Etna  the  brenning  hill, 
That  day  and  night  brenneth  still 
Set  in  thy  tail  a  blaze, 
That  all  the  world  may  gaze 
And  wonder  upon  thee, 
From  Ocean  the  great  sea 
Unto  the  Isles  of  Orcady, 
From  Tilbury  Ferry  320 

To  the  plain  of  Salisbury! 
So  traitorously  my  bird  to  kill 
That  never  ought7  thee  evil  will! 

Was  never  bird  in  cage 
More  gentle  of  courage 
In  doing  his  homage 
Unto  his  sovereign. 
Alas,  I  say  again, 
-     Death  hath  departed  us  twain! 

The  false  cat  hath  thee  slain :  330 

Farewell,  Philip,  adieu  ! 
Our  Lord  thy  soul  rescue  ! 
Farewell  without  restore, 
Farewell  for  evermore! 

And  it  were  a  Jew, 
It  would  make  one  rue, 
To  see  my  sorrow  new. 

i  Libya.  *  An  extraordinary  fabulous  beast. 

8  So  the  foremost  hound  is  named  in  Ovid's  Meta 
morphoses,  m,  232. 

*  bit.  B  griffins,  or  vultures. 

•  A  king  of  Arcadia  transformed  into  a  wolf.  Ovid's 
Metamorphoses,  i,  163.  7  owed. 


These  villanous  false  cats 

Were  made  for  mice  and  rats, 

And  not  for  birdes  small.  340 

Alas,  my  face  waxeth  pale, 

Telling  this  piteous  tale, 

How  my  bird  so  fair, 

That  was  wont  to  repair, 

And  go  iii  at  my  spare,8 

And  creep  in  at  my  gore  9 

Of  my  gown  before, 

Flickering  with  his  wings. 

Alas,  my  heart  it  stings, 

Remembring  pretty  things!  350 

Alas,  mine  heart  it  slayth, 

My  Philip's  doleful  death, 

When  I  remember  it, 

How  prettily  it  would  sit, 

Many  times  and  oft 

Upon  my  finger  aloft ! 

I  played  with  him  tittle  tattle, 

And  fed  him  with  my  spattle,10 

With  his  bill  betweene  my  lips; 

It  was  my  pretty  Phipps!  360 

Many  a  pretty  kuss  n 

Had  I  of  his  sweet  muss;12 

And  now  the  cause  is  thus, 

That  he  is  slain  me  fro, 

To  my  great  pain  and  woe, 
Of  fortune  this  the  chance 

Standeth  on  variance: 

Oft  time  after  pleasance 

Trouble  and  grievance; 

No  man  can  be  sure 

Alway  to  have  pleasure: 

As  well  perceive  ye  may 

How  my  disport  and  play 

From  me  was  taken  away 

By  Gib,  our  cat  savage, 

That  in  a  furious  rage 

Caught  Philip  by  the  head, 

And  slew  him  there  stark  dead. 
Kyrie,  eleison, 

Christe,  eleison,  380 

Kyrie,  eleison  ! 13 

For  Philip  Sparrow's  soul, 

Set  in  our  beadroll, 

Let  us  now  whisper 

A  Pater  noster. 

Lauda,  anima  mea,  Dominum!u 

To  weep  with  me  look  that  ye  come, 

All  manner  of  birds  in  your  kind; 

See  none  be  left  behind. 
s  slit  in  the  top  of  a  skirt.      »  opening  in  the  breast. 
10  spittle.  11  kiss.  12  beak,  mouth. 

«  Part  of  the  Masa  —  "  Lord  (Christ),  have  mercy ! " 
i4  Praiae  the  Lord,  oh  my  soul. 


370 


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  l  for  to  hallow; 
The  lark  with  his  long  toe; 
The  spink,2  and  the  martinet8  also; 
The  shoveler4  with  his  broad  beak; 
The  doterell,6  thaf  foolish  peak,6 
And  also  the  mad  coot,  410 

With  a  bald  face  to  toot; 
The  feldfare,  and  the  suite;7 
The  crow,  and  the  kite; 
The  raven,  called  Rolfe, 
His  plain-song  to  solfe; 8 
The  partridge,  the  quail; 
The  plover  with  ns  to  wail; 
The  woodhack,9  that  singeth  chur 
Hoarsely,  as  he  had  the  mur:10 
The  lusty  chanting  nightingale;        420 
The  popingay,11  to  tell  her  tale, 
That  toteth  12  oft  in  a  glass, 
Shall  read  the  Gospel  at  mass; 
The  mavis  with  her  whistle 
*      Shall  read  there  the  pistle.18 
But  with  a  large  and  a  long 14 
To  keep  just  plain-song, 
Our  chanters  shall  be  the  cuckoo, 
The  culver,15  the  stockdove, 
With  pewit  the  lapwing,  430 

The  versicles  shall  sing. 

The  bitter  with  his  bump,16 
The  crane  with  his  trump,  ^ 
The  swan  of  Menander,17 
The  goose  and  the  gander, 
The  cluck  and  the  drake, 
Shall  watch  at  this  wake; 

*  bier.      *  chaffinch.      »  martin.      «  spoonbill  duck. 

*  A  sort  of  plover  easily  captured.      «  dolt.      1  snipe. 
8  solfa,  i.  e.,  sing  the  scale.         •  woodpecker. 

«  a  cold.  11  parrot.  12  peeks.  "  epistle.  "  one 
large  note  contained  two  longs.  1*  wood-pigeon. 

16  The  bittern,  who  makes  a  bumping  or  booming 
noise. 

"  This  stands  for  the  river  Meander  here  and  else- 
wkere  in  Skelton 


The  peacock  so  proud, 

Because  his  voice  is  loud, 

And  hath  a  glorious  tail,  440 

He  shall  sing  the  grail; 18 

The  owl,  that  is  so  foul, 

Must  help  us  to  howl; 

The  heron  so  gaunce  19 

And  the  eormoraunce,20 

With  the  pheasant, 

And  the  gaggling  gant 21 

And  the  churlish  chough; 

The  route  22  and  the  kowgh ; 28 

The  barnacle,24  the  buzzard,  450 

With  the  wild  mallard; 

The  divendop26  to  sleep; 

The  water-hen  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;  M 

The  woodcock  with  the  long  nose; 

The  threstle  with  her  warbling;        460 

The  starling  with  her  brabbling ; 27 

The  rook,  with  the  osprey 

That  putteth  fishes  to  affray; 

And  the  dainty  curlew, 

With  the  turtle  most  true. 
At  this  Placebo 

WTe  may  not  well  forego 

The  countring  of  the  coe:28 

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.29 

The  estrige,80  that  will  eat 

An  horseshoe  so  great, 

In  the  stead  of  meat,  480 

Such  fervent  heat 

His  stomack  doth  freat;81 

He  can  not  well  fly, 

Nor  sing  tunably, 

is  gradual,  so  called  because  sung  at  the  altar  steps. 
i»  gaunt.         20  cormorant.         21  cackling  gannet. 
«  wild  goose  ?  Cf.  New  Eng.  Diet.,  rout,  sb.  7. 
18  Variant  of  chough,  i.e.  another  of  the  crow  family? 
2«  barnacle  goose.       «  dabchick  or  didapper.  Liter 
ally  "diver-and-dipper." 

«•  The  proper  form  of  titmouse.         27  scolding. 
28  Apparently  the  jackdaw,  chough  —  or  one  of  hig 
relatives  —  yet  a  third  time  in  this  list ! 

z»  Where  storks  nest  there  can  be  no  marital  infidelity. 
«  ostrich.      »  fret,  bite.  Skelton  spells  it  also/rete. 


PHILIP   SPARROW 


235 


510 


Yet  at  a  braid 1 

He  hath  well  assayed 

To  solfe  above  ela,2 

Ga,  lorell,8  fa,  fa; 

Ne  quando 

Male  cantando,  490 

The  best  that  we  can, 

To  make  him  our  bellman, 

And  let  him  ring  the  bells; 

He  can  do  nothing  else.4 

Chaunteclere,  our  cock, 
Must  tell  what  is  of  the  clock 
By  the  astrology 
That  he  hath  naturally 
Conceived  and  caught, 
And  was  never  taught  500 

By  Albumazer6 
The  astronomer, 
Nor  by  Ptolemy  6 
Prince  of  astronomy, 
Nor  yet  by  Haly;7 
And  yet  he  croweth  daily 
And  nightly  the  tides 
That  no  man  abides, 
With  Partlot  his  hen, 
Whom  now  and  then 
He  plucketh  by  the  head 
Whan  he  doth  her  tread. 

The  bird  of  Araby, 
That  potentially 
May  never  die, 
And  yet  there  is  none 
But  one  alone; 
A  phoenix  it  is 
This  hearse 8  that  must  bliss 
With  aromatic  gums  510 

That  cost  great  sums, 
The  way  of  thurification  ' 
To  make  a  fumigation, 
Sweet  of  reflair,10 
And  redolent  of  air, 
This  corse  for  to  cense 
With  great  reverence, 
As  patriarch  or  pope 
In  a  black  cope ; 

Whiles  he  censeth  the  herse,  530 

He  shall  sing  the  verse, 
Libera  me, 
In  de,  la,  soil,  re, 

i  at  a  pinch.  *  To  sing  above  the  highest  note 

in  the  scale.  '  rogue. 

*  Alluding  to  some  popular  saying  like  "who  cannot 
aing,  let  him  ring." 

5  An  Arabian  of  the  ninth  century. 

•  Of  the  celebrated  Ptolemaic  system. 

i  Another  great  Arabian  astronomer  of  c.  1100. 

8  bier.       •  censing,  incense-burning.        1°  perfume. 


540 


550 


Softly  bemole,11 
For  my  sparrow's  soul. 
Pliny  sheweth  all 
In  his  story  natural ia 
What  he  doth  find 
Of  the  phoenix  kind; 
Of  whose  incineration 
There  riseth  a  new  creation 
Of  the  same  fashion 
Without  alteration, 
Saving  that  old  age 
Is  turned  into  courage 
Of  fresh  youth  again ; 
This  matter  true  and  plain, 
Plain  matter  indeed, 
Whoso  list  to  read. 

But  for  the  eagle  doth  fly 
Highest  in  the  sky, 
He  shall  be  the  sedean,18 
The  quere 14  to  demean,16 
As  provost  principal, 
To  teach  them  their  ordinal; 
Also  the  noble  falcon 16 
With  the  ger  falcon 17 
The  tercel  gentle,18 
They  shall  mourn  soft  and  still 
In  their  amice  19  of  gray;  560 

The  sacre  20  with  them  shall  say 
Dirige,  for  Philip's  soul; 
The  goshawk  21  shall  have  a  roll 
The  queresters  to  control; 
The  lanners  22  and  the  merlions  22 
Shall  stand  in  their  mourning  gowns; 
The  hobby22  and  the  musket22 
The  censers  and  the  cross  shall  fet;  *• 
The  kestrel 22  in  all  this  work 
Shall  be  holy-water  clerk.  570 

And  now  the  dark  cloudy  night 
Chaseth  away  Phebus  bright, 
Taking  his  course  toward  the  west, 
God  send  my  sparrow's  soul  good  rest! 
Requiem  aeternam  dona  eis,  Domine  ! 
Fa,  fa,  fa,  my,  re,  re, 
A  por  ta  in  fe  ri, 
Fa,  fa,  fa,  my,  my. 

Credo  videre  bona  Domini, 
I  pray  God,  Philip  to  heaven  may  fly!  580 

"  Flat. 

«  Pliny's  Natural  History,  Bk.  X,  §  2.      «  subdean. 

i*  choir.         i&  conduct.         18  peregrine  falcon. 

IT  The  great  white  or  gray  Norway  falcon. 

is  The  male  of  a  peregrine  falcon. 

19  One  of  the  priest's  vestments. 

2°  A  somewhat  smaller  falcon. 

21  large,  short-winged  hawk. 

22  These  are  all  leaser  kinds  of  hawks  and  falcons. 
«  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 ! 

Or  emus. 

Deus,  cui,proprium  est  misereri  et  parcere, 
On  Philip's  soul  have  pity  I 
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  1  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,  amen! 

Yet  one  thing  is  behind, 
That  now  cometh  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, 
B.ecount,  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  620 

Among  huse wives  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,1  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  2 

Of  Bele  Isold  his  wife, 

From  whom  was  much  strife; 

Some  say  she  was  light, 

And  made  her  husband  knight 

Of  the  common  ball, 

That  cuckolds  men  call; 

And  of  Sir  Lybius, 

Named  Disconius;8  650 

Of  Quater  Filz  Amund,4 

And  how  they  were  summoned 

To  Rome,  to  Charlemagne, 

Upon  a  great  pain, 

And  how  they  rode  each  one 

On  Bayard  Mountalbon ; 6 

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;  6 
And  of  the  Duke  Hannibal, 
That  made  the  Romans  all 
Fordread  and  to  quake; 
How  Scipion  did  wake 7 
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  rue; 
And  of  the  love  so  note 
That  made  Troilus  to  dote 
Upon  fair  Crcssid, 

And  what  they  wrote  and  said,         680 
And  of  their  wanton  wills 
Pandare  bare  the  bills 

1  Guinevere.  *  work. 

*  The  English  romance  of  lAbeaus  Dmconns  ( The  Fair 
Unknown)  may  be  found  in  Ritson'a  Metrical  Romances, 
vol.  2. 

<  Les  Quatrt  Filg  Aimon  is  a  thirteenth-century  <?Aan- 
ton  de  yestr,  of  which  Caxton  printed  a  prose  version. 

8  The  celebrated  steed  Bayard  of  Montauban,  who  on 
this  occasion  carried  all  the  four  brothers  at  once. 

•  Caxton  printed  this  prose  romance.  7  watch. 


PHILIP   SPARROW 


237 


From  one  to  the  other; 

His  master's  love  to  further, 

Sometime  a  precious  thing, 

An  ouche,1  or  else  a  ring; 

From  her  to  him  again 

Sometime  a  pretty  chain, 

Or  a  bracelet  of  her  hair, 

Prayed  Troilus  for  to  wear  690 

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;2        700 

She  made  him  to  sing 

The  song  of  lovers'  lay;8 

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;  710 

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;  4 

f*andare,  that  went  between, 

Hath  won  nothing,  I  ween, 

But  light  for  summer  green;  6 

Yet  for  a  special  laud  720 

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  b  or  dead; 
Her  wit  stood  her  in  stead, 

1  jewel,  ornament. 

1  This  popular  expression  appears  to  mean  "  cause 
trouble." 

8  Lovers'  law  (Dyce),  or  lovers' tune  —  the  lovers 
being  of  course  jilted. 

4  lose,  fail  —  a  popular  saying. 

*  Obscure.  A  liejht-for-smnmer,  green  fnbric  ?  Chau 
cer's  poorly  clad  Canon  rode  ";ill  light  for  summer," 
ProloBfue  to  Canon'1  s  Yeoman's  Tale,  1.  16.  Green  is 
the  color  of  inconstancy.  '  alive. 


That  she  was  true  and  just  730 

For  any  bodily  lust 

To  Ulysses  her  make,7 

And  never  would  him  forsake: 

Of  Marcus  Marcellus  8 
A  process9  I  could  tell  us; 
And  of  Antiochus;10 
And  of  Josephus 
De  Antiquitatibus ; n 
And  of  Mardocheus,12 
And  of  great  Assuerus,  740 

And  of  Vesca  his  queen, 
Whom  he  forsook  with  teen,18 
And  of  Hester  his  other  wife, 
With  whom  he  led  a  pleasant  life; 
Of  king  Alexander; 
And  of  king  Evander;14 
And  of  Porseua  15  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 16 
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,17  760 

As  Linns  and  Hornerus, 
Euphorion  and  Theocritus, 
Anacreon  and  Arion, 
Sophocles  and  Philemon, 
Pindarus  and  Simonides, 
Philistion  and  Phorocides;18 
These  poets  of  auncienty, 19 
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  enneude20 

*  mate.  8  Ofttimes  consul,  conqueror  of  Syracuse, 
Blain  by  Hannibal,  208  B.C.  •  story. 

10  See  Confessio  Amantis,  Bk.  vni,  271  ft'.,  and  Shake 
speare's  Pericles. 

i!  The  Jewish  Antiquities,  Josephus's  great  chronicle. 

«  Mordecai,  with  Ahasuerus,  Vashti,  and  Esther. 

i*  annoyance. 

n  The  friend  of  ^Eneas  in  Bk.  vin,  1.  51. 

15  The  Etruscan  who  conquered  Rome. 

i«  mails,  i.e.,  bags.  17  more.  18  Pherecydes,  early 
Greek  philosopher.  1  antiquity. 

so  adorned,  from  en-  and  Fr.  nucr,  to  tint. 


238 


JOHN   SKELTON 


With  polished  terms  lusty; 

Our  language  is  so  rusty, 

So  cankered,  and  so  full 

Of  frowards,1  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  English  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,8 
So  as  it  is  enprowed,4 
For  as  it  is  employed, 
There  is  no  English  void,6 
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;6 
It  is  diffuse 7  to  fii.d 
The  sentence  8  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.9 

Wherefore  hold  me  excused 
If  I  have  not  well  perused 
Mine  English  half  abused; 
Though  it  be  refused, 
In  worth10  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 
Folio weth  by  and  by:11 

1  perversities.        >  Entertaining.         *  approved. 

«  improved,  i.e.,  made  good  use  of,  received  and 
treated  properly.  fi  For  as  Chaucer  employed  it,  no 
English  is  lacking,  there  is  no  flaw  in  the  language. 

•  Apparently,  in  a  higher  style.        7  uncertain,  difficult. 

•  meaning,     'loftily.     "Contentedly,     "straightway. 


Flos  volucrum  formose,  vale! 
Philippe,  sub  isto 
Marinore  jam  recubas, 
Qui  mini  cams  eras. 
Semper  erunt  nitido  830 

Radiantia  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,  840 

Formosior  ista  Joanna  est; 
Docta  Corinna  fuit, 
Sed  magis  ista  sapit. 
Bien  men  souient.12 


THE   TUNNING   OF   ELEANOR 
HUMMING18 

TELL  you  I  chill,14 

If  that  ye  will 

A  while  be  still, 

Of  a  comely  gill,16 

That  dwelt  on  a  hill: 

But  she  is  not  grill,16 

For  she  is  somewhat  sage 

And  well  worn  in  age; 

For  her  visage 

It  would  assuage  i 

A  man's  courage. 

Her  loathly  lere 17 
Is  nothing  clear, 
But  ugly  of  cheer, 
Droopy  and  drowsy, 
Scurvy  "and  lousy; 
Her  face  all  bousy,18 
Comely  crinkled, 
Wondrously  wrinkled, 
Like  a  roast  pig's  ear,  i 

Bristled  with  hair. 


»  The  Commendations  and  the  Addition,  about  600 
lines  in  all,  uow  follow ;  but  they  mar  the  poem. 

»  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  Apes : 
the  most  powerfully  drawn  are  Watriquet  de  Couvin's 
Trois  Dames  de  Paris  (c.  1320)  in  Montaiglon  and  Ray- 
naud's  Fabliaux,  HI,  145 ;  .and  Langfand's  Piers  Plow- 
man,  A  text,  V,  146  f  ;  the  pleasantest  is  Dunbar's 
Ballad  of  Kind  Kittok.  "  for  Ich  will,  —  with  dia 
lect  form  of  the  pronoun.  1S  wench.  ie  cross. 
17  face.  18  as  of  one  that  boozes. 


THE   TUNNING   OF   ELEANOR   RUMMING 


239 


Her  nose  somedeal  hooked, 
And  caniously  crooked,1 
Never  stopping, 

But  ever  dropping;  30 

Her  skin  loose  and  slack, 
Grained  like  a  sack; 
With  a  crooked  back. 
Her  eyen  goundy  2 
Are  full  unsoundy, 
For  they  are  bleared; 
And  she  gray  haired; 
Jawed  like  a  jetty; 8 
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  huckles  4 
Like  as  they  were  with  buckles 
Together  made  fast: 
Her  youth  is  far  past: 
Footed  like  a  plane,5 
Legged  like  a  crane;  50 

And  yet  she  will  jet,6 
Like  a  jolly  fet,7 
In  her  furred  flocket,8 
And  gray  russet  rocket,9 
With  simper  the  cocket.10 
Her  huke  n  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  12 
Stitched  and  pranked  with  pleats; 
Her  kirtle  Bristow  red,  7o 

With  cloths  upon  her  head 
That  weigh  a  sow13  of  lead, 
Writhen 14  in  wonder  wise, 
After  the  Saracens'  guise, 
With  a  whim  wham, 
Knit  with  a  trim  tram, 

1  pug.  Skelton  himself  may  have  had  such  a  nose, 
e  Works,  vol.  I,  p.  xlviii,  n.  2.  »  gummy,  bleared. 

»  That  is,  projecting.     *  hips.     «  That  is,  flat-footed. 

•  strut.        i  smart  young  thing.        8  sleeved  cloak. 

•mantle.  K>  Like  a  flirt,  "cape.  "dresses. 
«  Weighing  about  three  hundred  pounds.  "  Twisted. 


Upon  her  brain  pan. 

Like  an  Egyptian,*6 

Capped  about : 

Whan  she  goeth  out 

Herself  for  to  shew, 

She  driveth  down  the  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  16  her  skirt. 


Primus  passus 

And  this  comely  dame, 

I  understand,  her  name 

Is  Eleanor  Humming, 

At  home  in  her  wonning;17 

And  as  men  say 

She  dwelt  in  Sothray,18 

In  a  certain  stead 

Beside  Leatherhead. 

She  is  a  tonnish  gib; 19 

The  devil  and  she  be  sib.  100 

But  to  make  up  my  tale, 
She  breweth  noppy  20  ale, 
And  maketh  therof  port  sale  a 
To  travellers,  to  tinkers, 
To  sweaters,  to  swinkers,22 
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,  120 

And  also  their  feet 
Hardly  28  full  unsweet; 
With  their  heels  dagged,24 
Their  kirtles  all  to-jagged, 
Their  smocks  all  to-ragged, 

»  gipsy.        i«  dirties.        »  dwelling.        »  Surrey. 
19  stout  wench.         I0  nappy.          21  public  sale. 
«  worker*.          »  Certainly.         "    dirtied. 


240 


JOHN   SKELTON 


With  titters  and  tatters, 
Brings  dishes  and  platters, 
With  all  their  myght  running 
To  Eleanor  Ramming, 
To  have  of  her  tunning: 
She  leneth  l  them  on  the  same, 
And  thus  beginneth  the  game. 


130 


Tertius  fassus 

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  2  wool: 
An  huswife  of  trust, 
When  she  is  athrust,8 
Such  a  web  can  spin, 
Her  thrift  is  full  thin. 

Some  go  straight  thider, 
Be  it  slaty  or  slider; 4 
They  hold  the  high  way, 
They  care  not  what  men  say,  a6o 

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  bid  6  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,6 
And  have  here  a  peck  of  rye. 

Anon  coraeth  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 7  bringeth  her  husband's  hood, 
Because  the  ale  is  good; 
Another  brought  her  his  cap 

»  lendeth.  »  Leominster.  »  athiret. 

«  miry  or  slippery.        *  pour  out.        •  immediately. 

r  Literally,  a  certain  one  ;  Anglo-Saxon  sum. 


To  offer  to  the  ale  tap, 

With  flax  and  with  tow; 

And  some  brought  sour  dough;  8 

With  hey  and  with  how, 

Sit  we  down  a  row,  290 

And  drink  till  we  blow, 

And  pipe  tyrly  tyrlow  ! 

Some  laid  to  pledge 
Their  hatchet  and  their  wedge, 
Their  heckle9  and  their  reel, 
Their  rock,10  their  spinning  wheel; 
And  some  went  so  narrow, 
They  laid  to  pledge  their  wharrow,11 
Their  ribskin12  and  their  spindle, 
Their  needle  and  their  thimble:        300 
Here  was  scant  thrift 
Whan  they  made  such  shift. 

Their  thrust18  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 15 
She  could  make  a  charm 
To  help  withal  a  stitch. 
She  seemed  to  be  a  witch. 

Another  brought  two  goslings, 
That  were  naughty  froslings;16         460 
She  brought  them  in  a  wallet, 
She  was  a  comely  callet:17 
The  goslings  were  untied; 
Eleanor  began  to  chide, 
They  be  wretchcocks18  thou  hast 

brought, 
They  are  sheer  shaking  nought! 19 


*  for  leaven.  •  comh  for  dressing  flax.  ">  distaff. 
»  whirl.  i*  leather  apron.  >3  thirst.  "  hreech. 
>5  yeast.  «  worthless  shrivelled  or  frostbitten  things. 
17  slut.  is  stunted  creatures.  18  absolutely  worth- 


COLIN   CLOUT 


241      — 


Septimus  passus 

But  some  then  sat  right  sad 
That  nothing  had 
There  of  their  awn,1 
Neither  gelt  2  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:8 
God  give  it  ill  hail! 
For  my  fingers  itch; 
I  have  written  too  mytch 
Of  this  mad  mumming.  6ao 

Of  Eleanor  Humming, 
Thus  endeth  the  gest 
Of  this  worthy  f«>st. 

QuocH  Skelton.)  Laureate. 

COLIN   CLOUT5 

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,  «> 

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,  20 

He  chides  and  he  chatters, 

He  prates  and  lie  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, 

own.  »  cash.  »  tally.  «  Quoth. 

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  50 

All  my  cunning  bag,6 
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  temporalty 
Accuseth  the  spiritualty; 
The  spiritual  again 
Doth  grudge  and  complain 
Upon  the  temporal  men: 
Thus  each  of  other  blother7 
The  t'one  again  the  t'other: 
Alas,  they  make  me  shudder! 
For  in  hoder  moder  8 
The  Church  is  put  in  faut;  9  70 

The  prelates  ben  so  haut,10 
They  say,  and  look  so  high, 
As  though  they  would  fly 
Above  the  starry  sky. 

Laymen  say  indeed 
How  they  take  no  heed 
Their  silly  n  sheep  to  feed, 
But  pluck  away  and  pull 
The  fleeces  of  their  wool, 
Unethes  12  they  leave  a  lock  80 

«  bag  of  learning.        *  gabble.        »  hugger-mugger. 
•  fault.        i°  haughty.      "  innocent.        "  scarcely. 


242 


JOHN   SKELTON 


Of  wool  amonges  their  flock; 

And  as  for  their  cunning, 

A  glomming l  and  a  mumming, 

And  make  therof  a  jape;2 

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:  8 

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  clauses,  100 

And  leave  their  own  causes: 
In  their  provincial  cure, 
They  make  but  little  sure, 
And  meddle  4  very  light 
In  the  Churches  right, 
But  ire  and  venire,5 
And  solfa  so  alamire,6 
That  the  praemunire7 
Is  like  to  be  set  afire 
In  their  jurisdictions  no 

Through  temporal  afflictions:  8 
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;  lao 

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, 
»  looking  glum.  *  joke.  mitre. 

*  meddels  in  the  text. 

*  Venire,  is  a  writ  causing  a  jury  to  be  summoned. 

*  the  lowest  note  in  a  musical  scale. 

1  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  Heury  VI 11  aud  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,9 
But  the  greatest  part 
Is  for  they  have  but  small  art 
And  right  slender  cunning  140 

Within  their  heads  wonning.10 
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, 
f       Like  Aaron  and  Ure,11 
The  wolf  f  rom  the  door 
To  werrin  12  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  lie  groats,  160 

Their  names  if  I  durst  tell. 

But  they  are  loath  to  mell,18 
And  loath  to  hang  the  bell 
About  the  cat's  neck, 
For  dread  to  have  a  check; 
They  are  fain  to  play  deuz  deck,14 
They  are  made  for  the  beck.16 
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  ad  fortia, 
Spernit  damna,  spernit  opprobria, 
Nulla  Thomam  frangit  injuria.1* 
But  now  every  spiritual  father, 
Men  say,  they  had  rather  < 

•  sloth.  i"  dwelling. 

»  "  Hur "  in  Exodus  xvii,  10,  and  not  Uriah  in  2 
Sam.  xi  —  as  Dyce  has  it. 

i*  guard.  13  meddle. 

u  a  game  of  cards  or  dice. 

is  to  be  at  beck  and  call. 

i«  Thomas  undertakes  great  things,  thoughtless  of 
contumely  and  injury.  No  hostility  restrains  him. 


COLIN   CLOUT 


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 ; l 

For  so^pe  say  ye  hunt  in  parks, 

And  hawk  on  hobby  larks,2 

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  cranes; 

Men  call  you  therefor  profanes; 

Ye  pick  no  shrimps  nor  pranes,8 

Saltfish,  stockfish,  nor  herring,          aio 

It  is  not  for  your  wearing; 

Nor  in  holy  Lenten  season 

Ye  will  neither  beans  ne  peasen,1 

But  ye  look  to  be  let  loose 

To  a  pig  or  to  a  goose, 

Your  gorge  not  endowed  5 

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  xv,  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-lark*. 

»  prawns.  «  peas. 

»  Hawking  term, «'  no  digestion  for  you." 


There  shall  no  clergy  appose  6 

A  mitre  nor  a  crose,7 

But  a  full  purse: 

A  straw  for  God's  curse ! 

What  are  they  the  worse  ? 

For  a  simoniac 

Is  but  a  hermoniac ; 8 

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  anker9  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  jw 

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,10 
White  as  morrow's  milk; 
Their  tabards  n  of  fine  silk, 
Their  stirrups  of  mixt  gold  begared;18 
There  may  no  cost  be  spared  ;  320 

Their  moiles18  gold  doth  eat, 
Their  neighbours  die  for  meat. 
'  What  care  they  though  Gill  sweat, 
Or  Jack  of  theNoke?14 
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. 
This  is  a  farly  fit,15 
To  hear  the  people  jangle,16 
How  warily  they  wrangle: 
Alas,  why  do  ye  not  handle 
And  them  all  to-mangle  ?  17 
Full  falsely  on  you  they  lie, 
And  shamefully  you  ascry,18 
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 

•  learning  challenge.  *  crozier.  *  Armenian,  i.e., 
heretic  ?  •  anchorite.  >°  Rennes  linen.  n  sleeve 
less  outer  garments.  l*  adorned.  "  mules.  14  Cora- 
mon  men  and  women.  1*  strange  case.  16  chatter. 

17  thoroughly  mangle.        "  attack. 


330 


244 


JOHN   SKELTON 


In  slandering  you  for  truth: 

Alas,  it  is  great  ruth  ! 

Some  say  ye  sit  in  thrones, 

Like  princes  aquilonis,1 

And  shrine  your  rotten  bones 

With  pearls  and  precious  stones; 

But  how  the  commons  groans,  350 

And  the  people  moans 

For  prestes  2  and  for  loans 

Lent  and  never  paid, 

But  from  day  to  day  delayed, 

The  common  wealth  decayed, 

Men  say  ye  are  tongue-tayd,8 

And  thereof  speak  nothing 

But  dissitnuling  and  glosing. 

Wherfore  men  be  supposing 

That  ye  give  shrewd  counsel  360 

Against  the  common  well, 

By  polling4  and  pillage 

In  cities  and  village, 

By  taxing  and  tollage, 

Ye  make  monks  to  have  the  culerage 

For  covering  of  an  old  cottnge, 

That  committed  is  a  college 

In  the  charter  of  dotage,6 

Tenure  par  servyce  de  sottage, 

And  not  par  servyce  de  socage,  370 

After  old  seignieurs, 

And  the  learning  of  Littleton  tenures;8 

Ye  have  so  overthwarted,7 

That  good  laws  are  subverted, 

And  good  reason  perverted. 

Now  will  I  go  830 

And  tell  of  other  mo, 
Semper  protestando 
De  non  impugnando  8 
The  four  orders  of  friars, 
Though  some  of  them  be  liars; 
As  li miters  9  at  large 
Will  charge  and  discharge; 
As  many  a  frere,  God  wot, 
Preaches  for  his  groat, 
Flattering  for  a  new  coat  840 

And  for  to  have  his  fees; 

»  of  the  North,  i.e.,  like  Lucifer. 

»  forced  grants.        »  tongue-tied.        «  extortion. 

5  This  obscure  passage  possibly  says:  to  have  the 
pledge  (mod.  culruch,  or  cuJreachf)  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.  — Sooage  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. 
7  opposed  (intransitive). 

«  Always  protesting  about  not  bothering. 

•  Friars  who  beg  within  a  certain  denned  district. 


Some  to  gather  cheese; 
Loath  they  are  to  lose  10 
Either  corn  or  malt; 
Sometime  meal  and  salt; 
Sometime  a  bacon  Hick,11 
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  iile,12 
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 18 
Their  duties  to  withdraw, 
That  they  ought  by  the  law 
Their  curates  to  content  860 

In  open  time  14  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,16 
In  gray  russet  and  hairy  coats; 
Some  will  neither  gold  ne  groats; 
Some  pluck  a  partridge  in  remotes,16 
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  !  17  Amen. 
And  by  Dudum,  their  Clementine,18 
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  ihe  well, 
He  could  not  sing  himself  thereout  880 
But  by  the  help  of  Christian  Clout.19 
Another  Clementine20 also, 
How  frere  Fabian,  with  other  mo,21 
Exivit  de  Paradiso  ;  22 
Whan  they  again  thither  shal  come, 
De  hoc  petimus  consilium :  ^ 

10  lose.         »  flitch.         "  polish.        i»  Cf.  1.  324. 

"  time  that  is  not  fast-time. 

15  hair  cloaks.  *•  remote  spots. 

'7  Deliver  us  from  evil. 

«  A  decretal  of  Pope  Clement  V,  beginning  "  Dudum 
etc."  grants  friars  the  power  of  absolution  and  the  like. 
See  Dyce's  note. 

19  Alluding  to  a  popular  song  which  told  how  a  clever 
maid  ducked  a  lustful  friar  in  a  well. 

»  Another  decretal  of  Clement. 

»l  more.  The  allusion  is  not  obvious. 

«  Issued  from  Paradise. 

*»  Of  this  we  seek  counsel. 


COLIN  CLOUT 


24S 


And  through  all  the  world  they  go 

With  Dirige  and  Placebo.1 

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,2 

And  they  be  so  attainted 

With  covetise  3  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,6 

As  now  is  made  of  late 

Against  holy  Church  estate, 

Or  to  maintain  good  quarrels. 

The  lay  men  call  them  barrels 

Full  of  gluttony  930 

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  6  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, 
1  With  singing  masses  for  the  dead,  of  which  parts 
Legin  thus.          *  feigned.  »  covetousnesa. 

4  With  playing  the  sycophant. 
»  debate,  fighting.  '  farm. 


954 


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  in  May; 

With  dame  Diana  naked; 

How  lusty  Venus  quaked, 

And  how  Cupid  shaked 

His  dart,  and  bent  his  bow 

For  to  shoot  a  crow 

At  her  tirly  tirlow  ;  7 

And  how  Paris  of  Troy 

Daunced  a  lege  de  moy,8 

Made  lusty  sport  and  joy 

With  dame  Helen  the  queen; 

With  such  stories  bidene9 

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,10 

Conveyed  by  oliphants,11 

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  12 

And  all  such  holiness; 

Howbeit  they  let  down  fall  980 

Their  churches  cathedral. 

Of  no  good  bishop  speak  I, 

Nor  good  priest  I  escry,18 

Good  frere,  nor  good  chanon, 

Good  nun,  nor  good  canon  uoo 

Good  monk,  nor  good  clerk, 

Nor  yet  of  no  good  work: 

But  my  recounting  is 

Of  them  that  do  amiss 

7  Cf  .  Eleanor  Humming,  1.  292.  Here  a  wanton  allusion. 
s  A  sort  of  dance,  evidently. 
•  withal.          10  chariots.          "  elephants. 
»»  perfection.  "  attack. 


246 


JOHN   SKELTON 


In  speaking  and  rebelling, 
In  hindering  and  disavailing 1 
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,2 
And  can  tell  no  cause  why, 
But  that  I  write  truly. 
Then  if  any  there  be 
Of  high  or  low  degree  nao 

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;8 
Nor  will  hear  no  preaching, 
Nor  no  virtuous  teaching, 
Nor  will  have  no  reciting 
Of  any  virtuous  writing; 
Will  know  none  intelligence 
To  reform  their  negligence,  1140 

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;4 
They  count  it  for  a  railing, 
That  nothing  is  availing;  n5o 

The  preachers  with  evil  hailing: 
'Shall  they  daunt  us  prelates, 
That  be  their  primates  ? 
Not  so  hardy  on  their  pates  ! 
Hark,  how  the  losell6  prates, 
With  a  wide  wesaunt !  6 


1  injuring.  »  angered. 

•  rule  ?  '  rascal. 


»  defame. 

•  weasand,  throat. 


A  vaunt,  Sir  Guy  of  Gaunt.7 

A  vaunt,  lewd  priest,  avaunt ! 

A  vaunt,  sir  doctor  Deuyas  !  8 

Prate  of  thy  matins  and  thy  mass,  n6o 

And  let  our  matters  pass: 

How  darest  thou,  dawcock,  mell  ?  9 

How  darest  thou,  losell, 

Allegate  10  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;       n7o 

Lodge  him  in  Little  Ease,11 

Feed  him  with  beans  and  pease  ! 

The  King's  Bench  12  or  Marshalsy,12 

Have  him  thider  by  and  by  ! 18 

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,  «8o 

Incorrigible  and  insatiate; 

And  after  this  rate 

Against  us  doth  prate. 

*  At  Paul's  Cross  or  elsewhere, 
Openly  at  Westminster, 
And  Saint  Mary  Spital,14 
They  set  not  by  us  a  whistle: 
At  the  Austin  friars 16 
They  count  us  for  liars: 
And  at  Saint  Thomas  of  Akers ie     1190 
They  carp  17  us  like  crakers,18 
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 19 
We  turn  right  into  wrong, 
Delay  causes  so  long 
That  right  no  man  can  fong;20 
They  say  many  matters  be  borne     1200 
By  the  right  of  a  ram's  horn,21 
Is  not  this  a  shameful  scoru, 
To  be  teared  thus  and  torn 

7  Possibly  this  is  a  certain  Guy  whose  spirit  haunted 
a  town  near  Ghent.  SeeDyce's  note,  iii,p.  133.  8  Pos 
sibly  for  deiice-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.  i*  All  London  prisons.  l8  immediately. 

i«  This  hospital  was  in  Bishopsgate  Ward. 

»  In  Broad -Street  Ward. 

18  Acre.     This  was  a  hospital  in  Cheapside. 

"  scold.       is  noisy  talkers.      i»  pinch.      *o  obtain. 

11  Borne,  i.e.,  carried  out,  crookedly. 


GARLAND   OF   LAUREL 


247 


'  How  may  we  this  endure  ? 
Wherefore  we  make  you  sure, 
Ye  preachers  shall  be  vaw'd:  l 
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,2  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  sain8 
Which  determined  plain 
We  should  not  rise  again 
At  dreadful  doomsday; 
And  so  it  seemeth  they  play, 
Which  hate  to  be  corrected 
Whan  they  be  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,4 
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  6 
Of  the  stormy  flood  ; 


i  hpirn  to  bits. 

*  called  commonly. 


2  For  rout,  i.e.,  snore  ? 
«  billy  pates.          *  mad. 


Shoot  anchor,  and  lie  at  road,8 
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  7 
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* 

To  Mistress  Isabell  Pennell  (1.  973) 

BY  Saint  Mary,  my  lady, 
Your  mammy  and  your  daddy 
Brought  forth  a  goodly  baby  ! 

My  maiden  Isabell, 
Retiaring9rosabell, 
The  flagrant10  camomel; 

The  ruddy  rosary,11 
The  sovereign  rosemary, 
The  pretty  strawberry ; 

The  columbine,  the  nepte,12         10 
The  jel offer18  well  set, 
The  proper  14  violet; 

Enuwid  16  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, 
J»g,  jug, 

Good  year  and  good  luck,  30 

With  ohuk,  chuk,  chuk,  chuk ) 

•  at  anchor.  :  1  safe  port. 

s  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. 

*  Odorous.  m  fragrant.  u  rose. 

»  mint ;  also  spelt  nep.  "  pink,  gillyflower. 

i*  modest.  "  Tinted. 


248 


JOHN   SKELTON 


To  Mistress  Margaret  Hussey  (1.  1002) 

Merry  Margaret, 

As  midsummer  flower, 

Gentle  as  falcon 

Or  hawk  of  the  tower; l 

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  ondite, 
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;2 
Coliander,8 
Sweet  pomander,4 
Good  cassander;8 
Steadfast  of  thought, 
Well  made,  well  wrought; 
Far  may  be  sought 
Erst6  that  ye  can  find 
So  courteous,  so  kind 
As  merry  Margaret, 
This  midsummer  flower, 
Gentle  as  falcon 
Or  hawk  of  the  tower. 


LULLABY 

WITH,  Lullay,  lullay,  like  a  child, 

Thou  sleepest  too  long,  thou  art  beguiled. 

i  high-flying,  towering,  hawk. 

«  Hypaiphyle  of  Lemnos,  who  succoured  Jason.  See 
Chaucer's  Legend  of  Good  Women. 

»  Coriander.  .       «  perfume  ball. 

*  the  herb  cassandra  ?  •  Before. 


My  darling  dear,  my  daisy  flower, 
Let  me,  quod  he,  lie  in  your  lap. 

Lie  still,  quod  she,  my  paramour, 
Lie  still  hardly,7  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.  10 

With  ba,  ba,  ba,  and  bas,  bas,  bas, 

She    cherished8   .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,  &c. 

The  rivers  rowth,9  the  waters  wan,10 

She  spared  not  to  wet  her  feet;  20 

She  waded  over,  she  found  a  man 

That  haLsed  n  her  heartily  and  kissed  her 

sweet: 

Thus  after  her  cold  she  caught  a  heat. 
My  lief,12  she  said,  rowteth  18  in  his  bed; 
Iwis 14  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,15  thou  wakest  too 

late, 

Behold,  thou  liest,  luggard,  alone  !         30 
Well    may   thou    sigh,    well    may    thou 

froan, 
with  her  so  cowardly: 
Iwis,    powle-hachet,16    she    blear'd     thine 


eye. 


Quod  Skelton,  laureat. 


»  boldly.  s  kissed  him.  »  rou^h.  ">  Wan  is  a 
stock  adjective  with  water.  "  embraced.  1  a  dear 
one.  ls  snores.  "  Certainly.  "  stupid  sot. 

«  Apparently  "  pole-hatchet,"  i.e.,  worthless  fellow. 
Cf.  "  hatchet-face."  «  deceived  you. 


STEPHEN   HAWES 


THE   PASTIME   OF   PLEASURE 

(From  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  forthe  thon  arte  in  gretedoute, 
Over  the  waves  of  grete  encouibrauuce; 
Wythout  ony  comf orte,  sauf e  of  esperaunce, 
Whiche  the  exhorteth  hardely  to  sayle 
Unto  thy  purpose  wyth  diligent  travayle. 

Af rycus'  Auster  bloweth  frowardly 

Towarde  the  lande  and  habitacyon 

Of  thy  wel  faverde  and  inoost  fayre  lady,  10 

For  whose  sake  aud  deleccacyon ' 

Thou  hast  take  this  occupacyon, 

Principally  ryht  well  to  attayne 

Her  swete  revvarde  for  thy  besy  payne. 

O  pensyfe  herte,  in  the  stormy  pery  * 
Mercury  northwest  thoti  mayst  se  appere, 
After  tempest  to  glad  thyne  emespery;2 
Hoyse  8  up  thy  sayle,  for  thou  must  drawe 

\         nere 

'fowarde  the  ende  of  thy  purpose  so  clere, 
Remembre  the  of  the  trace  and  daunce4  20 
Of  poetes  olde  wyth  all  the  purveyaunce. 

As  morall  Gower,  whose  sentencyous  dewe 
Adowne    reflayreth6    with    fayre    golden 

bemes, 

And  after  Chaucers  all  abrode  doth  shewe, 
Our  vyces  to  dense;  his  depared  6  stremes 
Kyndlynge  our  hertes  wyth  the  fyry  lemes  7 
Of  moral  vertue,  as  is  probable 
In  all  hys  bokes  so  swete  and  profytable. 

The  boke  of  fame,  which  is  sentencyons, 
He  drewe  hym  selfe  on  hys  own  invencyon ; 
And  than  the  tragidyes  so  pytous  81 

Of  the  xix.  lad  yes,8  was  his  translacyon; 
And  upon  hys  ymagiuacyon 
He  made  also  the  tales  of  Caimterbury; 
Some  vertuous,  and  some  glad  and  mery. 

1  gale.  *  hemisphere,  sphere,  life.  »  The  earlier 
form  of  our  hoist.  «  example  and  practice.  5  distills. 

«  For  deputed,  i.e.,  refined?  1  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  unhappiuess. 
And  many  other  bokes  doubtles  40 

He  dyd  compyle,  whose  godly  name 
In  printed  bokes  doth  remayne  in  fame. 

And,  after  him,  my  mayster  Lydgate, 
The  inouke  of  Bury,  dyd  hym  wel  apply 
Both  to  con  try  ve  and  eke  to  translate; 
And  of  vertue  ever  in  especyaily, 
For  he  dyd  compyle  than  full  nayally  9 
Of  our  blessed  lady  the  conversacion, 
Saint  Edmunde's  life  martred  with  treson.10 

Of  the  fall  of  prynces,  ryght  wofully        50 

He  did  endyte  in  all  piteous  wyse, 

Folowynge  his  auctoure  Bocas  rufully;11 

A  ryght  greate  boke  he  did  truly  compryse, 

A  good  ensample  for  us  to  dispyse 

This  worlde,  so  ful  of  mutabilyte, 

In  whiche  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;12 
He  fayned  also  the  Courte  of  Sapyence,18 
And  translated  wyth  all  his  dylygence 

The  grete  boke  of  the  last  destruccyon 
Of  the  cyte  of  Troye,  whylome  so  famous, 
How  for  woman  was  the  confusyon ; 
And  betwene  vertue  and  the  lyfe  vycyous 
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 

»  Is  this  a  corruption  of  some  word  like  royally  f 

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  MacCracken's  Minor 
Poems  of  lAjdg ate. 

11  Lydgate's    Fall  of  Princes  is  from  Boccaccio's 
(Bocas')  De  Casibus  Virorum  Illustrinm  ;  and  he  tells 
us  that  he  set  about  his  36,000-line  task  ruefully. 

«  The  Churl  and  the.  Bird.  «  The  Court  of  Sapi 
ence  and  The  Assembly  of  Gods  (1. 67)  may  not  be  really 
Lydgate's  —  see  MacCracken,  p.  xxzv. 


250 


STEPHEN   HAVVES 


Were  not  these  thre  gretly  to  commende, 
Whyche  them  applyed  such  bokes  to  con- 
try  ve, 
Whose   famous   draughtes1   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  nacyou, 
Their  bokes  theyr  actes  do  make  relacyon. 

0  mayster  Lydgate,  the  most  dulcet  sprynge 
Of  famous  rethoryke,  wyth  balade  ryall, 
The  chefe  orygyual  of  my  lerrtyng,  80 
What  vayleth^  it  on  you  for  to  call 

Me  for  to  ayde,  now  in  especiall; 
Sythen  your  body  is  now  wrapte  in  chest, 

1  pray  Go£  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  tyfe  was  gone, 

In  :il  this  realme  his  pere  did  not  dwell; 

Above  al  other  he  did  so  excell, 

None  sith  his  time  in  arte  wolde  succede,  90 

After  their  death  to  have  fame  for  their  mode. 

But  many  a  one  is  ryght  well  experte 
In  this  connyng,  but  upon  auctoryte, 
They  fayne  no  fables  pleasaunt  and  covert, 
But  spemle  theyr  time  in  vayuful  vanyte, 
Makynge  balades  of  fervent  amyte. 
As  gestes  and  tryfles  wythout  frutefulness; 
Thus  al  in  vayne  they  spende  their  besynes. 

I,  lytell  or  nought  expert  in  poetry, 

Of  iny  mayster  Lydgate  wyll  folowe  the 

trace,  100 

As  evermore  so  his  name  to  magnyfy 
Wyth  suche  lytle  bokes,  by  Goddess  grace, 
If  in  this  worlde  I  may  have  the  space; 
The  lytell  counyng  that  his  grace  me  sente 
In  tyme  amouge  in  suche  wyse  shall  be 

spente. 

And  yet  nothinge  upon  presumpcyon 

My  mayster  Lydgate  I  wyll  not  envy, 

But  all  onely  is  mine  enteucyon 

With  suche  labour  my  selfe  to  occupy; 

As  whyte  by  blacke  doth  shyne  more 
clerely,  no 

So  shal  theyr  matters  appeare  more  pleas- 
aunt 

Besyde  my  draughtes  rude  and  ignoraunt. 

»  delineations.  *  availeth. 


(Front  Cap.  xvt,  of  music) 

She   cojmnaunded    her   myustrelles   right 

anone  to  play 

Mamours  3  the  swete  and  the  gentill  daunce; 
With  La  Bell  Pucell,  that  was  fayre  and 

gaye, 

She  me  recommaunded,  with  all  pleasuance, 
To  daunce  true  measures  without  varyaunce, 

0  Lorde  God  !  how  glad  than  was  1, 
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  skynne  was  white  as  whales  bone 4  or 

mylke.  10 

My  thought  was  ravysshed,  I  might  not 

aslake  6 

My  brennynge  hert,  she  the  fyre  dyd  make; 
These  daunces  truely  musyke  hath  me  tought 
To  lute  or  dauuce,  but  it  avayleth  nought: 

For  the  fyre  kyndled  and  waxed  more  and 

more, 
The  dauncynge  blewe  it;  wyth  her  beaute 

clere 

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  couutenaunce  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  6  my  joye  and  my  hert  torment; 
No  man  can  tell  howe  great  payrie  it  is, 
But  yf  he  wyll  fele  it,  as  I  do  ywys. 

(From  Cap.  xviii.  Of  the  dolorous  and  lowly 
disput acton,  detwene  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  repay  re 
In  the  swete  mornyng  for  to  take  the  ayre 
Among  the  floures  of  aromatyke  fume, 
The  mysty  ayre  to  exyle  and  consume. 

»  The  name  of  a  tune? 

*  ivory  —  originally  from  the  tusks  of  the  walrus 

i  quench.  •  lose. 


THE   PASTIME   OF   PLEASURE 


2S1 


And  at  the  gate  we  met  the  portresse, 
That   was   right  gentill,  and   called   Cur- 

teysy, 
Whych  sidued l  us  wyth  wordes  of  ineke- 

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  a^id  sundry  floure 
SJie  inaketh  a  garlonde  that  is  veray  shene ;  * 
Wyth*  true-loves  8  wrought  in  many  a  eol- 

oure, 

Replete  with  swetenes  and  dulcet  odoure; 
And  all  alone,  wythout  company,  20 

Ainyddes  an  herber  4  she  sitteth  plesauntly. 

Nowe  stande  you  styl  for  a  lytle  space, 
I  wyll  let  her  of  you  have  knowledgynge. 
And  ryght  anone  she  went  to  her  grace, 
Tellyng  her  than  how  we  were  coaiynge, 
To  speke  wyth  her  gretly  desyrynge. 
Truly,  she  sayd,  I  am  right  well  content 
Of  theyr  comyng  to  know  the  hole  eutent. 

Then  good  Curteysy,  wythout  taryenge, 
Came  unto  us  wyth  all  her  diligence,        30 
Prayeng  us  to  take  our  entryng 
And  come  unto  the  ladies  precence, 
To  tell  our  erande  to  her  excellence. 
Than  iu  we  wtmte  to  the  garden  gloryous, 
Lyke  to  a  place  of  pleasure  most  solacyous. 

Wyth   Flora  paynted   and  wrought  cury- 

ously, 

In  divers  knottes  of  marvaylous  gretenes; 
Ranjpande  lyous  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  couloured  wyth  colours  sundry. 

Amiddes  the  garden  so  moche  delectable 
There  was  an  herber  fayre  and  quadrante,6 
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. 


*  saluted.         2  splendid. 
*  arbor  or  garden. 


«  the  plant  so  called 
'  square. 


In  wonderfull  and  curious  similitude         50 
There  stode  a  dragon,  of  fyne  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  Pucel  was  galy  syttyng; 
Of  many  floures  fayre  and  ryally 
A  goodly  chaplet  she  was  in  makynge.      60 
Her  heer  was  downe  so  clerely  shynyuge, 
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  Indy  blewe, 
Wyth  armynes  po wdred  bordred  at  the  vent.8 
On  her  fayre  handes,  as  was  convenient, 
A  payre  of  gloves  ryght  sclender  and  softe. 
In  approchyng  nere  I  did  beholde  her  oft. 70 

And  whan  that  I  came  before  her  presence, 
Unto  the  ground  I  dyd  knele  adowne; 
Sayeng:  O  lady  !  moost  fayre  of  excellence, 
O  stere  so  clere  of  vertuous  reuowne ! 
Whose  beaute  fayre  in  every  realme  and 

towne, 

Indued  wyth  grace  and  also  wyth  goodnes, 
Dame  Fame  the  her  selfe  doth  evermore 

expresse. 

Amoure 

Please  it  your  grace  for  to  gyve  audyence 
Unto  my  wofull  and  pitous  complayiite; 
How  fervent  love,  wythout  resystence,      80 
My  careful  herte  hath  made  low  and  faynte, 
And  you  therof  are  the  hole  constiaynt; 
Your  beauty  truly  hath  me  fettered  faste, 
Wythout  your  helpe  my  life  is  nere-hand 


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  ? 

•  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  uede  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  T  up,  and  right  so  did  she, 
Alas !  I  sayd  than,  iny  heart  is  so  set, 
That  it  is  yours,  it  may  none  other  be; 
Your  selfe  hath  caught  it  in  so  sure  a  net, 
That  if  that  I  may  not  your  favour  get, 
No  doubt  it  is,  the  great  payne  of  love 
May  not  as  wage  tyl  death  it  remove. 

Pucell 

Truely,  quod  she,  I  am  obedient 
Unto  my  frendes  whych  do  me  so  guyde; 
They  slial  me  rule  as  is  convenient,  101 

In  the  snare  of  love  I  wyl  nothyng  slyde, 
My  chaunce  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 
Remeinbre  there  is  no  love  so  joyous 
As  is  your  owne  to  you  most  precyous;    no 
Wyll  you  gyve  your  youtheaud  your  flour- 

ynge  aoge 
To  them  agayust  your  mynde  in  maryage  ? 

Pucell 

Agaynst  my  mynde,  of  that  I  were  lothe, 
To  wed  for  fere,  as  them  to  obey; 
Yet  had  I  lever  they  were  soinwhat  wrothe, 
For  I   my  selfe   do   be  re   the   locke   and 

kaye 
Yet  of  my  mynde,  and  wyll  do  many  a 

daye. 

Myne  owne  I  am,  what  that  I  lyste  to  do 
I  stand  uutyed,  there  is  no  joye  therto. 

A  moure 

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  behold  e  you  and  se, 
How  thought  and  wo,  by  great  extremyte, 
Hath  chaunged  my  hue  into  pale  and  wanne: 
It  was  not  so  whan  I  to  love  began. 


Pucell 

So,  me  thynke,  it  doth  right  well  appere 
By  your  coloure  that  love  hath  done  you 

wo; 
Your  hevy  countenaunce  and  your  dolefull 

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  certnyne, 
Before  ye  knewe  that  I  wolde  love  agayue  ? 

Amoure 

My  good  dere  herte  !  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. 

(From  Cap.  xix.  How  La  Bell  Pucell 
Graunted  Ground  Amoure  Love,  and  of  her 
Dispiteous  Departagel) 

Your  wo  and  payne,  and  all  your  languish- 


Continually  ye  shall  not  spende  in  vayne, 
Sythen  I  am  cause  of  your  great  mornynge, 
Nothynge  exyle  you  shall  I  by  dysdayne; 
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. 

Amoure 
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.2  10 

But  I  my  mynde  yet  durst  nothynge  dis- 

cure,8 

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  com- 

playnt. 

Pucell 

I  demed  ofte  you  loved  me  before, 
By  your  demenour  I  dyde  it  aspye, 
And  in  my  mynde  I  juged  evermore 
i  merciless  departure.       *  quite  fixed.       3  disclose. 


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  mercy  to  crave,   20 
In  all   worshyppe  you  shal  my  true  love 

have. 

Amoure 

0  Lorde  God !  than  how  joyf nil  was  I ! 
She  loked  on  me  wyth  lovely  contenauuce; 

1  kyst  her  ones  or  twise  right  swetely; 
Her  depured 1  vysage,  replete   with  pleas- 

aunce, 
Rejoyced  my  heart  with  amerous  purve- 

aunce. 
O   lady   clere  !    that  perste 2  me  at   the 

rote, 
O  floure   of  comforte,  all  my   hele   and 

bote! 

O  gem  me  of  vertue,  and  lady  excellent! 
Above  all  other  in  beauteous  goodlynesse ! 
0  eyen  bright  as  sterre  refulgent,  3i 

0  profounde  cause  or  all  my  sekenesse, 
Now  all  my  joye  and  all  my  gladnes, 
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  8  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  daungerous, 
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  advauntage. 

(From    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  condiseende, 
For  the  cotnynwelth  his  power  to  entende 
1  pure,  clear.  *  pierced.  »  far. 


Ageynst  all  suche  rebelles  contratious, 
Them  to  subdue  with  power  victorious. 

For  knighthode   is   not   in   the   feates   of 

warre, 

As  for  to  h'ght  in  quarell  right  or  wronge, 
But  in  a  cause  which  trouth  can  not  de- 

f arre ; 4  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  com  ins  A  sake. 

For  fyrst,   good  hope   his  legge  harneys 

sholde  be; 

His  habergion  of  perfyte  ryghtwysenes; 
Gyrde  faste  wyth  the  gyrdle  of  ehastite, 
His  riche  placarde  6  should  be  good  besi- 

nes, 

Brandred 7  with  almes  so  full  of  larges; 
The  helmet  mekenes,  and  the  shelde  good 

f  ay  th ;  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  inyghty 

power. 

And  to  his  soverayne,  at  every  maner  hower, 
To  be  redy,  true,  and  eke  obeysaunt, 
In  stable  love  fixt  and  not  variaunt. 

(From  Cap.  xxix.  Howe  he  departed  from 
Kynge  Melyzyus,  "with  his  Grayhoundes  and  At- 
tendaunce,  his  Varlet,  and  met  with  false  reporte, 
that  chaunged  his  name  to  Godfrey  Gobilyve.*) 

And  so  forth  we  rode,  tyll  we  sawe  a  ferre 
To  us  came  rydyng,  on  a  lytell  nagge, 
A  folysshe  dwarfe,  nothynge  for  the  warre, 
With  a  hood,  a  bell,  a  foxtayle,  and  a 


In  a  pyed  cote  he  rode  brygge  a  bragge;' 
And  whan  that  he  unto  us  drewe  nye, 
I  behelde  his  body  and  his  visnamy.10 

«  defer.  «  commons'.  •  breastplate. 

»  Probably  we  should  read  braudred  —  embroidered, 
embossed,  adorned.  See  branderer  in  the  New  English 
Dictionary. 

s  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. 

•  swagger ingly  ?  >°  physiognomy,  face. 


254 


STEPHEN    HAWES 


His  head  was  greate,  beteled  was  his  browes, 
Hys  eyes  holow,  and  his  nose  croked; 
His  bryes  l  brystled  truely  lyke  a  sowes;    10 
His  chekes  here,2  and  God  wote  he  loked 
Full  lyke  an  ape;  here  and  there  he  toted  8 
With  a  pyed  berde  and  hangyng  lyppes 

grete, 
And  every  tothe  as  blacke  as  ony  gete.4 

His  necke  shorte,  his  sholders  stode  awry, 
His  breste  fatte,  and  bolne6  in  the  wast: 
His  armes  great,  with  fyngers  crokedly; 
His  legges  kewed;6  he  rode  to  me  fast, 
Full  lyke  a  patron  7  to  be  shaped  in  hast. 

*  Good  even,'  he  sayd,  *  and  have  good  day,  ao 
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  8  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  furtle  hode,9 
And  at  his  melys,  without  any  mys, 
She  wolde  him  serve  in  clenly  wyse  ywys. 
God  love  her  soule  as  she  loved  demies, 
And  kepe  her  dysshes  from  al  foulues. 
Whan   she    lacketh   cloutes,    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  l>y  ryght, 
Amonge  the  nunnes  of  the  grene  cote.10 
He  wente  to  land  out  of  his  prety  bote, 

eyebrows.        *  hairy.        »  peered.        *  jet. 
swollen,  i.e.,  he  was  pot-bellied, 
meaning  uncertain,  perhaps  askew,  bowed, 
pattern.  »  I  am.     This  is  Kentish  dialect, 

furred  hood,  i.e.,  hoodwinked  him.       1U  courtesans. 


And    wedde    there    one    that   was  comen 

anewe:  n 
He  thought  her  stable,  and  fayfthfull,  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  Rente  did 

wonne.12 

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  Alysou,  she  loved  nought 

elles 

But  ever  more  to  rynge  her  blacke  belles.13 
Now  are  they  deade  all,  so  mote  1  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  wordes 

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,  7o 

But  alway  tornyng  lyke  a  blaste  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  certayne 
Unto  her  sue  to  have  release  of  payne, 
And  at  the  last  she  on  hyrn  do  rewe, 
If  by  fortune  there  come  another  newe, 
The  first  shall  be  clene  out  of  her  favoure. 
Recorde  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. 
"  common  enough.      "  dwell.     "  Meaning  doubtful 


THE   EXCUSATION   OF  THE   AUCTOUR 


255 


(From  Cap.  xlii,     Graund  Amours  Epitaph) 

O  inortall  folke  !  you  may  be  hold  e  and  se 
Howe    I    lye    here,   sometime    a    inyghty 

knyght; 

The  end  of  joye  and  all  prosperite 
Is  death  at  last,  through  his  course   and 

myght; 
After   the    day  there    conieth   the    derke 

night; 

For  though  the  day  be  never  so  longe, 
At  last  the  belles  ringeth  to  evensouge. 

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  devill  with  grace  and  meke- 

nes, 

That  after  your  lyf e  f rayle  and  transitory,  20 
You  may  then  live  in  joye  perdurably. 


THE  EXCUSATION  OF  THE 
AUCTOUR 

UNTO  all  Poetes  I  do  me  excuse, 
If  that  I  oft'eude  for  lacke  of  science; 
This  lyttle  boke  yet  do  ye  not  refuse, 
Though  it  be  devoyde  of  famous  eloquence; 
Adde  or  detra1  by  your  hye  sapience; 
And  pardon  me  of  my  hye  enterpryse, 
Whiche  of  late  this  fable  dyd  fayne   and 
devise. 

Go,  little  boke  !  I  praye  God  the  save 
From  misse-metrying  by  wrong  impression; 
And  who  that  ever  list  the  for  to  have,     J0 
That  he  perceyve  well  thyne  intencion, 
For  to  be  grounded  without  presumption, 
As  for  to  eschue  the  synne  of  ydlenes; 
To  make  suche  bokes  I  apply  my  bu  sines. 

Besechyng  God  for  to  geve  me  grace 
Bokes  to  compyle  of  moral  vertne; 
Of  my  maister  Lidgate  to  folowe  the  trace, 
His  noble  fame  for  laude  and  renue,2 
Whiche  in  his  lyfe  the  slouthe  did  eschue; 
Makyng  great  bokes  to  be  in  memory,     20 
On  whose  soule  I  pray  God  have  mercy. 

Finis 

1  take  away.         *  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 l  grow  gay; 
There  she  heard  an  elf-knight  blavving 

his  horn. 
The  first  morning  in  May. 

2  'If  I  had  yon  horn  that  I  hear  blawing, 
And  yon  elf-kuight  to  sleep  in  my  bosom.' 

3  This  maiden  had  scarcely  these  words 

spoken, 

Till  in  at  her  window  the  elf-knight  has 
luppen.2 

4  '  It 's  a  very  strange  matter,  fair  maiden/ 

said  he,  9 

1 1  canna  blaw  my  horn  but  ye  call  on  me. 

5  '  But  will  ye  go  to  yon  greenwood  side  ? 
Jf  ye  canna  gang,3  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  dpwn,  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 


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? 
i  dairies.  t  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  4  him, 

Wi^his  ain  dag-durkj  sae  sair   as  she 
3ang*Tnm. 

13  '  If  seven  king's-daughters  here  ye  hae 

slain, 
Lye  ye  here,  a  husband  to  them  a'.' 


THE   DOUGLAS   TRAGEDY7 

1  '  RISE  up,  rise  up,  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  '  Rise  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  Mmself  on  a  dapple  grey,          10 
With  a  bugelet  horn  hung  down  by  his 

side, 
And  lightly  they  rode  away. 

4  Lord  William  lookit  oer  his  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- 


Jret,'  he  said, 


hold  my  steed  in  your  hand, 
•  stabbed. 


4  bound.  *  dapper. 

»  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  his    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 ! ' 

she  said, 
'  For  your  strokes  they  are  wondrous 

sair; 

True  lovers  I  can  get  many  a  ane, 
But  a  father  I  cun  never  get  mair.' 

8  O  she  's  taen  out  her  handkerchief, 

It  was  o  the  holland  sae  fine,  30 

And  aye  she  dighted  her  father's  bloody 

wounds, 
That  were  redder  than  the  wine. 

9  'O  chuse,  O  chuse,  Lady  Margret,'  he 

said, 

*  O  whether  will  ye  gang  or  bide  ?  ' 
•111  gang,   I'll  gang,  Lord  William/ 

she  said, 
1  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  bngelet  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  Th*»y  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  O  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  *  O  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;         7o 
Out  o  the  lady's  grave  grew  a  bonny 

red  rose, 
And  out  o  the  knight's  a  brier. 

19  And  they  twa  met,  and  they  twa  plat,1 

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  flang  't  in  St.  Mary's  Loch.      80 


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. 

»   pleated,  entwined. 


BALLADS 


3  He   courted    the  eldest  wi    brotch   an 

knife,  10 

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.1 

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  hei*  fft  the   aw.a 


11  'O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  han, 

An  Ise  8  mack  you  heir  to  a'  my  Ian. 

12  '  O  sister,  sister,  tak  my  middle, 

An  yes  4  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.5 

15  '  Your  cherry  cheeks  an  y  allow  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. 

i 

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. 

i  burst.  *  waves.  *  I  shall. 

«  ye  shall.  »  world's  mate. 


20  You  concilia  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.8 

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 's  taen  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,7 
Was, '  Farewell  to  my  mother  the  queen.' 

28  The  lasten  tune  that  he  playd  then,     60 
Was,  '  Wae  to  my  sister,  fair  Ellen.' 


THE   CRUEL  BROTHER 

1  THERE  was  three  ladies  playdjtt  jhe 

ba. 

With  a  hev  ho  and  a  lillie  gay, 
There  came  a  Knight  ana  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,  1  'in  too  young 
to  wed.' 
•  great.  '  after. 


EDWARD 


259 


7  '  O  ladie  fair,  give  me  your  hand, 
And  I  '11  make  you  ladle  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,1 
And  her  brother  John  set  her  on  her 

horse. 

16  She  lennd  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 

19  'Ride  softly  on/  says  the  best  young 


She  hadno  ridden  half  thro  the  town, 
Until  her  heart's  blude  staind  her  gown. 


'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  vour  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  bee  O.' 

2  '  Your  haukis  bluid  was  nevir  sae  reid, 

Edward,  Edward, 
Your  haukis  bluid  was  nevir  sae  reid, 

My  deir  son  I  tell  thee  O.'  « 

'  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  2  ye  drie  3  O.'  ao 

*  grief.  •  suffer. 


26o 


BALLADS 


'  O  I  hae  killed  my  fadir  deir, 

Mither,  mither, 
O  I  hae  killed  my  fadir  deir, 
Alas,  and  wae  is  inee  0  ! ' 

4  '  And  whatten  penance  wul  ye  drie  for 

that, 

Edward,  Edward? 
And  whatten  penance  will  ye  drie  for 

that  ? 

My  deir  son,  now  tell  me  O.' 
4  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  thaiue   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  pvir  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  ?  5i 

My  deir  son,  now  tell  me  O.* 
4  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  0 

bower, 

Eh  vow  bonnie, 

And  they  went  out  to  pull  a  flower, 
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 

b7> 
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  1  '11  rather  die  by  your  wee  pen 
knife.'  20 

10  He  's  killed  this  may,  and  he  's  laid  her 

bJ» 
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  ? ' 

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, 
And  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    twyned1  himsel   o  his  ain 

sweet  life. 


HIND   HORN2 

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    lavrocks8  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 

beggar  man. 

8  'What  news,  what  news/  said  young 

Hind  Horn; 

1  No  news,  no  news,'  said  the  old  beg 
gar  man. 

i  deprived. 

1  An  ancient  and  widespread  story  having  some 
connection  with  the  Middle-English  romance,  The  Gfst 
of  Kinri  Horn.  Ree  Professor  Child's  remarks,  Eng 
lish  and  Scottith  Popular  Ballads,  Part  i,  201.  *  lark*. 


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,  ao 

That  has  balden  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  4  ? 
And  I  '11  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,  and  dropt 
in  the  ring. 

18  « O  got  ye  this  by  sea  or  land  ? 

Or  got  ye  it  off  a  dead  man's  hand  ? ' 

19  '  I  got  not  it  by  sea,  I  got  it  by  land, 
And  I  got  it,  madam,  out  of  your  own 

hand.' 

20  '  O  1 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  yonr  gowns  of  red> 
It 's  only  a  sham  the  begging  o  my  bread.' 

24  The  bridegroom  lie  had  wedded  the  bride, 

But  young  Hind  Horn  he  took  her  to  bed. 


KING   ORFEO1 

1  DER  lived  a  king  inta  da  aste,2 

Scowan  tirla  griin.8 
Der  lived  a  lady  in  da  wast.4 
Whar  giorten  ban  griin  oarlac.8 

2  Dis  king  he  has  a  Inmtin  gaen 
He  's  left  his  Lady  Isabel  alane. 

3  '  Oh  I  wis  ye  'd  never  gaen  away, 
For  at  your  hame  is  dol  5  an  wae. 

4  '  For  da  king  o  Ferric  we  his  daert, 
Has  pierced  your  lady  to  da  hert.'       10 

5  And  aifter  dem  da  king  has  gaen, 
But  whan  he  cam  it  was  a  grey  stane. 

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,6 
Dat  meicht  ha  made  a  sick  hert  hale. 

9  '  Noo  come  ye  in  inta  wir  7  ha, 

An  come  ye  in  among  wis  8  aV  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. 

i  This  ballad  from  the  Shetland  Islands  tells  the 
strangely  modified  story  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydico ;  yet 
it  is  not  so  very  unlike  the  mediaeval  version,  King 
Orpheo,  a  beautiful  romance,  printed  in  Ritson's  Met 
rical  Romances,  n,  248 ;  and  turned  into  modern 
verses  by  E.  E.  Hunt,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  1909. 

1  east.  «  The  Scandinavian  refrain  is  practically 
meaningless.  «  west.  *  grief.  •  The  good  gabber 
reel  is  some  lively  tune.  '  our.  »  Us. 


14  '  Noo  tell  to  us  what  ye  will  hae: 
What  sail  we  gie  you  for  your  play  ? '  30 

15  *  What  I  will  hae  I  will  you  tell, 
An  dat  's  me  Lady  Isabel/ 

16  'Yees   tak   your   kdy,  an   yees  gaeng 

hame, 
An  yees  be  king  ower  a'  your  ain.' 

17  He  's  taeii  his  lady,  an  he  's  gaen  hame, 
An  noo  he 's  king  ower  a'  his  ain. 


ST.    STEPHEN   AND   HEROD* 


Stevene  was  a  clerk  in  kyng 
Herowdes  halle, 

And  servyd  him  of  bred  and  clo]?,10  as 
every  kyng  befalle. 

2  Stevyn  out  of  kechone  u  cam,  vryth  boris 

hed  on  honde; 

He  saw  a  sterre  was  fayr  and  bryjt  over 
Bedlem  stonde. 

3  He  kyst  adoun  }->e  boris  hed  and  went  in 

to  ]>e  halle: 

'I  forsak  J>e,   kyng  Herowdes,   and  }>i 
werkes  alle. 

4  'I  forsak  J>e,  kyn<7  Herowdes,  and  )ri 

werkes  alle; 

fer  is  a  chyld  in  Bedlem  born  is  beter 
J?an  we  alle.' 

5  '  Quat  eylyt  M  J?e,  Stevene  ?  quaf  is  J>e 

befalle  ? 

Lakkyt  J?e  la  ey  ]>er  mete  or  drynk  in  kyng 
Herowdes  halle  ?  '  10 

6  *  Lakit  me  neyper  mete  ne  drynk  in  kywg 

Herowdes  halle; 

]>er  is  a  chyld  in  Bedlem  born  is  beter 
)?an  we  alle.' 

7  Quat  eylyt  ]>e,  Stevyn  ?  art  |>u  wod,14  or 

}w  gynnyst  to  brede  ?  15 
Lakkyt  ]?e  eyj?er  gold  or  fe,  or  ony  ryche 
wede  ?  ' 

•  This  version  is  as  old  asthe  fifteenth  century.  "With 
it  may  be  compared  the  eighteenth-century  carol,  The 
Cornel  (Crow)  and  tlie,  Crane,  No.  55  in  the  S  irpent- 
Kittredge  volume.  10  cloth,  this  written  />  through 
out  the  ballad.  »  kitchen.  «  What  aileth.  n  Do 
you  lack.  n  mad.  «  wander,  rave  (probably). 


JUDAS 


263 


8  '  Lakyt  me  neyper  gold  ne  f e,  ne  non 

ryche  wede; 

J>er  is  a  chyld  in  Bedlew  born  xal 1  hel- 
pyn  vs  at  our  nede.' 

9  '  ]>at  is  al  so  so]?,2  Stevyn,  al  so  so)?,  iwys, 
As  }> is  capoun  crowe  xal  pat  lyp  here  in 

myn  dysh.' 

10  J>at  word  was  not  so  sone  seyd,  pat  word 

in  pat  halle, 

J?e  capoun  crew  Cristus  uatws  est!  among 
pe  lorde«  alle.  20 

11  '  Rysyt 8  vp,  myn  turmentowres,4  be  to 

and  al  be  on, 

And  ledyt  Stevyn  out  of  pis  town,  arid 
stonyt  hym  wyth  stou  ! ' 

12  Tokyn  he  Stevene,  and  stonyd  hym  in 

the  way, 

And  perform  is  his  evyn  on  Crystes  owyn 
day. 


JUDAS6 

1  HIT  wes  upon  a  Scereporsday  6  pat  ure 

louerd  aros; 

Ful  milde  were  pe  wordes  he  spec  7  to 
ludas. 

2  *  ludas,  pou  most  to  lurselem,  oure  mete 

for  to  bugge ; 8 

fritti  platen  of  selver  pou  bere  up  opi 
rugge.9 

3  *  }?ou  com  est  fer  ipe 10  brode  stret,  fer  ipe 

brode  strete; 

Summe  of  pine  tunesmen  per  pou  meist 
i-mete.' 

4  Imette  wid  is  soster,  pe  swikele  n  wimon: 
*  ludas,  pou  were  wrpe12  me  stende18 

pe  wid  ston; 

6  ['  ludas,  pou  were  wrpe  me  stende  pe 

wid  ston,] 

For  pe  false  prophete  pat  tou  bilevest 
upon.'  10 

i  shall.       •  sooth,  true.      3  Rise.      4  executioners. 

5  The  oldest  of  our  ballad  manuscripts,  being  from 
MS.  B  14,  39,  of  the  thirteenth  century,  library  of 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  6  Sheer  Thursday. 

»  spake.        8  buy.       »  upon  thy  back.        10  in  the, 

11  treacherous.        "  worthy        13  one  atoned. 


6  '  Be  stille,  leve  soster,  pin  herte  pe  to- 

breke!14 

Wiste  min  louerd  Crist,  ful  wel  he  wolde 
bewreke.'16 

7  '  ludas,  go  pou  on  pe  roc,  heie  up-on  pe 

ston; 

Lei  pin  heued  i  my  barm,16  slep  pou  pe 
anon. ' 

8  Sone  so  ludas  of  slepe  was  awake, 
J?ritti  platen  of  selver  from  hym  wereu 

itake. 

9  He  drou  hym  selue  bi  pe  cop,  pat  al  it 

lavedeablode;17 

J?e  lewes  out  of  lurselem  awenden18  he 
were  wode.19 

10  Foret 20  hym  com  pe  riche  leu  pat  heiste  21 

Pilatus: 

«Wolte  sulle22  pi  louerd,  pat  hette28  le 
ans?'  2° 

11  *  I  nul 24  sulle  my  louerd  for  nones  cunnes 

eiste,25 

Bote  hit  be  for  pe  pritti  platen  pat  he 
me  bi-taiste.'  * 

12  *  Wolte  sulle  pi  lord  Crist  for  enes  cunnes 

golde  ?  ' 

*  Nay,  bote  hit  be  for  pe  platen  pat  he 
habben  wolde.'27 

13  In  him  com  ur  lord  gon,  as  is  postles 

seten  at  mete: 

<  Wou  28  sitte  ye,  postles,  ant  wi  nule  * 
yeete? 

14  ['  Wou  sitte  ye,  postles,  ant  wi  nule  ye 

etc  ?] 

Ic  am  iboust 80  ant  isold  to-day  for  oure 
mete.' 

15  Vp stod  him  ludas:  « Lord,  am  I  pat .  . .? 
I  nas 81  never  ope  stude  82  per  me  pe 

euel  spec.' 88  30 

»«  may  thy  heart  break.        »  avenged.        »  bosom. 
u  He  tore  his  hair  (beat  his  head)  till  it  all  ran  blood. 
is  weened.        19  uiad.        20  Before.       tl  was  called. 
*»  Wilt  thou  sell.        2S  is  called.        «  will  not. 
«»  no  kind  of  possession.  «  entrusted  to. 

*i  wished  to  have.         2S  how.         »  why  will  not. 
so  bought.        31  was  not.        "  in  the  place. 
.     M  where  one  spoke  evil  of  you. 


264 


BALLADS 


16  Vp  him  stod  Peter,  ant  spec  wid  al  is 

miste,1 

J?au  Pilatus  him  coine  wid  ten  hundred 
cnistes,2 

17  ['  }>au  Pilatus  him  com  wid  ten  hundred 

cnistes,] 
Yet  ic  vvolde,  louerd,  for  J»i  loue  fiste.'  8 

18  '  Still  )?ou  be,  Peter,  wel  I  }>e  i-cnowe; 
J?ou  wolt  fur-sake  me  frien  4  ar  }?e  coc 

him  crowe.' 


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  blacke  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  fowle  dare  him  come  nie.' 

6  Downe  there  conies  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,  ao 
And  carried  him  to  earthen  lake.6 

9  She  buried  him  before  the  prime, 

She  was  dead  herself  e  ere  even-song  time. 

10  God  send  every  gentleman, 

Such  haukcs,  such  hounds,  and  such  a 
leruan.6 

I  might.        »  knights.        *  fight.        «  thrice. 
*  pit.  «  sweetheart. 


THE   TWA   CORBIES 

1  As  I  was  walking  all  alane, 

I  heard  twa corbies  making  a  mane7; 

The  tane  unto  the  t'other  say, 

'  Where  sail  we  gang  and  dine  to-day? ' 

2  '  In  behint  yon  auld  fail  8  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,9 
And  I  '11  pike  out  his  bonny  blue  een; 
Wi  ae  lock  o  his  gowden  hair 

We'll  theek10  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.'        20 


KING  HENRY" 

1  LAT  never  a  man  a  wooing  wend 

That  lacketh  thingis  three; 
A  routh  12  o  gold,  an  open  heart, 
Ay  fu  o  charity. 

2  As  this  I  speak  of  King  Henry, 

For  he  lay  burd-alone ; 18 
An  he 's  doen  him  to  a  jelly  hunt's  ha,14 
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  15  cheer; 
An  in  it  came  a  griesly  ghost, 
Steed  stappin  i  the  fleer.16 

»  moan.        8  turf.        •  neck-bone.        10  thatch. 

11  A  more  polished  version  of  this  story  is  found  in 
the  mutilated  ballad  of  The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gatcain  (No. 
31  in  Child).  There  are  several  Celtic  analogues,  some 
of  great  age.  The  whole  set  is  discussed  in  G.  H.  May- 
nadier's  Wife  of  Bathes  Tale,  London,  1901. 

«  plenty.  »  quite  solitary.  '«  a  jolly  hunting. 
lodge.  "  great.  «  Stood  hesitating  on  the  floor. 


KEMP  OWYNE 


265 


5  Her  head  hat  the  reef-tree 1  o  the  house, 

Her  middle  ye  mot  wel  span; 
He  's  thrown  to  her  his  gay  mantle, 
Says,  '  Lady,  hap  your  lingcan.' a      ao 

6  Her  teeth  was  a'  like  teather  stakes, 

Her  nose  like  club  or  mell ; 8 
An  I  ken  naething  she  'peard  to  be, 
But  the  fiend  that  wons  4  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  him  here  to  me.'          30 

8  O  whan  he  slew  his  berry-brown  steed, 

Wow  but  his  heart  was  sair  ! 
Shee  eat  him  [a'j  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-hounds, 

An  ye  bring  them  a'  to  me.'  40 

10  O  whan  he  slew  his  good  gray-hounds, 

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  !  ' 
1  O  what  drink  's  i  this  house,  lady, 

That  you  're  nae  welcome  ti  ?  ' 
'  O  ye  sew  up  your  horse's  hide, 

An  bring  in  a  drink  to  me.'  60 


i  hit  the  roof-tree. 
*  maul. 


»  wrap  your  body. 


14  And  he  's  sewd  up  the  bloody  hide, 

A  puncheon  o  wine  put  in; 
She  drank  it  a'  up  at  a  waught,5 
Left  na  ae  drap  ahiu.6 

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  aff  your  claiths,  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  hell 

Shoud  streak7  down  by  my  side.' 

18  Whan  night  was  gane,  and  day  waa 

come, 

An  the  sun  shone  throw  the  ha,        80 
The  fairestjady  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  till  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  will.'  90 


KEMP   OWYNE8 

1  HER  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,9 
Till  once,  in  an  unlucky  time, 

She  threw  her  in  ower  Craigy's  sea. 

5  draught.  •  behind.  '  stretch. 

8  Also  called  Kempion.  Owyne  is  Owain  or  Twain, 
one  of  Arthur's  knights,  who  in  the  romances  has  many 
adventures,  but  not  this.  Disenchantment  thus  by  a 
kiss  is  a  commonplace  in  romance.  9  do. 


266 


BALLADS 


3  Says,  '  Lie  you  there,  dove  Isabel, 

And  all  my  sorrows  lie  with  thee;  10 
Till  Kemp  Owyne  come  over  the  sea, 

And  borrow  l  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. 

6  These  news  did  come  to  Kemp  Owyne, 
Where  he  lived,  far  beyond  the  sea; 
He  hasted  him  to  Craigy's  sea,  »t 

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: 
1  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, 

J  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, 

4  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  ance  about  the  tree, 
And  with  a  swing  she  came  about: 
'  Come  to  Craigy's  sea,  and  kiss  with 
me.  5o 


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 

Fan2  my  mider  she  did  dee, 
My  father  marred  the  ae  8  \varst  woman 
The  wardle  4  did  ever  see. 

2  'For she  has  made  me  the  lailly6  worm 

That  lays  att  the  fitt 6  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,7 

An  washes  it  in  the  sea. 

4  '  Seven  knights  ha  I  slain 

Sane  8  I  lay  att  the  fitt  of  the  tree; 
An  ye  war  na  my  ain  father, 
The  eight  an  ye  sud  be.' 

5  *  Sing  on  your  song,  ye  l[a]ily  worm, 

That  ye  sung  to  me;'  20 

*I  never  sung  that  song 
But  fatt9  I  wad  sing  to  ye. 

6  '  I  was  but  seven  year  aull 

Fan  my  mider  she  [did]  dee, 
My  father  marred  the  a  warst  woman 
The  wardle  did  ever  see. 

»  When.         «  one.         «  world.         »  loathly. 

•  foot.  i  combs  it  with  a  silver  comb. 

•  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  ain  father, 

The  eight  ye  sud  be.'  40 

10  He  sent  for  his  lady 

As  fast  as  sen  cod1  he: 
•Far2  is  my  son, 

That  ye  sent  fra  me, 
And  my  daughter, 

Lady  Messry  ? ' 

11  '  Yer  son  is  att  our  king's  court, 

Sarving  for  meatt  an  fee, 
And  yerdaugh[t]er  is  att  our  quin's  court, 
A  mary  suit 3  an  free.'  50 

12  '  Ye  lee,4  ye  ill  woman, 

Sa  loud  as  I  hear  ye  lea, 
For  my  son  is  the  layelly  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 6  blue  she, 
An  a'  the  fish  came  her  tell0  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  lias  sent  to  the  wood 

For  hathorn  an  fun,7 
An  he  has  tane  that  gay  lady, 

An  ther  he  did  her  burne.  70 

1  send  could.        *  Where.       3  maid-of-honor  sweet. 
«  lie.        *  shrill.        «  to.         »  whin,  gorse. 


THOMAS   RYMER  AND   THE 
QUEEN  OF  ELFLAND  a 

1  TRUE  THOMAS  lay  oer  yond  grassy  bank, 

And  he  beheld  a  ladie  gay, 
A  ladie  that  was  brisk  and  bold, 
Come  riding  oer  the  feruie  brae. 

2  Her  skirt  was  of  the  grass-green  silk, 

Her  mantel  of  the  velvet  fine, 
At  ilka  tett 9  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:  10 

'  Al  hail,thou  mighty  Queen  of  Heaven! 

For  your  peer  on  earth  I  never  did 


4  « O  no,  O  no,  True  Thomas,'  she  says, 
4 That  name  does  not  belong  to  me; 
I  am  but  the  queen  of  fair  Kill  and, 
And  I  'm  come  here  for  to  visit  thee. 

6  '  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.'  ao 

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  '  O  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. 

•  For  a  discussion  of  this  typical  other- world  jour 
ney  and  its  relation  to  the  fifteenth-century  romance 
of  Thomas  of  Erceldoune,  see  Child,  i,  323.  •  tuft. 


268 


BALLADS 


10  t  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 l  three. 

12  '  O  see  not  ye  y_on  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  leven?  2  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  8  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,4 
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's6 

length, 
And    thick  and  thimber6  was  his 

thigh  ; 

Between  his  brows  there  was  a  span, 
And  between  his  shoulders  there  was 

three. 


wonders. 
wall. 


*  glade,  lawn. 

<  a  palm,  six  inches. 


*  smooth. 

»  great. 


3  He  took  up  a  meikle  7  stane, 

And   he   flang't  as  far  as  I  could 
see ;  10 

Though  I  had  been  a  Wallace  wight, 
I  couldna  liften  't  to  my  knee. 

4  '  0  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? ' 

6  On  we  lap,8  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  gould, 
And  the  floor  was  o  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 

1  O  I  FORBID  you,  maidens  a', 

That  wear  gowd  on  your  hair, 

To  come  or  gae  by  Carterhaugh, 

For  young  Tarn  Lin  is  there. 

2  There 's  nane  that  gaes  by  Carterhaugh 

But  they  leave  him  a  wad,9 
Either  their  rings,  or  green  mantles, 
Or  else  their  maidenhead. 

3  Janet  has  kilted 10  her  green  kirtle 

A  little  aboon  n  her  knee,  10 

And  she  has  broded  her  yellow  hair 

A  little  aboon  her  bree,12 
And  she  's  awa  to  Carterhaugh, 

As  fast  as  she  can  hie. 


»  great. 
10  tucked  up. 


leaped, 
above. 


TAM   LIN 


269 


4  When  she  came  to  Carterhaugh 

Tain  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 

Till  up  then  started  young  Tarn  Lin, 
Says,  '  Lady,  thou 's  pu  nae  mae.1 

6  « Why  pu's  thou  the  rose,  Janet, 

And  why  breaks  thou  the  wand  ? 
Or  why  cornes  thou  to  Carterhaugh 
Withoutten  my  command  ?  ' 

7  *  Carterhaugh,  it  is  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  snooded  2  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'.      40 

10  Four  and  twenty  ladies  fair 

Were  playing  at  the  chess, 
And  out  then  cam  the  fair  Janet, 
As  green  as  onie  glass. 

11  Out  then  spak  an  auld  grey  knight, 

Lay  oer  the  castle  wa, 
And  says,  '  Alas,  fair  Janet,  for  thee 
But  we  '11  be  blamed  aV 

12  « Hand  your  tongue,  ye  anld  fac'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; 
1  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  snood. 


There 's  neer  a  laird  about  your  ha 
Shall  get  the  bairn's  name.  60 

15  '  If  my  love  were  an  earthly  knight, 

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  true-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,  7o 

And  she  has  snooded  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, 

Tain  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  Tarn  Lin, 
Says,  '  Lady,  thou  pu's  uae  mae. 

20  *  Why  pu'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,  Tarn  Lin,'  she  says, 

'  For 's  sake  that  died  on  tree, 
If  eer  ye  was  in  holy  chapel, 

Or  Christendom  did  see  ? '  90 

22  *Roxbrugh  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,8 
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  tiend  l  to  hell; 
I  arn  sae  fair  and  fu  o  flesh, 

I  'in  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  inauti  bide.* 

27  '  But  how  shall  I  thee  ken,  Tarn  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, 
Cockt  up  shall  my  bonnet  be, 

And  kaiiud  down  shall  my  hair,       130 
And  thae  's  the  takens  I  gie  thee, 

Nae  doubt  I  will  be  there. 

31  *  They  '11  turn  me  in  your  arms,  lady, 

Into  an  esk  3  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  het  gaud  of  aim ; 4 
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  gleed;6 


i  tithe.  •  strange. 

<  red-hot  bar  of  iron. 


»  newt. 

'coal. 


Then  throw  me  into  well  water, 

0  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  Tarn  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  Tarn  Lin 
Has  gotten  a  stately  groom.' 

41  Out  then  spak  the  Queen  o  Fairies, 

And  an  angry  woman  was  she: 
1  Shame  betide  her  ill-far'd  6  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,  Tarn  Lin,*  she  says, 

'  What  now  this  night  I  see,  i&> 

I  wad  hae  taen  out  thy  twa  grey  een, 
And  put  in  twa  een  o  tree.'7 


YOUNG   AKIN   OR   HIND   ETIN« 

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.  »  wood. 

8  This  story  of  a  mortal  and  her  fairy  husband  has 
•offered  in  the  handing  down  of  it. 


YOUNG  AKIN   OR  HIND   ETIN 


271 


2  She  loot l  the  seam  fa  frae  her  side, 

And  the  needle  to  her  tae, 
And  she  is  on  to  Eliuoud'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,2 
Says,  '  Lady,  lat  alaue. 

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.'  ao 

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 4 
And  he  has  built  for  her  a  bower, 
Near  by  a  hallow  5  seat. 

8  He  's  built  a  bower,  made  it  secure 

Wi  carbuncle  and  stane;  30 

Tho  travellers  were  never  sae  nigh, 
Appearance  it  had  iiane. 

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.' 
»let.     >  courteous  youth.    »ask.    *  root.    » hollow. 


13  '  I  see  my  mither's  cheeks  aye  weet, 

I  never  can  see  them  dry;  5o 

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  6  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  bunt  in  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  gaue, 
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  wadua  angry  be: ' 

*  Speak  on,  speak  on,  my  little  wee  boy, 

le  '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.' 7 

22  He  's  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  stratlins8  o  their  feet;  90 

They  wist  na  weel  where  they  were  gaen, 
Till  at  her  father's  yate.9 

*  stolen.        7  alone.        8  Bindings.        •  gate. 


272 


BALLADS 


24  '  I  hae  nae  money  in  my  pocket, 

But  royal  rings  hae  three; 
1  '11  gie  them  you,  my  little  young  son, 
And  ye  '11  walk  there  for  me. 

26  '  Ye  '11  gie  the  first  to  the  proud  porter, 

And  he  will  lat  you  in; 
Ye  '11  gie  the  next  to  the  butler-boy, 
And  he  will  show  you  ben; l  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/  2 

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  8  up,  win  up,  my  bonny  boy, 

Gang  frae  my  companie; 
Ye  look  sae  like  my  dear  daughter, 
My  heart  will  birst  in  three.'  wo 

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  np,  win  up,  my  daughter  dear, 
This  day  ye  '11  dine  wi  me.' 
»  in.  >  alone.  *  Get. 


35  '  Ae  bit  I  canno  eat,  father, 

Nor  ae  drop  can  I  drink, 
Till  I  see  my  mither  and  sister  dear, 
For  lung  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  ?'  160 

41  Out  it  speaks  the  little  wee  boy: 

'  Na,  na,  this  maunua4  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  boun  6  wi  me; 
We  're  messengers  come  from  the  court, 
The  king  wants  you  to  see.' 

46  '  0  lat  him  take  frae  me  my  head, 

Or  hang  me  on  a  tree; 
For  since  I  've  lost  my  dear  lady, 

Life  's  no  pleasure  to  me.'  180 

*  uiuat  not.  8  go. 


CLERK  COLVILL 


273 


46  '  Your  head  will  nae  be  touchd,  Akin, 

Nor  hangd  upon  a  tree; 
Your  lady  's  in  her  father's  court, 
And  all  he  wants  is  thee.' 

47  When  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  christendoun. 

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.* 

60  '  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.' 

61  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. 

62  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.' 

63  Charles,  Vincent,  Sam  and  Dick, 

And  likewise  James  and  John;       210 
They  calld  the  eldest  Young  Akin, 
Which  was  his  father's  name. 

64  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,1 

Which  cost  Clark  Colven  crowns  fif 
teen: 

i  slender. 


2  '  O  hearken  weel  now,  my  good  lord, 

O  hearken  weel  to  what  I  say; 
When  ye  gang  to  the  wall  o  Stream, 

0  gang  nae  neer  the  well-fared  may.' 2 

3  '  O  haud  your  tongue,  my  gay  ladie, 

Tak  nae  sic  care  o  me;  ro 

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. 

6  '  Ye  wash,  ye  wash,  ye  bonny  may, 

And  ay 's  ye  wash  your  sark  o  silk: ' 
1  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  I ' 
And  merrily  leugh  8  the  mermaiden, 
*  O  win  on  till  you  be  dead. 

8  '  But  out  ye  tak  your  little  pen-knife, 

And  frae  my  sark  ye  shear  a  gare;4 
Row  6  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  6  till  ye  be  dead.'  40 

11  Then  out  he  drew  his  trusty  blade, 

And  thought  wi  it  to  be  her  dead,7 
But  she  's  become  a  fish  again, 

And  merrily  sprang  into  the  fleed. 


»  well-favored  maid. 
•Roll. 


»  laughed. 
8  worse. 


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 
came. 

13  *  Oh,  mither,  mither,  mak  my  bed, 

And,  gentle  ladie,  lay  me  down;       50 
Oh,  brither,  brither,  unbend  my  bow, 
'Twill  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   BISHOP1 

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, 
The'2  rode  post  for  him,  as  you  shall 

heare. 

3  They  rode  post  for  him  verry  hastilye; 
The  \dng  sayd  the  bishopp  kept  a  better 

bouse  then  bee:  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  K.ing 

lohn. 

As  soone  as  the  bishopp  the  kin^r  did  see, 
'  O,'  quoth  the  kin<7,  '  bishopp,  thow  art 

welcome  to  mee. 

*  This  story  appears  to  be  of  Oriental  origin,  and  there 
are  many  versions  of  it  East  and  West.          '  They. 


There  is  noe  man  sue  welcome  to  towne 

As  thou  that  workes  treason  against  my 

crowiie.'  20 

6  ' My  leege,'  quoth  the  bishopp,  ' I  wold 

it  were  knowiie 
I  spend,  your  grace,  nothing  but  that 

that 's  my  owne ; 
I   trust  your  grace  will   doe   me   noe 

deare  8 
For  spending    my  owne  trew  gotten 

geere.' 

6  'Yes,'  quoth   the  kin^r,  'bishopp,  thou 

must  needs  dye, 
Eccept  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 

thinke. 
Twenty    dayes    pardon    thoust 4    have 

trulye, 
And  come  againe  and  answere  mee.' 

9  The  bishopp  bade  the  king  god  night  att 

a  word; 

He  rode  betwixt  Cambridge  and  Oxen- 
ford,  4o 
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  melanchollye. 

•  harm.  «  thou  shalt. 


KING   JOHN   AND   THE   BISHOP 


275 


11  His  halfe-brother  dwelt  there,  was  feirce 

and  fell, 
Noe  better  but  a  shepard  to  the  bish- 

oppe  hhnsell; 

The  shepard  came  to  the  bishopp  anon, 
Saying,    'My  Lord,  you  are   welcome 

home ! '  5o 

12  'What  ayles  you,'  quoth  the  shepard, 

*  that  you  are  soe  sadd, 
And  had  wonte  to  have  beene  soe  merry 

and  gladd  ? ' 
'Nothing,'  quoth  the  bishopp,  «I  ayle 

att  this  time; 
Will  not  thee  availe  to  know,  brother 


13  'Brother,'    quoth    the   shepeard,    'you 

have  heard  itt, 

That  a  ffoole  may  teach  a  wisemane  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  crowne  with  traitorye. 

15  '  If  I  cannott  answer  his  misterye, 
Three  questions  hee  hath  propounded  to 

mee, 

He  will  have  my  land  soe  faire  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.  7o 

17  '  And  secondlye,  to  tell  him  with-out  any 

doubt 
How  soone  he  may  goe  the  whole  world 

about; 

And  thirdlye,  to  tell  him,  or  ere  I  stint, 
What  is  the  thiiige  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,    'yowr 

ministers  apparrell, 
He  ryde  to  the  court  and  answere  your 

quarrell. 

19  'Lend  me  jour  serving  men,  say  me 

not  nay, 
With  all  your  best  horsses  that  ryd  on 

the  way;  80 

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  kirn;  the  shepard  did 

see. 
'  O,'  quoth  the  king,  '  bishopp,  thou  art 

welcome  to  me.'  9o 

The  shepard  was  soe  like  the  bishopp 

bis  brother, 
The  king  cold  not  know  the  one  from 

the  other. 

22  Quoth  the  kin<7, '  Bishopp,  thou  art  wel 

come  to  me 
If  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  kin^, '  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.'  K» 

24  Quoth  the  shepard.  '  To  make  your  grace 

noe  offence, 
I  thinke  you  are  worth  nine  and  twenty 

pence; 

For  our  Lorrf  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  king  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  sooue  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 

inorne, 

And  follow  his  course  till  his  uprising, 
And  then  you  may  know  without  any 

leasing.1 

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.'  no 

28  •  And  thirdlye  tell  me  or  ever  I  stint, 
What  is  the  thing,  bishoppe,  that  I  doe 

thinke.' 

*  That  shall  I  doe,'  quoth  the  shepeard; 
'  for  veretye, 

You  thinke  I  am  the  bishopp  of  Canter 
bury  e.' 

29  'Why,  art  not  thou?  the  truth  tell  to 

me; 
For  I  doe  thinke  soe,'  qwoth  the  kin<7, 

'  by  St  Marye.' 
'Not   soe,'   qwoth   the   shepeard;    'the 

truth  shalbe  knowne, 
I  am  his  poore  shepeard;  my  brother  is 

att  home.' 

30  'Why,'    qwoth    the    king,    'if    itt   soe 

bee, 
He  make  thee  bishopp  here  to  mee.'  130 

Hying. 


'  Noe,  Sir,'  qwoth  the  shepard,  '  I  pray 

you  be  still, 
For  lie  nut  bee  bishop  but  against  my 

will; 

For  I  am  not  fitt  for  any  such  deede, 
For  I  can  neither  write  nor  reede.' 


31  '  Why  then,'  qwoth  the  kin^r,  '  He  give 

thee  cleere 
A  patteut  of  three  hundred  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^rs  grace 


'  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,'  qwoth  the  shepard,  '  I  have 

well  sped, 
For  I  have  saved  both  yowr  land  and 

yowr  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,  land  good  and 

fine.' 


36   . 


'  I  will  to  thee  noe  longer  croche 2  nor 

creepe, 
Nor  He  serve  thee  noe  more  to  keepe 

thy  sheepe.' 

i  crouch. 


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  aiiswer  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  king. 


YOUNG   BICHAM1 

1  IN  London  city  was  Bicham  born, 

He  longd  strange  countries  for  to  see, 
But  he  was  taen  by  a  savage  Moor, 
Who  haudld  him  right  cruely. 

2  For  thro  his  shoulder  he  put  a  bore,2 

An  thro  the  bore  has  pitten  a  tree,8 
An  he 's  gard  4  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  coud  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  man t; i in  a  lady  free?  '       ao 

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  5  and  white  money, 

She  's  gotten  the  key  o  the  prison  doors, 

An  she  has  set  Young  Bicham  free. 

i  IjordBateman  is  a  later  version  of  this  popular  theme. 
»  hole.     »  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  ladle'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  fu  sair  her  love  to  see; 
She's  set  her  foot  on  good  ship-board, 
An  turiid  her  back  on  her  ain  coun 
try.  40 

11  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  '  O  has  he  taen  a  bonny  bride, 

An  has  he  clean  forgotten  me  ! '      50 
An  sighing  said  that  gay  lady, 

*I  wish  I  were  in  my  ain  country! ' 

14  But  she 's  pitten  her  ban  in  her  pocket, 

An  gin6  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  upon  his  knee: 
'  Won 7  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.          i  Get.          •  much  gold. 


278 


BALLADS 


18  Then  up  it  started  Young  Bicham, 

An  sware  so  loud  by  Our  Lady,      70 
'  It  can  be  nane  but  Shushy  Pye, 
That  has  come  oer  the  sea  to  me.' 

19  O  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; 
4  Now  fare  thee  well,  Young  Bicham,' 

she  says, 
'I'll  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 
me.' 

23  He 's  take  his  bonny  love  by  the  ban, 

And  led  her  to  yon  fountain  stane;  90 
He  's  changd  her  name  f  rae  Shusy  Pye, 
An  he  's  cald  her  his  bonny  love, 
Lady  Jane. 


THE  CHERRY-TREE  CAROL1 

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  cherries, 
as  thick  as  might  be  seen. 

»  This  story  is  founded  on  the  gospel  of  the  Pseudo- 
xx. 


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; 
Then  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   SPENCE2 

1  THE  king  sits  in  Dumferling  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  sense. 


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 l  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  lauch2  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 

all, 

Our  guid  schip  sails  the  morne: ' 
*O  say  na  sae,  my  master  deir, 
For  I  feir  a  deadlie  storme. 

7  'Late   late    yestreen  I   saw   the    new 

moone, 

Wi  the  auld  moone  in  hir  arme, 
And  I  feir,  I  feir,  ray  deir  master, 
That  we  will  cum  to  harme.' 

8  O  our  Scots  nobles  wer  richt  laith 

To  weet  their  cork-heild  schoone;  30 
Bot    lang    owre 3    a'    the    play    wer 

playd, 
Thair  hats  they  swam  aboone.4 

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  kerns  6  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  feit. 


i  broad. 
*  above. 


langh. 


before. 


KING   ESTMERE* 

1  HEARKEN  to  me,  gentlemen, 

Come  and  you  shall  heare; 
He  tell  you  of  two  of  the  boldest  bre- 

ther 
That  ever  borne  were. 

2  The  tone  of  them  was  Adler  Younge, 

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  wyfe,  brother, 
A  wyfe  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  nice.' 

5  *  Kyng  Adland  hath  a  daughter,  brother, 

Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene; 
If  I  were  kyng  here  in  your  stead, 
That  ladye  shold  be  my  queene.'      20 

6  Saies, '  Reade 7  me,  reade  me,  deare  bro 

ther, 

Throughout  merry  England, 
Where  we  might  find  a  messenger 
Betwixt  us  towe  to  seude.' 

7  Saies,  *  You  shal  ryde  yotirselfe,  brother, 

He  beare  you  companye; 
Many  a  man  throughe  fals  messengers 

is  deceived, 
And  I  feare  lest  soe  shold  wee/ 

8  Thus  the  renisht 8  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. 

•  We  possess  this  spirited  ballad,  unfortunately,  only 
as  touched  up  hy  Bishop  Perry.  Adler  and  Estmere 
occur  again  in  the  Percy  Folio  MS.,  ed.  Hales  and 
Furnivall,  n,  296,  and  the'™  Adler  Rets  a  fine  wife. 

7  AdvUe.  «  they  prepared. 


28o 


BALLADS 


10  'Now   Christ   thee    save,   good   Kyng 

Adland; 

Now  Christ  you  save  and  see:' 
Sayd, '  You  be  welcome,  King  Estmere, 
Right  hartilye  to  mee.'  40 

11  'You    have    a    daughter,'   said    Adler 

Younge, 

'  Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene ; 
My  brother  wold  marrye  her  to  his  wiffe, 
Of  Euglande  to  be  queene.' 

12  '  Yesterday  was  att  my  deere  daughter 

The  king  his  sonne  of  Spayn, 
And  then  she  nicked  him  of L nave.1 
And  I  doubt  sheele  do  you  the  same.' 

13  '  The  kyng  of  Spayne  is  a  foule  paynim, 

And  'leeveth  on  Mahonnd,2  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  oame  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,' 

Saies, '  God  you  save  and  see : ' 
Said,  'Yon  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.' 
i  said  him  nay. 


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  lyfe; 
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.       90 

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  laud.' 

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  countree,  100 

To  fetche  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  kempe's  8  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  ratine; 
Till  he  had  oretaken  King  Estmere, 
I-wis  he  never  blanne.4 
*  champions.  *  stopped. 


KING   ESTMERE 


281 


30  '  Tydings,  tydings,  Kyng  Estmere  ! ' 

*  What  ty dings  nowe,  my  boye  ?  '    120 
1 0  tydinges  I  can  tell  to  you, 

That  will  you  sore  aiinoye. 

31  *  You  had  not  ridden  scant  a  mile, 

A  mile  out  of  the  towne, 
But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 
With  kempe's  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  againeand  fighte, 
Or  goe  home  and  loose  your  ladye. ' 

34  Saies,  'Reade  me,  reade  rne,  deere  bro 

ther, 

My  reade  shall  ryse  at  thee,1 
Whether  it  is  better  to  turne  and  fighte, 
Or  goe  home  and  loose  my  ladye.' 

35  *  Now  hearken  tome,'  sayes  AdlerYonge, 

•  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,2 
And  when  I  learned  at  the  schole, 
Something  shee  taught  itt  mee. 

37  *  There  growes  an  hearbe  within  this  field, 

And  in*  it  were  but  knowne, 
His  color,  which  is  whyte  and  redd, 
It  will  make  blacke  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 
i  My  counsel  shall  come  from  you.         *  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  grammarye, 
That  we  towe  are  the  boldest  men 
That  are  in  all  Christentye.' 

42  And  thus  they  renisht  them  to  ryde, 

Of  tow  good  renisht  steed es, 
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: ' 
1  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  uutill  this  towne.' 

47  Then  they  pulled  out  a  ryng  of  gold, 

Layd  itt  on  the  porters  anne: 
'  And  8  ever  we  will  thee,4  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  6  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. 

50  Saies,  'Stable  thy  steed,  thou  proud 

harper,' 

Saies,  '  Stable  him  in  the  stalle ;       20* 
I    f.          <  thrive.  »  delayed. 


BALLADS 


It  doth  not  beseeme  a  proud  harper 
To  stable  bis  steede  in  a  kyngs  halle.' 

51  'My  ladde  he  is  so  lither,'1  he  said, 

'  He  will  doe  nought  that 's  uieete; 
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.'        aio 

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  kemperye2  man, 

And  looked  him  in  the  eare; 
For  all  the  gold  that  was  under  heaven, 
He  durst  not  neigh  8  him  neare. 

55  '  And  how  no  we,  kempe,'  said  the  kynge 

of  Spaine, 

'  And  how,  what  aileth  thee  ?  '         aao 
He  saies,  'It  is  writt  hi  his  forhead, 

All  and  in  gramarye, 
That  for  all  the  gold  that  is  under  heaven, 

I  dare  not  neigh  him  nve.' 


"ye. 


66  Then  Kyng  Estmere  pulld    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  till4  my  bryde  from  mee/ 

68  He  stroake  upon  his  harpe  againe, 

And  playd  a  pretty  thinge; 
The  ladye  lough  a  loud  laughter, 
As  shee  sate  by  the  king. 

69  Saies,  '  Sell  me  thy  harpe,  thou  proud 

harper, 

And  thy  stringe"s  all; 
For  as  many  gold  nobles  thou  shalt  have, 
As  heere  bee  ringes  in  the  hall.'     240 


»  rascally. 

*  uigh,  approach. 


9  fighting. 
<  toll,  entice. 


60  '  What  wold  ye  doe  with  my  harpe,'  he 

ssiyd, 

« If  I  did  sell  itt  yee  ?  ' 
'  To  playe  my  witfe  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, 

IS  I  did  sell  her  thee  ?  250 

More  seeinelye  it  is  for  her  fayre  bodye 
To  lye  by  mee  then  thee.' 

63  Hee  played  agayne  both  loud  and  simile, 

And  Adler  he  did  syng, 
'  O  ladye,  this  is  thy  owne  true  love, 
Noe  harper,  but  a  kyng. 

64  '  O  ladye,  this  is  thy  owue  true  love, 

As  playnlye  thou  ruayest  see, 
And  lie  rid  thee  of  that  foul  paynim 
Who  partes  thy  love  and  thee.'        26* 

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  6  he  drew  his  brand,       *jo 
And  Estmere  he  and  Adler  Yonge 
Right  stift'e  in  stour6  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  wiffe, 
And  brought    her  home  to  mery  Eng 
land, 
With  her  to  lead  his  life.  28. 


*  quickly. 


«  bold  in  battle. 


FAIR   ANNIE 


283 


FAIR  ANNIE1 

1  <  IT  's  narrow,  narrow,  make  your  bed, 

And  learn  to  lie  your  lane;'-2 
For  I  'm  ga'ii  oer  the  sea,  Fair  Annie, 

A  braw  bride  to  bring  hame. 
Wi  her  I  will  get  gowd  and  gear; 

Wi  you  I  neer  got  naiie. 

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,8 
And  braid  her  yellow  hair.' 

6  *  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  ? f 

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  laud. 

7  '  Come  up,  come  up,  my  eldest  son, 

And  look  oer  yon  sea-strand, 
And  see  your  father's  new-come  bride, 
Before  she  come  to  land.'  30 

8  'Come  down, come  down,  my  mother  dear, 

Come  frae  the  castle  vva ! 
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  silver  free. 

10  And  she 's  gane  down,  and  farther  down, 
The  bride's  ship  to  behold,  40 

i  The  twelfth  century  Lai  le  Frnisne  ( J.My  of  the  Ash- 
Tree)  of  Marie  de  France  is  a  version  of  this  ancient 
tale:  it  may  be  found  translated  in  Eugene  Mason's 
French  Mediaeval  Romances,  in  Everyman's  Library. 

*  alone.  *  close-fitting. 


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.  so 

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  scoup4  in  his  company, 
And  land  whereer  he  gae  ! ' 

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  6  her  colour  fine.  70 

18  And  aye  she  served  the  lang  tables, 

With  white  bread  and  with  bruwu; 
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 ;  so 

Says,  «  Like  ye  best  the  old  ladye, 
Or  her  that 's  new  come  hame  ?  ' 
«  fly.  *  hold,  maintain. 


284 


BALLADS 


21  When  bells  were  rung,  and  mass  was 

suug, 

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,1 

To  hear  what  they  might  say; 
1  And  ever  alas  ! '  Fair  Annie  cried, 
1  That  I  should  see  this  day  !  90 

23  '  Gin  my  seven  sons  were  seven  young 

rats, 

Running  on  the  castle  wa, 
And  I  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  hound2  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,8 
'  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  4  her  greet. 

27  '  What  ails  ye,  what  ails  ye,  Fair  Annie, 

That  ye  make  sic  a  moan  ? 
Has  your  wine  barrels  cast  the  girds,s 
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  my  mother; 
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.6 


nearby. 


*  greyhound. 
8  hoops. 


8  wept. 
«  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  ! ' 


CHILD   WATERS 

1  CHELDE  WAITERS  in  his  stable  stoode, 

And  stroaket  his  milke- white  steede; 
To  him  came  a  ffaire  young  ladye 
As  ere  did  weare  wouiaus  wee[de], 

2  Saies,  'Christ  you  save,  good  Chyld  Wa 

ters  ! ' 

Saves,  'Christ  you  save  and  see  ! 
My  girdle  of  gold,  wAi'eh  was  too  longe, 
Is  now  to  short  ffor  mee. 

3  '  And  all  is  with  one  chyld  of  yours, 

I  ffeele  stnrre  att  my  side;  to 

My  gowne  of  greene,  it  is  to  strayght;7 
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. 

6  « 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  yowr  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  ffnrr  into  the  north  conntrye;     30 
The  ffairest  lady  that  I  can  ffind, 
Ellen,  must  goe  with  mee.' 


CHILD  WATERS 


285 


4  And  ever  I  pray  you,  Child  Watters, 
Your  ffootpage  let  me  bee  ! ' 

9  '  If  you  will  my  ffootpage  be,  Ellen, 

As  you  doe  tell  itt  mee, 
Then  you  must,  cutt  your  gpwnnA  of 

greene 
An  iiiche  ubove  your  knee. 

10  '  Soe  must  you  doe  yowr  yellow  lockes, 

Another  inch  above  yowr  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  curteous  a  knight 
To  say,  'Ellen,  will  you  ryde  ? ' 

12  But  all  this  day  Child  Waters  rode, 

Shee  ran  barffoote  thorowthe  broome; 

Yett  he  was  never  soe  curteous  aknight 

As  to  say,  'Put  011  yowr  shoone.'       50 

13  •  Ride  softly  e,'  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, 

That  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  lore?  of  heaven  be  my  speed, 
Now  must  I  learue  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  Lo?v/, 
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  !  7o 

18  '  Seest  thou  not  yonder  hall,  Ellen  ? 

Of  redd  gold  shine  the  yates  ; 


There  's  four  and  twenty  if  ay  re  ladyes, 
The  ffairest  is  my  wordlye  make.1 

19  'Seest  thou  not  yonder  hall,  Ellen? 

Of  redd  gold  shineth  the  tower ; 
There  is  four  and  twenty  ft'aire  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  selfe,        8r 
And  of  yowr  wordlye  make  1 

21  «I  doe  see  the  hall  now,  Child  Waters, 

That  of  redd  gold  shineth  the  tower  ; 
God  give  good  then  of  yowr  selfe, 
And  of  yowr  paramoure  ! ' 

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  Ellen,  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  pretty est  ffootpage,  bro 
ther, 
That  ever  I  saw  with  mine  eye  ; 

26  'But  ^at  his  belly  it  is  soe  bigg, 

His  girdle  goes  wonderous  hye  ;      100 
And  euer  I  pray  you,  Child  Waters, 
Let  him  goe  into  the  chamber  with 


26  'It  is  more  meete  for  a  little  ffoot 

page, 

That  has  run  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. 

*  worldly  mate. 


286 


BALLADS 


28  'And  £oe  thee  downe  into  yonder  towne, 

And  low  into  the  street; 
The  ffairest  ladye  that  thou  can  find, 

Hyer  her  in  mine  ariues  to  sleepe, 
And  take  her  up  in  thine  armes  two, 

For  filiuge 1  of  her  if  eete.' 

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  creepe  in  att  your  bedds 

ffeete; 

For  there  is  noe  place  about  this  house 
Where  I  may  say  2  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  corne  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  corne  and  hay, 
And  soe  shee  did  and  the  good  blacke 

oates, 

That  he  might  carry  him  the  better 
away. 

33  Shee  layned8  her  backe  to  the  manger 

side, 

And  greivouslye  did  groane;  140 

And  that  beheard  his  mother  deere, 
And  heard  her  make  her  moaue. 

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; 
Then  he  put  on  his  other  clothes 
On  his  body  as  white  as  milke. 
»  defiling.          •  assay.          *  leaned. 


'So 


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  monaud.4 

37  Shee  said,  'Lullaby e,  my  owne  deere  child ! 

Lullabye,  deere  child,  deere! 
I  wold  thy  father  were  a  king, 

Thy  mother  layd  on  a  beere!'          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;5 
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 6  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  naethinjr  can  ail  me.' 


*  moaning. 

>  things  of  every  conceivable  kind. 


LADY   MAISRY 


287 


8  '  Your  father  and  your  mother  is  well, 

But  an  your  brothers  three;  30 

Your  sister  L;idy  Mai.sry  's  well, 
So  big  wi  bairn  gangs  she.' 

9  'Gin  this  be  true  you  tell  to  me, 

My  mailison l  light  on  thee  1 
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; 
Au  there  he  saw  her  Lady  Maisry, 
Kembing  her  yallow  hair.  40 

11  'O  wha  is  aught2  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  frae  her  han; 

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; 

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.'  60 

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  8  whore  wi  ? ' 

18  *  O  whare  will  I  get  a  bonny  boy, 

To  help  me  in  my  need,  70 

To  rin  wi  hast  to  Lord  William, 

And  bid  hirn  come  wi  speed  ?' 
*  curse.  »  who  la  it  owns.  »  vile, 


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; 4 
But  now  I  '11  rin  your  errand,  lady, 
Wi  sat6  tears  on  my  cheek.'  80 

21  O  whan  he  came  to  broken  briggs,6 

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 

gates, 

He  baed  na  to  chap  or  ca,7 
But  set  his  bent  bow  till  his  breast, 

An  lightly  lap  the  wa;8 
An,  or  the  porter  was  at  the  gate, 

The  boy  was  i  the  ha.  90 

23  '  O  is  my  biggins9  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  hi  a'  the  Ian 
For  you  this  day  maun  burn.' 

25  '  O  saddle  me  the  black,  the  black, 

Or  saddle  me  the  brown;  zoo 

O  saddle  me  the  swiftest  steed 
That  ever  rade  frae  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  the  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.        •  bridges. 
'  bided  not  to  rap  or  call.   *  leaped  the  wall.   »  building* 


288 


BALLADS 


29  '  O  gin  my  hands  had  been  loose,  Willy, 

Sae  hard  as  they  are  boun, 
I  would  have  turnd  me  frae  the  gleed,1 
And  castin  out  your  young  son.' 

30  '  O  I  '11  gar  burn  for  you,  Maisry, 

Your  father  an  your  mother;  iao 

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.' 


GLASGERION' 

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  bee  in  the  queens  chamber, 

Till  ladies  waxed  wood.8 

2  And  then  bespake  the  kings  daughter, 

And  these  words  thus  sayd  shee. 


3  Saide, '  Strike  on,  strike  on,  Glasgerrion, 

Of  thy  striking  doe  not  blinne;4        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  horn  then  came  Glasgerryon, 

A  glad  man,  Lord,  was  hee: 
*  And  come  thou  hither,  lacke,  my  boy, 
Come  hither  unto  mee. 

i  brand. 

J  It  is  an  interesting  circumstance  that  one  of  the 
great  harpers  mentioned  by  Chaucer  in  his  House  of 
Fame  (m,  118)  is  the  "Bret,"  or  British,  Glascurion. 

*  frantic.  t 


1  'For  the  kings  daughter  of  Normandye, 

Her  love  is  granted  mee, 
And  beffore  the  cocke  have  crowen, 
Att  her  chamber  must  I  bee.' 

8  '  But  come  you  hither,  master,'  quoth  hee, 

*  Lay  your  head  downe  on  this  stone ; 
For  I  will  waken  you,  master  deere,    31 
Afore  it  be  time  to  gone.' 

9  But  upp  then  rose  that  litlier  a  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;6 
The  lady  was  true  of  her  promise, 
Rose  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;7 
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  master  deere, 

I  hold  it  time  to  be  gone. 

14  '  For  I  have  sad  led  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  kinges  sonne. 

16  And  when  he  came  to  that  ladies  cham 

ber, 

He  thrild  vpon  a  pinn; 
The  l&dy  was  more  then  true  of  promise, 

Rose  up  and  let  him  in. 
•  wicked.    •  rattled  at  the  door-fastening.      ^  went. 


CLERK   SAUNDERS 


289 


17  Sales,  '  Whether  have  you  left  with  me 

Your  braclett  or  your  glove  ? 
Or  are  you  returned  backe  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  yowr  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  pulld  forth  a  litle  pen- 

kniffe, 

Thai  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  me. 

21  *  Ffor  if  I  had  killed  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; 
Thorrow1  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. 

i  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  Clark  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  na  Sandy  sen  late  yes 
treen.  20 

6  '  Yele  take  me  in  your  armes  twa, 

Yele  carrey  me  ben  2  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  all  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  wat3  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 ; ' 4 
Out  an  speaks  the  fourth  of  them, 
'It    wear   a  sin    to   kill    a   sleeping 

man.' 
»  within.  «  I  ween.  «  sunder. 


290 


BALLADS 


13  Out  an  speaks  the  fifth  of  them, 

'A  wat  they'll  near  be  twained  by 
me ; '  50 

Out  an  speaks  the  sixt  of  them, 

*  We  '1    tak  our   leave   au  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 l  cold  iron  gae. 

16  Sanders  he  started,  an  Margret  she  lapt, 

Intill  his  arms  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 ; a 
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;8 
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, 
Ther  's  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 4  black.' 


>  I  wot  he  has  made. 
*  endure. 


»  dawn. 

4 


23  The  bells  gaed  clinking  throw  the  towne, 

To  carry  the  dead  corps  to  the  clay, 
An  sighing  says  her  May  Margret,      90 
4  A  wat  I  bide  a  douliou  day.' 

24  In  an  come  her  father  dear, 

Stout  steping  on  the  floor; 


25  *  Hold  your  toung,  my  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         100 
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  ill: 
'  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  6  gie  to  mee; 
O  sail  I  tak  the  nut-browne  bride, 
And  let  Faire  Annet  bee  ?  ' 

6  '  The  nut-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-hrovvne  bride, 
And  let  Fair  Annet  bee  ? ' 

6  counsel. 


LORD   THOMAS    AND   FAIR   ANNEX 


291 


8 


*  The  nut-browne  bride  has  oxen,  brother, 

The  nut-browne  bride  has  kye  ; l 
I  wad    hae  ye  marrie  the  nut-browne 

bride, 
And  cast  Fair  Annet  bye.' 

*  Her  oxen  may  dye  i  the  house,  billie, 

And  her  kye  into  the  byre,2  30 

And  I  sail  hae  nothing  to  mysell 
Bot  a  fat  fadge  3  by  the  fyre.' 


9  And  he  has  till  his  sister  gane : 

«Now,  sister,  rede  ye  inee; 
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  browne  bride  alaue; 
Lest  ye  sould  sigh,  and  say,  "  Alace, 
What  is  this  we  brought  name!  "'    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;  4  50 

Let  us  gae  to  St.  Marie's  kirke, 
And  see  that  rich  weddeen.' 

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  holland  6  fine, 
The  other  o  needle-work.'  60 

16  The  horse  Fair  Annet  rade  upon, 

He  ainblit  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, 


kine. 
splendor. 


cow-shed. 


»  dumpy  woman. 
*  linen. 


And  yae  tift6  o  the  norland  wind, 
They  tinkled  aue  by  ane. 

18  Four  and  twanty  gay  gude  knichts 

Rade  by  Fair  Annet's  side,  jo 

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 :  7 
The  cleading8  that  Fair  Annet  had  on 
It  skiukled  9  in  their  een. 

20  And  whan  she  cam  into  the  kirk, 

She  shimmerd  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, 
W7hau  Fair  Anuet  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: 
'  And  whair  gat  ye  that  rose-water, 
That  does  mak  yee  sae  white  ?  ' 


90 


24  '  O  I  did  get  the  rose-water 

Whair  ye  wull  neir  get  nane, 
For  I  did  get  that  very  rose-water 
Into  my  mither's  wame.' 10 

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 


And  marvelit  what  mote  bee; 
But  whan  he  saw  her  dear  heart's  blude, 
A'  wood-wroth  u  wexed  hee. 

27  He  drew  his  dagger,  that  was  sae  sharp, 

That  was  sae  sharp  and  meet. 
And  drave  it  intotlie  nut-browne  bride, 
That  fell  deid  at  his  feit. 


8  one  gust. 
•  shone. 


»  stone. 
10  womb. 


s  clothing. 
11  mad-angry. 


293 


BALLADS 


28  '  Now  stay  for  me,  dear  Anuet,'  he  sed, 

'Now  stay,  my  dear,'  be  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  taiie  thair  grew  a  birk,1 
The  other  a  bonny  briere. 

30  And  ay  they  grew,  and  ay  they  threw,3 

As  they  wad  faine  be  neare; 
And  by  this  ye  may  ken  right  weil 
They  were  twa  luvers  deare.  no 


LOVE   GREGOR8 

1  '  O  WHA  will  shoe  my  fu  fair  foot  ? 

And  wha  will  glove  my  hand  ? 
And  wha  will  lace  my  middle  jimp,4 
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;  10 
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.' 

6  '  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, 

«  birch.  »  twigted. 

»  Also  known  as  The  Las&  ofRoch  Royal. 


For  yonder  I  see  my  love's  castle, 
Gloss  by  the  sa't  sea  strand.' 

8  She  has  taeu  her  young  son  in  her  arms, 

And  to  the  door  she  's  gone,  30 

And  laiig  she 's  knocked  and  sair  she  ca'd, 
But  answer  got  she  none. 

9  '  O  open  the  door,  Love  Gregor,'  she  saya. 

'  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,8 
Or  mer-maid  of  the  flood.'  4o 

11  'I  am  neither  a  witch  nog  .a.  wile  warlocky 

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  '  O  dinna  you  mind  now,  Love  Gregor, 

When  we  sat  at  the  wine,  so 

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  fine. 

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  hi  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. 
«  wizard. 


SWEET  WILLIAM'S   GHOST 


293 


18  '  O  I  dreamd  a  dream,  my  mother  dear, 

The  thoughts  o  it  gars  me  greet,1     70 
That  Fair  Annie  of  Rough  Royal 
Lay  cauld  dead  at  my  feet.' 

19  *  Giti  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! 
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! ' 
But  ay  the  louder  he  cried  Annie, 
The  louder  roard  the  sea. 


90 


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,         101 

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  saftly  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  turnd  my  true-love  frae  my  door, 
When  she  came  sae  far  to  me.' 
i  makes  me  cry. 


SWEET   WILLIAM'S    GHOST 

1  WHAN  bells  war  rung,  an  mass  was 

sung, 

A  wat  a'  man  2  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,  presentlie  ? 
Give  me  my  faith  and  trouthe  again, 
A  wat,  trew-love,  1  gied  to  thee.' 

3  '  Your  faith  and  trouth  ye  's  never  get, 

Nor  our  trew  love  shall  never  twain,8 
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, 4 

I  wat  the  wild  fule  6  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  foule  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    straked6  her    trouth 

thereon ; 

She  has  given  (it)  him  out  at  the  shot- 
window, 

Wi  many  a  sad  sigh  and  heavy  groan. 

*  Surely  all  men.          *  part.         «  A  doubtful  word. 
6  fowl.        *  stroked,  i.e.,  transferred  it  to  the  wand. 


294 


BALLADS 


10  'I  thank  you,  Margret,  I  thank  you, 

Mivrgret, 

And  I  thank  you  hartilie; 
Gine  ever  the  dead  come  for  the  quick, 
Be  sure,  Margret,  I  '11  couae  again  for 

thee.'  40 

11  It 's  hose  an  shoon  an  gound  l  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 2  is  my  covering  owre, 

But  an  my  winding  sheet; 
My  bed  it  is  full  low,  I  say, 

Down  among  the  hongerey  worms  I 


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  been  a  week  from  her, 

A  week  but  barely  ane, 
Whan  word  came  to  the  carline  wife  8 
That  her  three  sons  were  gaiie. 

3  They  hadna  been  a  week  from  her, 

A  week  but  barely  three,  «> 

Whan  word  came  to  the  carlin  wife 
That  her  sons  she  'd  never  see. 

4  « I  wish  the  wind  may  never  cease, 

Nor  fashes  4  in  the  flood, 
i  gown.        »  mould.       *  old  woman.        «  troubles. 


Till  my  three  sons  come  hame  to  me, 
In  earthly  flesh  and  blood.' 

5  It  fell  about  the  Marti  nmass, 

When  nights  are  lang  and  mirk,5 
The  carlin  wife's  three  sons  came  hame, 
And  their  hats  were  o  the  birk.6       20 

6  It  neither  grew  in  syke  7  nor  ditch, 

Nor  yet  in  ony  sheugh  8  ; 
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  sons  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  crawd  but  once, 

And  clappd  his  wings  at  a', 
When  the  youngest  to  the,  eldest  said, 
*  Brother,  we  must  awa.  4< 

11  'The  cock  doth  craw,  the  day  doth  daw, 

The  chn  nne  rin9  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  10  ! 

13  And  fare  ye  weel,  the  bonny  lass 

That  kindles  my  mother's  fire  ! ' 

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  gop, 
Their  mattins  and  masse  to  hear", 


*  dark.        «  birch. 

•  grumbling. 


trench.         8  furrow, 
cow-house. 


LITTLE   MUSGRAVE   AND   LADY   BARNARD 


295 


2  Little  Musgrave  came  to    the  church- 

dore; 

The  preist  was  at  private  masse; 
But  he  had  more  miiide  of  the  faire  women 
Thau  he  had  of  our  lady['s]  grace. 

3  The  one  of  them  was  clad  in  greeu,     10 

Another  was  clad  in  pall,1 
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  woonn. 

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  dainty ly  it  is  deight; 
If  thou  wilt  wend  thither,  thou  Little 

Musgrave, 
Tbou's  lig2  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  ladye's  coach  as  he  ran:          31 

*  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,  4o 
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. 
*  purple.  *  Thou  ehalt  lie. 


12  '  But  if  it  be  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  sung, 

And  some  these  words  did  say, 
And  ever  when  my  lord  Barnard's  horn 

blew, 
1  Away,  Musgrave,  away  1 ' 

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,  7o 

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  't  is  to  my  paine ; 

I    would    gladly    give    three    hundred 
pounds  80 

That  I  were  on  yonder  plaiue.' 

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, 

Full  deei-e  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  f  have  life; 
So  will  I  not  for  thee,  Barnard,  100 

Although  I  am  thy  wedded  wife.' 

26  He  cut  her  paps  from  off  her  brest; 

Great  pity  it  was  to  see 
That  some  drops  of  this  ladie's  heart's 

blood 
Kan  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  offer  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;  m 

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   Graeme,  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,1  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  *  O  it  's  I  'm  sick,  and  very,  very  sick, 

And  'tis  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  ?  '         ao 

6  He  turned  his  face  unto  the  wall, 

ftS  with  him 


'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*  3« 

And   every  jow  2   that   the    dead-bell 

geid,8 
It  cry'd,  '  Woe  to  Barbara  Allan  !  ' 

9  '  O  mother,  mother,  make  my  bed  ! 

0  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.  *  stroke.  *  struck. 


LAMKIN 


297 


2  '  O  pay  me,  Lord  Wearie, 

couie,  pay  me  my  fee: ' 
'I  catina  pay  you,  Lamkin, 
for  I  maim  gang  oer  the  sea/ 

3  '  O  pay  me  now,  Lord  Wearie, 

come,  pay  me  out  o  baud:  *  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  l 

ajLfier  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,2 
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  's  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  Lain  kin's  tane  a  sharp  knife, 

that  hang  down  by  his  gaire,8 
And  he  has  gien  the  bonny  babe 

a  deep  wound  and  a  sair. 
»  wretch.         2  top-hinged  window.         »  gore. 


13  Then  Lamkin  he  rocked, 

and  the  fause  nourice  sang,  50 

Till  frae  ilkae  bore  4  o  the  cradle 
the  red  blood  out  sprang. 

14  Then  out  it  spak  the  lady, 

as  she  stood  on  the  stair: 
'  What  ails  my  bairn,  nourice, 
that  he  's  greeting  sae  sair  ? 

15  '  O  still  my  bairn  nonrice, 

O  still  him  with  the  pap ! '6 
'He  winna  still,  lady, 

for  this  nor  for  that.'  60 

16  '  O  still  my  bairn,  nourice, 

O  still  him  wi  the  wand ! ' 
'  He  winna  still,  lady, 
for  a'  his  father's  land.' 

17  'O  still  my  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 ;  7* 

But  the  neisten  step  she  steppit, 
she  met  him  Lamkin. 

19  '  O  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  lather  be?' 
'  O  kill  her,  kill  her,  Lamkin, 

for  she  neer  was  good  to  me.'  &> 

21  '  O  scour  the  bason,  nourice, 

and  mak  it  fair  and  clean, 
For  to  keep  this  lady's  heart's  blood, 
for  she  's  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,6  dowie  was  his  heart 
when  first  he  came  hame. 
«  hole.  5  breast.  •  sad. 


298 


BALLADS 


24  'O  wha's  blood  is  this,'  he  says, 

that  lies  in  the  chainer  ?  ' 1 
'It  is  your  lady's  heart's  blood; 
't  is  as  clear  as  the  lamer.'  2 

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.'  8  i 

26  O  sweetly  sang  the  black-bird 

that  sat  upon  the  tree; 
But  sairer  grat  4  Lainkin, 

when  he  was  condemnd  to  die. 

27  And  bonny  sang  the  mavis,6 

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 

cule, 

And  the  round  tables  6  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 7  his  horse  before, 

And  siller-shod  behind; 
The  horse  Young  Waters  rade  upon 
Was  fleeter  than  the  wind. 

6  Out  then  spack  a  wylie  lord, 

Unto  the  queen  said  he, 
'O  tell  me  wha  's  the  fairest  face 

Rides  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.' 


i  chamber.          '  amber. 
•  thrush.  «  a  game. 


» of  nil.          «  wept. 

1  Gold-shod. 


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   Scot 
land 
But  to  thee  maun 8  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  and9  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  hot  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    had 

spoke 
Young  Waters  he  did  die. 


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. 

8  must.  •  and  also. 

10  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  little  while  ! 
Methinks  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  ! ' 


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  !  5o 

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  '  0  WELL  '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,1 

Or  how  can  I  her  know  ? 
Whanfrae  her  mouth  I  never  heard  couth,8 
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. 

5  *  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.' 
i  know.  2  sound,  word. 


3oo 


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  1  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,2 
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  live; 
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. 

»  maids.  *  yester  evening. 


18  'And   the  thirdin  kirk  that  ye  como 

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  8  bowr, 

As  fast  as  she  coud  fare, 
An  she  has  tane  a  sleepy  draught, 
That  she  had  mixed  wi  care. 

20  She 's  laid  her  down  upon  her  bed, 

An  soon  she 's  f  a'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 4  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;  6  90 

The  tae  half  was  o  cam  brick  fine, 
The  tither  o  needle  wark. 

24  The  firstin  kirk  that  they  came  till, 

They  gard  the  bells  be  rung, 
And  the  nextiu   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  ! 6      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  sheave7  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. 

•  mate,  lover. 


shirt,  shroud, 
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   OF 
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  fond  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, 

P*  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.  ao 

6  She  put  off  her  gown  of  gray, 

And  put  on  her  puggish1  attire; 
She  's  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  ? ' 
i  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 
SKERRY2 

1  AN  eartly  nourris  sits  and  sings, 

And  aye  she  sings,  '  Ba,  lily  wean ! 
Little  ken  I  my  bairnis  father, 
Far  less  the  laud  that  he  staps  in.' 

2  Then  ane  arose  at  her  bed-fit, 

An  a  grumly  8  guest  I  'm  sure  was  he: 
*  Here  am  I,  thy  bairnis  father, 
Although  that  I  be  not  comelie. 

3  *  I  am  a  man,  upo  the  Ian, 

An  I  am  a  silkie  in  the  sea;  to 

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 4  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,  was  ob 
tained  from  an  old  lady  in  the  Shetland  Islands  in  1852. 

»  fierce.  «  owed. 


302 


BALLADS 


Sayin,  '  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, 

When  the  sin  shines  heton  evera  stane, 
That  I  will  tak  my  little  young  sou, 
Au  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  schoots, 
He  '11  schoot  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.1  bands 
Were  bound  in  iron  bauds. 

2  Johny's  mother  has  gotten  word  o  that, 

And  care-bed  2  she  has  taen  : 
'  O  Johny,  for  my  benison, 

I  beg  you  '1  stay  at  haine; 
For  the  wine  so  red,  and  the  well  baken 
bread,  10 

My  Johny  shall  want  nane. 

3  '  There  are  seven  f orsters  at  Pickeram 

Side, 

At  Pickeram  where  they  dwell, 
And  for  a  dp>p  of  tfav  hgart'e  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  Liueolm  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  8  o  broom, 
And  there  he  found  a  good  dun  deer, 
Feeding  in  a  buss  of  ling.4 

»  Because  it  was  the  close  season?  But  cf.  stanza  9. 
>  sick-bed.  »  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  6  long, 
And  he  has  taen  out  of  that  dun  deer 
The  liver  bot  and  6  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.7 

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  scroggs,8 
O  there  I  spied  a  well-wight 8  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  le*tber» 

And  gokd  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  y10  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  n  be  taen. 

»  Of  a  yard.       •  and  also.       »  stand  it.       »  shrubs. 
»  right  doughty.  «  One.  »  if  I  would. 


ROBIN  HOOD   AND   GUY   OF   GISBORNE 


3°3 


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,1 
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  2  Lame. 

20  '  Is  there  never  a  boy  8  in  a'  this  wood 

That  will  tell  what  I  can  say ; 
That  will  go  to  Cockleys  Well, 

Tell  my  mither  to  fetch  nie  away  ? 

21  There  was  a  boy  into  that  wood, 

That  carried  the  tidings  away, 
And  many  ae  4  was  the  well-wight  man 
At  the  fetching  o  Johny  away. 


ROBIN   HOOD  AND  GUY  OF 
GISBORNE5 

1  WHEN    shawes6    beene    sheene,    and 

shrodds  7  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  8  sang,  and  wold  not 

cease, 

Amongst  the  leaves  a  lyne:  9 
And  it  is  by  two  wight  yeomen, 
By  deare  God,  thai  I  meane. 


1  brow.  *  news. 

*  It  is  a  bird  in  the  other  versions.  *  a  one. 

6  There  are  some  two  score  ballads  of  Robin  Hood,  the 
oldest  in  a  MS.,  of  about  1450;  and  one  of  these, 
printed  about  1500,  is  the  Gest  of  Robyn  Node  in  456 
stanzas  —  apparently  nothing  less  than  a  little  popular 
epic,  wrought  from  separate,  episodic  ballads.  The 
material  is  of  course  much  older,  for  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. 

*  thickets.       *  coppices.       8  thrush?      *  of  linden. 


3  '  Me  thought  they  did  mee  beate  and 

binde, 

And  tooke  my  bow  mee  froe;  10 

If  I  bee  Robin  a-live  in  this  lande, 
I  'le    be    wrocken 10    on   both   them 

towe.'  n 

4  'Sweavens12  are  swift,  master,'  quoth  lohn 

'  As  the  wind  that  bio wes  ore  a  hill ; 
Ffor  if  itt  be  never  soe  lowde  this  night, 
To-morrow  it  may  be  still.' 

5  'Buske18  yee,  bowne14  yee,  my  merry 

men  all. 

Ffor  lohn  shall  goe  with  mee; 
For  I  '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,16 
And  he  was  cladd  in  his  capull-hyde, 16 
Topp,  and  tayle,  and  mayne.  30 

8  '  Stand  you  still,  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  ffarley 17  thinge; 
How  offt  send  I  my  men  beftore, 
And  tarry  my-selfe  behind  e  ? 

10  *  It  is  noe  cunning  a  knave  to  ken, 

And 18  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, 19 

That  parted  Robin  and  lohn; 

10  revenged.         "  two.         1*  dreams.         "  Equip. 
i*  prepare.  "  destruction.  18  horse-hide. 

«  strange.  "  If.  »  make  trouble. 


3°4 


BALLADS 


lohn  is  gone  to  Barn  [e]  sdale,1 
The  gates  2  he  knowes  eche  one. 

12  And  when  hee  came  to  Barnesdale, 

Great  heavinesse  there  hee  hadd; 
He  ffonnd  two  of  his  fellowes 

Were  slaine  both  in  a  slade,8  50 

13  And  Scarlett  a  ffoote  flyinge  was, 

Over  stockes  and  stone, 
For  the  sheriffe  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  ffaine.' 

15  lohn  bent  vp  a  good  veiwe  4  bow, 

And  ffetteled5  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 

Litle  lohn, 

'  That  ere  thou  grew  on  a  tree ! 
Ffor  this  day  thou  art  my  bale, 
My  boote  6  when  thou  shold  bee ! ' 

17  This  shoote  it  was  but  looselye  shott, 

The  arrowe  flew  in  vaine, 
And  it  mett  one  of  the  sheriff es  men; 
Good  William  a  Trent  was  slaine.    70 

18  It  had  beene  better  for  Wittiam  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  bound  him  ffast  to  a  tree. 

20  'Thou   shalt  be  drawen    by   dale  and 

downe,'  quoth  the  sheriffe, 
'  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, 


In  Yorkshire. 


*  ways. 

*  prepared. 


i  valley. 
•  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  marchandise  they  made 
Even  at  that  same  time.  gt 

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  nil  of  my  way,'  7  qwoth  Sir 

Guye, 

'  And  of  my  morning  tyde: ' 8 
1 1  'le    lead    thee    through    the    wood,' 

quoth  Robin, 
'Good  ffellow,  I  'le  be  thy  guide.' 

25  '  I  seeke  an  outlaw,'  quoth  S/r  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  9  make, 

And  wee  will  walke  in  the  woods  even ; 
Wee  may  chance  mee[t]  with   Robin 

Hoode 
Att  some  unsett  steven.'10  no 

28  They  cutt  them  downe    the   summer 

shroggs  u 

Which  grew  both  under  a  bryar, 
And   sett   them   three   score   rood    in 

twinn,12 
To  shoote  the  prickes  13  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.  •  Possibly  he  wants  to  know  the  tim«, 
as  well  as  the  road.  »  trials  of  skill.  «  unexpected 
time.  "  shrubs.  »  rods  distant,  "  target*. 


ROBIN   HOOD   AND   GUY   OF  GISBORNE 


305 


30  The  first  good  shoot  that  Robin  ledd 

Did  not  shoote  an  inch  the  pricke 
ff  roe ;  120 

Guy  was  an  archer  good  enonghe, 
But  he  cold  neere  shoote  soe. 

31  The  second  shoote  Sir  Gny  shott, 

He  shott  within  the  garlande;1 
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   ffellow,' 

quoth  Guy,  J3i 

'  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 
Calles  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  Barnesdale, 
A  ifellow  thou  has  long  sought.' 

36  He  that  had  neither  beene  a  kithe  nor 

kin 

Might  have  scene  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  Settled  them  to  flye  away.     150 

38  Robin  was  reacheles  on  2  a  roote, 

And  stumbled  at  that  tyde, 
And  Guy  was  quicke  and  nimble  withall, 

And  hitt  him  ore  the  left  side. 
»  Of  leaves  hung  on  the  rod  ?  »  heedless  of. 


39  '  Ah,  deere  Lady  ! '  sayd  Robin  Hoode, 

*  Thou  art  both  mother  and  may !  3 
I  thinke  it  was  never  mans  destiuye 
To  dye  before  his  day.' 

40  Robin  thought  on  Our  Lady  deere, 

And  soone  leapt  up  againe,  160 

And  thus  he  came  with  an  awkwarde  4 

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, 

Wfa'ch  thing  must  have  an  ende.' 

42  Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irish  kniffe, 

And  nicked  Sir  Guy  in  the  fface, 
That  hee  was  never  on  a  woman  borne 
Cold  tell  who  Sir  Guye  was.  170 

43  Saies,  '  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  throwe; 
And  hee  put  on  that  capull-hyde, 
That  cladd  him  topp  to  toe. 

45  '  The  bowe,  the  arrowes,  and  litle  home, 

And  with  me  now  I  Me  beare;          180 
Ffor  now  I  will  goe  to  Barn[e]sdale, 
To  see  how  my  men  doe  fi'are.' 

46  Robin  sett  Guyes  home  to  his  mouth, 

A  lowd  blast  in  it  he  did  blow; 
That  beheard  the  sheriffe  of  Notting 
ham, 
As  he  leaned  under  a  lowe.6 

47  'Hearken  !  hearken  I'  sayd  the  sheriffe, 

'  I  heard  noe  tydings  but  good; 
For  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guyes  home  bio  we, 
For  he  hath  slaine  Robin  Hoode.     190 

48  '  For  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guyes  home 

blow, 

Itt  blowes  soe  well  in  tyde, 
For  yonder  comes  that  wighty  yeoman, 
Cladd  in  his  capull-hyde. 
*  maid.  «  backhand.  »  hill. 


306 


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, 
4  Nor  I  'le  none  of  itt  have. 

60  '  But  now  I  have  slaine  the  master,'  he 

sayd, 

*  Let  me  goe  strike  the  knave;         200 
This  is  all  the  reward  I  aske, 

Nor  noe  other  will  I  have.' 

61  '  Thou  art  a  madman,'  said  the  shiriffe, 

'Thou   sholdest  have  had  a  knights 

ffee; 

Seeing  thy  asking  [hath]  beene  soe  badd, 
Well  granted  it  shall  be.' 

62  But  Li  tie  lohn  heard  his  master  speake, 

Well  he  knew  that  was  his  steven; l 
'  Now  shall  I  be  loset,'  quoth  Litle  lohn, 

*  With  Christs  might  in  heaven.'     210 

63  But  Robin  hee  hyed  him  towards  Litle 

lohn, 

Hee  thought  hee  wold  loose  him  belive ; 
The  sheriffe  and  all  his  companye 
Fast  after  him  did  drive. 

64  'Stand  abacke  !    stand  abacke!'  sayd 

Robin; 

'  Why  draw  you  mee  soe  neere  ? 

Itt  was  never  the  use  in  our  countrye 

One's  shrift  another  shold  heere.' 

65  But  Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irysh  kniffe, 

And  losed  lohn  hand  and  tfoote,     220 
And  gave  him  Sir  Guyes  bow  in  his  hand, 
And  bade  it  be  his  boote. 

66  But  lohn  tooke  Guyes  bow  in  his  hand  — 

His   arrowes   were    rawstye   by   the 

route2  —  ; 

The  sherriffe  saw  Litle  lohn  draw  a  bow 
And  tfettle  him  to  shoote. 

67  Towards  his  house  in  Nottingam 

He  ffled  full  fast  away, 
And  soe  did  all  his  companye, 

Not  one  behind  did  stay.  230 

68  But  he  cold  neither  soe  fast  goe, 

Nor  away  soe  fast  rnnn, 
But  Litle  lohn,  with  an  arrow  broade, 
Did  cleave  his  heart  in  twinn. 
>  voice.  »  rusted  on  the  end  9 


ROBIN   HOOD'S  DEATH   AND 
BURIAL 

1  WHEN  Robin  Hood  and  Little  John  — 

Down  a  down  a  down  a  down  — 
Went  oer  yon  batik  of  broom, 

Said  Robin  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; 8 
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. 

6  'Will  you  pleaje  to  ?H  down,  f  on  sin 

Robin,,'  she  said, 

'  And  drink  some  beer  with  jne  ?  '    20 
'  No, T'wilT  neither  eat  nor  cirink, 
Till  1  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  tret  down ; 
But  was  so  weak  he  could  not  leap. 
He  could  not  get  him  down. 


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 ; l 
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  their  nunnery.' 

15  *  Now  nay,  now  nay,'  quoth  Robin  Hood. 

4  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  iny  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. 
i  endure,  go. 


ROBIN    HOOD  RESCUING   THE 
WIDOW'S    THREE   SONS 

1  THERE  are  twelve  months  in  all  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  ? '          to 
Said  she, « There  's  three  squires  in  Not 
tingham  town 
To-day  is  condemned  to  die.' 

4  '  O  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/  »» 

6  « O  what  have  they  done  ? '  said  bold 

Robin  Hood, 
1 1  pray  thee  tell  to  me : ' 
1  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.' 


308 


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  '  O  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 
1  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  patchd  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,1 

Was  patchd  from  ballup  2  to  side  ; 
«By  the  truth  of  my  body,'  bold  Robin 

can  say, 
'  This  man  lovd  little  pride.'  60 

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.' 8 

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, 

1 0  save,  and  you  may  see  ! 
And  what  will  you  give  to  a  silly  old  man 
To-day  will  your  hangman  be  ?  ' 

»  breeches.        *  front  flap.        *  inclination. 


20  *  Some  suits,  some  suits,'  the  sheriff  he 

said, 

'  Some  suits  I  '11  give  to  thee  ; 
Some  suits,  some  suits,  and  pence  thir 
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 


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, 

1  got  it  from  Robin  Hood, 
And  still  when  I  set  it  to  my  mouth 
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.'  roo 

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,4 

They  set  it  in  the  glen, 
They  hangd  the  proud  sheriff  on  that, 
Releasd  their  own  three  men. 

*  low  place. 


THE   BATTLE  OF   OTTERBURN 


309 


HUGH    OF   LINCOLN.i 

1  FOUR  and  twenty  bonny  boys 

Were  playing  at  the  ba, 
And  by  it  came  him  sweet  Sir  Hugh, 
And  he  playd  oer  them  a'. 

2  He  kicked  the  ba  with  his  right  foot, 

And  catchd  it  wi  his  knee, 
And  throuch-and-thro  the  Jew's  window 
He  gard  2  the  bonny  ba  flee. 

3  He  's  doen  him  to  the  Jew's  castell, 

And  walked  it  round  about;  10 

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  ! ' 
'  Never  a  bit,'  says  the  Jew's  daughter, 
*  Till  up  to  me  come  ye.' 

6  *  How  will  I  come  up  ?  How  can  I 

come  up  ? 

How  can  I  come  to  thee  ? 
For  as  ye  did  to  my  auld  father, 

The  same  ye  '11  do  to  me.'  ao 

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  stick! t  him  like  a  swine. 

8  And  first  came  out  the  thick,   thick 

blood, 

And  syne  8  came  out  the  thin,  30 

And  syne  came  out  the  bonny  heart's 

blood; 
There  was  nae  mair  within. 

9  She 's  rowd  4  him  in  a  cake  o  lead, 

Bade  him  lie  still  and  sleep  ; 
She  's  thrown  him  in  Our  Lady's  draw- 
well, 
Was  fifty  fathom  deep. 

1  Or  The  Jew's  Daughter. '  The  thirteenth  century 
chroniclers  tell  the  story.  Such  fabrications  directed 
against  the  Jews  have  persisted  ever  since,  especially  in 
Russia.  Cf.  Chaucer's  Prioress's  Tale. 

»  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  castell, 

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, 

I  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  morn6  I  will  you  meet.'  60 

16  Now  Lady  Maisry  is  gane  Lame, 

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  Douglas  went 
Into  England  to  catch  a  prey. 

6  tomorrow. 

•  This  battle  was  fought  in  1388,  and  Froissart  has  a 
fine  account  of  it  in  his  Chroniclfs  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  vvadna  wi  him  ride, 
And  they  rued  it  to  this  day. 

3  And  he  has  burnt  the  dales  o  Tine 

And  part  of  Alinonshire,  10 

And   three  good  towers  on  Roxbrugh 

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  ? ' 

5  But  up  spake  proud  Lord  Piercy  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  ! 

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 l  so  brown, 
They  lighted  high  on  Otterburn, 
And  threw  their  pallions  2  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 8  my  men  and  me. 

20  '  But  I  have  seen  a  dreary  dream, 

Beyond  the  isle  o  Sky; 
I  saw  a  dead  man  won  the  fight, 

And  I  think  that  man  was  I.'  80 

21  He  belted  on  his  good  broad-sword 

And  to  the  field  he  ran, 
Where  he  met  wi  the  proud  Piercy, 
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,  90 

Has  wounded  Douglas  on  the  brow 
Till  backward  he  did  flee. 
1  moor.  «  pavilions.  *  clean  up. 


CHEVY   CHASE 


31* 


24  Then  he  calld  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.'  100 

26  *  My  nephew  bauld,'  the   Douglas  said, 

*  What  boots  the  death  of  aue  ? 
Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dreary  dream, 
And  I  ken  the  day  's  thy  ain.1 

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  Scot  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  lily  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  Piercy  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,  Piercy,'  said  Sir  Hugh, 

'  O  yield,  or  ye  shall  die  ! ' 
'  Fain  wad  I  yield,'  proud  Piercy  said, 
*  But  neer  to  loun  2  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  1  yield  to  thee;  150 

But  I  will  yield  to  Lord  Douglas, 
Or  Sir  Hugh  Montgomery.' 

39  When  Piercy  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   CHASE  « 

1  GOD  prosper  long  our  noble  king, 

our  liffes  and  saftyes  all ! 
A  woefull  hunting  once  there  did 
in  Chevy  Chase  befall. 

2  To  drive  the  deere  with  hound  and 

home 

Erie  Pearcy  took  the  way: 
The  child  may  rue  that  is  unborne  the 
hunting  of  that  day  1 

t  fellow. 

»  Probably  founded  remotely  on  the  same  happening 
as  Otterhurn.  This  is  the  ballad  that  stirred  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  in  his  Defence  of  Poesie  to  remark:  "  Certeinly 
I  must  confesse  my  own  barbarousness.  I  never  heard 
the  olde  song  of  Percy  and  Douglas  that  I  found  not 
my  heart  mooved  more  than  with  a  trumpet ;  and  yet  it 
is  sung  but  by  some  blind  crouder  [fiddler],  with  no 
rougher  voyce  then  rude  Btile  :  which,  being  so  evill  ap- 
p^rrelled  in  the  dust  and  eob-webbes  of  that  uncivill  age, 
what  would  it  worke  trymmed  in  the  gorgeous  eloquence 
of  Pindar !  "  Addiaon's  appreciation  of  it  is  in  Nog.  70 
and  74  of  the  Spectator. 


312 


BALLADS 


3  The  stout  Erie  of  Northumberland 

a  vow  to  God  did  make  10 

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  Scottlaud,  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,  20 

6  With  fifteen  hundred  bowmen  bold, 

All  chosen  men  of  might, 
Who  knew  ffull  well  in  time  of  neede 
to  ayme  their  shafts  arright. 

7  The  gallant  grey  hound  [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  Tweede: ' 
*  O  ceaze  your  sportts ! '  Erie  Pearcy  said, 
'  and  take  yowr  bowes  with  speede. 

15  '  And  now  with  me,  my  countrymen, 

yowr  courage  forth  advance  ! 
For  there  was  never  champion  yett, 
in  Scottland  nor  in  Ffrance,  60 

16  *  That  ever  did  on  horsbacke  come, 

[but],  and  if  my  hap  it  were, 
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, 
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  list  not  to  declare 
nor  shew  whose  men  wee  bee ; 

20  *  Yett  wee  will  spend  our  deerest  bloc 

thy  cheefest  harts  to  slay.' 
Then  Douglas  swore  a  solempne  oathe 
and  thus  in  rage  did  say: 

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,  Pearcye,  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  — 

Witherin^ton  was  his  name  — 
Who  said,  '  I  wold  not  have  it  told 
To  Henery  our  kin<7,  for  shame, 


CHEVY  CHASE 


25  '  Thai  ere  my  captaine  fought  on  foote, 

and  I  stand  looking  on. 
You  bee  two  Erles,'  quoth  Withering- 
ton, 
'  and  I  a  squier  alone;  too 

26  *  I  'le  doe  the  best  that  doe  I  may, 

while  I  have  power  to  stand; 
While  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 

home, 

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.  iao 

31  At  last  these  two  stout  erles  did  meet, 

like  captaines  of  great  might; 
Like  lyons  woode  *  they  layd  on  lode;2 
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  king. 

34  *  Thy  ransome  I  will  freely  give, 

and  this  report  of  thee, 
Thou  art  the  most  couragious  knight 
[that  ever  I  did  see.]  ' 

a  load,  i.e.,  they  laid  on  heartily. 


35  '  Noe,  Douglas  ! '  quoth  Erie  Percy  then, 

*  thy  prof er  I  doe  scorne ; 
I  will  not  yeelde  to  any  Scott 
that  ever  yett  was  borne  ! ' 


140 


36  With  thut  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  liife,  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  knight 
mischance  cold  8  never  take.' 

40  A  knight  amongst  the  Scotts  there  was 

which  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  feare, 
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  slaine. 

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  hee.  180 

»  could. 


BALLADS 


46  Against  Sir  Hugh  Mountgomerye 

his  shaft  full  right  he  sett; 
The  grey-goose-winge  that  was  there-on 
in  his  harts  bloude  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  scarse  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  barron. 

49  And  with  Sir  George  and  Sir  lames, 

both  knights  of  good  account, 
Good  Sir  Raphe  Rebbye  there  was  slaine, 
whose  prowesse  did  surmount. 

50  For  Witherington  needs  must  I  wayle 

as  one  in  dole  full  dumpes, 
For  when  his  leggs  were  smitten  of, 
he  fought  upon  his  stumpes.  200 

51  And  with  Erie  Dowglas  there  was  slaine 

Sir  Hugh  Mountgomerye, 
And  Sir  Charles  Morrel  1,  that  from  feelde 
one  foote  wold  never  flee; 

52  Sir  Roger  Hever  of  Harcliffe  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;  aio 

Of  twenty  hundred  Scottish  speeres, 
scarce  fifty-five  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  cladd  in  clay. 


57  The  newes  was  brought  to  Eddenbor- 

row, 

where  Scottlands  king  did  rayne, 
That  brave  Erie  Douglas  soddainlye 
was  with  an  arrow  slaine. 

58  '  O  heavy  newes  !  '  King  lames  can  say; 

4  Scottland  may  wittenes.se  bee        230 
I  have  not  any  captaine  more 
of  such  account  as  hee.' 

59  Like  tydings  to  King  Henery  came, 

within  as  short  a  space, 
That  Pearcy  of  Northumberland 
was  slaine  in  Chevy  Chase. 


60 


'  Now  God  be  with  him  !  '  said  our 

1  sith  it  will  noe  better  bee; 
I  trust  I  have  within  my  realine 

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  king  did  well  performe 

after  on  Humble-downe; 
In  one  day  fifty  knights  were  slayne, 
with  lords  of  great  renowne. 

63  And  of  the  rest,  of  small  account, 

did  many  hundreds  dye:  250 

Thus    eudeth    the    hunting  in   Chevy 

Chase, 
made  by  the  Erie  Pearcye. 

64  God  save  our  king,  and  blesse  this  land 

with  plentye,  ioy,  and  peace, 
And  grant  hencforth  that  foule  debate 
twixt  noble  men  may  ceaze  ! 


JOHNIE   ARMSTRONG1 

1  THERE  dwelt  a  man  in  faire  Westmor 
land, 

lonne  Armestrong  men  did  him  call, 

He  had  nither  lands  nor  rents  coming1  in, 

Yet  he  kept  eight  score  men  in  his 

hall. 

i  This  ballad  is  historical.  In  1530  James  V  of  Scot- 
land  cleaned  up  the  Border,  and  among  other  outlaws 
hanged  John  Armstrong.  This  English  version  bhiita 
Johnie's  residence  to  Westmoreland. 


MARY   HAMILTON 


2  He  had  horse  and  harness  for  them  all, 

Goodly  steeds  were  all  milke-white; 

O  the  golden  bands  an  about  their  necks, 

And  their  weapons,  they  were  all  alike. 

3  Newes  then  was  brought  unto  the  king 

That  there  was  sicke  a  won  l  as  hee,  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  hand, 
And  he  promised  to  doe  him  no  wrong. 

5  When  this  letter  came  lonne  untill, 

His  heart  it  was  as  bly  the  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  before, 

I  would  we  went  most  orderly; 
Every  man  of  you  shall  have  his  scarlet 

cloak, 
Laced  with  silver  laces  three. 

7  4  Every  won  of  you  shall  have  his  vel- 

vett  coat, 

Laced  with  sillver  lace  so  white; 
O  the  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 
mee  ! ' 

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 

x  such  a  one. 


11  But  lonne  looke'd  over  his  left  shoulder, 

Good    Lord,    what   a   grevious    look 

looked  hee  ! 
Saymg,~T£skiug  grace   of  a  graceles 

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  teun  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  falce  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  1  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  for  to  be  a  man, 
O    the    treacherous    Scots    revengd 

hee  'd  be. 


MARY  HAMILTON  » 

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,  ni, 
381,  and  Andrew  Lang,  Blackutooffs  Magazine,  Sept.  1, 
1895,  p.  3S1.  This  version,  the  oldest,  was  first  printed 
in  1824. 


BALLADS 


2  He  's  courted  her  in  the  kitchen, 

He  's  courted  her  in  the  ha, 
He 's  courted  her  in  the  laigh  l  cellar, 
And  that  was  worst  of  a'. 

3  She  's  tyed  it  in  her  apron 

And  she 's  thrown  it  in  the  sea ;         10 
Says, « Sink  ye,  swim  ye,  bonny  wee  babe! 
You'l  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  babe  intill  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  langhd  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  aff  her  shee; 
And  lang  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  we  il- wishers, 
And  they  may  drink  to  me. 


13  '  Here  's  a  health  to  the  jolly  sailors, 

That  sail  upon  the  main;  5a 

Let  them  never  let  on  to  my  father  and 

mother 
But  what  I  'm  coming  harne. 

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  ! 

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,8 
And  sike  and  like  to  die; 

The  sikest  nighte  that  ever  I  abode, 
God  lord  have  mercy  on  me  ! 

2  *  Haille,  master,  and  wether 4  you  will, 

And  wether  ye  like  it  best ' ;  10 

'  To  the  castle  of  Crecrynbroghe, 
And  there  we  will  take  our  reste.' 

»  Also  called  Edom  o  Gordon  from  the  historical 
original,  Adam  Gordon,  who  in  1571  as  deput3'-lieu- 
tenant  for  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  thus  burnt  the  Forbes 
(not  Hamilton)  hold  of  Towie. 

»  too  too  sick.  «  whither. 


CAPTAIN   CAR 


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.  ao 

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  Captaiue  Care, 
The  lord  of  Ester-towue. 


7  They  wer  no  soner  at  supper  sett, 

Then  after  said  the  grace, 
Or  Captaine  Care  and  all  his  men 
Wer  lighte  aboute  the  place. 


30 


8  '  Gyve  ouer  thi  howsse,  thou  lady  gay, 

And  I  will  make  the  a  baude ; l 
To-nighte  thou  shall  ly  wzt/mi  my  armes, 
To-inorrowe  thou  shall  ere  2  my  lande.' 

9  Then  bespacke  the  eldest  sonne, 

That  was  both  whitt  and  redder 
'  O  mother  dere,  geve  over  your  howsse, 
Or  elles  we  shalbe  deade.'  40 

10  'I  will  not  geve  over  my  hous,'  she  saithe, 

*  Not  for  f eare  of  my  lyffe ; 
It  shalbe  talked  throughout  the  land, 
The  slaughter  of  a  wyffe. 

11  *  Fetch  me  my  pestilett,8 

And  charge  me  my  gonne, 
That  I  m  ay  shott  at  yonder  bloddy  butcher, 
The  lord  of  Easter-towne/ 

12  Sty  fly  vpon  her  wall  she  stode, 

And  lett  the  pellettes  flee ;  50 

But  then  she  myst  the  blody  bucher, 
And  she  slew  other  three. 

13  *[I will]notgeveovermyhous/shesaithe, 

'  Netheir  for  lord  nor  towne; 
Nor  yet  for  trnitowr  Captaine  Care, 

The  lord  of  Easter-towne. 
1  compact.  2  inherit.  »  pistolet. 


14  'I  desire  of  Captinu  Care, 

And  all  his  bloddy e  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  4  shall  I  be.' 

16  The  captayne  sayd  unto  him  selfe: 

Wyth  sped,  before  the  rest, 
He  cut  his  tonge  out  of  his  head, 
His  hart  out  of  his  brest. 

17  He  lapt  them  in  a  handkerchef, 

And  knet  it  of  knotes  three,  jt 

And  cast  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,  geve  overyour  house ; 
It  smoldereth  me/  8c 

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  I  paid  the  hyre  ! 
For  thou  hast  broken  my  castle-wall, 
And  kyndled  in  the  ffyre/ 

22  The  lady  gate  8  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.7  100 

«  warrant.    *  got,  went.    *  enclosed.    7  before  day. 


BALLADS 


25  'Busk  and  bowne,1  my  mery  men  all, 

Even  and  go  ye  with  me; 
For  I  dremd  that  my  haal  was  on  fyre, 
My  lady  slayne  or  day.' 

26  He  bnskt  him  and  bownd  hym, 

And  like  a  worthi  knighte; 
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, 
Captain e  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  wwrth  then  all  thy  lande.        120 

30  « If  thou  had  ought2  eny  ill  will,' he  saith, 

*  Thou  shoulde  have  taken  my  lyffe, 
And  have  saved  my  children  thre, 
All  and  my  lovesome  wyffe.' 


THE  BONNY  EARL  OF  MURRAY3 

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\ 

i  Arm  and  prepare.  *  owed. 

»  The  handsome  James  Stewart,  Earl  of  Murray,  waa 
•lain  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  ! 

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  WILLIE4 

1  O  HAVE  ye  na  heard  o  the  f ause  Sakelde  ? 

0  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. 

6  '  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  ? '  ao 

6  'Now    haud    thy    tongue,    thou    rank 

reiver ! 6 
There 's   never  a  Scot  shall  set  ye 

free; 
Before  ye  cross  my  castle-yate, 

1  trow  ye  shall  take  farewell  o  me.' 

4  This  ballad,  founded  on  actual  events  of  about  1596, 
has  been  much  touched  up  by  Sir  Walter  Scott. 
*  robber. 


KINMONT  WILLIE 


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  lawing l  before  I  gaed.' 

8  Now  word  is  gane  to  the  bauld  Keeper, 

In  Brankscme  Ha 2  where  that  he  lay, 
That  Lord  Scroope  has  taen  the  Kiu- 
mout  Willie,  3I 

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  '11  be ! 

10  '  O  is  my  basnet8  a  widow's  curch?  4 

Or  my  lance  a  wand  of  the  willow- 
tree? 
Or  my  arm  a  ladye's  lilye  hand  ? 

That  an  English  lord  should  lightly5 
me.  40 

11  '  And  have  they  taen  him  Kinmont  Willie, 

Against  the  truce  of  Border  tide, 
And  forgotten  that  the  bauld  Bacleuch 
Is  keeper  here  on  the  Scottish  side  ? 

12  '  And  have  they  een  taen  him  Kinmont 

Willie, 

Withouten  either  dread  or  fear, 
And  forgotten  that  the  bauld  Bacleuch 
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 6  Carlisle  castell  high, 
Tho  it  were  build ed  of  marble-stone. 

14  '  I  would  set  that  castell  in  a  low,7 

And  sloken  8  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, 

1 11  neither  harm  English  lad  or  lass, 
And   yet   the    Kinmont    freed    shall 
be!'  60 

i  reckoning.         »  Hall.         •  helmet.        «  kerchief, 
headdress.    »  scorn.     •  destroy.     T  flame,    s  quench. 


16  He    has    calld    him    forty   marchmen 

bauld, 

I  trow  they  were  of  his  am  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    bauld    Buc- 

cleuch, 

With  spur  on  heel,  and  splenton  spanld,9 
And  gleuves  of  green,  and  feathers 

blue. 

18  There  were  five  and  five  before  them  a', 

Wi  hunting-horns  and  bugles  bright;  70 
And  five  and  five  came  wi  Buccleuch, 
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;10 
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  f  ause  Sakelde  !  80 


hunters  keen  ? ' 
;    'come   tell  to 


21  '  Where  be  ye  gaun, 
Quo   fause   Sakel 

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 
cleuch.' 

23  *  Where  are  ye  gaun,  ye  mason-lads, 

Why  a'  your  ladders  lang  and  hie  ?  ' 
*  We  gang  to  herry  n  a  corbie's  nest,   91 
That  wons12  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 13  had  he. 

•  armor  on  shoulder.       ">  outlaws.       »  harry,  rob. 
11  dwells.  1S  learning,  instruction. 


320 


BALLADS 


25  '  Why  trespass  ye  on  the  English  side  ? 

Row 1 -footed  outlaws,  stand  ! '  quo  he; 
The  neer  a  word  had  Dickie  to  say, 
Sae  he  thrust  the  lance  thro  his  faulse 
bodie.  ioo 

26  Then  on  we  held  for  Carlisle  toun, 

And  at  Staneshaw-bank  the  Eden  we 

crossd; 

The  water  was  great,  and  meikle  of  spait,2 
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 8  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,  n9 

Upon  the  other  side  thou  hadst  gaed. 

31  *  Now  sound  out,  trumpets  ! '  quo  Buc 

cleuch  ; 
*  Let's  waken    Lord   Scroope   right 

merrilie ! ' 

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  castel-ha. 

33  They  thought  King  James  and  a*  his 

men  139 

Had  won  the  house  wi  bow  and  speir: 
It  was  but  twenty  Scots  and  ten 

That  put  a  thousand  in  sic  a  stear  ! 4 
*  Rough.      >  in  high  flood.     »  caused  us  to.      «  stir- 


34  Wi  coulters5  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  saft,  and  I  wake  aft,          i4t 

It's  lang  since  sleeping  was  fleyd* 

frae  me; 
Gie  my  service  back  to  my  wyfe  and 

bairns, 
And  a'  gude  fellows  that  speer 7  for 

me.' 

37  Then  Red  Rowan  has  hente  8  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  ! 

My  gude  Lord  Scroope,  farewell ! '  he 
cried ;  iSo 

'  1 11  pay  you  for  my  lodging-maill 9 
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  aims10  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  oure  the 

furs; 12 

But  since  the  day  I  backed  a  steed 
I  nevir  wore  sic  cumbrous  spurs.' 
5  the  blade  before  the  share  of  a  plough. 

•  frightened.  7  inquire.  8  taken. 

•  rent.  «  irons.  "  mad. 
*'  over  the  furrows. 


THE   BARON   OF   BRACKLEY 


321 


42  We   scarce   had   won   the   Staneshaw- 

bank, 

When  a'  the  Carlisle  bells  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  trew1  his  eyes 
When  thro  the  water  they  had  gane. 

46  '  He  is  either  himsell  a  devil  frae  hell,  181 

Or  else  his  mother  a  witch  maun 

be; 

I  wad  na  have  ridden  that  wan  water 
For  a*  the  gowd  in  Christentie.' 


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. 

J?  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. 

i  trust. 

>  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.1 

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.'         ao 

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 

burn-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  BRACKLEY8 

1  INVEREY  cam  doun  Deeside,  whistlin 

and  playin, 

He  was  at  brave  Braikley's  yett 4  ere  it 
was  dawin.6 

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.  *  dawning. 


322 


BALLADS 


3  'Are  ye  sleepin,  Baronne,   or  are   ye 

wakin  ? 

There  's  sharpe  swords  at  youryett,  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  l  and  plunder 
mi  ha  ?  10 

6  '  But  gin  ye  be  gentlemen,  licht  and  cum 

in: 

Gin  ye  drink  o  my  wine,  ye  '11  nae  gar  2 
my  bluid  spin. 

7  '  Gin  ye  be  hir'd  widif  us,8  ye  may  gang 

b7» 

Ye  may  gang  to  the  lawlands  and  steal 
their  fat  ky.4 

8  '  Ther  spulyie  like  rievers  o  wyld  ket- 

trin  clan,6 

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 

l*y, 
•  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  baud  your  tongue,  Peggy,  and  mak 

nae  sic  din, 

For  yon  same  hir'd  widifus  will  prove 
themselves  men.' 

,    »  spoil.        *  make.         *  gallows-birds.         <  kine. 
'    >  steal  like  thieves  of  the  wild  robber  clans. 


14  She  called  on  her  marys,6  they  cam  to  her 

hand; 

Cries, '  Bring  me  your  rocks,7  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  '11  ficht  them,  and  shortly  the  cow 
ards  will  fly. 

17  'Gin  I  had  a  husband,  whereas  I  haenane, 
He  woud  nae  ly  i  his  bed  and  see  his  ky 

taen. 

18  'Ther's      four-and-twenty     milk-whit 

calves,  twal 8  o  them  ky, 
In  the  woods  o  Glentanner,  it  's  ther 
thei  a'  ly. 

19  '  Ther  's  goat  i  the  Etnach,  and  sheep  o 

the  brae, 
Ana'  will  be  plunderdby  young  Inverey.' 

20  '  Now  haud  your  tongue,  Peggy,  and  gie 

me  a  gun,  4o 

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  and  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  sichin9  and  sobbin  she  '11  soon  get  her 
fill.'  50 

•  maids.        '  distaffs.        »  twelve.         •  sighing. 


BONNIE   GEORGE   CAMPBELL 


323 


26  '  I  'm  no  coward,  brother,  't  is  kend  I  'm 

a  man; 

I  '11  ficht  i  your  quarral  as  lang  's  I  can 
stand. 

27  '  I  '11  ficht,  my  dear  brother,  wi  heart 

and  gude  will, 

And  so  will  young  Harry  that  lives  at 
the  mill. 

28  'But  turn,  mi   dear  brother,  and  nae 

langer  stay: 

What  '11  cum  o  your  ladie,  gin  Braikley 
thei  slay  ? 

29  '  What  '11  cum  o  your  ladie  and  bonnie 

young  son  ? 

O  what  '11  cum  o  them  when  Braikley  is 
gone  ?  '  58 

30  '  I  never  will  turn :  do  you  think  I  will  fly? 
But  here  I  will  ficht,  and  here  I  will  die.' 

31  'Strik  dogs,'  crys  Inverey,  'and  ficht 

till  ye  're  slayn, 

For  we  are  four  hundered,  ye  are  but 
four  men. 

32  'Strik,  strik,  ye  proud   boaster,   your 

honour  is  gone, 

Your  lands  we  will  plunder,  your  castell 
we  '11  burn.' 

33  Atthe head  othe Etnach  the  battel  began, 
At  Little  Auchoilzie  thei  killd  the  first 

man. 

34  First  thei  killd  ane,  and  soon  they  killd 

twa, 

Thei  killd  gallant  Braikley,  the  flour  o 
them  a'. 

35  Thei  killd  William  Gordon,  and  James 

o  the  Knox, 

And  brave  Alexander,  the  flour  o  Glen- 
muick.  7o 


36  What  sichin  and  moaning  was  heard  i 

the  glen, 

For  the  Baronne  o  Braikley,  who  basely 
was  slayn  ! 

37  '  Cam  ye  bi  the  castell,  and  was  ye  in 

there  ? 
Saw  ye  pretty  Peggy  tearing  her  hair  ?  ' 


38  '  Yes,  I  cam  by  Braikley,  and  I  gaed  in 

there, 

And  there  [saw]  his  ladie  braiding  her 
hair. 

39  '  She  was  rantin,  and  dancin,  and  singin 

for  joy, 

And  vowin  that  uicht  she  woud  feest 
Inverey. 

40  '  She  eat  wi  him,  drank  wi  him,  welcomd 

him  in, 

Was  kind  to  the  man  that  had  slayn  her 
baronne.'  80 

41  Up  spake  the  son  on  the  nourice's  knee, 
'  Gin  I  live  to  be  a  man,  revenged  I  '11  be.' 

42  Ther  's  dool  i  the  kitchin,  and  mirth  i 

the  ha, 
The  Baronne  o  Braikley  is  dead  and  awa. 


BONNIE  GEORGE  CAMPBELL 

1  HIE  upon  Hielands, 

and  laigh  x  upon  Tay, 
Bonnie  George  Campbell 
rode  out  on  a  day. 

2  He  saddled,  he  bridled, 

and  gallant  rode  he, 
And  hame  cam  his  guid  horse, 
but  never  cam  he. 

3  Out  came  his  mother  dear, 

greeting  f  u  sair,2  (0 

And  out  cam  his  bonnie  bryde, 
riving  her  hair. 

4  '  The  meadow  lies  green, 

the  corn  is  unshorn, 
But  Bonnie  George  Campbell 
will  never  return.' 

5  Saddled  and  bridled 

and  booted  rode  he, 
A  plume  in  his  helmet, 

a  sword  at  his  knee.  v> 

6  But  toom  8  cam  his  saddle, 

all  bloody  to  see, 
Oh,  hame  cam  his  guid  horse, 

but  never  cam  he  ! 
i  low.          *  "Weeping  full  sore.          •  empty. 


324 


BALLADS 


BEWICK   AND   GRAHAM1 

1  OLD  Grabame  [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 


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  bully2  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  's  taken  his  own  steed  by  the  head, 

And  home  rode  he  right  wantonly. 
1  In  spite  of  incongruous  touches  in  the  spirit  of  the 
eighteenth  centtiry  —  the  date  of  the  oldest  copy  — 
this  is  a  proper  ballad. 
*  brother-in-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: 
1  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  fs  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  8 

loon  ? 
Or  bow  dare  thou  stand  to  speak  to 

me? 

If  thou  do  not  end  this  quarrel  soon, 
Here  is  my  glove  thou  shalt  fight  me.f 

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.' 

*  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  shall  boldly  understand, 
In  every  town  that  I  ride  through, 
They  '11  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.  So 

21  '0  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, 

Aud  on  his  head  a  cap  of  steel, 
With  sword  and  buckler  by  his  side ; 

0  gin l  he  did  not  become  them  well  1 

23  «  O  fare  thee  well,  my  father  dear  I 

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  '11    leave  talking  of    Christy 

Grahame, 

And  talk  of  him  ngain  belive;2 
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. 
i  if.  >  soon. 


26  He  lookd  between  him  and  the  sun, 

To  see  what  f arley s  8  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 ! 

0  man,  thou  art  my  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! 
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  1      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,  as  I  trow  thou  art, 
Come  over  this  ditch  and  fight  with 


me.' 


140 


*  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 


38  He  flang  his  cloak  from  [off]  his  shoul 

ders, 

His  psalm-book  out  of  his  hand  flang 
he,  150 

He  clapd  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  hi>  eye: 
'  Now  needs  must  I  say  that  thou  art  a 

man, 

That  dare  venture  thy  body  to  fight 
with  me. 

40  *  Now  I  have  a  harness  on  my  back ; 

I  know  that  thou  hath  none  on  thine; 
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,   161 

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 l 

stroke,  i(x) 

An  ackward  stroke  surely  struck  ho; 

He    struck    him   now   under    the    left 

breast, 

Then  down  to  the  ground  as  dead  fell 
he. 

i  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  will  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  G«xl, 
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  1 '  he  said, 

'  For  I  see  thou  's  won  the  victory. 

50  'Arise,  arise,  O  son  !  '  he  said, 

'  For  I  see  thou  's  won  the  victory : ' 
[Father,  co]uld  ye  not  drunk  your  wine 
at  home,  199 

[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  pit'ful 

moan. 

>  mole-hill. 


THE  DOWY  HOUMS  O  YARROW 


327 


53  With  that  bespoke  now  Robin  Bewick: 

'  O  man  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 : 

1  O  man,  1  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  YARROW1 

1  LATE  at  een,  drinkin  the  wine, 

Or  early  in  a  mornin, 
The  set  a  combat  them  between, 
To  tight  it  in  the  dawniti. 

2  '  O  stay  at  hame,  my  noble  lord  ! 

O  stay  at  hame,  my  marrow  ! 2 
My  cruel  brother  will  you  betray, 
On  the  dowy  houms  o  Yarrow.' 

3  '  0  fare  ye  weel,  my  lady  gave  ! 

0  fare  ye  weel,  my  Sarah  !  10 
For  I  maun  gae,  tho  I  neer  return 

Frae  the  dowy  banks  o  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  — 

T  wat  he  gaed  wi  sorrow  — 
And  in  a  den  spied  nine  armd  men, 

1  the  dowy  houms  o  Yarrow.  20 

1  The  doleful  banks  of  Yarrow.  Also  called  The  Braes 
of  Yarrmv. 

2  sweetheart. 


6  '  O  ir  4  ye  come  to  drink  the  wine, 

As  ye  hae  doou  be  lore,  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  iin  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  's  sleepin  sound  on  Yarrow.' 

10  'Yestreen  I  dreamd  a  dulefu  dream; 

I  kend6  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  his  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    hand    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  hand  your  tongue,  my  father  dear, 

And  dinna  grieve  your  ISarah; 
A  better  lord  was  never  born 
Than  him  I  lost  on  Yarrow. 

15  'Tak  hame    your   onsen,6  take    hame 

your  kye,7 

For  they  hae  bred  our  sorrow; 
I  wiss  8  that  they  had  a'  gane  inad 

Whan  they  cam  first  to  Yarrow.'      60 
*  are.        8  knew.       •  oxen.       7  kine.        8  wish. 


328 


BALLADS 


THE   DAEMON  LOVER  1 

1  '  O  WHERE  have  you  been,  my  long,  long 

love, 

This  long  seven  years  and  mair?' 
*0  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; 

0  hold  your  tongue  of  your  former 

vows, 
For  I  am  become  a  wife/ 

3  He  turned  him  right  and  round  about, 

And  the  tear  blinded  his  ee:  10 

*  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.' 


LI  y< 

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  2  grew  his  ee.  40 

»  Often  called  James  Harris.          *  gloomy. 


11  They  had  not  saild  a  league,  a  league, 

A  league  but  barely  three, 
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  you,  yon  pleasant  hills, 

That  the  sun  shines  sweetly  on  ?  '     5o 
'O  yon  are  the  hills  of  heaven,'  he  said, 
'  Where  you  will  never  win.'  8 

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,  goodwife  ? 

What  's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  horse  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  ' 


Recitative.  l  A  horse  ?  '  quo  she. 
'Ay,  a  horse,'  quo  he. 

3  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

111  mat  4  ye  see  ! 
*T  is  naething,  but  a  broad  sow, 
My  minnie  fi  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.' 
»  come.         *  mot,  i.e.,  may.        1  mother. 


10 


OUR  GOODMAN 


329 


5  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he; 
He  spy'd  a  pair  of  jack-boots, 
Where  nae  boots  should  be. 

6  « What 's  this  now,  good  wife  ? 

What's  this  I  see? 
How  came  these  boots  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ? ' 

'  Boots  ? '  quo  she. 

'Ay,  boots,'  quo  he.  30 

7  *  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

And  ill  mat  ye  see  ! 
It 's  but  a  pair  of  water-stoups,1 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

*  Water-stoups  ? '  quo  he. 
'Ay,  water-stoups,'  quo  she. 

8  *  Far  hae  I  ridden, 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  siller  spurs  on  water-stoups 
I  saw  never  nane.'  40 

9  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he, 
And  he  saw  a  sword, 

Whare  a  sword  should  na  be. 

10  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwif e  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  sword  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ?  * 

*  A  sword  ? '  quo  she. 

'  Ay,  a  sword,'  quo  he.  50 

11  '  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

III  mat  ye  see  ! 
It 's  but  a  porridge-spurtle,2 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

'  A  spurtle  ?  *  quo  he. 
'  Ay,  a  spurtle,'  quo  she. 

12  '  Far  hae  I  ridden, 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  siller-handed  spurtles 

I  saw  never  nane.'  60 

13  Hame  came  our  goodman, 

And  hame  came  he; 
»  water-pitchers.  *  porridge  stirrer. 


There  he  spy'd  a  powderd  wig, 
Where  nae  wig  shoud  be. 

14  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwife  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  wig  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me?' 

'  A  wig  ? '  quo  she. 
'Ay,  a  wig, 'quo  he. 

15  '  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

And  ill  mat  you  see  ! 
'T  is  naething  but  a  clocken-hen,* 
My  minnie  sent  to  me/ 

*  Clocken  hen  ? '  quo  he. 
'  Ay,  clocken  hen,'  quo  she. 

16  '  Far  hae  I  ridden. 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  powder  on  a  clocken-hen 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

17  Hame  came  our  goodraan, 

And  hame  came  he, 
And  there  he  saw  a  muckle  coat, 
Where  nae  coat  shoud  be. 

18  '  What 's  this  now,  goodwife  ? 

What 's  this  I  see  ? 
How  came  this  coat  here, 
Without  the  leave  o  me  ? ' 

'  A  coat  ? '  quo  she. 
'  Ay,  a  coat,'  quo  he. 

19  '  Shame  fa  your  cuckold  face, 

111  mat  ye  see  ! 
It 's  but  a  pair  o  blankets, 
My  minnie  sent  to  me.' 

'Blankets? 'quo  he. 
'  Ay,  blankets,'  quo  she. 

20  'Far  hae  I  ridden, 

And  farer  hae  I  gane, 
But  buttons  upon  blankets 
I  saw  never  nane.' 

21  Ben  4  went  our  goodman, 

And  ben  went  he, 
And  there  he  spy'd  a  sturdy  man, 

Where  nae  man  shoud  be. 
*  sitting  hen.  «  Into  the  inner  room. 


330 


BALLADS 


22  «  What 's  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  ! 
It 's  a  new  milkiug-iuaid, 
My  mither  sent  to  me/ 

« A  maid  ?  *  quo  he. 
'  Ay,  a  maid/  quo  she. 

24  'Farhae  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  J  to 

make, 
And  she 's  boild  them  in  the  pan. 

2  The  wind  sae  cauld  blew  south  and  north, 

And  blew  into  the  floor; 
Quorh  our  goodmau  to  our  goodwife, 
*  Gae  out  and  bar  the  door/ 

3  *  My  hand  is  in  my  hussyfskap,2 

Goodman,  as  ye  may  see;  10 

An  it  shorn!  nae  be  barrd  this  hundred 

year, 
It  fs  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. 

6  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, 
Of  whether  is  it  a  poor  ?  ' 
i  sausages.  *  housewifery. 


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   goudwife   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  aff  the  auld  man's  beard, 
And  I  '11  kiss  the  goodwife/ 

9  '  But  there 's  nae  water  in  the  house, 

And  what  shall  we  do  than  ? ' 
What  ails  thee  at  the  pudding-broo,8 
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  4  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, 

Hollin,5  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  7  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/ 

holly. 


*  brew,  juice. 

•  shoulder. 


<  scald. 
i  beat. 


THE   BITTER   WITHY 


7  *  O  Robin,  Robin,  lat  rae  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  will  bake,  and  I  will  brew, 
And  never  mind  my  comely  hue.          20 

10  *  And  gin  ye  thinkna  that  eneugh, 

I'se   tak   the   goad  and  I  'se  ca1  the 
pleugh. 

11  '  Gin  ye  ca  for  mair  whan  that  is  doon, 
I  '11  sit  i  the  neuk  2  and  I  '11  dight  8  your 

ahoon.' 


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  : a 
Oh,  there  He  asked  the  three  jolly  jer 
dins  it 
If  they  would  go  play  at  ball. 

i  call,  drive.  >  nook,  corner.  •  clean. 

4  TheBitter  Withy,  probably  a  genuine  popular  ballad, 
was  first  recorded  iu  1868,  and  printed  by  Mr.  Frank 
Bidpjwick  in  Notes  and  Queries,  Series  10.  rv,  84/.,  July, 
1905.  See  Pub.  Mod.  Lang.  Ass.  Am.,  vol.  23,  p.  141,  for 
a  discussion  of  it  by  Or.  H.  Gerould.  It  is  representative 
of  many  mediaeval  tales  of  the  Saviour's  childhood. 

*  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  all  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    pur    Saviour   across    her 

knee,  3o 

And  with   a  whole   handful  of  bitter 

withy  8 
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.' 
•  willow  twig. 


JOHN    BARBOUR 
THE  BRUCE 


INTRODUCTION 


STORYSS  to  rede  ar  delitabill, 

Supposs  that  thai  be  nocht  bot  fabill; 

Thau  suld  storyss  that  suthfast  wer, 

And  l  thai  WMF  said  on  gud  iiianer, 

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  likaud  * 

Tyll  4  mannys  heryng,  ar  plesand.  10 

Tharfor  I  wald  fayne  set  my  will, 

Giff  my  wyt  mycht  suffice  thartill,5 

To  put  in  wryt  6  a  suthfast  story, 

That  it  lest  ay  furth  in  memory, 

Swa  that  na  lenth  of  tyme  it  let,7 

Na  ger  8  it  haly  9  be  forget. 

For  aulde  storys  that  men  redys, 

Representis  to  thaim  the  dedys 

Of  stalwart  folk  that  lywyt  ar,10 

Rycht  as  thai  than  in  presence  war.  ao 

And,  certis,  thai  suld  weill  ha  we  pryss, 

That  in  thar  tyme  war  wycht  u  and  wyss, 

And  led  thar  lyff  in  gret  trawaill,12 

And  oft  in  hard  stour  18  off  bataill 

Wan  richt  gret  price  off  chewalry, 

And  war  woydyt  14  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  fer  landis  renownyt  wes  he. 

Off  thaim  I  thynk  this  buk  to  ma;  u 

Now  God  gyff  grace  that  I  may  swa 

Tret  it,  and  bryng  it  till  endyng, 

That  I  say  nocht  bot  suthfast  thing! 

l  If.      *  narrative.      »  pleasing.      «  To.  «  thereto. 

•  writing.       ^  hinder,  destroy.      »  make.  •  wholly. 

"  lived  before.       "  powerful.       »  labor.  "  shock. 
»«  cleared.        »  make. 


HOW  SCOTLAND    LEARNED    TO 

LOVE   LIBERTY 

(i,  179-246) 

QUHEN  16  schir  Edward,  the  mychty  king, 

Had  on  this  wyss 17  done  his  likyng 18 

Off  Ihone  the  Balleoll,  that  swa  sone 

Was  all  defawtyt 19  and  undone, 

To  Scotland  went  he  than  in  hy, 

And  all  the  land  gan  occupy: 

So  hale,20  that  bath  castell  and  toune 

War  in-till21  his  possessioune, 

Fra  Weik  anent  Orknay 

To  Mullyr-snwk  in  Gallaway:  10 

And  stutfyt  all  with  Ingliss  men. 

Schyrreffys  and  bailyheys  maid  he  then; 

And  alkyn  w  othir  officeris, 

That  for  to  gowern  land  afferis,28 

He  maid  off  Inglis  nation; 

That  worthyt 24  than  sa  ryth  f  ellone,26 

And  sa  wykkyt  and  cowfitouss, 

And  swa  hawtane  26  and  dispitouss, 

That  Scottis  men  mycht  do  na  thing 

That  evir  mycht  pleyss  to  thar  liking.27    ao 

Thar  wyffis  wald  thai  oft  forly,'28 

And  thar  dochtrys  dispitusly; 

And  gyff29  ony  thar-at  war  wrath, 

Thai  watyt  *°  hym  wele  with  gret  scaith, 

For  thai  suld  fynd  sone  enchesone  81 

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,  jo 

With  rycht  or  wrang  it  have  wald  thai. 

And  gyf  ony  wald  thaim  withsay, 

Thai  suld  swa  do,  that  thai  suld  tyne  m 

Othir  land  or  lyff,  or  leyff  88  in  pyne. 

18  In  middle  Scots  quh=vrh.  17  wise,  fashion. 

"  pleasure.  »  defaulted.  >°  wholly.  S1  into,  in. 
12  all  kinds  of.  23  belong.  «  became.  25  very 
cruel.  "  haughty.  27  pleasure.  88  outrage.  z»  if. 
*°  lay  in  wait  for.  31  reason.  *2  lose.  33  live. 


HOW   THE   KING   READ  PER  UMBRAS 


333 


For  thai  dempt1  thaim  eftir  thar  will, 

Takaud  2  na  kep8  to  rycht  na  skill.4 

A  !  quhat  thai  dempt  thaim  feloiily  !  6 

For  gud  knychtis  that  war  worthy, 

For  litill  enchesoune  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  fays6  thar  iugis  was; 

Quhat  wrechitnes  may  man  have  mar  ? 

A!  fredome  is  a  noble  thing! 

Fredome  mayss  7  man  to  haiff  liking; 

Fredome  all  solace  to  man  giffis: 

He  levys  at  ess  that  frely  levys !  50 

A  noble  hart  may  haiff  nane  ess, 

Na  ellys  nocht  that  may  him  pless, 

Gyff  fredome  failyhe;8  for  fre  liking 

J  s  yharny t 9  our 10  all  othir  thing. 

Na  n  he,  that  ay  hass  levyt  fre, 

May  nocht  knaw  weill  the  propyrte, 

The  angyr,  na  the  wrechyt  dome, 

That  is  cowplyt  to  foule  thyrldome. 

Bot  gyff  he  had  assayit  it, 

Thau  all  perquer12  he  suld  it  wyt ; 18         60 

And  suld  think  fredome  m;ir  to  pryss 

Than  all  the  gold  in  warld  that  is. 

Thus  contrar  thingis  evir-mar 

Discoweryngis  off  the  tothir  ar. 

And  he  that  thryll 14  is  has  nocht  his, 

All  that  he  hass  enbandownyt16  is 

Till  hys  lord,  quhat  euir  he  be. 


HOW  THE   KING   READ 
FERUMBRAS 

(in,  405-67) 

THE  king,  eftir  that  he  was  gane, 
To  Lowchlomond  the  way  has  tane,16 
And  come  thar  on  the  thrid  day. 
Bot  thar-about  na  bait17  fand  thai, 
That  mycht  thaim  our  the  watir  ber: 
Than  war  thai  wa 18  on  gret  maner  : 
For  it  wes  fer  about  to  ga; 
And  thai  war  in-to  dout  alsua, 
To  meyt  thar  fayis  19  that  spred  war  wyd. 
Tharfor,  endlang  the  louchhis20  syd,  i 

Sa  besyly  thai  socht,  and  fast, 
Tyll  lamys  of  Dowglas,  at  the  last, 


Fand  a  litill  sonkyn  bate,21 

And  to  the  land  it  drew,  fut-hate.22 

Bot  it  sa  litill  wes,  that  it 

Mycht  our  the  wattir  bot  thresum  28  flyt.24 

Thai  send  thar-otf  word  to  the  king, 

That  wes  ioyfull  off  that  fyndiiig; 

And  fyrst  in-to  the  bate  is  gane, 

With  him  Dowglas;  the  thrid  wes  ane       ao 

That  rowyt  thaim  our  deliverly,25 

And  set  thaim  on  the  land  all  dry: 

And  rowyt  sa  of-syss  '2G  to  and  fra, 

Fechand27  ay  our  28  twa  and  twa, 

That,  in  a  nycht  and  in  a  day, 

Cummyn  owt-our  M  the  lonch  ar  thai. 

For  sum  off  thaim  couth  swome80  full  weill, 

And  on  his  bak  ber  a  fardele.81 

Swa  with  swymmyng,  and  with  rowyng, 

Thai  brocht  thaim  our,  and  all  thar  thing. 

The  king,  the  qnhilis,82  meryly  31 

Red  to  thaim,  that  war  him  by, 

Romanys  off  worthi  Ferambrace, 

That  worthily  our-cummyn  38  was 

Throw  the  rycht  douchty  Olywer; 

And  how  the  duk-peris  84  wer 

Assegyt M  in-till  Egrymor, 

Qnhar  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  fayis87  wan. 

Yheyte  88  sua  contenyt  thai  thaim  than, 

That  thai  the  tour  held  manlily, 

Till  that  Rychard  off  Normandy, 

Magre  89  his  fayis,  warnyt  the  king, 

That  wes  ioyfull  off  this  tithing;40 

For  he  wend  41  thai  had  all  bene  slayne. 

Tharfor  he  turnyt  in  hy  42  agayne,  So 

And  wan  Mantrybill  and  passit  Flagot; 

And  syne  Lawyne  and  all  bis  flot 48 

Dispitusly  discumfyt  he: 

And  deliveryt  his  men  all  fre, 

And  wan  the  naylis,  and  the  sper, 

And  the  croune,  that  lesu  couth  4*  ber; 

And  off  the  croice  a  gret  party  45 

He  wan  throw  his  chewalry. 

The  gud  king,  apon  this  maner, 

Comfortyt  thaim  that  war  him  ner;  60 

And  maid  thaim  gamyn  46  and  solace, 

Till  that  his  folk  all  passyt  was. 

»  boat.  «  hot-foot,  hastily.  «  three  at  a  time. 
*«  transport.  «  quickly.  «  oft-times.  «  Fetching. 
*8  over.  29  across.  *o  swim,  si  burden.  *2  mean 
while.  "  overcome.  »*  douze  pairs,  the  Twelve 
Peers  of  France.  **  Besieged.  «  more.  "  foes. 
38  yet.  «»  In  spite  of.  40  tidings.  «  weened. 
«  haste.  «»  fleet.  "  did.  «  piece.  "  mirth. 


334 


JOHN   BARBOUR 


THE  BATTLE  OF  BANNOCK- 
BURN 

(xn,  407-588) 

THE  Scottis  men,  quhen  it  wes  day, 

Thair  mess  devotly  herd  thai  say, 

Syne  tuk  a  sop,  and  maid  thame  yar.1 

And  quhen,  thai  all  assemblit  war, 

And  in  thair  battalis  2  all  purvait, 

With  thair  braid  baneris  all  displayit, 

Thai  maid  knychtis,  as  it  efferis  8 

To  men  that  oysis  4  thai  mysteris. 

The  kyng  maid  Walter  Stewart  knycht, 

And  lames  of  Douglass,  that  wes  wicht,6  10 

And  othir  als  of  gret  bounte 

He  maid,  ilkane6  in  tbair  degre. 

Quhen  this  wes  done,  that  I  you  say, 

Thai  went  all  furth  in  gud  aray, 

And  tuk  the  playne  full  apertly,7 

Mony  wicht  man,  gud  and  hardy, 

That  wer  fulfillit  of  gret  bounte. 

In-till 8  thair  rowtis  9  men  mycht  se 

The  Yuglis  men,  in  othir  party, 

That  richt  as  angelis  schane  brichtly,        20 

War  nocht  arayit  on  sic  maner; 

For  all  thair  battalis  sammyn  10  wer 

In  a  schiltrum;  n  bot  quhethir  it  wes 

Tlirou  the  gret  stratnes  12  of  the  plass, 

That  thai  war  rad  13  till  byd  14  fichting, 

Or  that  it  wes  for  abaysing,15 

I  wat 16  nocht;  bot  in  a  schiltrum 

It  semyt  thai  war,  all  and  some, 

Ontane  17  the  vaward  anerly, 

That  with  ane  richt  gret  cumpany  30 

Be  thame-selvin  arayit  war, 

And  till  the  battale  maid  thame  yar. 

That  folk  our-tuk  18  ane  mekill 19  f eld 

On  breid,  quhar  mony  a  schynand  scheld, 

And  mony  a  burnyst  bricht  armour, 

And  mouy  man  of  gret  valour, 

And  mony  a  baner,  bricht  and  scbeyne, 

Micht  in  that  gret  schiltrum  be  seyue. 

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,20 

And  said,  'Quhat?  will  yon  Scottis  ficht?' 

*  Yaa,  sekirly,  schir,'  than  said  a  knycht, 

Schir  Ingerame  Vmphrevell  }iat  21  he, 

And  said,  *  Forsuth,  schir,  now  I  se 

i  ready.  *  battalions.  *  belongs.  *  use. 
6  stout.  «  each  one.  7  openly.  8  In.  •  bands. 
10  together,  n  squadron.  1*  narrowness.  «  afraid. 
i*  bide.  15  dismay.  18  know.  "  Except.  is  covered. 
i«  large.  so  wonder.  »  was  called. 


All  the  mast  ferlifull 2-  sycht 

That  evir  I  saw,  quheu  for  to  ficht 

The  Scottis  men  has  tane  on  hand 

Agane  28  the  gret  mycht  of  Yngland,         50 

In  plane  hard  feild  to  gif  battale. 

Bot  and  yhe  24  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;26 

And  ye  sail  se  als  soyne  at  27  thai, 

Magre  thair  lordis,  sail  brek  aray, 

And  scale28  thame,  our  harness  to  ta.29 

And  quhen  we  se  thame  scalit  swa,  flo 

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  iiocht,'  said  the  king,  « perfay,81 

Do  sa;  for  ther  sail  no  man  say 

That  I  snld  eschewe  the  battale, 

Na  withdraw  me  for  sic  rangale.'  M 

Quheu  this  wes  said  that  er  y3  said  I, 

The  Scottis  men  full  devotly  70 

Knelyt  all  doune,  till  God  to  pray, 

And  a  schort  praver  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  — 84 

'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,  8a 

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 w  delaying.' 

He  gert 87  trump  np  to  the  assemble; 

On  athir38  syd  than  men  mycht  se 

Full  mony  wicht  men  and  worthy, 

All  ready  till  do  chevelry. 

Thus  war  thai  boune89  on  athir  syde; 
And  Yngliss  men,  with  mekill  prid,  90 

That  war  in-till  thar  awaward,40 
Till  the  battall  that  schir  Eduard 
Gouernyt  and  led,  held  straucht  thair  way. 
The  horss  with  spuris  hardnyt41  thai, 
And  prikit  apon  thame  sturdely; 
And  thai  met  thame  richt  hardely, 

2*  wonderful.  ™  Against.  «  if  you.  ®  hence. 
>«  pavilions.  «7  as  soon  that.  28  scatter.  «  take. 
*o  joined  together.  »i  in  faith.  «  rabble.  33  before. 
*«  haste.  85  fear  of  death.  s8  without.  37  caused. 
M  either.  »9  ready.  <°  vanguard.  41  emboldened. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BANNOCKBURN 


335 


Swa  that,  at  the  assemble  thair, 

Sic  a  frusching  1  of  speris  wair 

That  fer  away  men  mycht  it  her. 

At  thar  metyng,  for-outen  wer,'2  100 

Wer  stedis  stekit3  mony  ane, 

Mouy  gud  man  borne  doune  and  slane, 

And  mouy  ano  hardymeut  douchtely 

Wes  thair  eschewit4  full  hardely. 

Thai  dang  on  othir  with  wapnys  ser;6 

Sum  of  the  horss,  that  stekit  wer, 

Ruschit  and  relit  richt  roydly.6 

Bot  the  remaiiaut,  nocht-for-thi,7 

That  mycht  cum  to  the  assembling,8 

For  that  lat9  maid  rycht  no  stynting,10    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  roucht  full  mony  rout.11 

The  ficht  wes  thair  so  fell  and  stout, 

That  mony  worthy  men  and  wicht, 

Throu  forss,  wes  fellit  in  that  ficht, 

That  had  no  mycht  to  ryss  agane. 

The  Scottis  men  fast  can  thaine  payne12  120 

Thair  fais  mekill  mycht  to  russ.13 

I  trow  thai  sail  no  payne  refuss, 

Na  perell,  quhill  thar  fais  be 

Set  in-till  herd  proplexite. 

And  quhen  the  erll  of  Murref  sa11 
Thair  avaward  saw  stoutly  ta15 
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,16  quhar  sammyn  17  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  assalyeit18  fast,  140 

That  on  stedis,  with  mekill  prid, 
Com  prikand  as  thai  wald  our-ryd 19 
The  erll  and  all  his  cumpany. 
Bot  thai  met  thame  so  sturdely, 
That  mony  of  thame  till  erd  thai  bar. 
And  mony  a  steid  wes  stekit  thar, 

i  breaking.  *  without  doubt.  »  stabbed. 

«  achieved.  5  various  weapons.  •  reeled  right 

rudely.  7  nevertheless,  s  encounter.  9  hindrance. 
10  stopping.  11  dealt  full  many  a  blow.  i2  exert. 
«  overthrow.  1*  saw.  is  take.  16  baud,  crowd. 
17  together.  18  assailed.  18  over-ride. 


And  mony  gud  man  fellit  undir  feit, 

That  had  no  power  to  riss  yeit. 

Ther  men  mycht  se  ane  hard  battale, 

And  sum  defend  and  sum  assale,  150 

And  mony  a  riall  rymmyll20  ryde21 

Be  roucht22  thair  apon  aithir  syde, 

Quhill    throu    the    byrneiss 23   brist 24   the 

blud, 

That  till  the  erd  doune  stremand  yud.26 
The  erll  of  Murreff  and  his  men 
So  stoutly  thame  contenit26  then, 
That  thai  wan  plass27  ay  mair  and  mair 
On  thair  fais,  the  quhethir28  thai  war 
Ay  ten  for  ane,  or  ma,29  perfay; 
Swa  that  it  semyt  weill  that  thai  160 

War  tynt30  emang  so  gret  menghe,31 
As  thai  war  plungit  in  the  se. 
And  quhen  the  Yngliss  men  lias  seyne 
The  erll  and  all  his  men  be-deyne  32 
Fecht  sa  stoutly,  but  eft'raying,88 
Richt  as  thai  had  nane  abaysing,34 
Thai  pressit  thame  with  all  thar  mycht. 
And  thai,  with  speris  and  suerdis85  b rycht, 
And  axis  that  rycht  scharply  schar,36 
In-myd  the  visage87  met  thame  thar        170 
Thar  men  mycht  se  ane  stalwart  stour,88 
And  mony  men  of  gret  valour 
With  speris,  macyss,39  and  with  knyvis, 
And  othir  wapnys  vissill40  thair  lyvis, 
Swa  that  mony  fell  doune  all  ded ; 
The  gyrss  wox41  with  the  blude  all  red. 
The  erll,  that  wicht  wes  and  worthy, 
And  his  men  faucht  so  manfully, 
That,  quha  sa  ^  had  seyne  thaim  that  day, 
I  trow,  forsuth,  that  thai  suld  say,  180 

That  thai  suld  do  thair  devour43  wele, 
Swa  that  thair  fayis  suld  it  feill. 

(XIH,  1-408) 

Qwhen  that  thir  two  first  batellis  wer 

Assemblit,  as  I  said  yow  er, 

The  Steward,  Walter  that  than  wes, 

And  the  gud  lord  als  of  Dougless, 

In  a  battale  quhen  that  thai  saw 

The  erll,  foronten 44  dreid  or  aw, 

Assemmyll 46  with  his  cumpany 

On  all  the  folk  so  sturdely,  190 

For  till  help  him  thai  held  thar  way 

With  thar  battale  in  gud  aray, 

»o  royal  blow.  »  severe.  «  reached,  struck. 
«  breast-plate.  **  burst.  *5  went.  2(J  conducted. 
"  pained  ground.  28  although.  2*  more.  80  lost. 
«i  numbers.  «  forthwith.  33  without  being  afraid. 
34  dismay.  85  swords.  86  c«t.  37  Face  to  face. 
»s  severe  shock.  3»  maces.  40  exchange.  41  grass 
grew.  «  whosoever.  «3  duty.  «*  without.  «  attack. 


336 


JOHN  BARBOUR 


And  assemmyllit  so  hardely 

Besyd  the  erll  a  litill  by, 

Thair  fais  feld1  thair  cummyng  weill; 

For  with  wapnys  stalwart  of  steill 

Thai  dang  2  on  thame  with  all  thar  mycht. 

Thair  fais  resavit  thame  weill,  I  hycht,8 

With  swenlis,  speris,  and  with  macyss. 

The  battale  thair  so  felloune  4  was,  200 

And  sua  richt  gret  spilling  of  blud, 

That  on  the  erd  the  fluss5  it  stud. 

The  Scottis  men  so  weill  thame  bar, 

And  sua  gret  slauchtir  maid  thai  thar, 

And  fra  so  feill6  the  livis  revit,7 

That  all  the  feild  was  bludy  levit.8 

That  tym  thir  9  thre  battalis  wer 

All  syde  be  syde  fechtand  weill  neir. 

That  mycht  man  her  richt  mony  dynt 

And  wapnys  apon  armour  stynt,10  210 

And  se  tummyll n  knychtis  and  stedis, 

With  mony  rich  and  ryoll  wedis 

Defoulit  roydly  under  feit. 

Sum  held  on  loft,  sum  tynt  the  suet.13 

A  long  quhill  thus  fechtaud13  thai  wer, 

That  men  no  noyis  na  cry  mycht  her; 

Men  herd  nocht  ellis  bot  granys14  and  dyntis 

That  slew  15  fire,  as  men  dois  on  flyntis; 

Sa  f  aucht  thai  ilkane  16  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,17 

That  thai  mycht  say  weill,  at 18  thaim  saw, 

That  thai  ane  hydwiss 19  scliour  can  ma; 

For  quhar  thai  fell,  I  undirta, 

Thai  left  eftir  thame  taknyng20 

That  sail  neid,  as  I  trow,  lechyng.21 

The  Yno-li.ss  archeris  schot  so  fast, 

That,  mycht  thar  schot  haf  had  last,22     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  28  the  assemble 

His  marschall  with  a  gret  menghe,24 

Fiff  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,26 

1  felt.  *  hammered.  •  promise.  '  wicked, 
bitter.  »  marsh.  «  many.  T  bereft.  •  left. 
»  these.  10  struck.  "  tumble.  1J  lost  their  life- 
blood  (lit.,  sweat).  1S  fighting.  i«  groans.  15  struck. 
i«  each  one.  17  flew,  is  that,  w  hideous.  *"  token. 
11  doctoring.  22  continuance.  23  commanded  out 
from.  24  number.  **  tell. 


That  schir  Robert  of  Keth  wes  cald, 

As  I  befor  hass  to  vow  tald, 

Quhen  that  lie  saw  the  battalis  swa 

Assenunyll  and  to-giddir  ga, 

And  saw  the  archeris  schut  stoutly, 

With  all  thame  of  his  cumpany 

In  hy  apon  thame  can  26  he  ryde, 

And  our-tuk  thame  at  a  syde,  150 

And  ruschit  emang  thaim  so  roydly, 

Strikand  thame  sua  dispitfully, 

And  in  sic  fusioune27  berand  doune 

And  slayand  thame  without  ransoune,28 

That  thai  thame  scalit  euirilkane;  ^ 

And  fra  that  tyrne  furth  ther  wes  iiaue 

That  assemlit  sic  schot  till  ma.30 

Quhen  Scottis  archeris  saw  at  swa 

Thai  war  rebutit,81  thai  wox  hardy, 

With  all  thar  mycht  schot  egirly  260 

Emang  the  horss-men  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  32  thair  fais  archeris  were 

Scalit,  as  I  have  said  yhow  ere, 

That  ma  than  thai  war  be  gret  thing,88 

Swa  that  thai  dred  nocht  thar  schuting, 

Thai  wox  so  hardy  that  thame  thoucht 

Thai  suld  set  all  thair  fais  at  noucht.        270 

The  marschall  and  his  cumpany 
Wes  yeit,84  as  to  yow  ere  said  I, 
Amang  the  archeris,  quhar  thai  maid 
With  speris  rowme  quhar  at  K  thai  raid, 
And  slew  all  that  thai  mycht  ourta.86 
And  thai  weill  lichtly  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  haff  litill  mycht.  280 

Thai  scalit  thame  on  sic  maner, 
That  sum  to  thar  gret  battelis  wer 
Withdrawin  thaim  in  full  gret  hy, 
And  sum  war  fled  all  utrely.88 
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.89 
The  archeris  that  thai  met  fleand,40 
That  than  war  maid  so  recryand,41  390 

That  thair  hertis  war  tynt42  cleirly, 
I  trow  thai  sail  nocht  scath 4S  gretly 

»«  did.  "  confusion.  **  ransom,  quarter.  z«  scat 
tered  everyone.  »o  make.  8i  repulsed.  S2  after. 
M  Who  were  many  more  than  they.  84  gone.  35  room 
wherever.  3«  overtake.  "  unarmed.  3S  utterly. 
*•  did  thrust.  «°  fleeing.  "  recreant.  «  lost. 
«»  injury. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   BANNOCKBURN 


337 


The  Scottis  men  with  schot  that  day. 

And  the  gud  king  Robert,  that  ay 

Was  fill  it  of  full  gret  bounte, 

Saw  how  that  his  battelis  thre 

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,      300 

And  how  the  archeris  war  seal  it  then; 

He  was  all  blith,  and  till  his  men 

He  said,  "  Lordingis,  now  Ink  that  yhe 

Worthy  and  of  gud  covyne  l  be 

At  this  assemble,  and  hardy; 

And  assemmyll  so  sturdely 

That  no  thing  may  befor  yow  stand. 

Our  men  so  freschly  ar  fechtand, 

That  thai  thair  fais  has  cumrait 2  swa 

That,  be  thai  presit,  I  undirta,8  310 

A  lit  ill  fastar,  yhe  sail  se 

That  thai  discumfit  soyn  4  sail  be. 

Now  ga  we  on  them  so  hardely, 

And  ding  on  them  sa  doughtely, 

That  they  may  feele,  at  our  comming, 

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  drawne: 

And  wald  destroy  us  gif  6  they  might. 

Bot,  I  trow,  God,  through  his  foresight, 

This  day  lies  grented  us  his  grace 

To  wrek6  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  ruschit7  a  gret  thing.        330 

Ther  men  mycht  se  men  freschly  ficht, 

And  men  that  worthy  war  and  wycht 

L)o  mony  worthy  vassalage;8 

Thai  faucht  as  thai  war  in  a  rage. 

For  quhen  the  Scottis  ynkirly  9 

Saw  thair  fais  sa  sturdely 

Stand  in-to  battale  thame  agane,10 

With  all  thar  mycht  and  all  thar  mayne 

Thai  layd  on,  as  men  out  of  wit; 

For  quhar  thai  with  full  strak  mycht  hit,  340 

Thair  mycht  no  armyng  stynt  thar  strak ;  n 

Thai  to-f  ruschit 12  thame  thai  mycht  our-tak, 

And  with  axis  sic  duschis  gaff  18 

That  thai  helmys  and  hedis  claff 14 

i  counsel.        *  harassed.        *  undertake.        4  soon. 

8  if.         •  avenge.         ?  driven  far  baok.        8  prowess. 

9  specially.  1°  against.  "  check  their  stroke. 
«  Binaahed  to  pieces.        "  blows  gave.        "  cleft. 


And  thair  fais  richt  hardely 

Met  thame,  and  dang  on  douchtely 

With  wapnys  that  war  stith  16  of  steill. 

Thar  wes  the  battell  strikyn  weill ; 

So  gret  dynnyng  ther  wes  of  dyntis 

As  wapnys  apon  armor  styntis,  350 

And  of  speris  so  gret  bristing,16 

With  sic  thrawing  n  and  sic  thristing,18 

Sic  gyrnyng,  granyng,19  and  so  gret 

A  noyis,  as  thai  can  othir  bet,20 

And  cryit  ensengheis  21  on  everilk  22  syd, 

Gifand  and  takand  woundis  wyd, 

That  it  wes  hydwiss  for  till  her 

All  four  the  battelis,  wicht 23  that  wer, 

Fechtaud  in-till  a  24  front  haly. 

Almychty  God  !  full  douchtely  36* 

Schir  Edward  the  Bryss  and  his  men 

Amang  thair  fais  contenyt  thame  then, 

Fechtand  in-to  sa  gud  covyne  ^ 

So  hardy,  worthy,  and  so  fyne, 

That  thar  awaward26  ruschit  was, 

And,  magre  thairis,27  left  the  plais, 

And  to  thar  gret  rowt  to  warrand  28 

Thai  went,  that  than  had  apon  hand, 

So  gret  not,29  that  thai  war  effrait, 

For  Scottis  men  thame  hard  assait,80       370 

That  than  war  in  ane  schiltrum  81  all. 

Quha  hapnit  in  that  ficht  to  fall, 

I  trow  agane  he  suld  nocht  riss. 

Ther  men  mycht  se  on  mony  wiss 

Hardy ment  eschewit 32  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  88  that  thai  bare 

With  bind  wes  swa  defowlit  thar,  380 

That  thai  mycht  nocht  discrivit 34  be. 

A  !  mychty  God  !  quha  than  mycht  se 

The  Steward  Walter  and  his  rout 

And  the  gud  Dowglas  that  wes  stout 

Fechtand  in-to  the  stalward  stour,86 

He  suld  say  that  till  all  honour 

Thai  war  worthy,  that  in  that  ficht 

Sa  fast  presit  thair  fais  mycht, 

That    thai    thame    ruschit86    quhar    thai 

yeid.87 

Thair  mycht  men  se  mony  a  steid  390 

Fleand  on  stray,  that  lord  had  nane. 
A  !  lord  !  quha  than  gud  tent 88  had  tane 

»  strong.  »  breaking.  "  twisting.  »  thrusting. 
i>  grinning,  groaning.  *o  did  beat  others.  S1  battle- 
cries.  22  every.  «  stout.  "  one.  "  with  so 
good  a  plan.  M  vanguard.  27  in  spite  of  themselves. 
»s  shelter.  2»  business.  8°  assailed.  «i  squadron. 
!J  achieved.  33  Coats  of  armor  and  badges.  »4  dis 
cerned,  made  out.  »  shock  of  battle.  s«  bore  back. 
"  went.  8*  notice. 


338 


JOHN   BARBOUR 


To  the  gud  erll  off  Murreff, 
And  his,  that  swa  gret  rowtis  l  gaf, 
And  faucht  so  fast  in  that  battale, 
Tholand  2  sic  payne  and  sic  travale, 
That  thai  and  thairis  maid  sic  debat, 
That  quhar  thai  com,  thai  maid  thaim  gat ! 8 
Than  mycht  men  heir  ensengheis  cry, 
And  Scottis  men  cry  hardely,  400 

«  On  thame  !   On  thame  1  On  thame  !  thai 

faill!' 

With  that  so  hard  thai  can  assaill, 
And  slew  all  that  thai  mycht  our-ta,4 
And  the  Scottis  archeris  alsua 
Schot  emang  thame  so  sturdely, 
Ingrevand  6  thame  so  gretumly,6 
That  quhat  for7  thame  that  with  thame 

faucht, 

And  swa  gret  rowtis  to  thame  raucht,8 
And  presit  thame  full  egirly, 
And  quhat  for  arrowes  that  felly  410 

Mony  gret  woundis  can  thame  ma,9 
And  slew  fast  of  thair  horss  alsua, 
That  thai  vayndist  a  litell  we  10 ; 
Thai  dred  so  gretly  thane  till  de  n 
That  thair  covyne  was  war  than  eir.12 
For  thai  that  with  thame  fechtand  weir 
Set  hardyment,  and  strynth,  and  will, 
With  hart  and  corage  als  thar-till,18 
And  all  thair  inayne  and  all  thar  mycht, 
To  put  thame  fouly  to  the  flycht.  420 

In  this  tyme  that  I  tell  of  her, 
That  the  battall  on  this  maner 
Wes  strikin,14  quhar  on  athir  party- 
Thai  war  fechtand  richt  manfully, 
Yhemen,  swanys,  and  poveraill,18 
That  in  the  pare  to  yheyme  16  vittale 
War  left ;  quhen  thai  wist,  but  lesing,17 
That  thair  lordis  with  fell  lichtyng 
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  baneris 
Apon  lang  treis  and  on  speris, 
And  said  that  thai  wald  se  the  ficht, 
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 18  440 

i  blows.  *  Enduring.  »  yield  ground.  *  overtake. 
•  Injuring.  «  severely.  7  what  with.  »  reached 
them  so  great  blows.  •  did  cause.  10  gave  way  a  little. 
11  to  die.  1J  their  plight  was  worse  than  before.  1S  also 
thereto.  »«  stricken,  fought.  »5  Yeomen,  rustics,  and 
poor  people,  "guard.  »  without  mistake,  "did  go. 


With  thair  baneris  all  in  a  rout, 
As  thai  had  men  beyu  stith  19  and  stout. 
Thai  com  with  all  that  assemble 
Richt  quhill 20  thai  mycht  the  battale  se. 
Than  all  at  anys  21  thai  gaf  ane  cry  — 
4  Apoti  thame  !  on  thame  hardely  ! ' 
And  thar-with-all  cnmand  %*  ar  thai. 
Bot  thai  war  yeit  weill  fer  away, 
And  Yngliss  men,  that  ruschit  war 
Throu  t'orss  of  ficht,  as  I  said  air,28  450 

Quhen  thai  saw  cum  with  sic  a  cry 
Toward  thame  sic  ane  cumpauy, 
That  thai  thoucht  weill  als  mouy  war 
As  at 24  war  fechtand  with  thame  thar, 
And  thai  befor  had  thame  nocht  seyne, 
Than,  wit  yhe  weill,  withouten  weyne,26 
Thai  war  abasit  so  gretumly,26 
That  the  best  and  the  mast  hardy 
That  wes  in-till  the  oost  27  that  day 
Wald,  with  thar  mensk,28  have  beyn  away. 
The  king  Robert  be  thair  relyng  ^  461 

Saw  thai  war  neir  discomfyting, 
And  his  eusenghe  can  hely  30  cry. 
Than  with  thame  of  bis  cumpauy 
His  fais  presit  so  fast,  that  thai 
War  than  in-till  sa  gret  effray,81 
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,88  471 

And  till  discumfitur  war  ner; 
And  sum  of  thame  fled  all  planly. 
Bot  thai  that  wicht  war  and  hardy, 
That  schame  letit  till  ta 84  the  flicht, 
At  gret  myschef  mantemyt  M  the  ficht, 
And  stithly  in  the  stour  can  stand. 
And  quhen  the  king  of  Inglancl 
Saw  his  men  fle  in  syndry  place, 
And  saw  his  fais  rout,86  that  was  480 

Worthvn  so  wicht  m  and  so  hardy, 
That  all  his  folk  war  halely  83 
Swa  stonayit,39  that  thai  had  no  mycht 
To  stynt  thair  fais  in  the  ficht, 
He  was  abasit  so  gretumly, 
That  he  and  all  his  cumpauy, 
Fif  hundreth  arniyt  weill  at  rycht, 
In-till  a  frusche40  all  tnk  the  flycht, 
And  till  the  castell  held  ther  way. 
And  yeit,  as  I  herd  sum  men  say,  490 

i»  able.  20  till.  "  once.  "  coming.  «  before. 
*«  that.  «  doubt.  2«  BO  greatly  dismayed.  27  host. 
*s  honor.  2«  reeling,  wavering.  30  loudly.  31  in 
such  a  fright.  32  avoid.  33  scattered  in  several  small 
bands.  34  hindered  from  taking.  35  maintained. 
36  host.  "  Become  so  powerful.  l*  completely. 
39  dismayed.  40  In  broken  ranks. 


THE   BATTLE  OF   BANNOCKBURN 


339 


That  of  Vallanch  schir  Amer 

Quheu  he  the  feld  saw  veneust l  ner, 

By  the  renye  2  led  away  the  king, 

Agane  his  will,  frathe  fichting. 

And  quheu  schir  Gelis  de  Aigente 

Saw  the  king  thus  and  his  rnenghe  8 

Schape  thame  to  fle  so  spedeiy, 

He  com  richt  to  the  kyng  in  hy, 

And  said,  '  Schir,  sen  that  is  swa, 

That  ye  thusgat  4  your  gat  will  ga,6          500 

Haffis  6  gud  day  !  for  agane  will  I; 

Yheit  fled  I  nevir  sekirly,7 

And  I  cheiss  heir  to  byde  and  de 

Than  till  lif  heir8  and  schamfully  fle.' 

His  brydill  than  but  mair  abaid9 

He  turnyt,  and  agane  he  raid, 

And  on  schir  Eduard  the  Brysis  rout 

That  wes  so  sturdy  and  so  stout, 

As  dreid  of  nakyn  10  thing  had  he, 

He  prikit,  cry  and  '  Argente  ! '  510 

And  thai  with  speris  swa  him  met, 

And  swa  feill  n  speris  on  hym  set, 

That  he  and  horss  war  chargit  swa 

That  bath  doune  to  the  erd  can  ga; 

And  iii  that  place  than  slayne  wes  he. 

Of  liis  ded  wes  rycht  gret  pite; 

He  wes  the  thrid  best  kn}rcht,  perfay, 

That  men  wist  liffand  in  his  day; 

He  did  mony  a  fair  iourne.12 

On  Sarisenis  thre  derenyeis13  did  he;       520 

And  in-till  ilk  derenye  of  thai 

He  veneust  Sarisenis  twa; 

His  gret  worschip  tuk  thar  ending. 

And  fra 14  schir  Amer  with  the  king 

Wes  fled,  wes  nane  that  durst  abyde, 

Bot  fled,  scalit  on  ilka  syde. 

And  tli air  fais  thame  presit  fast, 

Thai  war,  to  say  suth,  all  agast, 

And  fled  swa  richt  effrayitly  16 

That  of  thame  a  full  gret  party  530 

Fled  to  the  wattir  of  Forth ;  and  thar 

The  mast  part  of  them  drownit  war. 

And  Bannokbum,  betuix  the  braiss,16 

Of  horss  and  men  so  chargit  wass, 

That  apon  drownit  horss  and  men 

Men  mycht  pass  dry  atour 17  it  then. 

And  laddis,  swanys,  and  rangall,18 

Quhen  thai  saw  veneust  the  battall, 

Ran  emang  thame  and  swa  can  sla 

Thai  folk,  that  no  defeus  mycht  ma,        540 

1  vanquished.  2  rein.  •  retinue.  *  in  this 
fashion.  *  will  go  your  way.  •  Have.  7  certainly, 
s  to  live  here.  •  without  more  delay,  w  no  kind  of. 
«  many.  «  feat  of  arms.  "  conflicts.  "  after.  «  in 
a  panic.  «  banks.  "  across,  is  peasants  and  rabble. 


That  it  war  pite  for  to  se. 

I  herd  nevir  quhar,  in  na  cuntre, 

Folk  at  swa  gret  myschef  war  stad  19; 

On  a  20  syde  thai  thair  fais  had, 

That  slew  thame  doune  without  mercy, 

And  thai  had  on  the  tothir  party 

Bannokburne,  that  sa  cummyrsum  21  was 

Of  slyk,22  and  depnes  for  till  pas, 

That  thair  mycht  nane  atour  it  ryde. 

Thame  worthit,23  magre  thairis,24  abyde;  SSo 

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  27  tak  on  hand. 

And  but  rescours  may  no  castele 

Be  haldin  lang:  yhe  wat  this  wele; 

Tharfor  confort  yow,  and  relye  28 

Your  men  about  yow  richt  straitlye, 

And  haldis  about  the  Park  the  way. 

Knyt  yow  als  sadly  a  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 

Richt  by  the  Rownde  Tabill  thair  way, 

And  syne  the  Park  enveronyt 81  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  !  w  580 

For  schir  lames,  lord  of  Douglass, 

Com  till  his  kyng  and  askit  the  chass, 

And  he  gaf  him  lef  but  abaid.38 

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.  590 

19  placed.      2°  one.      «  difficult  to  cross.      **  mud. 
«3  It  behooved  them.  »  in  spite  of  themselves. 

25  Nevertheless.  26  way.  "  rescue.  28  rally. 
29  close  your  ranks  as  closely.  *°  soon.  31  went  round. 
33  would  gladly  have  absent.  »»  without  delay. 


BLIND    HARRY1 


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.1 
To  leide 2  his  net,  a  child  furth  with  him 

yeid ; 8 

But  he,  or  nowne,4  was  in  a  fellowne  6  dreid. 
His  suerd  he  left,  so  did  he  nevir  agayne; 
It  dide  him  gud,  suppos  6  he  suffery  t  payne. 
Off  that  labour  as  than  he  was  nocht  sle:  7 
Happy  he  was,  tuk  fysche  habouudanle.    10 
Or  8  of  the  day  ten  hours  our  couth  pas,* 
Ridaiid  thar  come,  uer  by  quhar  Wallace  was, 
The  lorde  Persye,  was  captaue  than  off  Ayr; 
Fra  thine  10  he  turnde  and  couth  to  Glas- 

kow  fair.11 

Part  of  the  court  had  Wallace  labour  seyne, 
Till  him  raid  five  cled  into  ganand  greyne,12 
And  said  sone ;  '  Scot,  Martyns  fysche 18  we 

wald  have.' 

Wallace  meklye  agayne  ansuer  him  gave; 
'  It  war  resone,  me  think,  yhe  suld  haif  part: 
Waith 14  suld  be  delt,  in  all  place,  with  fre 

hart.'  20 

He   bad    his   child,   'Gyff    thaim   of  our 

waithyng.' 14 

The  Sothroun  said;  'As  now  of  thi  delyng 
We  will  nocht  tak,  thow  wald  giff  us  our16 

small.' 

He  lychtyt  doun,  and  fra  the  child  tuk  all. 
Wallas  said  than;  '  Geutill  men  gif 16  ye  be, 
Leiff  us  sum  part,  we  pray  for  cheryte. 
An  agyt  knycht  servis  our  Lady  to  day; 
Gud  frend,  leiff  part  and  tak  nocht  allaway.' 
1  Thow  sail  haiff  leiff  17  to  fysche,  and  tak 

the  ma,18 
All  this  forsuth  sail  in  our  flyttyng19  ga. 

i  Such  a  fancy  he  conceived.       *  carry.      *  a  young 
fellow  went  with  him.  *  ere  noon.          *  extreme. 

•  although.  7  skillful.  s  Ere.  »  did  pass  by. 
10  thence.  »  did  go  to  Glasgow.  «  in  comely  green. 
i*  Unexplained.  «  Spoil.  »  too.  i«  if.  "  have 
leave.  "  more  for  thyself.  "  baggage. 


We  serff  a  lord;  thh-20  fysches  all  till  him 

gang.'  31 

Wallace  ansuerd,  said;  'Thow  art  in  the 

wrang.' 
' Quham  thowis  21  thow,  Scot  ?  in  faith  thow 

servis22  a  blaw.' 

Till  him  he  ran,  and  out  a  suerd  can23  draw. 
Willy  ham  was  wa24  he  had  na  wappy  nis  thar, 
Bot  the  poutstaff,25  the  quhilk*  in  hand  he 

bar. 

Wallas  with  it  fast  on  the  oheik  him  tuk 
Wyth  so  gud  will,  quhill27  of  his  feit  he 

schuk. 
The  suerd  flaw  fra  him  a  fur  breid  28  on  the 

land. 
Wallas  was  glaid,  and   hynt29  it  sone  in 

hand ;  40 

And  with  the  swerd  awkwart30  he  him  gave 
Undyr  the  hat,  his  crage  8i  in  sondre  drave. 
Be  that  the  layff  82  lychtyt  about  Wallas; 
He  had  no  helpe,  only  bot  Goddis  grace. 
On  athir  side  full  fast  on  him  thai  dang ; w 
Gret  perell  was  gift*  thai  had  lestyt  lang. 
A  pone  the  hede  in  gret  ire  he  strak  aue; 
The  scherand84  suerd  glaid86  to  the  colar 

bane. 

Ane  othir  on  the  arme  he  hitt  so  hardcly, 
Quhill  hand  and  suerd  bathe  on  the  feld 

can  ly.  50 

The  tothir  twa  fled  to  thar  hors  agayne; 
He  stekit  him  was  last  apon  the  playne. 
Thre  slew  he  thar,  twa  fled  with  all  thair 

mycht 

Eftir  thar  lord;  bot  he  was  out  off  sicht, 
Takand  the  mure,86  or  he  and  thai  couth 

twyne.87 

Till  him  thai  raid  onon,  or  thai  wald  blyne,88 
And  cryit;  'Lord,  abide;  your  men  ar 

martyrit  doun  w 
Rycht  cruelly,  her  in  this  fals  regioun. 

20  these.  21  Sayest  'thou'  to.  MS.  dnwin.  M  de 
serves.  «  did.  24  woeful.  25  pol*  (with  a  not  on 
the  end).  "  which.  27  till.  2»  a  furrow's  length 
nway.  2«  seized.  3°  with  a  backward  stroke.  31  I""*. 
*2  By  that  time  the  rent.  «  struck.  34  outMng. 
"  glided.  *•  Crossing  the  moor.  »7  separate. 

»8  cease.        »•  cut  down. 


WALLACE  AND  THE  ENGLISH  QUEEN 


Five  of  our  court  her  at  the  wattir  baid,1 
Fysche  for  to  bryng,  thocht  it   na  profyt 

maid.  60 

We  ar  eliapyt,2  bot   in   feyld   slayne   are 

thre.' 
The  lord  speryt;8  'How  mony  mycht  thai 

be?' 
'  We  saw  bot  ane  that  has  discurafyst  us 

till.' 
Thanlewch4  he  lowde,and  said; '  Foule  mot 

yow  fall ; 5 

Sen  6  ane  yow  all  has  putt  to  conf usioun. 
Quha  menys7  it  maist,  the  devyll  of    hell 

him  droun; 
This  day  for  me,  in  faith,  he  beis  nocht 

socht.' 


WALLACE    AND    THE    ENGLISH 

QUEEN 
(vm,  1213-1496) 
ADAM  WALLACE  and  Boid  f  urth  with  him 


By  a  revir,  throu  out  a  floryst9  meid. 
And  as  thai  walk  atour10  the  feyldis  greyn, 
Out  off  the  south  thai  saw  quhar  at11  the 

queyn, 

To  wart  the  ost,12  come  ridand  sobyrly; 
And  fyfty  ladyis  was  in  hyr  cumpany, 
WTallyt  off13  wit,  and  demyt14  off  renotin; 
Sum  wedowis  war,  and  sum  off  religioun; 
And  seven  preistis  tliat  entrit15  war  in  age. 
Wallace  to  sic  did  nevir  gret  owtrage,       10 
Bot  gyff  16  till  him  thai  maid  a  gret  offens. 
Thus  prochyt17  thai  on  towart  tharpresens. 
At  the  palyoun,18  quhar  thai  the  lyoun  saw, 
To  ground  thai  lycht,  and  syne19  on  kueis 

can  faw;20 

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  lawar21  wycht. 
Up  by  the  hand  the  gud  erll  has  hyr  tayn; 
Atour  the  bent22  to  Wallace  ar  thai  gayn. 
Quhen  scho  him  saw,  scho  wald  haiif  knelyt 

doune  ;  2  i 

In  armys  sone  he  caucht  this  queyn  with 

croun, 

i  abode.          *  escaped.          3  asked.          <  laughed. 

*  Curse  on  you.      6  Since.     *  Who  bemoans.      8  went. 

•  blooming.         i«  across.         "  where  that.        1Z  host. 
"  Chosen  for.      i«  judged.      »  advanced.      »  Unless. 
n  approached.     «  pavilion.        »  then.        *°  did  fall. 
a  lower*        ^  pluin. 


And  kyssythyr  withoutyn  wordis  mor; 
Sa  dyd  he  nevir  to  na  Sotheron  befor. 

*  Madem,'  he  said,  'rycht  welcuin  mot  ye  be; 
How  plessis  yow  our  ostyng23  for  to  se?  ' 

*  Rycht  weyll,'   scho  said,  '  off  f  rendschip 

haiff  we  neid; 

God  grant  ye  wald  off  our  nessis24  to  speid. 
Suffyr  we  mon,25  suppos  it  Hk26  us  ill; 
Bot  trastis  weyll,27  it  is  contrar  our  will.'  30 
1  Ye  sail  remayn,  with  this  lord  I  mon  gang; 
Fra  your  presens  we  sail  nocht  tary  lang.' 
The  erll  and  he  on  to  the  paly  on  yeid, 
With  gud  avys  to  deym  mar28  off  this  deid. 
Till  consell  son  Wallace  gart29  call  tbaim  to: 

*  Lordys,'  he  said,  « ye  wait 80  quhat  is  ado. 
Off  thar  cummyng  my  selft'  has   na  ples- 

ance; 

Herfor  mon  we  wyrk  with  ordinance.81 
Wemen     may    become     tempnyng    in  to 

wer,82 
Amang  fullis88  that  can  tliaini  nocht  for- 

ber.  4o 

I  say  nocht  this  be  thir,84  nor  ye  it  the  queyn; 
I  trow  it  be  bot  gud  that  scho  will  meyn. 
Bot  sampyll86  tak  off  lang  tym  passit  by; 
At  Rownsywaill86  the  tresoun  was  playnly 
Be  wemen  maid,  that  Ganyelon  with  him 

brocht, 
And  Turke  wyn;87  forber  thai  in  couth  thai 

nocht. 

Langws88  in  wer  gert  thaim  desyr  thair  will, 
Qnhilk  brocht  Charlis  to  fellon8'9  loss  and  ill. 
The  flour  off  France,  withoutyn  redemp- 

cioun, 
Throuch  that  foull  deid,  was  brocht  to  con- 

f  usioun.  50 

Commaund   your   men   tharfor   in   privay 

wys,40 

Apayn41  off  lyff  thai  wyrk  nocht  on  sic  wys, 
Nane  spek  with  thaim,  bot  wysmen  off  gret 

waill,42 

At48  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; 

2'  array.  *4  Perhaps  corruption  of  needs.  »  must. 
2«  please.  «  believe  well.  z»  With  good  advice  to 
judge  more.  2»  caused.  so  know.  si  order, 

s*  Women  may  become  tempting  in  war.  MS.  be  con- 
tfmprtyng.  33  fools.  S4  concerning1  these.  35  exam 
ple.  »8  Roncesvalles.  «  Turkish  wine.  ««  tediinn  (?). 
»•  deadly.  «  privately.  "  On  pain.  «  avail, 
weight.  "  That. 


342 


BLIND   HARRY 


To  dyner  bownyt1  als  gudly  as  thai  can; 
And  servit  was  with  niouy  likly2  man.      60 
Gud  ptirvyauce   the  queyn    had  with  hyr 

wroclit; 
A   say8   scho   tuk   off   all   thyng  at    thai 

brocht. 
Wallace  persavyt,  and  said;  « We  haiff  no 

dreid: 

'I  can  nocht  trow  ladyis  wald  do  sic  deid, 
To  poysoun  men,  for  all  Ingland  to  wyu.' 
The  queyn  ansuerd;  'Gyff  poysoun  be 

tliarin, 

Off  ony  thyng  qnhilk  is  brocht  her  with  me, 
Apoti  my  selff  fyrst  sorow  sail  ye  se.' 
Sone  eftir  meit,  a  marchell  gart  all  absent, 
Bot  lordis,  and  thai  at  suld  to  consaill  went. 
Ladyis  apperyt  in  presens  with  the  queyn. 
Wallace  askyt,  quhat  hyr  cummyng  mycht 

ineyn.  72 

<  For  pes,'  scho  said,  *  at  we  haiff  to  yow 

socht; 
This   byrnand 4   wer  in   baill 5    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  leiff  it 

thus.' 
'  Yeis,'  said  the  queyne,  '  for  crystyn  folk 

we  ar. 

For  Goddis  saik,  sen  we  desyr  no  mar,      80 
We  awcht  pess.'6  '  Madeym,  that  I  deny. 
The  perfyt  caus  I  sail  yow  schawfor  qnhy; 
Ye  seke  na  pes  bot  for  your  awn  avail  I.7 
Quhen  your  fals  king  had  Scotland  grippyt 

haill, 

For  nakyn  8  thing  that  he  befor  him  fand, 
He  wald  nocht  thoill 9  the  rycht  blud  in  our 

laud; 
Bot  reft  thar  rent,  syne  put  thaim  selff  to 

dede:i<> 

Ransoun  off  gold  mycht  mak  us  na  remed. 
His  fell  fals  wer11  sail  on  him  selff  be 

seyn.' 
Than  sobyrly  till  him  ansnerd  the  queyn;  90 

*  Off  thir  wrangis12  amendis  war  most  fair.' 
'  Madeym,'   he  said,    *  off  him    we  ask  no 

mar, 

Bot  at  he  wald  byd13  us  in  to  battaill; 
And  God  be  juge,  he  kennys  14  the  mater 

haill.'  ' 

*  prepared.         2  suitable.         s  taste.         *  burning. 

*  harm.      6  ought  to  have  peace  by  right.     7  advantage. 

*  no  kind  of.        »  endure.         ">  de-ith.         "  terrible, 
unjust  war.      !2  these  wrongs.       13  await.      14  knows. 


'  Sic  mendis,'  scho  said,  '  war  nocht  rycht 

gud,  think  me: 
Pes  now  war  best,  and 18  it  mycht  purchest 

be. 

Wald  yhe  grant  pes,  and  truys 16  with  us  tak, 
Throuch  all  Ingland  we  suld  gar  prayeris 

mak 

For  yow,  and  thaim  at  in  the  wer  war  lost.' 
Than  Wallace  said ;  '  Quhar  sic  thing  cuin- 
mys  throuch  bost,17  100 

Prayer  off  fors,18  quhar  so  at  it  be  wrocht, 
Till  us  helpis  othyr  litill  or  ellis  uocht.' 
Warly19  scho  said;  'Thuswysmen  has  us 

kend,20 

Ay  eftir  wer  pees  is  the  finall  end. 
Quharfor  ye  suld  off  your  gret  malice  ces; 
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  yourpurches22  cum 
thar,  no 

Mendys  we  think  off  Ingland  for  to  haiff.' 
'  Quhat  set  yow  thus,'  scho  said,  '  so  God 

yow  saiff, 

Fra  violent  wer  at  ye  lik  nocht  to  duell  ?  '  ^ 
'Madem,'  he  said,  'the  suth  I  sail  yow  tell. 
Eftir  the  dayt  off  Alexandris  ryng,24 
Our  land  stud  thre  yer  desolate  but25  king, 
Kepyt  full  weyll  at  concord  in  gud  stait. 
Throuch  twa  clemyt,26  thar  hapnyt  gret  de- 
bait, 

So  ernystfully,  accord  thaim  nocht  thai  can. 
Your  king  thai  ast  for  to  be  thair  ourman.27 
Slely28  he  slayd29  throuch  strenthis80  off 
Scotland:  121 

The  kynryk31  syne  he  tuk  in  his  awn  hand. 
He  maid  a  kyng  agayn  our  rychtwys  law; 
For  he  of  him  suld  hald  the  regioun  aw.82 
Contrar  this  band  was  all  the  haill  barn- 
age,83 

For  Scotland  was  yeit  nevir  in  to  thrill- 
age.84 

Gret  Julius,  that  tribute  gat  off  aw, 
His  wynnyng  was  in  Scotland  bot  full  smaw. 
Than  your  fals  king,  undyr  colour  but  mar,85 
Throuch  band w  he  maid  till  Bruce  that  is 
our  ayr,37 


it  truce.     «  threat,     u  perforce 


os,    si     ngdom.    »«  all.    33  baronage,    3*  thralldo 
3&  under  pretense  without  more.      36  bond.     37  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  J  he  kepit  na  connaiid:  2 
He  said,  he  wald  nocht  gaand  conquess  land 
Till  othir  men;  and  thus  the  cas  befell. 
Thau  Scotland  throuch  he  demayned  3  hiin- 

sell; 

Slew  our  elderis,  gret  pete  was  to  se. 
In  presone  syne  lang  tyme  thai  pynit 4  me, 
Quhill  I  fra  thaim  was  castyn  out  for  ded. 
Thankit  be  God  he  send  me  sum  remed  !  140 
Vengyt  to  be  I  prevyt6  all  my  mycht; 
Feyll6  off  thair  kyu  to  dede  syn  I  haiff 

dycht.7 

The  rage  off  youth  gert  me  desyr  a  wyff  ; 
That  rewit  I  sayr,8  and  will  do  all  my  liff. 
A  tratour  knycht  but  mercy  gert  hyr  de, 
Ane  Hessilryg,  bot9  for  despit  off  me. 
Than  rang 10  i  f urth  in  cruell  wer  and  payn, 
Quhill  we  redemyt  part  off  our  landagayn. 
Than  your  curst  king  desyryt  off  us  a  tre w ; u 
Quhilk  maid  Scotland  full  rathly  12  for  to 

rew.  150 

In  to  that  pess  thai  set  a  suttell  ayr,18 
Than  xviij  scor  to  dede  thai  hangit  thar, 
At  noblis  war,  and  worthi  off  renoun; 
Off  cot  arrays 14  eldest  in  that  regioun. 
Thar  dede  15  we  think  to  veng  in  all  our 

mycht. 

The  woman  als,  that  dulfully  was  dycht,16 
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  nior  to  saiff.' 
The  breith17  teris,  was  gret  payn  to  behnld, 
Bryst  fra  his  eyn,  be18  he  his  taill  had  tald. 
The  queyn  wepyt  for  pete  off  Wallace.    163 
'  Allace,'  scho  said,  '  wa  worth  the  curssyt 

cace  ! 

In  waryit19  tym  that  Hesilryg  was  born  ! 
Mony  worthi  throuch  his  deid  ar  forlorn. 
He  suld  haiff  payn,  that  saikles w  sic  ane 

sleuch;21 

Ingland  sen  syn  has  boucht  it  der  enewch, 
Thocht  scho  had  beyn  a  queyn  or  a  pryn- 

sace.' 
'Madem,'  he  said,  'as  God   giff  me   gud 

grace,  170 

i  since  then.  *  covenant.  *  domineered.  4  tor 
tured.  B  proved,  tried.  •  Many.  7  done  to  death. 
«  I  rued  sorely.  *  only,  10  raged.  n  truce.  12  soon. 
»  In  that  peace  they  held  a  crafty  court  of  justice. 
«  coat-armor.  16  Their  death.  16  grievously  was 
treated.  17  angry.  is  before.  19  cursed.  20  in 
nocent.  "  Blew. 


Prynsace  or  queyn,  in  quhat  stait  so  thai  be, 
In  till  hir  tym  scho  was  nls  der  to  me.' 
'  Wallace,'  scho  said,  *  off  this  talk  we  will 

ces; 

The  mendis22  heroff  is  gud  prayer  and  pes.' 
'I  grant,'  he  said,  'off  me  as  now  na 

mayr; 
This   is   rycht  nocht  bot  ekyng28  off  our 

cayr.' 
The  queyn  fand  weyll,  langage  no  thing 

hyr  bet;24 
Scho  trowit  with  gold  that  he  mycht  be  our 

set.2* 
Thre   thousand  pound,  off  fynest  gold  so 

red, 
Scho  gert 26  be  brocht  to  Wallace  in  that 

sted.  180 

'  Madeym,'  he  said,  *  na  sic  tribut  we  craiff : 
A  nothir  mendis  we  wald  off  Ingland  haiff, 
Or27  we  raturn  fra  this  regioun  agayn, 
Off   your   fals   blud   that  has  our  elderis 

slayn. 

For  all  the  gold  and  ryches  ye  in  ryng,28 
Ye  get  no  pes,  bot29  desir  off  your  ki ,  g.' 
Quhen  scho  saw  weill  gold  mycht  hyr  nocht 

releiff, 
Sum  part  in  sport  scho  thoucht  him  for  to 

preiff. 
'Wallace,'  scho  said,  'yhe  war  clepyt  mv 

luff:  ao 

Mor  baundounly  81 1  maid  me  for  to  pruff  ; n 
Traistand M  tharfor  your  rancour  for  to 

slak;  191 

Me  think   ye  suld  do  sum  thing  for  my 

saik.' 

Rycht  wysly  he  maid  ansuer  to  the  queyn; 
'Madem,'  he  said,  'and84  verite  war  seyn, 
That  ye  me  luffyt,  I  awcht85  yow  lutf 

agayn. 

Thir  wordis  all  ar  no  thing  bot  in  vayn. 
Sic  luff  as  that  is  nothing  till  avance, 
To  tak  a  lak,86  and  syne  get  no  plesance. 
In  spech  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  87  off  thocht 
To  seke  frendschip,  and  syne  can  get  rycht 

nocht! ' 

82  amends,  remedy.  «  increase.  *4  helped,  "won 
over.  z«  caused.  2'  ere.  *8  reign  in.  «•  without. 
so  called  my  love.  31  recklessly.  sz  caused  myself 
to  try.  3s  trusting.  »*  if.  «  should  owe.  »•  play 
thing.  "  eager. 


344 


BLIND   HARRY 


'Madem,'  he   said,  'we  wait1  bow  ye  ar 

send; 

Yhe  trow  we  haiff  bot  litill  for  to  spend. 
Fyrst  with  your  gold,  for  ye  ar  rych  and 

wys, 
Yhe   wald    us    blynd,  sen    Scottis    ar  so 

nys:2 

Syn  pie  sand  wordis  off  you  and  ladyis  fayr, 
As  quha    suld    dryff    the    byrdis    till    a 

swar 8  210 

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  Inglaud  als  we  fynd  enewch  to  wyn.' 
Abayssyt 4  scho  was  to  mak  ansuer  him  till. 
1  Der  schyr,'  scho  said. '  sen  this  is  at  your 

will; 

Wer  or  pes,  quhat  so  yow  likis  best, 
Lat  your  hye  witt  and  gud  consaill  degest.' 6 
'  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  grantyt6  nocht  thar- 

tiU. 

Than  had  we  nayn  bot  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.7 
All  the  haill  pass  8  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  9  in  place  that  was  present. 
His  delyverance  10  thai  held  off  gret  availl, 
And  stark  enewch  to  schaw  to  thair  cou- 

saill. 
Wa  was   the   qweyu   hyr   travaill   helpyt 

nocht. 
The  gold  scho  tuk,  that  thai  had  with  hyr 

brocht, 

In  to  the  ost  rycht  frely  scho  it  gayff, 
Till  euirylk  man  that  likyt  for  till  haiff. 
Till  menstraillis,  harroldis,  scho  delt  ha- 

boundanle, 
Besekand  u  thaim  hyr  frend  at  thai  wald 

be.  240 

i  know.     2  foolish.     »  snare.      *  Abashed.     «  settle. 

•  agreed.      1  no  honor  is  to  b<*  won.      a  responsibility. 

•  rest.     «  speech.        "  beseeching. 


Quhen  Wallace  saw  the  fredom12  off  the 

queyn, 
Sadly  he  said ;  « The  suth  weyll  has  beyn 

seyn, 

Wemen  may  tempt  the  wysest  at  is  wrocht.18 
Your   gret   gentrice   it   sail   nevir   be  for 

nocht. 

We  yow  assure,  our  ost  sail  muff  na  thing,14 
Quhyll15  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,18 
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  leytf  scho  tuk  with  out  langar  abaid ; 
Fyve  myile  that  nycht  south  till  a  nonry  17 

raid. 

Apon  the  morn  till  London  passit  thai, 
In  Westmenster,  quhar  at  the  consaill  lay  : 
Wallace   ansuer   scho   gart   schaw  to  the 

king. 
It  nedis  nocht  her  rahers18  mar  off  this 

thing.  260 

The  gret  commend  that  scho  to  Wallace 

gaiff, 

Befor  the  king,  in  presens  off  the  laiff, 
Till  trew  Scottis  it  suld  gretly  apples,19 
Thocht  Inglismen  tharoff  had  litill  es;20 
Off  worschip,  wyt,  manheid,  and  governans, 
Off  fredom,  trewth;  key  off  remembrans 
Scho  callyt  him  thar  in  to  thair  hye  presens; 
Thocht  contrar  thaim  he  stud  at  his  defeus. 
4  So  chyftaynlik,'  scho  said, '  as  he  is  seyn, 
In  till  Inglande,  I  trow,  has  nevir  beyn.  270 
Wald  ye  off  gold  gyff  him  this  rewmys21 

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  purches  pees,  with  outyn  wordis  mar ; 
For  all  Ingland  may  rew  his  raid  full  sayr. 
Your  harroldys  als28  to  pass  to  him  h 

leyff, 
In   all   his  ost   thar   sail   no    man    thaii 

greiff.' 

1J  generosity.        lt  that  is  made.       14  our  host  sh: 
not  move  at  all.        is  Till.        18  times.         17  nunnery 
i8  repeat.      i'  plp.ase.       *°  ease,  comfort.      *l  reahn'i 
22  advibb. 


THE   DEATH   OF   WALLACE 


345 


Than  thankit  thai  the  queyn  for  hir  tra 
vail  1; 

The  king,  and  lordis  that  was  off  his  con- 
saill.  280 

Off  hyr  ansuer  the  king  applessit  was; 

Than  thre  gret  lordys  thai  ordand  for  to 


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,  1109-28) 

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 l   bandis   is 

bound ! 

Allace,  thow  has  now  lost  thi  gyd  off  lycht ! 
Allace,  quha  sail  defend  the  in  thi  rycht  ? 
Allace,  thi  payn  approchis  wondyr  ner, 
With  sorow  sone  thow  mon  bene  2  set  in 

feyr  ! 

Thi  gracious  gyd,  thi  grettast  governonr, 
Allace,  our  3  neiris  cumyn  his  fatell  hour  !  10 
Allace,   quha  sail  the   beit4  now  off  thi 

baill?5 

Allace,  qnhen  sail  off  harmys  thow  be  haill  ? 
Quha  sal  the  defend  ?  quha  sail  the  now 

mak  f  re  ? 

Allace,  in  wer  quha  sail  thi  helpar  be  ? 
Quha  sail   the   help?  quha   sail   the  now 

radem  ?  6 

Allace,  quha  sail  the  Saxons  fra  the  flem  ?  7 
I  can  no  mar,  bot  besek  God  off  grace 
The  to  restor  in  haist  to  rychtwysnace ; 8 
Sen  gud  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  f urth 

brocht, 

Till  martyr  him  as  thai  befor  had  wrocht. 
Rycht  suth  it  is,  a  martyr  was  Wallace, 
Als     Osauold,     Edmunt,     Eduuard,    and 
Thomas. 

*  violent.    *  must  be.     »  too.     <  cure  thee.    6  harm. 
•  redeem.        '  banish.        s  righteousness. 


Off  men  in  armes  led  him  a  full  gret  rout. 
With  a  bauld  spreit  gud  Wallace  blent9 

about: 

A  preyst  he  askyt,  for  God  at  deit10  on  tre. 
King  Eduuard  than  cumraandyt  his  clerge, 
And  said;  'I  charge,  apayn"  off  loss  off 

lyve, 
Nane    be    sa    bauld   yon    tyrand    for    to 

schryve.  i0 

He  has  rong12  lang  in  contrar  my  hienace.'18 
A  blyst  byschop  sone,  present  in  that  place, 
Off  Canterbery  he  than  was  rychtwys  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. 
And14  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  geiff ; 
Syn 15  tak  thi  chos,  to  sterve 16  or  lat  him 

leiff." 

It  war  mar  waill,18  in  worschip  off  thi  croun, 
To  kepe  sic  ane  in  lyff  in  thi  bandoun,19 
Than  all  the  laud  and  gud  at  thow  ha8 

refyd.^ 

Bot  covatice  the  ay  fra  honour  drefyd.21 
Thow  has  thi  lyff  rongyn22  in  wrangwis 

cleid; 

That  sail  be  seyn  on  the,  or  on  thi  seid.' 
The  king  gert28  charge  thai  suld  the  byschop 

ta;24 

Bot  sad  2«  lordys  conselly t  to  lat  him  ga.  30 
All  Inglismen  said,  at  his  desyr  was  rycht; 
To  Wallace  than  he  rakyt28  in  thar  sicht, 
And  sadly  hard  his  confessioun  till  ane  end. 
Humbly  to  God  his  spreyt  he  thar  coinend, 
Lawly  him  servyt  with  hartlye  devocioun 
Apon  his  kneis,  and  said  ane  orysoun. 
His  leyff  he  tuk,  and  to  West  monastyr n 

raid. 
The  lokmen28  than  thai  bur  Wallace  but 

baid29 

On  till  a  place,  his  martyrdom  to  tak; 
For  till  his  ded  he  wald  no  f  orthy  r  80  mak.  40 
Fra  the  fyrst  nycht  he  was  tane  in  Scotland, 
Thai  kepyt  him  in  to  that  sammyn  81  band. 

»  looked.  10  who  died.  «  on  pain.  »  reigned. 
i»  highness.  "  if.  "  then.  «  perish.  "  give  him 
permission.  «  avail,  advantage.  »  at  thy  mercy. 
20  robbed.  *l  drove.  **  reijrned.  *'  gave.  **  take. 
*"  serious.  29  went.  "  Westminster.  «  execu 
tioners.  "  bore  Wallace  without  delay.  *o  help. 


346 


'BLIND   HARRY ' 


Na  thing  he  had  at  suld  haiff  doyn  l  him 

gud; 

Bot  Inglismen  him  servit  off  carnaill  fud. 
Hys  warldly  lyff  desyrd  the  sustenance, 
Thocht  he  it  gat  in  contrar  off  plesance. 
Thai  thirty  dayis  his  band  thai  durst  nocht 

slaik, 
Quhill  he   was  bundyn  on  a  skamyll  off 

ayk,2 
With  irn  chenyeis  8  that  was  bath  stark  and 

keyn. 
A  clerk  thai  set  to  her  quhat  he   wald 

meyn.4  5o 

'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  saullis,  that  makis  thaim  to 

pray, 
In  thair  nowmyr 6  thow  may  be  ane  off 

thai; 

For  now  thow  seis  on  fors  thou  mon  de- 
cess.'  6 
Than  Wallace  said;  '  For  all  thi  roid  ra- 

herss,7 

Thow  has  na  charge,8  snppos  at  I  did  myss; 
Yon  blyst  byschop  has  hecht 9  1  sail  haiff 

blis;  60 

And  I  trew  weill,  at  God  sail  it  admyt: 
Thi  febyll  wordis  sail  nocht  my  conscience 

smyt. 

Conford  I  haiff  off  way  that  I  suld  gang, 
Maist  payn  I  feill  at  I  bid  her  our  lang.' 10 
Than  said  the  clerk;   'Our  king  oft  send 

the  till; 
Thow  mycht  haiff  had  all  Scotland  at  thi 

will, 

To  hald  off  him,  and  cessyt  off  thi  stryff; 
So  as  a  lord  rongyn  u  f urth  all  thi  lyff.' 
Than    Wallace     said;    'Thou    spekis    off 

mychty  thing. 
Had  I  lestyt,12  and  gottyn  my  rychtwys 

king,  7o 

1  that  should  have  done.  »  bench  of  oak.  »  iron 
chains.  *  moan.  *  number.  «  decease.  '  rude 
speech.  »  authority.  •  promised.  10  that  I  abide 
here  too  long.  "  reigned.  «  continued. 


Fra  worthi  Bruce  had  rasavit  his  croon, 
I  thocht  haiff  maid  Ingland  at  his  bandouu.u 
So  uttraly  it  suld  beyn14  at  his  will, 
Quhat  plessyt  him,  to  sauff  thi  king  or 

spill.' 16 
'  Weill,'  said  the  clerk,  '  than  thow  repentis 

nocht: 

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,1® 

Grace  off  our  king,  and  syn  at  his  barnage.'17 
Than  Wallace  smyld  a  litill  at  his  langage.  80 
'  I  grant,'  he  said,  '  part  Inglismen  I  slew 
In  my  quarrel,  me  thocht  nocht  haiff  enew. 
I  mowyt18  na  wer  hot  for  to  win  our  awin;19 
To  God  and  man  the  rycht  full  weill  is 

knawin. 

Thi  frustyr20  wordis  dois  nocht  bot  taris  me, 
I  the  cominaund,  on  Goddis  haiff,21  lat  me 

be.' 
A  schyrray  gart22  this  clerk  son  fra  him 


Rycht  as  thai  durst,  thai  grant  quhat  he 

wald  as.28 

A  Psaltyr  buk  Wallace  had  on  him  evir; 
Fra  his  childeid  fra  it  wald  nocht  desevir.24  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 

knycht, 

To  lat  him  haiff  his  Psaltyr  buk  in  sycht. 
He  gert  a  preyst  it  oppyn  befor  him  hauld, 
Quhi.ll  thai  till  him  had  done  all  at  thai 

wauld. 

Stedfast  he  red,  for  ocht  thai  did  him  thar: 
Fey II26  Sotheroun  said,  at  Wallace  feld  na 

sayr.27 

Gud  devocioun  sa  was  his  begynnyng, 
Conteynd  tharwith,  and  fair  was  his  end- 

yng;  100 

Quhill  spech  and  spreyt  at  anys  all  can 

fayr  28 
To  lestand  29  blyss,  we  trow,  for  evirmayr. 

»  in  his  power.  "  should  have  been.  »  destroy. 
'•  ready.  »  then  from  his  baronage.  18  moved. 
i*  own.  20  vain.  21  for  God's  sake.  22  sheriff  caused. 
23  ask.  24  part.  u  despoiled.  26  many.  2?  felfc 
no  pain.  2S  did  go.  29  lasting. 


JAMES  I   OF  SCOTS 
THE  KING'S   QUAIR1 


HEIGH  in  the  hevynnis  figure  circulere  a 
The  rody  sterres  twynklyng  HS  the  fyre; 

And,  in  Aquary,8  Cinthia 4  the  clere, 
Rynsid  hir  tressis  like  the  golden  wyre, 
That   late   tofore,  in   faire  and  frcsche 
atyre, 

Through  Capricorn  heved  hir  homis  bright, 

North  northward  approchitthe  myd-nyght;6 

Quhen,  as  I  lay  in  bed  allone  waking, 

New  partit 6  out  of  slepe  a  lyte  tofore,7 
Fell  me  to  mynd  of  many  diverse  thing,    10 
Off  this  and  that ;  can  I  noght  say  quhar- 

fore, 
Bot  slepe  for  craft  in  erth  8  myght  I  no 

more  ; 

For  qnhich  as  tho9  eoude  I  no  better  wyle,10 
Bot  toke  a  boke  to  rede  apon  a  quhile  : 

Off  quhich  the  name  is  clepit11  properly 
Boece,ef  tere  him  that  was  the  compiloure, 

Schewing  [the]  counsele  of  pliflosophye, 
Compilit  by  that  noble  senatoure 
Off  Rome,  (jiihilom  ^  that  was  the  warl- 
dis  floure, 

And  from  estate  by  fortune  [for]  a  quhile  20 

Forjugit 13  was  to  povert 14  in  exile  : 

And  there,  to  here  this  worthy  lord  and  clerk, 
His  metir  suete,  full  of  moralitee; 

His  flourit  pen  so  fair  he  set  a-werk, 
Discryving15  first  of  his  prosperitee, 
And  out  of  that  his  infelicitee ; 

And  than  how  he,  in  his  poetly  report,16 

In  philosophy  can  him  to  confort.1' 

For  quhich,  (thogh18  I,  in  purpose,  at  my 

boke, 

To  borowe  a  slepe  at  thilke19  tyme  be 
gan),  3o 

i  book.  *  dome,  firmament.  »  Aquarius.  <  MS. 
Citherea.  5  meridian.  •  roused.  7  a  little  before, 
s  by  any  earthly  means.  »  then.  10  knew  I  no  better 
device.  "  called.  12  once.  13  Condemned.  »  pov 
erty,  is  Describing.  i«  narrative.  "  did  comfort 
"  though.  i»  that. 


Or  ever  I  stent,20  my  best  was  more  to  loke 
Upon  the  writing  of  this  noble  man, 
Tiiat  in  him-self  the  full  recover  wan 
Off  his  infortune,  povert,  aud  distresse, 
And  iu  tham  set  his  verray  sekemesse.21 

And  so  the  vertew  of  his  youth  before 
Was  in  his  age  the  ground  of  his  clelvtis  : 

Fortune  the  bak  him  turnyt,  and  therfore 
He  maketh  joye  and   comfort,  that  he 

quit  is 
Off  thir  unsekir22  warldis  appetitis  ;     40 

And  so  aworth  23  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,24 
Quhich  to  declare  my  scole25  is  ouer  vong; 
Therefore  I  lat  him  pas,  and,  in  my  tong,26 

Procede  I  will  agayn  to  my  sentence 

Off  my  mater,  and  leve  all  incidence. 

The  longe  nyght  beholding,  as  I  saido,      50 
Myn  eye'n  gan  to  sinert  for  studying  ; 

My  nuke  I  schet,  and  at  my  hede  it  laide  ; 
And  doun  1  lay  bot27  ony  tarying, 
This  matere  newe  in  my  mynd  rolling  ; 

This  is  to  seyne  28  how  that  eche  estate, 

As  Fortune   lykith,  thame  will  [oft]  trans 
late. 

For  sothe  it  is,  that,  on  hir  tolter29  quhele, 

Every  wight  cleverith  in  his  stage,80 
And  failyng  fotingoft,quhen  hir  lest  rele,81 
Sum  up,  sum  doun,  is  non  estate  nor  age  60 
Ensured,   more   the    prynce   [nor]   thau 

the  page: 

So  uncouthly  hir  werdes  82  sche  devidith, 
Namly33  in  youth,  that  seildin84  ought  pro- 
vidith. 

*°  stopped.  21  security.  22  these  uncertain.  zs  at 
its  value.  24  chosen.  25  skull,  brain.  2G  o-.vi;  lan- 
puaere.  2;  without.  28  8ay.  z»  unstable.  *°  claml;era 
in  his  rank.  31  when  sbe  pleases  to  rsel.  !2  So 

strangely  tier  fates.        i3  Especially.        84  seldom. 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


Among  thir  though  tis  rolling  to  and  fro, 
Fell   me  to  mynd   of   my  fortune   and 

ure;1 

In  tender  youth  how  sche  was  first  my  fo, 
And  eft2   my  frende,   and   how  I  gat 

recure 

OS  my  distresse,  and  all  myn  aventure 
I  gan    oure-hayle,8   that  langer  slepe  ne 

rest 

Ne    myght    I    nat,    so    were    my    wittis 
wrest.4  70 

For-wakit  and  for-walowit,6  thus  musing, 

Wery,  forlyin,6  I  lestnyt  sodaynlye, 
And  soue  I  herd  the  bell  to  matyns  ryng, 
And  up  I  rase,  no  langer  wald  I  lye: 
Bot  now,  how  trowe  ye  ?  suich  a  fautasye 
Fell  me  to  mynd,  that  ay  methoght  the 

beU 

Said  to  me,  '  Tell  on,  man,  quhat  the  be 
fell.' 

Thoght  I  tho  7  to  my-self  ,  «  Quhat  may  this 

be? 

This  is  myn  awin  ymagynacioun; 
It  is  no  lyf  8  that  spekis  unto  me  ;  80 

It  is  a  bell,  or  that  impressioun 
Off  my  thoght  causith  this  illusioun, 
That   dooth    me  think  so  nycely9  in  this 

wise  ;' 
And  so  befell  as  I  schall  you  devise.10 

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  eonclusiouu 
Sum  newe  thing  to  write  ;  t  set  me  doim, 

And  furth-with-all  my  pen  in  hand  I  tuke, 

And  maid  a  •%•,  and  thus  begouth11  my 
buke.  91 

Thou  [sely]  u  youth,  of  nature  indegest,18 

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  infortune  hable  ;  14 
Wist  thou  thy  payne  to  cum  and  thy  tra- 

vaille, 

For  sorow  and  drede  wele  myght  thou  wepe 
and  waille. 


*  luck.  i  afterwards.  «  recalled.  *  tortured. 
•  Worn  out  with  waking  and  tossing.  •  tired  with 
lying.  7  then.  8  person.  •  maketh  me  think  so 
foolishly.  10  describe.  "  began.  12  innocent. 
»  crude.  "  liable. 


Thus  stant  16  thy  confort  in  unsekernesse, 
And  wantis  it  that  suld  the  reule  and 
gye  :  16  roo 

Ryght  as  the  schip  that  sailith  stereles  17 
Upon  the  rok[kis]  most  to  harmes  hye,18 
For  lak  of   it   that  suld  bene  hir  sup- 


So  standis  thou  here  in  this  warldis  rage, 
And  wantis  that  suld  gyde  all  thy  viage.'20 

I  mene  this  by  my-self,  as  in  partye;21 
Though  nature  gave  me  suffisaiice  M  in 
youth, 

The  rypenesse  of  resoun  lak  [it]  I 

To  governe  with  my  will  ;  so  lyte  I  couth,28 
Quheii  stereles  to  travaile  I  begouth,24 

Amang  the  wawis  of  this  warld  to  drive; 

And  how  the  case,  anon  I  will  discrive.    m 

With  doubtfull  hert,   amang   the   rokkis 

blake, 

My  feble  bote  full  fast  to  stere  and  rowe, 
Helples  allone,  the  wynter  nyght  I  wake, 
To  wayte  the  wynd  that  furthward  suld 

me  throwe.25 
O  empti  saile  !  quhare  is  the  wynd  suld 

bio  we 
Me  to   the   port,  quhar   gynneth   all   my 

game  ? 
Help,  Calyope,  and  wynd,  in  Marye  name  ! 

The  rokkis  clepe  26  I  the  prolixitee  uo 

Off   doubilnesse  that  doith27  my  wittis 
pall: 

The  lak  of  wynd  is  the  deficultee 

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  28 

To  seke  counyng,29  though  I  bot  lytill  fynd. 

At  my  begynnyng  first  I  clepe  and  call 
To  ypw,  Cleo,  and  to  yow,  Polymye, 

With  Thesi  phone,80  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  ! 

is  stands.  »  guide.  «  helraless.  »  must  hasten 
to  harm.  w  help.  *o  voyrvge.  81  mean  this  re 
garding  myself,  partly.  »  sufficient  rank  and  means. 
«  To  govern  my  will  with;  so  little  I  could.  »«  began. 
«  drive.  "  call.  «  maketh.  *»  unfurl.  (?) 

»  skill.  On  this  whole  passage  cf  .  Chaucer's  Troilui, 
Bk.  n.,  Proem. 

so  Tisiphone,  a  Fury.  James,  misled  by  a  passage  in 
Chaucer's  Troilus,  takes  her  for  a  Muse.  S1  wilful. 


THE   KING'S   QUAIR 


349 


In  vere,1  that  full  of  vertu  is  and  gude, 
Quhen  Nature  first  begynueth  hir  enprise, 

That  quhilum  was  be  cruell  frost  and  flude 
And  schouris  scharp  opprest  in  many  wy  se, 
And  Synthius  2  [bejgynneth  to  aryse 

Heigh   in   the    est — a   rnorow3  soft   and 
suete  — 

Upward  his  course  to  drive  in  Ariete:     140 

Passit  mydday  bot  foure  greis  evin,4 

Off   lenth   and  brede   his   angel  wingis 

bryght 
He  spred  .ujgon  the  ground  doun  fro  the 

heviii; 
That,  for  gladnesse  and  confort  of  the 

Sight, 

And  with  the  tiklyng  of  his  hete  and 

Tioht, 

The  tender  flouris  opnyt  thame  and  sprad; 
And,  in  thaire  nature,  tliankit  him  for  glad. 

Noght  fere  passit  the  state  of  innocence, 
Bot   nere   about   the    nowmer   of   yeris 
tbiv,6 

Were  it  causit  throu  hevinly  influence     150 
Off  G  odd  is  will,  or  othir  casualtee, 
Can  I  noght  say;  bot  out  of  my  contree, 

By  thaire  avise  that  had  of  me  the  cure, 

Be  see  to  pas,  tuke  I  myn  avenlure. 

Purvait  of  all  that  was  us  necessarye, 

With  wynd  at  will,  up  airly  by  the  morowe, 
Straight   unto   schip,  no  longere  wold  we 

tarye, 
The  way  we  tuke,  the  tyme  I  tald  to- 

forowe  ;  6 
With  mony «  fare  wele '  and  *  Sanct  lohne 

to  borowe ' 7 

Off  falowe  and  frende;  and  thus  with  one 
assent  160 

We  pullit  up  saile,  and  furth  cure  wayis 
went. 

Upon  the  wawis  weltering  to  and  fro, 

So  infortunate  was  us  that  fremyt  8  day, 
That  maugre,  playnly,  quhethir  we  wold  or 

no, 
With  strong  hand  [as]  by  f orse,  schortly 

to  say, 

Off  inymyis,  takin  and  led  away 
We  weren  all,  and  broght  in  thaire  contree; 
Fortune  it  schupe  9  non  othir  wayis  to  be. 

1  spring.       *  Cynthius,  the  aim.       8  in  the  morning. 
4  degrees  exactly  (i.e.  one  hour).  *  i.e.,  about  ten 

years  old.  •  before.  7  for  your  protection. 

«  strange,  hostile.        »  destined. 


Quhare  as  in  strayte  ward  and  in  strong 

pri.soun, 
So  fer-forth,10  of  my  lyf  the  bevy  lyne,  170 

Without  confort,  in  sorowe  abandoun, 
The  secund  sistere  lukit  hath  to  twyue,11 
Nere  by  the  space  of  yeris  twise  nyne; 

Till  lupiter  his  merci  list  advert,12 

And  send  confort  in  relesche  18  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  14 
My  fredome  in  this  warld  and  my  ple- 

sance  ? 

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  beste,the  fisch  eke  in  the  see, 
They  lyve  in  fredome,  everich  15  in  "his 

kynd; 
And  I  a  man,  and  lakkith  libertee  ; 

Quhat   schall   I   seyne,16   quhat    resoun 

may  I  fynd, 
That  Fortune  suld  do  so  ?  '    Thus  in  my 

mynd 

My  folk  I  wold  argewe,17  bot  all  for  noght; 
Was  non  that  myght,  that  on  my  peynb's 
rought.18 

Than  wold  I  say,  «  Gif  19  God  me  had  de- 

visit  i  go 

To  lyve  my  lyf  in  thraldome  thus  and 


Quhat  was  the  cause  that  he  [me]  more 

comprisit  20 

Than  othir  folk  to  lyve  in  suich  ruyne  ? 

I  suffer  allone  nmang  the  figuris  nyne,21 

Ane  wofull  wrecche  that  to  no  wight  may 

spede,22 
And  yit  of  euery  lyvis23  help  hath  nede.' 

The  longe  dayes  and  the  nyghtis  eke 
I  wold  bewaille  my  fortune  in  this  wise, 

Forquhich,  agane  distresse  coufort  to  seke, 
My  custum  was  on  mornis  for  to  ryse  200 
Airly  as  day;  0  happy  exercise  ! 

By  the  come  I  to  joy  i  out  of  turment. 

Bot  now  to  purpose  of  my  first  entent:  — 
10  far  forward.          »  i.e.,  Lachesis,  spinner  of  life's 

thread,  has  seen  to  the  spinning  of  mine.        12  pleased 

to  turn,     is  relief.     14  How  have  I  sinned  so  as  to  lose. 

i5  every  one.        16  say.       "  argue  with.        18  recked. 

i»  If.          20  included  me  more.          «  i.e.,  I  am  like  a 

cipher,  of  no  value  to  others  and  needing  the  help  of 

every  one.        «  give  help.        «  person's. 


35° 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


Bewailing  in  my  chamber  thus  alloue, 
Despeired  of  all  joye  and  remedye, 

For-tirit  of  my  thoght,1  and  wo  begoue, 
[Un]to  the  wyndow  gnu  I  walk  in  hye, 
To  se  the  warld  and  folk  that  went  forby ; 2 

As  for  the  tyme,  though  I  of  mirthis  fude 

Myght  have  110  more,  to  luke  it  did  me 
gude.  210 

Now  was  there  maid  fast  by  the  touris  wall 
A  gardyn  faire,  and  in  the  corneris  set 

Ane  herbere3  grene:  —  with  waudis   long 

and  small 

Railit  about;  and  so  with  treis  set 
Was  all  the  place,  and  hawthorn  hegisknet, 

That  lyf  4  was  none  walking  there  forby, 

That  myght  within  scarse  ony  wight  aspye. 

So  thik  the  bewis6  and  the  leve's  grene 
Beschadit  all  the  aleyes  that  there  were, 

And  myddis  every  herbere  myght  be  sene  220 
The  scharpe  grene  suete  jenepere,6 
Growing  so  faire  with  branchis  here  and 
there, 

That,  as  it  semyt  to  a  lyf 7  without, 

The  bewis  spred  the  herbere  all  about; 

And  on  the  small e  grene  twistis8  sat 
The  lytill  suete  nyghtingale,  and  song 

So  loud  and  clere,  the  ympnis9  consecrat 
Off  lufis  use,10  nowsoft,nowlowd  among, 
That  all  the  gardyng  and  the  wallis  rung 

Ryght  of  thaire  song  and  of  the  copill11 
next  230 

Off  thaire  suete  armony,  and  lo  the  text: 

CANTUS 

4  Worschippe,  ye  that  loveris  bene,  this  May, 
For  of  your  blisse  the  kaleudis  are  be- 

gonne, 

And  sing  with  us,  Away,  winter,  away  I 
Cum,  somer,  cum,  the  suete  sesoun  and 

sonne! 
Awake  for  schame  !  that  have  your  hev- 

ynnis  wonne, 

And  amorously  lift  up  your  hedis  all, 
Thank  lufe  that  list12  you  to  his  merci  call.' 

Quhen.   thai   this   song  had  song  a  lytill 

thrawe,13 

Thai  stent14  a  quhile,  and  therewith  un- 
affraid,  240 

i  Tired  out  with  brooding.  2  past.  »  shrubbery. 
«  person.  &  bouchs.  «  juniper.  "  person.  «  twigs. 
•  hymns.  ">  liturgy.  u  couplet,  verse.  ia  is  pleased. 
"  time.  "  stopped. 


As  I  beheld  and  kest  myn  eyne  a-lawe,16 
From  beugh  to  beugh  thay  hippit10aud 

thai  plaid, 

And  freschly  in  thaire  birdis  kynd  arraid 
Thaire  fetheris  new,  and  fret n  thame  in  the 

sonne, 

And  thankit  lufe,  that  had  thaire  makis18 
wonne. 

This  was -the  plane  ditee  of  thaire  note, 
And  there- with-all  unto  my-self  I  thoght, 

«  Quhat  lyf19  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  1,  bot  feyuit  cliere, 

And  that  men  list  to  couuterfeten  chere.' 

Eft 21  wald  I  think; « O  Lord,  quhat  may  this 
be? 

That  Lufe  is  of  so  noble  myght  and  kynde, 
Luting  his  folk,  and  suich  prosperitee 

Is  it  of  him,  as  we  in  bukis  fynd? 

May  he  cure  hertes  setten22  and  unbynd? 
Hath  he  upon  cure  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  gilt23  to  him  or  doon  offense, 
That  I  am  thrall,  and  birdis  gone  at  large, 
Sen24  him  to  serve  he  myght  set  my 

corage  ? 

And  gif  he  be  noght  so,  than  may  I  seyne,25 
Quhat  makis  folk  to  jangill  of  him  in  veyue? 

Can  I  noght  elle's  fynd,  bot  gif  that  he 
Be  lord,  and  as  a  god  may  lyve  and  regne, 

To  bynd  and  louse,  and  maken  thrallis  free, 

Thau    wold   I   pray   his    blisfull    grace 

beni^ne,  270 

To  liable28  me  unto  his  service  digne;27 

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,28 
The  fairest  or  the  freschest  yonge  fioure 
That  ever  I  sawe,  me  thoght,  before 

that  houre, 
is  below.        i«  hopped.        1T  adorned.        18  mates. 

»  person.         20  at  all.         »  Again.          «  make  fast. 

zs  How  have  I  simied.        »  Since.        «  say.        "  fit. 

"  worthy.         *8  play. 


THE   KING'S   QUAIR 


351 


For  quhich  sodnyn  abate,1  anon  astert  * 
The  Ulude  ot  all  my  body  to  my  hert.      280 

And  though  I  stnde  abaisit  tho  a  lyte, 
No  wonder  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  mannce 

There  was  uo  takyn  in  hir  suete  face. 

And  in  my  hede  I  drewe  rygj.it  hastily, 
And  eft-sones3  I  lent  it  forth  ageyne, 

And  sawe  hir  walk,  that  verray  womanly,  290 
With  no  wight  mo,  hot  onely  worn  men 

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  owin  princesse, 
And   cummyn  are  to  louse   me  out  of 

band? 

Or  ar  ye  verray  Nature  the  goddesse, 
That  have  depaynted  with  your  hevinly 

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;4 

Gif  ye  be  warldly  wight,  that  dooth  me  sike,3 

Quhy  lest6  God  mak  you  so,  my  derrest 

hert, 

To  do  a  sely7  prisoner  thus  sm^rt, 
That  lufis  yow  all,  and  wote 8  of  noght  bot 

wo? 
And  therefor,  merci,  suete !  sen  it  is  so.' 

Quheii  I  a  lytill  thrawe9  had  maid  my 

moon,  309 

Bewaillingmyn  infortune  and  my  chance, 

Unknawin[g]   how  or  quhat  was  best  to 

doon, 

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  clene  ryght  in  an-othir  kynd. 

Off  hir  array  the  form  gif  I  sail  write 
Toward,  hir  goldin  haire  and  rich  atyre 

1  Shock.  2  rushed.  s  soon  after.  *  escape. 
B  maketh  me  sigh.  6  Why  pleased.  7  innocent. 
8  knows.  »  while. 


In  fret-wise  couchit10  [were]  with  peillis 

quhite 

And  grete  bulas  lemyng11  as  the  fyre, 
Witli  mony  aue  emeraut  and  faire  saph- 
ire;  320 

And  on  hir  hede  a  chaplet  fresch  of  hewe, 
Off  plumys  partit12  rede,  and  quhite,  and 
blewe; 

Full  of  quaking  spangis  bryght  as  gold, 

Forgit  of  schap  like  to  the  amorettis,18 
So  new,  so  fresch,  so  plesant  to  behold, 
The    plumys    eke   like    to   the   floure- 

jonettis,14 
And  othir  of  schap  like  to  the  [round 

crokettis],15 

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,16 
A  gudely  cheyne  of  smale  orfeverye,17  331 

Quhareby  there  hang  a  ruby,  without  faille, 
Lyke  to  ane  herte  schapin  verily, 
That,  as  a  sperk  of  lowe,18  so  wantonly 

Sernyt  birnyng  upon  hir  quhyte  throte; 

Now  gif  there  was  gud  partye,19  God  it  wote  I 

And  forto  walk  that  fresche  Mayes  morowe, 

An  huke20  sche  had  upon  hir  tisse  w  21  quhite, 

That  gudeliare  had   noght  bene   sene  to- 

forowe,22 

As  I  suppose;  and  girt  sche  was  a  lyte.  340 
Thus  halflyng23  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,24 
Bountee,  richesse,  and  wommanly  fac- 

ture,25 

(God  better  wote  than  my  pen  can  report) 
Wisedome,    largesse,   estate,   and    con- 

nyng26  sure. 

In  every  poynt  so  guydit  hir  mesure,27 
In  word,  in  dede,  in  schap,  in  contenance, 
That   nature   myght   no   more   hir  childe 
avance.  350 

10  ornamentally  trimmed.  u  rubies  glowing. 

12  variegated.  is  Uncertain.  Perhaps  love-knots. 

n  great  St.  John'swort.       1*  Skeat's  conjecture  :  "a 
sort  of  curled  tuft."     MS.  repeats  "  floure-ionettis." 
i*  enamel  made  by  fire.          17  goldsmith's  work, 
is  flame.        i»  a  good  match.       20  loose  upper  dress. 
*i  garment  of  rich  stuff.          22  before.          "  partly. 
*«  demeanor.          25  fashioning.          ««  skill. 
»  moderation  guided  her. 


352 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


Throw  quhic-h  auon  I  knew  and  understude 
Welt;,  that  sche  was  a  warldly  creature; 

On  quFiom  to  rest  inyu  eye,  so'iuich  gude 
It  did  my  wofull  hert,  I  yow  assure, 
That  it  was  to  me  joye  without  mesure; 

And,  at  the  last,  my  luke  unto  the  heviu 

I  threwe  forthwith,  aud  said  thir1  versis 
sevin: 

« O  Venus  clere  !  of  goddis  stellifyit ! 2 
To  quhom  I  yelde  homage  aud  sacrifise, 

Fro  this  day  forth  your  grace   be    mag- 
nifyit,  360 

That  me  ressavit  have  in  suich  [a]  wise, 
To  lyve  uuder  your  law  and  do  servise; 

Now  help  me  furth,  and  for  your  merci  lede 

My  herte  to  rest,  that  dels  nere  for  drede.' 

Quhen  I  with  gude  entent  this  orisoun 

Thus  endit  had,  I  stynt  a  lytill  stound;8 
And  eft4  myn  eye  full  pitously  adoun 
I  kest,  behalding  unto  hir  lytill  hound, 
That  with  his  bellisplayit  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  uotis 

smale, 
That  thou  of  love  has  song  this  morowe- 

tyde? 
Seis  thou  noght  hire  that  sittis  the  be- 

syde? 

For  Venus  sake,  the  blisf  ull  goddesse  clere, 
Sing  on  agane,  and  mak  my  lady  chore. 

'  And  eke  I  pray,  for  all  the  paynes  grete, 
That,  for  the  love  of  Proigne5  thy  sister 
dere,  38o 

Thou  sufferit  quhilom,6  quhen  thy  brestis 

wete 

Were  with  the  teres  of  thyne  eyen  clere 
All  bludy  roune;  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 

enteut; 
And  in  thy  notis  suete  the  treson  telle, 

*  these.  *  made  a  star. 

*  stopped  a  little  space,  *  afterwards. 

6  Progne,  wife  of  Tereus,  changed  to  a  swallow, 
o  once  upon  a  time. 


That  to  thy  sister  trewe  and  innocent 
Was  kythit7  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.8 

'  O  lytill  wrecch,  allace!  maist  thou  noght  se 
Quho  commyth  youd?   Is  it  now  tyme 
to  wring?9 

Quhat  sory  thoght  is  f  allin  upon  the  ? 
Opyn  thythrote;  hastow  no  lest10  to  sing? 
Allace  !  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  luf e  ?  Quhare  is  thy 
make?11  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  schame !  lo  here  thy  goldiu 

houre, 
That  worth  were  hale  u  all  thy  ly  vis  laboure! 

4  Gyf  thou  stild  sing  wele  ever  in  thy  lyve, 
Here  is,  in  fay,13  the  tyme,  and  eke  the 

space: 

Quhat  wostow  than  ? 14  sum  bird  may  cum 

and  stryve  409 

In  song  with  the,  the  maistry  to  purchace. 

Suld    thou    than    cesse,   it    were    grete 

schame,  allace ! 

And  here,  to  wyn  gree 15  happily  for  ever, 
Here  is  the  tyme  to  syng,  or  ellis  never.' 

I  thoght  eke  thus,  gif  I  my  handis  clap, 

Or  gif  I  cast,16  than  will  sche  flee  away; 

Aud  gif  I  hald  my  pes,  than  will  sche  nap; 

And  gif  I  crye,  sche  wate17  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  mo18  birdis  and  alight; 
7  shown.  s  in  every  possible  way.  •  grieve. 

10  desire.     "  mate.     ll  wholly.     i»  in  faith.     14  What 

knowest  thou  then  ?     1S  degree,  superiority.     1B  throw 

(anything).        "  knows.        «  more. 


THE   KING'S  QUAIR 


353 


Bot   than,  to   here   the    mirth   was   thain 

amang, 

Over  that  to,1  to  see  the  suete  sicht 
Off  hyr  ymage,  my  spirit  was  so  light, 
Me  thoght  I  flavve2  for  joy e  without  arest, 
So  were  my  wittis  boundin  all  to  fest.8 

And  to  the  notis  of  the  philomene, 

Quhilkis  sche  sang,  the  ditee  there  I  maid 

Direct  to  hire  that  was  my  hertis  quene,  430 

Withoutin    quhom    uo   sougis   may   me 

glade; 
And  to  that  sanct,  [there]  walking  in  the 

schade, 

My  bedis4  thus,  with  humble  hert  entere, 
JDevotly  [than]  I  said  on  this  manere. 

'  Quhen  sail  your  merci  rewupon  your  man, 
Quhois  service  is  yit  uncouth  5  unto  yow  ? 
Sen,6  quhen  ye  go,  ther  is  noght  ellis  than 
Bot,  "  Hert !  quhere  as 7  the  body  may 

noght  throu,8 
Folow  thy  hevin  !  Quho  suld  be  glad  bot 

thou, 

That  suich  a  gyde  to  folow  has   under 
take?  44o 
Were  it  throu  hell,  the  way  thou  iioght 
forsake  I"" 

And  efter  this,  the  birdis  everichone  10 
Tuke  up  an  othir  sang  full  loud  and  clere, 

And  with  a11  voce  said, '  Wele  is  us  begone,12 
That  with  oure  makis  are  togider  here; 
We  proyne 18  and  play  without  dout  and 
dangere, 

All  clothit  in  a  soyte14  full  freschand  newe, 

In  lufis  service  besy,  glad,  and  trewe. 

'  And  ye,  f  resche  May,  ay  mercif  ull  to  bridis,15 
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,16  oure  governoure,  oure 
queue.' 

This  was  thair  song,  as  semyt  me  full  heye,17 
With  full  mony  uncouth  suete  note  and 
schill,18 

1  Above  that  too.  *  flew.  »  bound  all  too  fast. 
*  prayers.  5  unknown.  6  Since.  7  that.  8  go 
through.  '  refuse  thou  not.  10  every  one.  »  one. 
«  Well  is  it  with  us.  »  preen.  i«  one  suit. 

"  brides.        "  delight.        »  loud.        »  shrill. 


And  therewith-all  that  faire19  upward  hir 

eye 

Wold  cast  amang,20  as  it  was  Goddis  will, 

Quhare  I  myght  se,  standing  allaue  full 

still,  46o 

The  faire  facture  21  that  nature,  for  mais- 

trye,22 
In  hir  visage  wroght  had  full  lufingly. 

And,  quhen  sche  walkit  had  a  lytill  thrawe 
Under  the  suete  grene  bewis  bent, 

Hir  faire  fresche  face,  as  quhite  as  ony 

snawe, 

Scho  turnyt  has,  and  furth  hir  wayis  went; 
Bot  tho  began  myn  axis23  and  turment, 

To  sene  hir  part,24  and  folowe  I  na  myght; 

Me  thoght  the  day  was  turnyt  into  nyght. 

Than  said  I  thus,  *  Quhare[un]to  lyve  I 

langer  ?  470 

Wof  ullest  wicht,  and  subject  unto  peyne  ! 

Of  peyne?  no !  God  wote,  ya:  for  thay  no 

stranger 
May  wirken25  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  nature  •? 

'  I  may  noght  ellis  done  bot  wepe  and  waile, 

With-in  thir  calde  wallis  thus  i-lokin;27 
From  hennesfurth  my  rest  is  my  travaile; 
My  drye  thrist  with  teris  sail  I  slokin,28  4So 
And  on  my-self    bene   al    my  harmys 

wrokin : 29 
Thus  bute80  is  none;  bot81  Venus,  of  hir 

grace, 
Will  schape  ra  remede,or  do  my  spirit  pace.88 

1  As  Tantalus  I  travaile,  ay  but-les,84 
That  ever  ylike  hailith  at  the  well 

Water  to  draw  with  buket  botemles, 

And  may  noght  spede;  quhois  penance  is 

an  hell: 
So  by  K  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.  «  feature,  aspect.  «  as 
a  masterpiece.  23  access  of  fever.  «  see  her  depart. 
«  affect.  28  at  once.  «  locked.  *»  slake. 

*•  wreaked.         s»  remedy.        »i  unless.        32  prepare. 
»  make  my  spirit  pass.       34  bootless.       «  regarding. 


354 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


My  wele  in  wo,  ray  frendis  all  in  fone,1 
My  lyf  in  deth,  my  lyght  into  dirkuesse, 
My  hope  in  feere,  in  dout  uiy  sekirnesse; 

Sen  sche  is  gone :  and  God  mote  2  hir  con- 
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  bemes  bryght, 

And  bad  go  farewele  every  lef  and  floure,  500 
This  is  to  say,  approch[en]  gan  the  nygut, 
And  Esperus  his  lampis  gan  to  light; 

Quhen  in  the  wyndow,  still  as  any  stone, 

I  bade  8  at  lenth,  and,  kneling,  maid  my 
mone. 

So  lang  till  evin,  for  lak  of  myght  and 

mynd, 

For-wepit  and  for-pleynit 4  pitously, 
Ourset  so  sorow  had  bothe  hert  and  mynd, 
That   to   the   colde  stone  my   hede   on 

wrye  6 

I  laid,  and  lent,  amaisit  verily, 
Half  sleping  and  half  suoun,  in  suich   a 
wise:  510 

And  quhat  I  met,6  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-wyudow  schone 

full  bryght, 

And  all  my  body  so  it  hath  onerwent, 
That  of  my  sicht  the  vertew  hale  iblent; 7 
And  that  with-all  a  voce  unto  me  saide, 
*I  bring  the  confort  and.  hele,8  be  iioght 
affrayde.' 

And  furth  anon  it  passit  sodeynly, 

Quhere    it    come    in,  the    ryghte   way 

ageyne,  520 

And  sotie,  me  thoght,  furth  at  the  dure  in 

hye» 

I  went  my  weye,  nas  nothing  me  ageyne  ;10 
And  hastily,  by  bothe  the  armes  tueyne, 
I  was  araisit  up  in-to  the  aire, 
Clippit11  in  a  cloude  of  cristall  clere  and 
faire. 

Ascending  upward  ay  fro  spere  to  spere, 
"Through  aire  and  watere  and  the  note' 

fyre, 
i  foes.          *  may.         »  abode.         «  Worn  out  with 

weoping  and  complaining.          *  awry.          «  dreamed. 

*  wholly  blinded.        8  healing.        »  haste.        «  there 

was  nothing  hindering  me.        n  Enclosed. 


Till  that  I  come  unto  the  circle  clere 

Off  Signifere,12  quhare  faire,  bryght,  and 

schire,13 

The  signis  schone;  and  in  the  glade  em 
pire  53o 
Off  blisfull  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  quho  sais14  at  a  thoght, 
It  opnyt,  and  I  was  anon  in  broght 
Within  a  chamber,  large,  rowm,15  and  faire; 
And  there  I  fand  of  peple  grete  repaire.16 

This  is  to  seyne,  that  present  in  that  place 
Me  thoght  I  sawe  of  every  nacioun      541 

Loveris  that  endit  [had]  thaire  lyfis  space 
In  lovis  service,  mony  a  mylioun, 
Off  quhois  chancis 17  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 
Abone  thaire  hedis  writin  there  I  fand; 

This  is  to  seyne,  martris  and  confessouris, 
Ech  in  his  stage,18  and  his  make 19  in  his 
hand ;  550 

And  therewith-all  thir  peple  sawe  I  stand, 

With  mony  a  solemp[ni]t  contenance, 

After20  as  lufe  thame  lykit  to  avance. 

Off  gude  folkis,  that  faire  in  lufe  befill,21 

There  saw  I  sitt  in  order  by  thame  one  M 
With  hedis  hore;  and  with  thame  stude 

Gude-will 

To  talk  and  play;  and  after  that  anon 
Besydis  thame  and  next  there  saw  I  gone28 
Curage,  amang  the  fresche  folkis  yong, 
And   with   thame  playit  full   merily  and 
song.  560 

And  in  ane  othir  stage,  endlong  24  the  wall, 
There  saw  I  stand,  in  capis  wyde  and  lang, 

A  full  grete  nowmer;  bot  thaire  hndis  all, 
Wist  I  noght  quhy,  atoure  ^  thair  eyen 

hang; 
And  ay  to  thame  come  Repentance  amang,2* 

"  i.e.,  the  sphere  of  the  zodiac.  "  dear.  "  as 
one  may  say.  1&  spacious.  18  throng.  17  fortunes. 
«  place.  i»  mate.  2°  According.  2i  were  fortunate 
in  love.  «  by  themselven.  "  go.  «  along.  *6  over. 
»•  at  times :  or  perhaps  here  in  modern  sense. 


THE  KING'S   QUAIR 


355 


And  maid  thame  chere,  degysit  in  his  wede: l 
And  dounward  efter  that  yit  1  tuke  hede; 

Ryght  overthwert 2  the  chamber  was  there 

drawe 

A  trevesse  8  thin  and  quhite,  all  of  ples- 
ance,  569 

The  quhich  behynd,  standing,  there  I  sawe 
A  warld  of  folk,  and  by  thaire  coiitenance 
Thaire  hertis  semyt  full  of  displesance, 
With  billis  4  in  thaire  handis,  of  one  assent 
Unto  the  juge  thaire  playntis  to  present. 

And  there-with-all  apperit  unto  me 

A  voce,  and  said,  '  Tak  hede,  man,  and 

behold: 

Yonder  thou  seis  the  hiest  stage  and  gree6 
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,6  of  lufis  craft  the  cure, 

Was  non  on  ly  ve 7  that  toke  so  rnoch  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. 

4  Here  bene  also  of  suich  as  in  counsailis  589 

And  all  thar  dedis,  were  to  Venus  trewe; 

Here  bene  the  princis,  faucht  the  grete  ba- 

tailis, 
In  mynd 8  of  quhom  ar  maid  the  bukis 

.    newe; 
Here  ben  the   poetis  that  the  sciencis 

knewe, 
Throwout  the  warld,  of  lufe  in  thaire  suete 

layes, 
Suich  as  Ovide  and  Omere  in  thaire  dayes. 

And  efter  thame  down  in  the  nexte  stage, 
There   as9  thou  seis  the  yonge   folkis 

pleye: 
Lo  !  thise  were  thay  that,  in  thaire  myddill 

age, 

Servandis  were  to  lufe  in  mony  weye, 
And  diversely  happinnit  for  to  deye;    600 
Sum  soroufully,  for  wanting  of  thare  makis,10 
And  sum  in  armes  for  thaire  ladyes  sakis. 

i  disguised  in  dress.  *  across.  »  curtain. 

4  petitions.     B  degree.     '  practice.     T  alive.    8  mem 
ory.        »  Where.        1°  mates. 


'  And  othir  eke  by  othir  diverse  chance, 
As  happiu  folk  all  day,  as  ye  may  se; 

Sum  for  dispaire,  without  recoverance; 
Sum  for  desyre,  surmounting  thaire  de 
gree; 
Sum  for  dispite  and  othir  inmytee; 

Sum  for  unkyudenes  without  a  quhy;11 

Sum  for  to  moch,  and  sum  for  jelousye. 

1  And  efter  this,  upon  yone  stage  adoun,  610 

Tho  that  thou  seis  stond  in  capis  wyde; 
Yone  were  quhilum12  folk  of  religiouu, 
That  from  the  warld  thaire  governance w 

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 
hudis: 

*  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:16 

And  for  thay  first  forsuke  him  opynly, 
And  efter  that  thereof  had  repenting, 
For  schame  thaire  hudis  oure  thaire  eyne 
thay  hyng. 

'And   seis   thou  now  yone    multitude,  on 

rawe,16 

Standing,  behynd  yone  traverse  of  delyte? 

Sum  bene  of  tham  that  haldin  were  full  la  we, 

And  take   by  frendis,  nothing  thay  to 

wyte,17 

In  youth  from  lufe  into  the  cloistere  quite; 

And  for  that  cause  are  cuinmyn  recounsilit,18 

On  thame  to  pleyne  that  so  tham  had  be- 

gilit.  630 

1  And  othir  bene  amongis  thame  also, 
That  cummyn  ar  to  court,  on  lufe  to 

pleyne,!9 

For  he  thaire  bodyes  had  bestowit  so, 
Quhare   bothe   thaire  hertes  gruch[eu] 

ther-ageyne;20 
For  quhich,  in  all  thaire  dayes,  soth  to 

seyne,21 

Quhen  othir  lyvit  in  joye  and  [in]  pleasance, 
Thaire  lyf  was  noght  bot  care  and  repent 
ance; 

11  a  why,  a  reason.  "  once.  "  conduct.  "  stout 
in  trial.  "  half  cowardice.  »  in  a  row.  "  blame. 
ig  restored  (to  their  mates).  19  complain.  *°  repined 
against  it.  «  truth  to  say. 


356 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


•  And,  quhare  l  thaire  hertis  gevin  were  and 

set, 

Coplit  with  othir  that  coud  noght  accord; 

Thus  were  thai  wrangit  that  did  no  forfet,2 

Departing  8  thame  that  never  wold  dis 

cord;  641 

Off  yonge  ladies  f  aire,  and  mony  lord, 

That  thus  by  maistry  were  fro  thair  chose 

dryve,4 

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  take    thame   of    this   warldis    com- 
panye,  650 

Withoutin  cause,  there  was  non  othir  quhy.5 

And  in  a  chiere  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  qnhieh  the  hedis   grundyn  were  full 


Off  diverse  metals  forgit  faire  and  bryght. 

And  with  the  first,  ^hat  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;6 
The  thrid,  of  stele,  is  schot  without  re- 

cure;7 

And  on  his  lon 
A  chaplet  had 


yalow  lokkis  schene8 
all  of  levis  grene. 


And  in  a  retrete  lytill  of  compas, 

Depeyntit9  all  with  sighis  wonder  sad, 

Noght   suich  sighis  as  hertis  doith  man- 

ace10 

Bot  suich  as  dooth11  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. 
i  whereas.       *  misdeed.      »  Separating.       «  driven 

from  their  choice.     *  reason.     6  fortune.     7  recovery. 

»  bright.  »  Painted.  l°  doth  menace  hearts. 

11  causeth. 


Stude  at  the  dure  Fair-calling,  hir  uschere, 
That  coude  his  office  doon  in  conuy ng  wise, 
And  Secretee,  hir  thrifty  chamberere, 
That  besy  was  in  tyme  to  do  servise, 
And  othir  mo12  that  I  can  noght  (on) 

avise ; 18 

And  on  hir  hede,  of  rede  rosis  full  suete, 
A   chapellet    sche  had,  faire,  fresch,  and 
mete.14 

With  quaking  hert  astonate  of  that  sight, 
Unnethis15  wist  I  quhat  that  I  suld  seyne; 

Bot  at  the  laste  febily,  as  I  myght,  682 

With  my  handis  on  bothe  my  kne'is  tueyne, 
There  I  begouth16  my  caris  to  compleyiie; 

With  ane  humble  and  lamentable  chere 

Thus  salute  I  that  goddesse  bryght  and  clere : 

*  Hye  Quene  of  Lufe!  sterre  of  benevolence! 

Pitouse  princes,  and  planet  merciable!17 
Appesare  of  malice  and  violence!  689 

By  vertew  pure  of  your  aspectis  hable,18 
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,  blisfull  havin  and  sure; 

O  anker  and  keye  of  our  gude  aventure, 

Ye  have  your  man  with  his  gude  will  con- 

^  quest;19  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  blisfull  goddesse, 

Off  your  pure  man,21  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  shapith22  remedye 

To  saven  me  of  your  benigne  grace, 

Or  do  me  sterven23  furth-with  in  this  place. 
11  more.      ls  describe.      14  becoming.      15  Scarcely. 

i«  began.      »  merciful.      "  powerful,      i9  conquered. 

20  wholly.      21  poor  servant.       22  prepare.       23  make 

me  die. 


THE   KING'S   QUAIR 


357 


'And  with  the  stremes  of  yourpercyng  lyght 
Convoy  my  hert,  that  is  so  wo-begoue, 

Ageyue  unto  that  suete  hevinly  sight, 
That  I,  within  the  wallis  cald  as  stone, 
So  suetly  saw  on  morow l  walk  and  gone, 

Law  in  the  gardyn,  ryght  tofore  myn  eye: 

Now,  merci,  Quene !  and  do  me  uoght  todeye.' 

Thir  wordis  said,  my  spirit  in  dispaire,    722 
A  quhile  I  stynt,  abiding  efter  grace:  2 

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,3 

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  mynt4  full  sore,  I  smyte  bot  soft. 

'  Paciently  thou  tak  thyne  aventure, 

This  will6  my  sone  Cupide,  and  so  will  I. 

He  can  the  stroke,  to  me  langis6  the  cure 
Quhen  I  se  tyme;  and  therefor  humily 
Abyde,  and  serve,  and  lat  Gude  Hope  the 
gye:7  740 

Bot,  for  I  have  thy  forehede  here  present, 

I  will  the  schewe  the  more  of  myn  entent. 

1  This  is  to  say,  though  it  to  me  pertene 
In  lufis  lawe  the  septre  to  governe, 

That  the  effectis  of  my  bemes  schene 
Has  thaire  aspectis  by  ordy nance  eterne, 
With  otheris  byndand  menes,  to  discerne 

Quhilum  in  thingis  bothe  to  cum  and  gone, 

That  langis  noght  to  me  to  writh  allone;8 

'  As  in  thyne  awin  case  now  may  thou  se,  750 
For-quhy9  lo,  that  [by]  otheris  influence 

Thy  persone  standis  noght  in  libertee; 
Quharefore,  though  I  geve  the  benevo 
lence, 
It  standis  noght  yit  in  myn  advertence,10 

1  in  the  morning.       2  stopped,  waiting  to  find  grace. 

*  formerly.  4  Where  I  make  show  of  striking. 

s  wishes.  •  belongs.  7  guide  thee. 

8  The  effects  of  my  shining  beams  have,  by  eternal 
ordinance,  their  influences  hound  up  with  others;  it  is 
mine  to  discern  at  times  things  both  future  and  past, 
which  yet  it  is  not  my  function  to  direct  aloue. 

8  Because.  10  control. 


Till  certeyne  coursis  end  it  be  and  ronne, 
Quhill11  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  mach,  of  thyne  unworthynesse 
To   hir   hie   birth,   estate,   and   beau  tee 
bryght:  760 

Als  like  ye  bene  as  day  is  to  the  nyght; 
Or  sek-cloth  is  unto  fyne  cremesye,12 
Or  doken13  to  the  fresche  dayesye. 

*  Unlike  the  mone  is  to  the  sonne  scheue ; 

Eke  lanuarye  is  [un]like  to  May; 
Unlike  the  cukkow  to  the  phyJomene;14 

Thaire  tabartis15  ar  noght  bothe  maid  of 
array;16 

Unlike  the  crow  is  to  the  pape-iay;17  768 
Unlike,  in  goldsmythis  werk,  a  fischis  eye 
To  preise 18  with  peril,  or  maked  be  so  heye. 

'  As  I  have  said,  [now]  unto  me  belangith 
Specialy  the  cnre  of  thy  seknesse; 

Bot  now  thy  matere  so  in  balance  hangith, 
That  it  requerith  to  thy  sekernesse  ia 
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.20 

'  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  My  nerve, 
And  se  that  thou  hir  hestis  wele  con 
serve,21 

For  in  this  case  sche  may  be  thy  supplye,22 
And  put  thy  hert  in  rest,  als  wele  as  I. 

*  Bot,  for  the  way  is  uncouth  23  unto  the, 

There  as  hir  duelling  is  and  hir  sojurne, 
I  will  that  Gude  Hope  servand  to  the  be, 
Youre  alleris24  frend,  to  let  the  to  muru,25 
Be  thy  condyt  and  gyde  till  thon  returne, 
And  hir  besech  that  sche  will,  in  thy  nede, 
Hir   counsele   geve   to  thy   welefare   and 
spede;  79' 

'  And  that  sche  will,  as  langith  hir  office, 
Be  thy  gude  lady,  help  and  counseiloure, 

»  Until.  "  crimson  cloth.  »  dock.  "  nightinpnle. 
i5  coats.  16  of  one  pattern.  17  parrot.  l8  value. 
MS.  prerese.  19  security.  20  to  shorten  thy  woe  with. 
«  keep  her  commands  well.  22  foelp.  «  unknown. 
*4  Of  you  all.  2S  to  prevent  thy  mourning. 


JAMES   I   OF  SCOTS 


And   to   the   schewe    hir    rype   and   gude 

avise, 
Throw  qiihich  thou  may,  be  processe  and 

laboure, 

Atteyue  unto  that  glad  and  goldyn  floure, 
That  thou  wald  have  so  fayn  with  all  thy 

hart. 
And  forthir-more,  sen  thou  hir  servand  art, 

'  Quhen    thou   descendis   doun   to   ground 

ageyne, 

Say  to  the  men  that  there  bene  resident, 

How  long  think  thay  to  stand  in  my  dis- 

deyne,  801 

That  in  my  lawis  bene  so  negligent 

From  day  to  day,  and  list  thain  noght 

repent, 
Bot   breken   louse,  and  walken   at  thaire 

large  ? l 

Is    nocht    eft    none    that    thereof    gevis 
charge  ?  2 

'  And  for,'  quod  sche,  '  the  angir  and  the 

smert 
Off  thaire  unkyndenesse  dooth  me  con- 

htreyne 

My  femynyne  and  wofull  tender  hert, 
That  than  I  wepe;  and,  to  a  token  pleyne, 
As  of  rny  teris  cummyth  all  this  reyne, 
That  ye  se  on  the  ground  so  fast  ybete    8n 
Fro  day  to  day,  my  turment  is  so  grete. 

*  And   quhen   I   wepe,   and   stynt  anothir 

quhile,8 

For  pacience  that  is  in  womanhede, 
Than  all  my  wrath  and  rancoure  I  exile; 
And  of  my  cristall  teris  that  bene  schede, 
The  hony  flouris  growen  up  and  sprede. 
That   preyen   men,    [as]    in  thaire  flouris 

wise,4 
Be  trewe  of  lufe,  and  worschip  my  servise. 

'  And  eke,  in  takin  of  this  pitouse  tale,    820 
Quhen  so  my  teris  dropeu  on  the  ground, 
In  thaire  nature  the  lytill  birdis  smale 
Styntith  thaire  song,  and  murnyth  for 

that  stound ; 6 

And  all  the  lightis  in  the  hevin  round 
Off  my  grevance  have  suich  compacience,6 
That  from  the  ground  they  hiden  thaire 
presence. 

i  at  large. 

»  la  there  not  even  one  that  gives  heed  to  this  ?  Per 
haps  eft  (=  again)  should  be  left. 

»  again  cease.  «  in  their  flower  fashion. 

*  apace  of  time.  <  compassion. 


'  And  yit  in  tokenyng  forthir  of  this  thing, 
Quhen  flouris  sptingis  and  freschest  beiie 

of  he  we, 

And  that  the  birdis  on  the  twistis  sing, 
At  thilke  tyme  ay  gynneu  folk  renewe 
That  servis  unto  love,  as  ay  is  dewe,    831 
Most 7  commonly  has  ay  his  observance, 
And  of  thaire  sleuth  tofore 8  have  repent 
ance. 

1  Thus  maist  thou  seyne,  that  myn  effectis 

grete, 

Unto  the  quhich  ye  aughten  maist  weye,9 

No  lyte10  offense,  to  sleuth  is  [al]  foi-get11: 

And  therefore  in  this  wise  to  thain  seye, 

As  I  the  here  have  bid  [den],  and  con- 

veye 

The  matere  all  the  better  tofore  12  said ; 
Thus  sail  on  the  my  charge  bene  ilaid.    84o 

'  Say  on  than,  "  Quhare  is  becummyn,  for 

schame ! 
The  songis  new,  the  fresch  carolis  and 

dance, 

The  lusty  lyf,  the  mony  change  of  gnme, 
The  f  resche  array,  the  lusty  contenance, 
The    besy  awayte,18  the   hertly  observ 
ance, 

That  quhilum  was  amongis  thame  so  ryf  ?  " 
Bid  tharn  repent  in  tyme,  and  mend  thare 

lyf: 

*  Or  I  sail,  with  my  fader  old  Saturne, 

And  with  al  hale14  oure  hevinly  alliance, 
Oure  glad  aspectis  from  thame  writh15  and 
turne,  850 

That  all  the  warld  sail  waile  thaire  gov 
ernance.18 

Bid  thame  betyme   that    thai   have  re 
pentance, 
And  [with]  thaire  hertis  hale  renew  my 

la  we; 
And  I  my  hand  fro  beting  sail  withdrawe. 

*  This  is  to  say,  contynew  in  my  servise, 

Worschip  my  law,  and  my  name  ma< 
nifye, 

That  am  your  hevin  and  your  paradise; 
And  I  your  confort  here  sail  innltiplye, 
And,  for  your  meryt  here,  perpetual  ye 

Ressave  I  sail  your  saulis,  of  my  grace, 

To  lyve  with  me  as  goddis  in  this  place.' 
7  Supply  who  before  most.         «  former.         •  OUT 

most  to  pay  regard.  10  little.          u  for  sloth  i    ; 

forgotten.     «  before.     «  eager  service.     "  all  whol 

15  direct.        i«  bewail  their  conduct. 


THE  KING'S   QUAIR 


359 


With  humble  thank,  and  all  the  reverence 
That  feble   wit  and  connyng1   may  at- 
teyne, 

I  tuke  my  leve;  and  from  hir  [hy]  presence, 
Gude  Hope  and  I  to-gider,  bothe  tueyne, 
Departit  are,  and,  schortly  for  to  seyne,2 

He  hath  me  led  [the]  redy  way  is  ryght 

Unto  Minervis  palace,  faire  and  bryght. 

Quhare  as  I  fand,  full  redy  at  the  yate,8 

The  maister  portare,  callit  Pacience,   870 
That  frely  lete  us  in,  unquestionate; 

And  there  we  sawe  the  perfyte  excel 
lence, 

The  said  renewe,4  the  state,  the  rever 
ence, 
The  strenth,  the  beautee,  and  the  ordour 

digne  6 
Off  hir  court  riall,  noble,  and  benigne. 

And  straught  unto  the  presence  sodeynly 
Off  dame  Minerve,  the  pacient  guddesse, 

Gude  Hope  my  gyde  led  me  redily ; 

To  quhom  anon,  with  dredefull  humyl- 

nesse,6 
Off  my  cummyng  the  cause  I  gan  ex- 

fresse,  880 

the  processe  hole,  unto  the  end, 
Off  Venus  charge,  as  likit  hir  to  send. 

Off  quhich  ryght  thus  hir  ansuere  was  in 

bref : 
'  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  7 
Off  thy  pennance8  sum  confort  at  my 

bond, 

Be  counsele  of  thy  lady  Venus  clere, 
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  hot  lytill  quit  ;9 
And  thou  may  set  it  in  [anjothir  wise, 
That  wil  be  to  the  grete  worschip  and 

prise; 

And  gif  thou  durst  unto  that  way  enclyne, 
I  will  the  geve  my  lore  and  disciplyne. 
1  skill.  *  shortly  to  say.  s  gate. 

*  Unsatisfactorily  explained  as  "  grave  renewal." 

6  dignified.  «  timorous  humility.  »  seek. 

*  suffering.          •  requited. 


*  Lo,  my  gude  sone,this  is  als  mich  to  seyne,10 

As,  gif  thy  lufe  [be]  sett  all  uterly 
On  nyce  lust,11  thy  travail  is  in  veyne; 
And  so  the  end  sail  turne  of  thy  folye  900 
To  pay ne  and  repentance;  lo,  wate  thou 

qnhy?12 

Gif  the  ne  list  thy  lufe  on 13  vertew  set, 
Vertu  sail  be  the  cause  of  thy  forfet.14 

4  Tak  him  before  in  all  thy  governance, 

That  in  his  hand  the  stere 15  has  of  you  all ; 
And  pray  unto  his  hye  purveyance 16 

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 17  and  hyare  be 
Than  othir  wise,  and  langere  sail  endure 
Be  monyfald,  this  may  thy  resoun  see, 
And  stronger  to  defend  18  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  gif19  thy  werk  and  all  thy  besy  cure  20 

Accord  thereto,  and  utrid  be  mesure  21 

The  place,  the  houre,  the  maner,  and  the 

wise; 
Gif  Mercy  sail  adinitten  thy  servise. 

' "  All  thing  has  tyme,"  thus  sais  Ecclesiaste ; 

And  wele  is  him  that  his  tyme  wel  abit.22 

Abyde  thy  time ;  for  he  that  can  bot  haste 

Can  nog-lit  of  hap,28  the  wise  man  it  writ; 

And  oft  glide  fortune  flourith  with  gude 

wit: 

Quharefore,  gif  thou  will  [ay]  be  wele  for- 

tunyt,  93o 

Lat  wisedom  ay  [un]to  thy  will  be  junyt.24 

*  Bot  there  be  mony  of  so  brukill  &  sort, 

That  feynis  treuth  in  lufe  for  a  qnhile, 

10  as  much  as  to  say.  n  on  foolish  desire.  12  know 
thou  why.  is  MS.  on  lufe  thy.  "  disaster.  "  con 
trol.  16  providence.  "  step,  stage  (?).  ™  resist. 
i»  Unless.  20  care.  «  and  let  the  place,  etc.,  be 
stated  with  moderation.  22  abideth.  "  Controls  uot 
fortune.  "  joined.  «  brittle,  unreliable. 


36° 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


And  setten  all  thaire  wittis  and  disport l 
The  sely  innocent  woman  to  begyle, 
And  so  to  wynne  thaire  lustis  with  a  wile; 
Suich  feynit  treuth  is  all  bot  treehorye, 
Under  the  umbre  2  of  hid  ypocrisye. 

'For  as  the  foulere  quhistlith  in  his  throte 
Diversely,  to  counterfete  the  brid,       940 

And  feynis  mony  a  snete  and  strange  note, 
That  in  the  busk  3  for  his  desate  4  is  hid, 
Till  sche  be  fast  lokin  his  net  amyd; 

Ryght  so  the  fatoure,5  the  false  theif,  I  say, 

With  suete   tresoun  oft  wynuith  thus  his 
pray. 

'  Fy  on  all  suich  !  fy  on  thaire  doubilnesse  ! 

Fy  on  thaire  lust  and  bestly  appetite  ! 
Thaire  wolfis  hertis,  in  lam  bis  liknesse; 
Thaire  thoughtis  blak,  hid  under  wordis 
quhite;  949 

Fy  on  thaire  laboure  !  fy  on  thaire  delyte! 
That  feynen  outward  all  to  hir  honour, 
And  in  thaire  hert  hir  worschip 6  wold  de- 
voure. 

'  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  assay es ; 7 
More  pitee  is;  for  quhich  the  remanant 
That  menen  wele  and  ar  noght  variant 

For  otheris  gilt  ar  8  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  atteyue, 

Thy  laboure  is  to  me  [ful]  agreable;        962 
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.'  9 

'  Madame,'  quod  I, '  sen  it  is  your  plesance 
That  I  declare  the  kynd  of  my  loving, 
Treuely  and  gude,  withoutin  variance, 
I10  lufe  that  floure  abufeall  othir  thing; 
And  wold  bene  he  that  to  hir  worschip- 
ping  97i 

Myght  ought  availe,  be  Him  that  starf  on 

rude,11 
And  nonthir   spare  for  travaile,   lyf,   nor 

gude.12 
i  delight.    2  shade.     »  bush.     «  deceit.     «  deceiver. 

•  honor.  7  the  truth  is  shown  by  many  proofs. 

•  MS.  and.       •  is  my  affair.        «  MS.  In.         "  died 
on  cross.        "  goods. 


1  And  forthirmore,  as  touching  the  nature 
Off  my  luting,  to  worschip  or  to  blame, 

I  darre  wele  say,  and  there-in  me  assure, 
For  ony  gold  that  ony  wight  can  name 
Nald13  I  be  he  that  suldof  hir  gude  fame 

Be  blamischere  in  ony  point  or  wyse, 

For  wele  nor  wo,  quhill  my  lyf e  may  suffise.14 

1  This  is  theffect15  trewly  of  myn  entent,  981 
Touching  the  suete  that  smertis  me  so 

sore, 

Giff  this  be  faynt,16  I  can  it  noght  repent, 
All  though  my  lyf  suld  forfaut  be  there 
fore. 

Blisful  princes  !  I  can  seye  you  no  more; 
Bot  so  desire  my  wittis  dooth  compace,17 
More  joy  in  erth  kepe  18  I  noght  bot  your 
grace.' 

'  Desire,'  quod  sche,  '  I  nyl  it  noght  deny,19 
So  thou  it  ground  and  set  in  Cristin  wise; 

And  therefore,  son,  opyn  thy  hert  playnly.' 
'  Madame,'  quod  I,  « trew  withoutin  fan- 
tise,20  99r 

That  day  sail  never  be  I  sail  up-rise 

For  my  delyte  to  covate  the  plesance 

That  may  hir  worschip21  putteu  in  balance.22 

'  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,23 
For  my  grete  lufe  and  treuth,  to  stond  in 

grace, 
Hir  worschip  sauf,24  lo,  here  the  blisfull 

cace25 

That  I  wold  ask,  and  there   [un]to  at 
tend,26  1000 
For  my  most  joye  unto  my  lyfis  end.' 

'Now  wele,'  quod  sche,  'and  sen27  that  it 

is  so, 

That  in  vertew  thy  lufe  is  set  with  treuth, 
To  helpeu  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  conti  aire. 

»  Would  not.    MS.  Wald.  «  endure.        »  gist. 

18  feignsd  (fault  ?).          17  overwhelm.          18  care  for. 

19  8ay  it  nay.        20  truly  without  deceit.        21  honour. 
22  jeopardy.        *»  in  course  of  time.        24  Her  honour 
safe.    »  lot.    «8  expect,  wait  for.        "  since. 


THE   KING'S  QUAIR 


361 


*  For  suth  it  is,  that  all  ye  creaturis 

Quliich  under  us  beneth  have  your  duel- 
lyng,  IQIO 

Ressaven  diversely  your  aventuris, 

Oft'  quhich  the  cure  and  principall  melling1 
Apperit  is,2  withoutiu  repellyng,3 
Onely  to  hir  that  has  the  cuttis  4  two 
In  hand,5  bothe  of  your  wele  and  of  your  wo. 

'  And  how  so  be  [it]  that  sum  clerkis  trete, 
That  all  your  chance  6  causit  is  tofore 

Heigh  in  the  hevin,  by  quhois  effect! s  grete 

Ye  movit  are  to  wrething7  lesse  or  more, 

Thar8  in   the   warld,  thus  calling  that 

therefore  1020 

"  Fortune,"  and  so  that  the  diversitee 

Off  thaire  wirking  suld  cause  necessitee; 

'  Bot  othir  clerkis  halden  that  the  man 
Has  in  him-self  the  cliose  9  and  libertee 

To  cause  his  awin  fortune,  how  or  quhan 
That  him  best  lest,  and  no  necessitee 
Was  in  the  hevin  at  his  nativitee, 

Bot  yit  the  thingis  happin  in  commune  10 

Ef  ter  purpose,  so  cleping  thame  "  Fortune." 

And  quhfire  a  persone  has  tofore  knawing ll 
Off  it  that  is  to  fall[en]  purposely,  1031 

Lo,  Fortune  is  bot  wayke  in  suich  a  thing, 
Thou  may  wele  wit,  and  here  ensarnple 

quhy; 
To  God,  that  is  the  first[e]  cause  onely 

Off  every  thing,  there  may  no  fortune  fall: 

And  quhy  ?  for  he  foreknawin  is  M  of  all. 

*  And  therefore  thus  I  say  to  this  sentence; 

Fortune  is  most  and  strangest18  evermore, 
Quhare  lest 14  f oreknawing  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 16  and  com 
mune  16 
With  hir  that  clerkis  clepen  so  Fortune. 

'  Bot  for  the  sake,  and  at  the  reverence 
Off  Venus  clere,  as  I  the  said  tofore, 

I  h.ive  of  thy  distresse  compacieuce; 17 
And  in  coufort  and  relesche18of  thy  sore, 
The  schewit  [have]  here  myii  avise  there 
fore; 

1  guidance  (lit.  meddling).  2  Appertains.  *  recall. 
«  lots.  *  i.e.,  Fortune.  «  fate.  ^  action.  «  MS.  Qft- 
hare.  »  choice.  10  ordinarily.  "  previous  knowledge. 
"  previously  aware.  «  strongest.  **  least.  l5  in  the 
power.  "allied.  "compassion.  IB  assuagement. 


Pray  Fortune  help,  for  mich  unlikly  thing 
Full  oft  about  sche  sodeyuly  dootli  bring. 

'Now  go  thy  way,  and  have  gude  mynde 
upon  1051 

Quhat  I  have  said  in  way  of  thy  doc- 
try  ne.'  19 

'  I  sail,  madame,'  quod  I ;  and  ryht  anon 
I  tuke  my  leve: — als  straught  as  ony  lyne, 
With-in  a  beme,  that  fro  the  contree20 

dyvine 
Sche,   percyng  throw   the   firmament,  ex- 

tendit, 
To  ground  ageyne  my  spirit  is  descendit. 

Quhare,  in  a  lusty  plane,21  tuke  I  my  way, 
Eudlang22  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  my n  ere  maid  contynualy 
A  maner  soun,  mellit24  with  armony; 

That  full  of  lytill  fischis  by  the  bryrn, 
Now  here,  now  there,  with  bakkis  blewe 
as  lede, 

Lap  ^  and  playit,  and  in  a  rout  can  swym 
So  prattily,  and  dressit 26  tham  to  sprede 
Thaire  curall27  fynnis,  as  the  ruby  rede, 

That  in  the  sonne  on  thaire  scalis  bryght 

As  gesseraut28  ay  glitterit  in  my  sight  :  1071 

And  by  this  ilke  ry  ver-syde  alawe  ^ 

Ane  hye  way  [thar]  fand  I  like  to  beue,80 

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, 

Off  bestis  sawe  I  mony  diverse  kynd: 

The  lyoun  king,  and  his  fere  81  lyonesse; 

The  pantere,  like  unto  the  smaragdyne; w 
The  lytill  squerell,  full  of  besynesse;  1081 

The  slawe  ase,  the  druggare   beste   of 
pyne  83; 

The  nyce  84  ape;  the  werely  porpapyne;  8* 
The  percyng  lynx;  the  lufare  uuicorne,36 
That  voidis87  venym  with  his  evoure88  home. 

19  teaching.  20  Skeat  suggests  court.  21  pleasant 
plain.  22  Along.  23  Embroidered.  24  A  kind  of 
sound,  mingled.  25  Leapt.  26  addressed.  27  coral. 
28  shining  mail.  2»  down  by  this  same  river-side. 

»o  like i  as  it  were.  3I  companion. .  "emerald.  33  beast 
drudging  painfully.  84  foolish.  »s  bristling  porcupine. 
»«  The  unicorn  was  supposed  to  be  subdued  by  virgins. 
17  expels.  ss  ivory. 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


There  sawe  I  dresse *  him  new  out  of  [his] 

haunt 

The  fery2  tigere,  full  of  felonye; 
The  dromydare;  the  standar3  oliphant; 
The  wyly  fox,  the  wedowis  inemye ; 
The  clymbare  gayte;4  the  elk  for  alblas- 
trye;6  1090 

The  herkuere  bore;6  the  holsum  grey  for 

hortis;7 
The  haire  also,  that  oft  gooth  to  the  wortis.8 

The  bugill,9  draware  by  his  hornis  grete; 

The  martrik,10  sable,  f oynyee,11  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!M 
sty 14  bever,  a 


The  lesty14  bever,  and  the  ravin  bare;15 
For  chamelot,16  the  camel  full  of  hare; 

With  mony  an  othir  beste   diverse    and 

strange,  noo 

That  cum  myth  noght  as  now  unto  my 

mynd. 
Bot  now  to  purpose,  —  straucht  furth  the 

range 

I  held  a  way,  oure-hailing 17  in  my  mynd 
From  quhens  I  come,  and  quhare  that  I 

suld  fynd 

Fortune,  the  goddesse;  unto  qnhom  in  hye 
Gude  Hope,  my  gyde,  has  led  me  sodeynly. 

And  at  the  last,  behalding  thus  asyde, 
A  rounde  place  [yjwallit  have  I  found; 

In  myddis  quhare  eftsone 18 1  have  [a]spide 

Fortune,  the  goddesse,  hufiug19  on  the 

ground  :  mo 

And  ryght  bef ore  hir  fete,  of  compas  round, 

A  quhele,  on  quhich  [than]  clevering  I  sye  * 

A  multitude  of  folk  before  myn  eye. 

And  ane  surcote  ache  werit  long  that  tyde, 

That  semyt  [un]to  me  of  diverse  hewis, 
Quhilum21  thus,  quhen  sche  wald  [hir]  turn 

asyde, 
Stude  this  goddesse  of  fortune  and  [of 

glewis22]; 
A  chapellet,  with  mony  fresche  anewis,28 

i  issue.  *  active.  *  standing.  *  climbing  goat. 
I  proof  against  missiles  of  the  cross-bow.  •  heark'ning 
boar.  '  badger,  [whose  grease  is  good]  for  hurts. 
*  vegetables.  •  ox.  10  marten.  "  beech-marten. 
«  coney.  i»  never  ceases.  u  skilful.  1*  ravening 
bear.  »•  camlet  cloth.  "  revolving.  *8  soon  after. 
"  dwelling.  so  clambering  I  saw.  «  At  times. 
n  sports,  freaks.  *»  little  ringa.  Fr.  anneau. 


Sche  had  upon  her  hed;  and  with  this  hong 
A  mantill  on  hir  schuldris,  large  and  long, 

That  furrit  was  with  ermyn  full  qnhite,  1121 
Degoutit with  the  self24  in  spottis  blake: 

And  quhilum  in  hir  chiere26  thus  a  lyte26 
Louring  sche  was;  and  thus  soue  it  wold 

slake, 
And  sodeynly  a  maner  smylyng  make, 

And27  sche  were  glad ;  [for]  at  one  eoutenance 

Sche  held  noght,  bot  [was]  ay  in  variance. 

And  underneth  the  quhele  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-in 
fell  1131 

Come  no  more  up  agane,  tidingis  to  telle; 

Off  quhich,  astonait  of  that  feref ull  syght, 

I  ne  wist  quhat  to  done,  so  was  I  frieht.28 

Bot  for  to  see  the  sudayn  weltering 

Off  that  ilk  quhele,  that  sloppare29  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-straught80  fro  lawe  [un]to 

hye; 
And  they  were  ware 81  that  longe  sat  in 

place, 

So  tolter  quhilum  did  sche  it  to-wrye;*2 
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   qnhirlyng  of  the  quhele,  unto  the 

ground,  1150 

Full     sudaynly    sche     hath     [thaim]     up 

ythrungin,88 
And  set  thame  on  agane  full  sauf  and 

sound : 

And  ever  I  sawe  a  newe  swarm  abound, 
«  self-spotted.       «  cheer,  demeanour.       "  a  little. 
*7  If.       **  affrighted.       »  slippery.        »°  very  nearly 
covered.         81  wary.          «  So  unsteadily  at  times  she 
turned  it  about.       "  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.1 

And  at  the  last,  in  presence  of  thame  all 
That   stude   about,  sche   clepit2  ine  be 

name ; 
And  therewith  apon  kneis  gan  I  fall 

Full  sodaynly  hailsing,8  abaist  for  schame ; 

And,  smylyug  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  contenance, 

There  is  sum  thing  that  lyis  the  on  hert, 
It  stant 4  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.6 
Help,  of    your  grace,  me  wofull  wrechit 

wight, 

Sen6  me   to   cure    ye   powere    have   and 
myght.' 

'  Quhat  help,'  quod  sche,  '  wold  thou  that  I 
ordeyne,  1170 

Tobring[en]  the  unto  thy  hertis desire?' 
'Madame,'  quod  I,  'bot7  that  your  grace 

dedeyne, 

Off  your  grete  myght,  my  wittis  to  en- 
spire, 

To  win 8  the  well  that  slokin  may  the  f yre 
In  quhich  I  birn;  a,  goddesse  fortunate! 
Help  now  my  game,  that  is  in  point  to 
mate.'  • 

« Off  mate  ? '  quod  sche,  '  O!  verray  sely 10 

wrech, 

I  se  wele  by  thy  dedely  coloure  pale, 
Thou  art  to  feble  of  thy-self  to  streche 
Upon     my    qnhele,    to     clymbe[n]     or 
to  hale11  n8o 

Withoutin    help;    for   thou   has   fundin 

stale 12 

This  mony  day,  withoutin  werdis  wele,18 
And  wantis  now  thy  veray  hertis  hele.14 

1  go  round,  roll.  *  called.  3  saluting.  «  stands. 
8  along  and  across,  through  and  through  me.  *  since. 
l  only.  s  reach.  •  on  point  of  being  checkmated. 
10  helpless.  "  haul.  »  found  stalemate.  »  good 
ness  of  fortune.  u  health. 


'  Wele  maistow  be  a  wrechit  man  [y]callit, 
That  wautis  the  confort  suld  thy  hert[e] 

glade; 

And  has  all  thing  within  thy  hert[e]  stallit15 
That  may  thy  youth  oppressen  ordefade.16 
Though  thy  begynnyng  hath  beue  retro 
grade, 

Be  froward  opposyt  quhare  till  aspert,17 
Now  sail  thai  turn,  and   luke[n]  on   the 
dert.'1*  1I90 

And  therewith-all  unto  the  quhele  in  hye 
Sche  hath  me  led,  and  bad  me  lere 19  to 

clymbe, 
Upon  the  quhich  I  steppit  sudaynly. 

'  Now  hald  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  remauaut  of  the 
day. 

'  Ensample,'  quod  sche, '  tak  of  this  tofore,20 

That  fro  my  quhele  be  rollit  as  a  ball; 
For  the  nature  of  it  is  evermore,  1200 

After  ane  hicht,  to  vale  21  and  geve  a  fall, 
Thus,  qnhen  me  likith,  up  or  doune  to 

fall 
Fare  wele,'  quod  sche,  and  by  the  ere  me 

toke 
So  ernestly,  that  therewithall  I  woke. 

O  besy  goste! M  ay  flikering  to  and  fro, 

That  never  art  in  quiet  nor  in  rest, 
Till  thou  cum  to  that  place  that  thou  cam 

fro, 
Quhich  is  thy  first  and  verray  proper 

nest: 
From  day  to  day  so  sore   here  artow 

drest,28 

That  with  thy  flesche  ay  walking24  art  in 

trouble,  mo 

And  sleping  eke ;  of  pyne  so  has  thou  double. 

Towart  M  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,27  my  spirit  with  to  glad. 

15  installed.        "  dispirit.        17  opposed  by  perverse 
men  expert  in  this.  i»  dirt.     i»  learn.          20  these 

folk  bef ore  (thee).  »i  descend.  »  restless  spirit 
»  art  thou  treated.  «  always  while  waking.  «  MS. 
Couret.  «  dreaming.  »  certainty. 


364 


JAMES   I   OF   SCOTS 


And  therewith  sone  I  dressit1  me  to  ryse, 
Fulfild  of  tho^ht,2  pyne,  and  adversitee; 
And  to  iny-self  I  said  upon  this  wise;     1221 
'A!  merci,  Lord!  quhat  will  ye  do  with 

me? 
Qubat  lyf  is  this  ?  Quhare  hath  my  spirit 

be? 

Is  this  of  my  forethoght  impressioun, 
Or  is  it  from  the  heviii  a  visioun  ? 

'  And  gif  ye  goddis,  of  youre  purviance, 

Have  schewit  this  for  my  recouforting, 
In  relesche8  of  my  furiouse  pennance, 
I  yow  beseke  full  humily  of  this  thing, 
That  of  youre  grace  I  uiyght  have  more 
takenyng,4  1230 

Gif  it  sal  be  as  in  my  slepe  before 
Yo  she  wit    have':    and   forth,   withoutin 
more, 

In  hye  unto  the  wyndow  gan  I  walk, 
Moving  within  my  spirit  of  this  sight, 

Quhare   sodeynly    a    turture,6    quhite    as 

calk,6 

So  evinly  upon  my  hand  gan  lyght, 
And  unto  me  sche  turuyt  hir  full  ryght, 

Off  quham  the  chere  in  hir  birdis  aport  7 

Gave  me  in  hert[e]  kaleiidis8  of  confort. 

This  fair[e]  bird  ryght  in  hir  bill  gan  hold 

Of  red  jorofflis9  with  thair  stalkis  grene 

A  fair[e]  branche,  quhare  writtin  was  with 

gold,  1242 

On  every  list,10  with  branchis11  bryght 

and  scheue 

In  compas  fair,  full  plesandly  to  sene, 
A  plane  sentence,  quhich,  as  I  can  devise 
And  have  in  mynd,  said  ryght  [upjon  this 
wise. 

'  Awak!  awake!  I  bring,  lufar,  I  bring 

The  newis  glad,  that  blisf  ull  ben  and  sure 
Of  thy  confort;  now  lauch,  and  play,  and 


That  art  besid  so  glad  an  a  venture;    1250 
For  in  the  hevyn  decretit  is  the  cure.'  u 
An  I  unto  me  the  flouris  fair  present:18 
With  wyngis  spred,  hir  wayis  furth  sche 
went. 

Quhilk  up  a-none  I  tuke,  and  as  I  gesse, 
Ane  hundreth  tymes,  or14  I  forthir  went, 
i  addressed.      2  anxiety.       *  lightening.      «  token. 

•  turtle-dove.      •  chalk.     '  demeanor.      8  beginnings. 

•  gillyflowers.       10  edge.       ll  flourishes.       "  cure  is 
decreed  tbee.        »  she  presented.        "  ere. 


I  have  it  red,  with  hert[e]full  glaidnese; 

Aud,  half  with  hope,  and  half  with  dred, 
it  heiit,15 

And  at  my  beddis  hed,  with  gud  eutent, 
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  had  tofore, 

From  henn[e]sferth  the  payuis  did  away. 
And  schortly,  so  wele  Fortune  has  hir 

bore, 
To  quikiii  treuly  day  by  day  my  lore,16 

To  my  larges  that 17  I  am  cumin  agayn, 

To  blisse  with  hir  that  is  my  soviraue. 

Bot  for  als  moche  as  sum  inicht  think  or 

seyne, 

Quhat  iiedis  me,  apoun  so  litill  evyn,18 
To  writt  all  this  ?  I  ansuere  thus  ageyne, 
*  Quho  that  from  hell  war  croppin  onys 
in  hevin,19  1271 

Wald,  efter  o20  thank,  for  ioy  mak  sex 

or  sevin: 

And  every  wicht  his  awin  suete21  or  sore 
Has  maist  in  mynde':  I  can   say  you  no 
more. 

Eke  quho  may  in  this  lyf  e  have  more  ples- 

ance 
Than  cum  to  largesse  from  thraldom  and 

peyne, 

And  by  the  mene22  of  Luffis  ordinance, 
That  has  so  mony  in  his  goldin  cheyne  ? 
Quhich  th[ink]is  to  wyn  his  hertis  sov- 

ereyne, 

Quho  suld  me  wite  M  to  write  thar-of,  lat 
se !  1280 

Now  sufficiante  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,24  and  sone  to  stand  in 
grace, 

Boith  to  his  worschip26  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 

15  took.  is  learning.  "  That  to  my  freedom. 
!8  upon  so  small  a  foundation.  19  had  once  crept  into 
heaven.  20  one.  ^  sweet,  happiness. 
23  blame.  "  relieve.  K  honour. 


THE   KING'S   QUAIR 


36S 


In  gude  tyme  and  sely  1  to  begynne 

Thair  preutissehed,  and  forthir-uiore  I 

pray 

For  thame  that  passit  ben  the  mony  af 
fray  2 

In  lufe,  and  cumrayn  arn  to  full  plesance, 
To  grauut  tham  all,  lo!  gude  perseverance: 

And  eke  I  pray  for  all  the  hertis  dull, 

That  lyveii  here  in  sleuth  and  ignorance, 

And  has  no  enrage  at  the  rose8  to  pull, 

Tlmir  lif  to  mend  and  thair  saulis  avance 

With  [hir] 4  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.6 

To  rekyn  of  every  thing  the  circumstance, 
As  hapnit  me  quhen  lessen  gan  my  sore 
Of  my  rancoure  and  [al  my]  wof ull  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- 
fendit. 

And  eke  the  goddis  mercifull  wirking,6 
For  my  long  pane  and  trewe  service  in 
lufe,  1311 

That  has  me  gevin  halely  myn  asking, 
Quhich  has  my  hert  for  evir  sett  abufe 
In  perfyte  joy,  that  nevir  may  remufe, 
Bot  onely  deth:  of   quhom,  in   laud  and 

prise,7 

With   thankfull  hert   I  say  richt   in  this 
wise:  — 

'Blissit  mot8  be  the  [heye]  goddis  all, 
So  fair  that  glitteren  in  the  firmament! 

And  blissit  be  thare  myght  celestiall,  1319 
That  have  convoy  it  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  nychtingale,  that,  with  so  gud  en- 
tent, 

1  happy.  2  struggles.  3  The  symbol  of  the 

object  of  love  in  the  Roman  de  la  Rose.  *  Venus's. 

MS.  thair.      f>  I  pray  that  they  may  trip.      «  working. 
i  praise.        8  may. 


Sang  thare  of  lufe  the  notis  suete  and  small, 
Quhair  my  fair  hertis  lady  was  present, 
Hir  with  to  glad,  or 9  that  sche  forthir 

went! 

And  thou  gerafloure,10  mot  i-thankit  be 
All  othir  ilouris  for  the  lufe  of  the!         1330 

« And  thankit  be  the  faire  castell-wall, 
Quhare  as  I  quhilom  lukit  furth  and  lent! 

Thankit  mot  be  the  sanctis  marciall,11 
That  me  first  causit  hath  this  accident. 
Thankit  mot  be  the  grene  bewis 12  bent, 

Throu  quhom,  and  under,  first  f  ortuny  t  me 18 

My  hertis  hele,14  and  my  conf ort  to  se ! ' 16 

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 16  throu  long  and  trew  contynu- 

ance 

Of  veray  faith  in  lufe  and  trew  service, 
I  cum  am,  and  [yit]  forthir  iii  this  wise. 

Unworthy,  lo,  bot  onely  of  hir  grace, 
In  lufis  yok,  that  esy  is  and  sure, 

In  guerdoun  [eke]  of  all  my  lufis  space,17 
Sche  hath  me  tak,  hir  humble  creature. 
And  thus  befell  my  blisfull  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;18 

And  pray  the  reder  to  have  pacience 
Of  thy  defaute,  and  to  supporten  it,19 
Of  his  gudnese  thy  brnkilnese  to  knytt,20 

And  his  tong  for  to  reule[n]  and  to  stere, 

That  thy  defautis  helit  may  ben  here. 

Allace!  and  gif  thou  cummyst  in  presence, 

Qnhare-as  of  blame  faynest  thou  wald  be 

quite,21  1360 

To  here  thy  rude  and  crukit  eloquens, 

Quho  sal  be  thare  to  pray  for  thy  remyt?22 

No  wicht,  bot  geve23  hir  merci  will  ad- 

mytt 

The  for  gud  will,  that  is  thy  gyd  and  stere,24 
To  quham  for  me  thou  pitousely  requere.26 

•  ere.  10  gillyflower.  »  saints  of  March. 

»  boughs.  "  happened  to  me.  «  healing.  «  MS.  be. 
i«  afterwards.  17  duration.  i8  to  be  known.  19  to 
bear  with  it.  *°  thy  hrokenness  to  piece  together. 

"  free.  22  excuse.  23  NO  person,  unless.  24  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  magnificence 
Of  Him  that  hiest  in  tlie  hevin  sitt; 1 
To  quham  we  thank  that  all  oure  [lif] 
hath  writt,  1370 

Quho   couth   it   red,  agone   syne  mouy  a 

yere, 
Hich  in  the  hevynnis  figure  circulere. 

Vnto  [the]  impnis2  of  my  maisteris  dere, 
Gowere  and  Chaucere,  that  on  the  step- 
pis  satt 
Of  rethorike,   quhill    thai    were    lyvaud 

here, 

Superlative  as  poetis  laureate, 
In  moralitee  and  eloquence  ornate, 
I  recommend  my  buk  in  lynis  sevin, 
And  eke  thair  saulis  un-tothe  blisse  of  hevin. 
Amen. 

Quod  explicit  Jacobus  Primus^ 
Scotorum  Rex  Illustrissimus. 


GOOD   COUNSEL' 

SEN  4  throu  vertew  encressis  dignite, 

And  vertew  flour  and  rut  is  of  noblay,5 
Of  ony  we  ill  or  quhat  estat  thou  be, 

i  sitteth.  *  hymns. 

*  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  Oude  and  Godlie 
Ballates,  1578,  in  which  last  it  is  ascribed  to  King 
James  I.  «  Since.  '  nobility. 


His   steppis   sew,6  and   dreid   thee   non 

effray:7 

Exil  al  vice,  and  follow  trewth  alway: 
Luf  maist  thy  God,  that  first  thy  luf  be 
gan,8 

And  for  ilk9  inch  he  wil  thee  quyt 10  a 
span. 

Be  not  our  n  proud  in  thy  prosperite, 
For  as  it  cumis,  sa  wil  it  pas  away; 
Thy  tym  to  compt12  is  schort,  thou  may 
we  ill  se,  10 

For  of  green  gres  soun  cumis  walowit 

hay. 
Labour  in  trewth,  quhill  licht  is  of  the 

day. 
Trust  maist  in  God,  for  he  best  gyd  thee 

can, 
And  for  ilk  inch  he  wil  thee  quyt  a  span. 

Sen  word  is  thrall,    and  thocht  is  only 

free, 
Thou  dant 18  thy  tung,  that  power  hes  and 

may; 

Thou  steik 14  thyn  een  f ra  warldis  vanite ; 
Refrein  thy  lust,  and  harkin  quhat  I  say; 
Graip  or 16  thou  slyd,  and  creip  f urth  on 

the  way; 

Keip  thy  behest  unto  thy  God  and  man,   20 
And   for    ilk  inch    he    wil    thee   quyt  a 
span. 

•  follow.  i  no  terror  for  thyself. 

»  began  by  loving  thee.        »  every.        ">  requite. 
"  over.  1S  when  counted. 

"  close.  «  grope  ere. 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


THE  TESTAMENT  OF  CRESSEID 

ANE  doolie l  sessoun  to  ane  cairf ull  dyte 
Suld  correspond,  and  be  equivalent. 

Richt  sa  it  wes  quhen  I  began  to  wryte 
This  tragedie;  the  wedder  riclit  fervent,2 
Quhen  Aries,  in  middis  of  the  Lent, 

Schouris  of  haill  can  fra  the  north  discend, 

That  scantlie  fra  the  cauld  I  micht  defend. 

Yit,  nevertheles,  within  myne  oratur  8 
I  stude,  quhen  Titan  had  his  beuiis  bricht 

Withdrawin  doun,  and  sylit  under  cure,4  10 
And  fair  Venus,  the  bewtie  of  tlie  nicht, 
TJprais,  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 6  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  Artipk  come  quhisling  loud  and 
schill,8  ao 

And  causit  me  remufe  aganis  my  will. 

For  I  traistit  that  Venus,  luifis  quene, 
To  quhome  sum  tyme  I  hecht 7  obedience, 

My  faidit  hart  of  lufe  scho  wald  mak  grene; 
And  therupon,  with  humbill  reverence, 
I  thocht  to  pray  hir  hie  magnificence; 

Bot  for  greit  cauld  as  than  I  lattit 8  was, 

And  in  my  chalmer  to  the  fyre  can  pas. 

Thocht  lufe  be  hait,9  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  doif 10  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.11 

1  doleful.  *  severe.  8  oratory.  «  concealed 
under  cover.  »  burst.  •  shrill.  ?  formerly  I  prom- 
Ued.  »  prevented.  •  hot.  «  dull  (deaf).  »  tried. 


I  mend  the  fyre,  and  beikit 12  me  about, 
Thantuik  ane  drink  my  spreitis  to  comfort, 

And  arrnit  me  weill  fra  the  cauld  thairout: 

To  cut  the  winter  nicht,  and  mak  it  schort, 

I  tuik   ane   quair,13  and   left  all   uther 

sport,  4o 

Writtin  be  worthie  Chaucer  glorious, 

Of  fair  Creisseid  and  worthie  Troylus. 

And  thair  I  fand,  efter  that  Diomeid 
Ressavit  had  that  lady  bricht  of  hew, 

How  Troilus  neir  out  of  wit  abraid,14 
And  weipit  soir,  with  visage  paill  of  hew; 
For  qnhilk  wanhope16  his  teiris  can  renew, 

Quhill 16  Esperus17  rejoisit  him  agane: 

Thus  quhyle 18  in  joy  he  levit,  quhile  18  in 
pane. 

Of  hir  behest  he  had  greit  comforting,      so 
Traisting  to  Troy  that  scho  suld  mak 
re  tour, 

Quhilk  he  desyrit  maist  of  eirdly  thing, 
For  quhy19  scho  was  his  only  paramour; 
Bot  quhen  he  saw  passit  baith  day  and  hour 

Of  hir  ganecome,20  than  sorrow  can  oppres 

His  wofull  hart  in  cair  and  hevines. 

Of  his  distres  me  neidis  nocht  reheirs, 
For  worthie  Chauceir,  in  the  samin  bulk, 

In  gudelie  tennis,  and  in  joly  veirs, 

Compylit  hes  his  cairis,  quha  will  luik.  60 
To  brek  my  sleip  ane  uther  qnair  I  tuik, 

In  quhilk  I  fand  the  fatall  destenie 

Of  fair  Cresseid,  that  endit  wretchitlie. 

Qnha  wait21  gif  all  that  Chauceir  wrait  was 
trew? 

Nor  I  wait  nocht  gif  this  narratioun 
Be  authoreist,  or  fenyeit  of  the  new  ffl 

Be  sum  poeit,  throw  his  inventioun 

Maid  to  report  the  lamentatioun 
And  wofnll  end  of  this  Instie  Creisseid; 
And  qnhat  distres  scho  thoillit,23  and  quhat 
deid.*4  7o 

«  basked.  "  quire,  book.  "  started.  >»  despair. 
i«  Till.  17  Esperance,  hope.  is  sometimes  —  some 
times,  w  because.  zo  again-coming.  21  knows. 
»  newly  feigned.  «  suffered.  «  death. 


368 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


Quhen  Dioined  had  all  his  appetyte, 
Ami  in;dr,  fulfillit  of  this  fair  ladie, 

Upon  aue  uther  lie  set  his  haill  delyte, 
And  send  to  hir  aue  lybell  of  repudie; 
And  hir  excludit  fra  his  companie. 

Than  desolait  scho  walkit  up  and  douu, 

A  nd,  sum  men  say  is,  into  the  court  commoun. 

O,  fair  Cresseid  !  the  floure  and  A  per  se 
Of  Troy  and  Grece,  how  was  thow  fortu- 
nait!1 

To  change  in  filth  all  thy  feminitie,  80 

And  be  with  fleschelie  lust  sa  maculait,2 
And  go  amang  the  Greikis  air8  and  lait, 

So  giglotlike,4  takand  thy  foull  plesauce  ! 

I  have  pietie  thow  suld  fall  sic  mischance. 

Yit,nevertheles,quhat  eyer  men  deme'or  say 
In  scornefull  langage  of  thy  brnkkilnes,6 

I  sail  excuse,  als  far  furth  as  I  may, 

Thy  womanheid,  thy  wisdome,and  fairnes: 
The  quhi[l]k  Fortoun  hes  put  to  sic  dis- 
tres 

As  hir  pleisit,  and  nathing  throw  the  gilt  90 

Of  the,  throw  wickit  langage  to  be  spilt. 

This  fair  lady,  in  this  wyse  destitute 
Of  all  comfort  and  consolatioun, 

Richt  privelie,  but 6  fellowschip,  on  f ute 
Disagysit  passit  far  out  of  the  totm 
Ane  myle  or  twa,  unto  ane  mansioun, 

Beildit7  full  gay,  quhair  hir  father  Calchas 

Quhilk  than  amaug  the  Greikis  dwellaud 
was. 

Quhen  he  hir  saw,  the  caus  he  can  inquyre 

Of  hir  cumming.    Scho  said,  siching  full 

soir,  ioo 

«  Fra 8  Diomeid  had  gottin  his  desyre 

He  wox  werie,  and  wald  of  me  no  moir.' 

Quod  Calchas,  *  Douchter,  weip  thow  not 

thairfoir, 

Peraventure  all  cummis  for  the  best : 
Welcum  to  me,  thow  art  full  deir  ane  gest.' 

This  auld  Calchas  efter  the  law  was  tho, 

VVes  keiper  of  the  tempi  11,  as  ane  preist, 
lu  qnhilk  Venus  and  hir  sone  Cnpido 

War    honour!  t,    and    his    chalmer    was 

tliame  neist, 

To  quhilk  Cresseid  with  baill  aneuch9  in 
breist  no 

i  fortuned,  ordained.  »  stained.  »  early.  «  like 
a  silly  girl.  *  frailty.  •  without.  7  Decorated. 
•  After.  •  enough. 


Usit  to  pas,  hir  prayeris  for  to  say; 
Quhill  at  the  last,  upon  ane  solempne  day, 

As  custome  was,  the  pepill  far  and  neir, 
Befoir  the  none,  unto  the  tempill  went 

With  sacrifice,  devoit10  in  thair  maneir. 
But  still  Cresseid,  hevie  in  hir  intent, 
In-to  the  kirk  wald  not  hir  self  present, 

For  giving  of  n  the  pepill  ony  deming 

Of  hir  expuls  fra  Diomeid  the  king; 

Bot  past  into  ane  secreit  orature,  120 

Quhair  scho  m icht  weip  liirwofulldesteny. 

Behind  hir  bak  scho  cloisit  fast  the  dure, 
And  on  hir  kneis  bair  fell  down  in  hy;12 
Upon  Venus  and  Cupide  angerly 

Scho  cryit  out,  and  said  on  this  same  wyse, 

4  Allace  !  that  ever  I  maid  yow  sacrifice  1 

'  Ye  gave  me  anis  ane  devine  responsaill 18 
That  I  suld  be  the  flour  of  luif  in  Troy, 

Now  am  I  maid  an  unworthie  out  wail  I,14 
And  all  in  cair  translatit  is  my  joy.       130 
Quha  sail  me  gyde  ?  Quha  sail  me  now 
convoy, 

Sen  I  fra  Diomeid,  and  nobill  Troylus, 

Am  clene  excludit,  as  abject  odious  ? 

<  O  fals  Cupide,  is  nane  to  wy te 16  bot  thow, 

And  thy  mother,  of  lufe  the  blind  goddess! 

Ye  causit  me  alwayis  understand  and  trow 

The  seid  of  lufe  was  sawin  in  my  face, 

And  ay  grew  greue  throw  your  supplie  16 

and  grace. 
Bot  now,  allace,  that  seid  with  froist  is 

slane, 
And  I  fra  luifferis  left, and  all  forlane.' 17  140 

Quhen  this  was  said,  doun  in  ane  exfasie, 
Ravischit  in  spreit,  intill  ane  dreame  scho 

fell, 

And  be  apperance  hard,18  quhair  scho  did  ly, 
Cupide  the  king  rinp-and  ane  silver  bell, 
Quhilk  men  micht  heir  fra  hevin  unto 

hell; 

At  quhais  sound  befoir  Cupide  appeiris 
The   seviu    Planetis,  disceuding  fra  thair 
spheiris, 

Quhilk  hes  power  of  all  thing  generabill 19 
To  renll  and  steir  be  thair  greit  influ 
ence, 
«  devout.          "  Lest  she  should  give.          «  hast*. 

ij  answer  (to  prayer),     n  outcast,     i5  blara^.      lfl  sup- 

port.        "  out  of  fashion.         «  heard.        1B  that  can 

be  generated. 


THE  TESTAMENT   OF   CRESSEID 


369 


Wedder  and  wind,  and  coursis  variabill.   150 
And  first  of  all,  Saturne  gave  his  sen 
tence, 

Quhilk  gave  to  Cupide  litill  reverence, 
Bot,  as  ane  busteous l  churle  on  his  inaneir, 
Come  crabitlie,  with  auster  luik  and  cheir. 

His  face  frosuit,2  his  lyre8  was  lyke  the 

leid, 
His  teith  chatterit  and  cheverit4  with 

the  chin, 

His  ene  drowpit,  how6  sonkin  in  his  heid, 
Out  of  his  nois  the  meldrop  6  fast  can  rin, 
With  lippis  bla,7  and  cheikis  leine  and 

thin, 

The  ice-schoklis  that  fra  his  hair  doun  hang 

Was  wonder  greit,  and   as  ane  speir  als 

lang.  161 

Atouir8  his  belt  his  lyart9  lokkis  lay 

Felterit10  unfair,  ouirfret   with  froistis 

hoir; 
His  garmound  and  his  gyis u  full  gay  of 

gray; 
His  widderit  weid12  fra  him  the  wind  out 

woir,13 
Ane  busteous  bow  within   his  hand  he 

boir; 
Under  his  girdill   ane   flasche  of   felloun 

flanis,14 
Fedderit  with  ice,  and  heidit  with  hailstanis. 

Than  Juppiter  richt  fair  and  amiabill, 
God  of  the  starnis  in  the  firmament,     170 

And  nureis  to  all  thing  generabill, 
Fra  his  father  Saturne  far  different, 
With  burelie 15  face,  and  browis  bricht 
and  brent,16 

Upon  his  heid  ane  garland,  wonder  gay, 

Of  flouris  fair,  as  it  had  bene  in  May. 

His  voice  was  cleir,  as  cristall  wer  his  ene, 
As    goldin   wyre  sa  glitterand  was  his 

hair, 
His  garmound  and  his  gyis  full  [gay]  of 

grene, 

With  golden  listis 17  gilt  on  everie  gair;18 

Ane  burelie  brand  about  his  middill  hair; 

In  his  right  hand  he  had  ane  groundiu  19 

speir,  181 

Of  his  father  the  wraith  fra  us  to  weir.20 

1  blustering.  *  wrinkled.  »  complexion.  4  shiv 
ered.  •  hollow.  •  mucus.  *  livid.  *  Over. 
•  hoary.  10  matted.  »  mantle,  u  withered  weerla. 
l»  wafted  away.  l4  a  sheaf  of  cruel  arrows.  15  goodly. 
w  smooth.  "  edges.  "  gore.  «  sharpened.  *>  ward. 


Nixt  efter  him  come  Mars,  the  god  of  ire, 

Of  strife,  debait,  and  all  disseusioun, 
To  chide  and  fecht,  als  feirs  as  ony  fyre; 
In  hard  harnes,  hewmound,21  and  habir- 

geoun ; 
And  on  his  hanche  ane  roustie  fell  fach- 

ioun, 

And  in  his  hand  he  had  ane  roustie  sword ; 
Wrything  his  face  with  mony  angrie  word. 

Schaikand    his    sword,   befoir   Cupide    he 

come 

With  reid  visage  and  grislie  glowrand 

ene;  191 

And  at  his  mouth  ane  bullar22  stude  of 

fome, 
Lyke  to  ane  bair28  quhetting  his  tuskis 

kene, 
Richt  tuilyeour  lyke,  but  temperance  in 

tene;24 
Ane   home   he   blew  with  mony  bosteous 

brag, 

Quhilk  all  this  warld  with  weir  ^  hes  maid 
to  wag. 

Than  fair  Phebus,  lanterne  and  lamp  of 

licht 
Of  man  and  beist,  baith  frute  and  flour- 

isching, 

Tender  nureis,  and  banischer  of  nicht, 
And  of  the  warld  causing  be  his  moving 
And  influence  lyfe  in  all  eirdlie  thing,  201 
Without  comfort  of  quhome,  of  force  to 

nocht 

Must    all   ga  die   that   in   this    warld    is 
wrocht. 

As  king  royall  he  raid  upon  his  chair, 
The  quhilk  Phaeton  gydit  sum-tyme  un- 

richt, 
The  brichtness  of  his  face,  quhen  it  was 

bair, 
Nane  micht  behald  for  peirsing  of  his 

sicht : 

This  goldin  cart  with  fyrie  bemes  bricht 
Four  yokkit  steidis  full  different  of  hew, 
But   bait26  or   tyring,  throw  the   spheiris 
drew.  210 

The  first  was  soyr,27  with  mane  als  reid  as 

rois, 
Callit  Eoye28  into  the  Orient; 

*i  helmet.  22  bubble-mass.  SJ  boar.  *4  ouarrel- 
some,  without  temperance  in  anger.  *5  war.  20  With 
out  pause.  *7  sorrel.  *8  Eous,  belonging  to  the  dawn. 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


The  secund  steid  to  name  hecht  Ethios, 
Quhitlie  and  paill,  and  sum  deill  ascend 
ent; 

The  thrid  Peros,  right  halt  and  richt  fer 
vent; 

The  feird  was  blak,  [and]  callit  Phlegonie, 
Quhilk  rollis  Phebus  down  into  the  sey. 

Venus  was  thair  present,  that  goddess  [gay], 
Her  sonnis  querrel  for  to  defend,  and 

niak 

Hir    awin    complaint,  cled    in    ane   nyce 

array,  220 

The  ane  half  grene,  the  uther  half  sabill 

blak, 
Quhyte  hair  as  gold,  kemmit  and  sched 

abak, 

Bot  in  hir  face  semit  greit  variance, 
Quhyles  perfyte  treuth,  and  quhyles  incon- 
stance. 

Under  smyling  scho  was  dissinmlait, 
Provocative  with  blenkis l  amorous, 

And  suddanely  changit  and  alterait, 
Angrie  as  ony  serpent  vennemons, 
Richt  pungitive  with  wordis  odious:  229 

Thus  variant  scho  was,  quha  list  tak  keip,2 

With  ane  eye  lauch,a  and  with  the  uther 
weip. 

In  taikning4  that  all  fleschelie  paramour 
Quhilk  Venus  hes  in  reull  and  govern 
ance, 
Is  sum  tyme  sweit,  sum  tyme  bitter  and 

sour, 

Richt  nnstabill,  and  full  of  variance, 
Mingit 6  with  cairfull  joy  and  fals  ples- 

ance, 
Now  hait,  now  cauld,  now  blyith,  now  full 

of  wo, 
Now  grene  as  leif,  now  widderit  and  ago. 

With  bulk  in  hand  than  come  Mercurius, 
Richt  eloquent  and  full  of  rethorie,      240 

With  polite  termis  and  delicious, 

With  pen  and  ink  to  report  all  reddie, 
Setting  sangis  6  and  singand  merilie. 

His  nude  was  reid,  heklit  atouir7  his  croun, 

Lyke  to  ane  poeit  of  the  auld  fassoun.8 

Boxis  he  bair  with  fine  electuairis, 
And  sugerit  syropis  for  digestioun, 

i  glances.         *  heed.         *  laughed.         *  tokening. 

•  Mingled.         •  songs  (to  music).         1  fringed  about. 

•  fashion  (cf.  Chaucer's  portrait). 


Spycis  belangand  to  the  pothecairis, 
With  mony  hailsum  sweit  confectioun, 
Doctour  in  phisick,  cled  in  ane  skarlot 

goun, 

And  fuirit  weill,  as  sic  ane  aucht  to  be,  251 
Honest  and  gude,  and  not  ane  word  culd  lie. 

Nixt  efter  him  come  Lady  Cynthia, 

The  last  of  all,  and  swiftest  in  hir  spheir, 

Of  colour  blak,  buskit9  with  hornis  twa, 
And  in  the  nicht  scho  listis  best  appeir; 
Haw10  as  the  leid,  of  colour  nathing  cleir; 

For  all  hir  licht  scho  borrowis  at  hir  brother 

Titan,  for  of  hirself  scho  hes  naue  uther. 

Hir  gyse  was  gray,  and  full  of  spottis  blak; 

And  on  hir  breist  ane  churle  paiutit  full 

evin,  261 

Beirand  ane  bunche  of  thornis  on  his  bak, 

Quhilk  for  his  thif t  micht  clim  na  nar  u 

the  hevin. 
Thus  quhen  thay  gadderit  war  thir  God- 

dis  sevin, 

Merctirius  they  cheisit  with  ane  assent 
To  be  foirspeikar  in  the  parliament. 

Quha  had  bene  thair,  and  liken  for  to  heir 
His  facound12  toung  and  termis  exquisite, 

Of  rhetorick  the  prettick18  he  micht  leir,14 
In  breif  sermone  ane  pregnant  sentence 
wryte:  270 

Befoir  Cupide  veiling  his  cap  alyte,16 

Speiris  the  cans  of  that  vocation; 

And  he  anone  schew  16  his  intentioun. 

'Lo,'  (quod  Cupide)  'quha  will  blaspheme 

the  name 

Of  his  awin  god,  outher  in  word  or  deid, 

Toallgoddis  he  dois  baith  lak17  and  schame, 

And  suld  have  bitter  panis  to  his  meid; 

I  say  this  by  yone  wretchit  Cresseid, 

The  quhilk  throw  me  was  sum  tyme  flour 

of  lufe, 
Me  and  ray  mother  starklie  can  repruf e ;  280 

'  Saying  of  hir  greit  infelicitie 

I  was  the  caus  and  my  mother  Venus ; 

Ane  blind  Goddes  hir  cald,  that  micht  not  se, 
With  sclander  and  defame  injurious: 
Thus  hir  leving  unclene  and  lecherous 

Scho  wald   returne   on  me  and   [on]  my 
mother, 

Toquhome  I  schewmy grace  abone  all  uther. 

•  decked.      10  Wan,  livid.      "  nearer.      12  eloquent. 
w practice.  M learn,  "a- little.  " shewed.  " reproach. 


THE   TESTAMENT   OF   CRESSEID 


*  And  sen  l  ye  ar  all  sevin  deificait, 

Participant  of  devyne  sapience, 
This  greit  injure  done  to  our  hie  estait,  290 

Me-think  with  pane  we  suld  mak  recom- 
pence; 

Was  never  to  goddes  done  sic  violence. 
As  weill  for  yow  as  for  myself  I  say, 
Thairfoir  ga  help  to  revenge  I  yow  pray.' 

Mercnrius  to  Cupide  gave  answeir, 

And   said,  'Schir  King,  my  counsall  is 
that  ye 

Refer  yow  to  the  hiest  planeit  heir, 
And  tak  to  him  the  lawest  of  degre, 
The  pane  of  Cresseid  for  to  modifie:2 

As  God  Saturne,  with  him  tak  Cynthia/  300 

'I  am  content,'  (quod  he),  'to  tak  thay  twa.' 

Than  thus  proceidit  Saturne  and  the  Mone, 
Quhen  thay  the  mater  rypelie  had  degest, 

For  the  dispyte  to  Cupide  scho  had  done, 
And  to  Venus  oppin  and  manifest, 
In  all  hir  lyfe  with  pane  to  be  opprest, 

And  torment  sair,  with  seiknes  inourabill, 

And  to  all  lovers  be  abhominabill. 

This  dulef ull  sentence  Saturne  tuik  on  hand, 

And  passit  doun  quhair  cairfull  Cresseid 

lay,  310 

And  on  hir  heid  he  laid  ane  frostie  wand; 
Than  lawfullie8  on  this  wyse  can  he  say: 
*  Thy  greit  fairnes,  and  all  thy  bevvtie  gay, 

Thy  wantoun  blude,  and  eik  thy  goldiii  hair, 

Heir  I  exclude  f ra  the  for  evermair. 

*  I  change  thy  mirth  into  melancholy, 

Quhilk  is  the  mother  of  all  pensivenes; 
Thy  moisture  and  thy  heit  in  cald  and  dry; 
Thyne  insolence,  thy  play  and  wantones 
To  greit  diseis;  thy  pomp  and  thy  riches 
In  mortall  neid;  and  greit  penuritie         321 
Thow  suffer  sail;  and  as  aue  beggar  die.' 

O  cruell  Saturne  !  fraward  and  angrie, 

Hard  is  thy  dome,  and  too  malitious: 
On  fair  Cresseid  quhy  lies  thow  na  mercie, 
Quhilk  was  sa  sweit,  gentill,  and  amour- 

ous  ? 

Withdraw  thy  sentence,  and  be  gracious 
As  thow  was  never;  so  schawis  thow  thy 

deid, 

Ane  wraikf ull4  sentence  gevin  on  fair  Cres 
seid. 

1  since.        *  determine.        *  in  accordance  with  the 
decision  of  the  court.        «  revengeful. 


Than  Cynthia,  quhen  Saturne  past  away,  330 
Out  of  hir  sait  discendit  down  belyve,6 

And  red  ane  bill  on  Cresseid  quhuir  scho 

lay, 

Contening  this  sentence  diffinityve  : 
'  Fra  heit 6  of  bodie  I  the  now  deprive, 

And  to  thy  seiknes  sal  be  na  recure, 

But  in  dolour  thy  dayis  to  indure. 

*  Thy  cristall  ene  minglit  with  blude  I  mak; 
Thy  voice  sa  cleir,  uuplesand,  hoir,  and 

hace ; 7 

Thy  lustie  lyre  8  ouirspred  with  spottis  blak, 

And  lumpis  haw9  appeirand  in  thy  face; 

Quhair  thow  cummis,  ilk  man  sail  fie  the 

place;  34 ' 

This  sail  thow  go  begging  fra  hous  to  hous, 

With  cop  and  clapper  lyke  ane  lazarous.' 10 

This  doolie  dreame,  this  uglye  visioun 

Brocht  to  ane  end,  Cresseid  fra  it  awoik, 
And  all  that  court  and  convocationn 

Vanischit  away.  Than  rais  scho  up  and 

tuik 
Ane  poleist  glas,  and  hir  schaddow  culd 

talk; 

And  quhen  scho  saw  hir  face  sa  deformait, 

Gif    scho  in    hart  was   wa   aneuch,  God 

wait ! u  350 

Weiping  full  sair,  'Lo,  quhat  it  is,'  (quod 

sche) 
'With  fraward  langage  for  to  mufe  and 

steir 

Our  craibit  goddis,  and  sa  is  sene  on  me  t 
My  blaspheming  now  have  I  bocht  full 

deir; 

All  eirdly  joy  and  mirth  I  set  areir.12 
Allace,  this  day  !  allace,  this  wof ull  tyde ! 
Quhen  I  began  with  my  goddis  for  to  chyde! ' 

Be  this  was  said,  ane  chyld  come  fra  the 

hall, 

To  warne  Cresseid  the  supper  was  reddy; 

First  knokkit  at  the  dure,  and  syne 13  culd 

call,  360 

'Madame,  your   father  biddis  you  cutn 

in  hy," 

He  has  mervell  sa  lang  on  grouf 16  ye  ly, 
And  sayis,  your  prayers  bene  too  lang  sum 

deill, 
The  goddis  wait  all  your  intent  full  weill/ 


«  quickly.  «  heat, 

s  skin.      »  livid.      1°  leper. 
»  afterwards.        "  haste. 


hoar  (old),  and  hoarse, 
u  knows.  u  behind, 
*  grovelling. 


372 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


Quod  scho,  '  Fair  chylde,  ga  to  my  father 

deir 
And  pray  him  cum  to   speik  with   me 

anone.' 
And  sa  he  did,  and  said,  '  Douchter,  quhat 

cheir?' 
'Allace'  (quod  scho),  'father,  my  mirth 

is  gone.' 
'How  sa?'  (quod  he)  and  scho  can  all 

expone,1 

As  I  have  tauld,  the  vengeance  and  the 
wraik,2  370 

For  hir  trespas,  Cupide  on  hir  culd  tak. 

He  luikit  on  hir  nglye  lipper  8  face, 

The   quhilk    befor   was  quhite  as  lillie 

flour; 
Wringand    his   handis,   oftymes    he  said, 

allace, 

That  he  had  levit  to  se  that  wofnll  hour; 
For  he  knew  weill  that  thair  was  na  suc 
cour 

To  hir  seiknes,  and  that  dowblit  his  pane; 
Thus  was  thair  cair  aneuch  betuix  thame 
twane. 

Quhen  thay  togidder  murnit  had  full  lang, 
Quod  Cresseid,  '  Father,  I  wald  not  be 
keud ; 4  380 

Thairfoir  in  secreit  wyse  ye  let  me  gang 
Unto  yone  hospitall  at  the  tounis  end; 
And  thidder  sum  meit  for  cheritie  me 

send, 

To  leif  upon;  for  all  mirth  in  this  eird  6 
Is  fra  me  gaue,  sic  is  my  wickit  weird.'  6 

Than  in  ane  mantill  and  ane  bavar 7  hat, 
With  cop  and  clapper,  wonder  prively 

He  opnit  ane  secreit  yett,8  and  out  thair  at 
Convoyit  hir,  that  na  man  suld  espy, 
Unto  ane  village  half  aue  myle  thairby; 

Delyverit  hir  in  at  the  spittail  hous,         391 

And  daylie  sent  hir  part  of  his  almous. 

Sum  knew  hir  weill,  and  sum  had  na  knawl- 


Of  hir,  becaus  scho  was  sa  deformait 
With  bylis  9  blak  ovirspred  in  hir  visage, 

And  hir  fair  colour  faidit  and  alterait. 

Yit  thay  presumit,  for  hir  hie  regrait,10 
And  still  mnrning,  scho  was  of  nobill  kin: 
With  better  will  thairfoir  they  tuik  hir  in. 

i  expound.  *  wreakincr.  8  festering,  leprous. 
«  known.  B  earth.  6  fate.  7  beaver.  «  gate. 
•  boils.  10  grief. 


The  day  passit,  and  Phebus  went  to  rest, 
The  clondis  blak   ouirquhelmit   all   the 
sky:  401 

God  wait  gif  Cresseid  was  ane  sorrowfull 

gest, 

Seeing  that  uncouth  fair  and  berbery ! n 
But ™  meit  or  drink  scho  dressit  hir  to  ly 
In  ane  dark  corner  of  the  hous  allone; 
And  on  this  wyse,  weiping,  scho  maid  hir 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  CRESSEID 

'  O  sop  13  of  sorrow,  sonken  into  cair ! 
O,  cative14  Creisseid !  for  now  and  ever  ma'r 
Gane  is  thy  joy,  and  all  thy  mirth  in  eird; 
Of   all   blyithnes   now  art    thow   blaikiiit 
hair;™  4IO 

Thair  is  na  salve  may  saif  the  of  thy  sair. 
Fell  is  thy  fortoun,  wickit  is  thy  weird; 
Thy  blys  is  baneist,  and  thy  baill  on 

breird;16 

Under  the  eirth  God  gif  I  gravin  wer, 
Quhair  nane  of  Grece  nor  yit  of  Troy 
micht  heird.17 

'  Quhair  is  thy  chalmer  wantounlie  besene,18 
With  burely19  bed  and  bankouris  browderifc 

bene,2<> 

Spycis  and  wyne  to  thy  collatioun, 
The  cowpis  all  of  gold  and  silver  schene, 
The  sweit  meitis,  servit  in  plaittis  clene,  420 
With  saipheron  sals21  of  ane  gude  ses- 

soun,22 
Thy  gay  garmentis  with  mony  gudely 

goun, 

Thy  plesand  lawn  pinnit  with  goldin  prene  ?  n 
All  is  areir,24  thy  greit  royall  renouu. 

1  Quhair  is  thy  garding  with  thir  greissis  gay, 
And  f  resche  flowris,  quhilk  the  Quene  Floray 

Had  paintit  plesandly  on  everie  pane,23 
Quhair  thow  was  wont  full  merilye  in  May 
To  walk  and  tak  the  dew  be  it  was  day,  429 

And  heir  the  merle  and  mavis  mony  ant-, 

With  ladyis  fair  in  carrolling  26  to  gane, 
And  se  the  royal  rinkis2"  in  thair  array, 

In   garmentis  gay,  garnischit  on  everie 
grane  ?  28 

11  strange  fare  and  lodging.  "  Without.  »  A  sop 
is  bread  soaked  in  wine.  Creesirla  is  soaked  in  care. 
14  caitiff,  unfortunate.  15  blackened  bare.  18  apfrow- 
ing.  17  hear  it.  18  gayly  furnished.  19  goodly. 
*o  pood  embroidered  tapestries.  21  saffron  sauce. 

«  seasoning.     2S  pin.     24  behind.     ™  leaf.     26  circular 
dances  with  song.        «  personages.        *»  color. 


THE   TESTAMENT   OF   CRESSEID 


373 


'  Thy  greit  triumphand  fame  and  hie  hon 
our, 
Quhair  thow  was  callit  of  eirdlye  wiehtis 

flour  — 

All  is  decayit,  thy  weird  is  welterit  so,1 
Thy  hie  estait  is  turnit  in  durknes  dour.2 
This  lipper  ludge  3  tak  for  thy  burelie  hour, 
And  for  thy  bed  tak  now  ane  buuche  of 

stro; 

For  waillit 4  wyne  and  meitis  thow  had 

tho,  440 

Tak  mowlit5  breid,  peirrie,6  and  ceder7 

sour: 
Bot  cop  and  clapper,  now  is  all  ago. 

'  My  cleir  voice  and  courtlie  carrolling, 
Quhair  I  was  wont  with  ladyis  for  to  sing, 

Is  rawk  as  ruik,8  full  hiddeous,  hoir,  and 

hace; 

My  plesand  port,  all  utheris  precelling  —  9 
Of  lustiues10  I  was  hald  maist  conding  — n 

Now  is  deformit  the  figour  of  my  face  — 

To  luik  on  it  na  leid  12  now  lyking  hes: 
Sowpit    in    syte,18  I   say   with   sair   sich- 
ing,  45o 

Ludgeit  amang  the  lipper  leid,14  Allace ! 

*  O  ladyis  fair  of  Troy  and  Grece  attend 
My  miserie,  quhilk  nane  may  comprehend, 

My  frivoll  fortoun,  my  infelicitie, 
My   greit    mischief,  quhilk   na    man   can 

amend ; 

Be  war  in  tyme,  approchis  neir  the  end, 
And  in  your  mynd  ane  mirrour  mak  of 

me; 

As  I  am  now,  peradventure  that  ye, 
For  all  your  micht,  may  cum  to  that  same 

end, 
Or  ellis  war,16  gif  ony  war  may  be.      460 

'  Nocht   is   your   fairnes   bot   ane   faiding 

flour, 
Nocht  is  your  famous  laud  and  hie  honour 

Bot  wind  inflat  in  uther  mennis  eiris; 
Your  roising  16  reid  to  rotting  sail  re  tour. 
Exempill  mak  of  me  in  your  memour, 

Quhilk  of  sic  thingis  wofull  witnes  beiris. 

All  welth  in  eird  away  as  wind  it  weiris; 
Be-war,  thairfoir,  approchis  neir  the  hour; 

Fortoun  is  fikkill,  quhen  scho  beginnis 
and  steiris.' 17 

1  turned  so.       2  heavy.       *  leper  lodge.       *  choice. 

*  mouldy.       •  perrie,  pear-cider.       7  cider.      8  hoarse 
as  rook.        »  excelling.        10  fairness.        n  excellent 
(condign).        1*  man.         18  Sunk  in  grief.        "  leper 
people.        "  worse.        «  rosy.        »  stirs. 


Thus  chydand  with  her  drerie  destenye,  470 
Wei  ping,  scho  woik  the  nicht  fra  end  to 

end; 

Bot  all  in  vane;  hir  dule,  hir  cairfull  cry, 
Micht  not  remeid,18  nor  yit  hir  muruing 

mend. 

Ane  lipper  lady  rais,  and  till  hir  wend, 
And  said,  *  Quhy  spurnis  thow  aganis  the 

wall, 
To  sla  thyself,  and  mend  nathing  at  all  ? 

*  Sen  thy  weiping  dowbillis  bot  thy  wo, 

I  counsall  the  mak  vertew  of  ane  neid; 
To  leir  to  clap  thy  clapper  to  and  fro,     479 
And  leir19  efter  the  law  of  lipper  leid.' 
Thair  was  na  buit,20  bot  f  urth  with  thame 

scho  yeid,21 
Fra  place  to  place,  quhill  cauld  and  houn- 

ger  sair 
Compellit  hir  to  be  ane  rank  beggair. 

That  samin  tyme  of  Troy  the  garnisoun, 

Quhilk  had  to  chiftane  worthie  Troylus, 
Throw  jeopardie  of  weir  had  strikken  down 
Knichtis  of  Grece  in  number  marvellous: 
With  greit  tryumphe  and  laude  victori 
ous 

Agane  to  Troy  richt  royallie  they  raid,   489 
The  way  quhair  Cresseid  with  the  lipper 
baid.22 

Seing  that  companie,  thai  come  all  with 

ane  stevin;28 
Thay  gaif  ane  cry,  and  schuik  coppis  gude 

speid; 
Said,  '  Worthie  lordis,  for  Goddis  luf e  of 

hevin, 

To  us  lipper  part  of  your  almous  deid.' 
Than  to  thair  cry  nobill  Troylus  tuik  heid, 
Having  pietie,  neir  by  the  place  can  pas 
Quhair  Cresseid  sat,  not  witting  what  scho 
was. 

Than  upon  him  scho  kest  up  baith  her  ene, 
And  with  ane  blenk24  it  come  into  his 

thocht  499 

That  he  sumtime  hir  face  befoir  had  sene; 

Bot  scho  was  in  sic  plye  ^  he  knew  hir 
nocht; 

Yit  than  hir  luik  into  his  mynd  it  brocht 
The  sweit  visage  and  amorous  blenking 
Of  fair  Cresseid,  sumtyme  his  awin  darling. 

»  remedy.  »  Probably  a  mistake  for  live.  »  help, 
boot.  21  went.  "  abode.  23  voice.  S4  glance. 
25  such  plight. 


374 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


Na  wonder  was,  suppois  1  in  mynd  that  he 
Tuik  hir  figure2   sa  sone,  and  lo!    now 
quhy  ? 

The  idole  of  ane  thing  in  cace  8  may  be 
Sa  deip  imprentit  in  the  fantasy, 
That  it  deludis  the  wittis  outwardly,    509 

And  sa  appeiris  in  forme  and  lyke  estait 

Within  the  mynd,  as  it  was  tigurait. 

Ane  spark  of  lufe  than  till  his  hart  culd 
spring, 

And  kendlit  all  his  bodie  in  ane  fyre, 
With  hait  fevir  ane  sweit  and  trimbling 

Him  tuik,  quhillhe  was  reddie  to  expyre ; 

To  beir  his  scheild  his  breist  began  to  tyre; 
Within  ane  quhyle  he  changit  mony  hew, 
And,  nevertheles,  not  ane  ane  uther  knew. 

For  knichtlie  pietie  and  memoriall  519 

Of  fair  Cresseid,  ane  gyrdill  can  he  tak, 
Ane  purs  of  gold,  and  mony  gay  jowall, 
And  in  the  skirt  of  Cresseid  doun  can 

swak:* 
Than  raid  away,  and  not  ane  word  [he] 

spak, 

Pensive  in  hart,  quhill  he  come  to  the  toun, 
And  for  greit  cair  oft  syis  6  almaist  fell  doun. 

The  lipper  folk  to  Cresseid  than  can  draw, 
To  se  the  equall  distribntioun 

Of  the  almous;  butquhan  the  gold  they  saw, 
Ilk  ane  to  uther  prevelie  can  roun,8  529 
And  said, '  Yone  lord  hes  mair  affectioun, 

How  ever  it  be,  unto  yone  lazarous, 

Than  to  us  all;  we  knaw  be  his  almous.' 

'  Quhat  lord  is  yone,'  (quod  scho),  '  have 

ye  na  feill,7 

Hes  done  to  us  so  greit  humanitie  ? ' 
'  Yes,'  (quod  a  lipper  man),  '  I  knaw  him 

weill; 

Schir  Troylus  it  is,  gentill  and  fre.' 8 
Quhen  Cresseid  understude  that  it  was  he, 
Stiffer  than   steill   thair    stert   ane    bitter 

stound  9 

Throwout  hir  hart,   and  fell  doun  to  the 
ground. 

Quhen  scho,  ouircome  with  siching  sair  and 
sad,  540 

With     mony     cairfull     cry     and     cald 
« Ochane  !  l° 

1  although.  »  Had  a  mental  picture  of  her.  »  per 
chance.  4  fling.  5  ofttimes.  8  whisper.  7  know 
ledge.  »  generous.  *  pang.  10  Ohone!  alas! 


Now  is   my  breist  with  stormie  stoundis 

stad,11 
Wrappit  in  wo,  ane  wretch  full  will  of 

wane:'12 
Than  swounit  scho  oft  or  scho  culd  re- 

frane, 

And  ever  in  hir  swouning  cryit  scho  thus: 
O,  fals  Cresseid,  and  trew  knicht  Troylus  ! 

*  Thy  lufe,  thy  lawtie,18  and  thy  gentilnes 

I  countit  small  in  my  prosperide; 
Sa  elevait  I  was  in  wantones,  549 

And  clam  upon  the  fickill  quheill 14  sa  hie; 

All  faith  and  lufe  I  promissit  to  the 
Was  in  the  self  16  fickill  and  frivolous: 
O,  fals  Cresseid,  and  trew  kuicht  Troilus  I 

'  For  lufe  of  me  thow  keipt  gude  continence, 
Honest  and  chaist  in  conversation n; 

Of  all  wemen  protectour  and  defence 
Thou  was,  and  helpit  thair  opinioun: le 
My  mynd  in  fleschelie  foull  affectioun 

Was  inelynit  to  lustis  lecherous:  559 

Fy,  fais  Cresseid  1  O ,  trew  knicht  Troylus  1 

'  Lovers,  be  war,  and  tak  gnde  heid  about 
Quhome   that  ye   lufe,  for  quhome  ye 

suffer  paine; 

I  lat  yow  wit,  thair  is  richt  few  thairont 17 
Quhome  ye  may  traist  to  have  trew  lufe 

agane : 
Preif 18  quhen  ye  will,  your  labour  is  in 

vaine ; 

Thairfoir,  I  reid  ye  tak  thame  as  ye  find, 
For  thay  ar  sad  as  widdercock 19  in  wind, 

'Becaus  I  knaw  the  greit  unstabilnes, 
Brukkil  20  as  glas,  into  my  self,  I  say,  569 

Traisting  in  uther  als  greit  unfaithf  nines, 
Als  unconstant,  and  als  untrew  of  fay; 21 
Thocht  sum  be  trew,  I  wait  richt  few  are 
thay ; 

Quha  findis  treuth,  lat  him  his  lady  ruse22: 

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  beteiche  ^  my  corps  and  carionn 

With  wormis  and  with  taulis24  to  be  rent; 

My  cop  and  clapper,  and  myne  orna 
ment, 

"  bestead.  «  devoid  of  hope.  «  loyalty.  »  wheel 
(of  Fortune).  18  were  in  themselves.  16  good  fame. 
"  existing.  is  Try.  i»  sober  as  weather-vane. 

*>  Brittle.  «  faith.  '«  praise.  «  bequeath.  "  toada. 


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  rubie  reid, 
Quhilk  Troylus  in  drowrie  l  to  me  send, 
To  him  agane  I  leif  it  quhan  I  am  deid, 
To    mak    my    cairfull    deid    unto    him 

kend:2 
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.8 

'  O,  Diomeid  !  thow  hes  baith  broche  and 

belt 

Quhilk  Troylns  gave  me  in  takning      59o 
Of  his  trew  lufe '  —  and  with  that  word 

scho  swelt;  4 
And  sone  ane  lipper  man  tuik  of  the 

ring, 

Syne6  buryit  hir  withouttin  tarying: 
To  Troylus  furthwith  the  ring  he  bair, 
And  of  Cresseid  the  deith  he  can  declair. 

Quhen  he  had  hard  hir  greit  infirmitie, 

Hir  legacie  and  lamentatioun, 
And  how  scho  eudit  in  sic  povertie, 

He  swelt  for  wo,  and  fell  douu  in  ane 

swoun; 

For  greit  sorrow  his  hart  to  birst  was 
bonn: 6  600 

Siching1  full  sadlie,  said,  '  I  can  no  moir; 
Scho  was  untrew,  and  wo  is  me  thairfoir  1 J 

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,  conteiningthis  ressoun: 
'  Lo,  fair  ladyis,  Cresseid  of  Troyis  toun, 

Sumtyme  countit  the  flour  of  womanheid, 

Under  this  stane,  late  lipper,  lyis  deid  ! '  609 

Now,  worthie  Wemen,  in  this  ballet  schort, 
Made  for  your  worschip  and  instructioun, 

Of  cheritie  I  monische  and  exhort, 

Ming 7  not  your  lufe  with  fals  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.      *  known.      »  fountains.      «  swooned, 

died.        »  Then.        «  ready.        t  Mingle. 


THE  FOX,  THE  WOLF,  AND 
THE  CADGERS 

QUHILUM  9  thair  wynnit 10  in  a  wildernes, 
As  myne  authour  expreslie  can  declair, 
Ane  revand11  wolf,  that  levit  upoun  pur- 

ches12 

On  bestiall,18  and  maid  him  weill  to  fair; 
Was  nane  sa  big  about  him  he  wald  spair, 
And 14  he  wer  hungrie,  outher  for  favour  OP 

feid," 
Bot  in  his  wraith  he  werry  it16  thaine  to  deid.17 

Swa  happynnit  him  in  wetching,  as  he  went, 
To  meit  ane  foxe  in  middis  of  the  way; 
He  him  foirsaw,  and  feinyeit  to  be  schent,18 
And  with  ane  bek 19  he  bad  the  wolf  gud 
day.  ii 

1  Welcum  to  me,'  quod  he,  *  thow  Russell  2° 

gray  V 
Syne  loutit21  doun,  and  tuik  him  be  the 

hand. 
«Ryse  vp,  Lowrence,22  I  leif  the28  for  to 

stand. 

*  Quhair  hes  thow  bene  this  sesoun  fra  my 

sicht  ? 

Thow  sail  beir  office,  and  my  stewart  be, 
For  thow  can  knap 24  doun  caponis  on  the 

nicht, 
And,  lowrand  law,25  thow  can  gar  hennis  de.' 

*  Schir,'  said  the  foxe,  ' that  gams  **  not  for 

me: 

And  I  am  rad,27  gif  thay  me  se  on  far,      20 
That  at  my  figure  beist  and  bird  will  scar.'28 

*  Na,'  quod  the  wolf,  *  thow  can  in  covert 

creip, 
Upoun  thy  wame,29  and  hint80  thame  be  the 

heid; 
And  mak  ane  suddane  schow 81  upoun  ane 

scheip, 
Syne82  with  thy  wappynnis  wirrie  him  to 

deid.* 
'Schir,'  said  the  fox,  'ye  knaw  my  rob  is 

reid,88 
And  thairfoir  thair  will   na   [kyn]  beist 

abide  me, 
Thocht  I  wald  be  sa  fals  as  for  to  hide  me.' 

s  Hawker.  •  Once  upon  a  time.  "»  dwelt.  »  plun 
dering.  "  plunder.  1*  farm  live-stock.  n  If. 
is  feud.  "  worried.  17  death.  «  pretended  to  be 
abashed.  "  bow.  *o  red  fellow  (fox).  *i  bent. 
22  fox.  M  pive  thee  leave.  2*  snatch.  25  crouching 
low.  *«  avails.  2;  afraid.  »B  be  scared.  *»  belly, 
'o  seize.  81  above,  push,  spring.  3a  Thou.  •»  robe 
is  red. 


376 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


'Yis,'  quod  the  wolf,  'throw  buskis l  and 

throw  breiris,  29 

Law  can  thow  lour  to  cum  to  thine  intent.' 
'Schir,' said  the  fox,  '  ye  wait2weill  how 

it  gais; 
Ane  lang  space  fra  thame  thay  will  feill 

my  sent,8 
Then  will  thay  eschaip,  suppois  thay  suld 

be  schent;4 
And  I  am  schamef ull  for  to  cum  behind 

thame 
In  to  the  f  eild,  thocht  I  suld  sleipand  6  find 

thame.' 

*  Na,'  quod  the  wolf,  *  thow  can  cum  on  the 

wind, 
For  everie  wrink,6  forsuith,  thow  hes  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  wyis7  be- 

gile  ?  4o 

My  tippit  twa  eiris,  and  my  twa  gray  ene, 
Garris   me   be  kend8  quhair  I  was  never 

sene.' 

'  Than,'  said  the  wolf,  'Lowrence,  I  heir  the 
le,» 

And  castis  for  perrellis  thy  ginnes  to  de 
fend;" 

Bot  all  thy  seinyes11  sail  not  availl  the, 

About  the  busk  with  wayis  thochfc  thow 
wend ;  . 

Falset12  will  fail  ye  ay  at  the  latter  end; 

To  bow  at  bidding,  and  byde  not  quhill 
thow  brest,13 

Thairfoir  I  gif  the  counsall  for  the  best.' 

'  Schir,'  said  the  fox,  '  it  is  lenterne,14  ye 
se;  50 

I  can  not  fische,  for  weitting  of  my  feit, 

To  tak  ane  banestikkill 15;  thocht  we  baith 
suld  de, 

I  haif  na  uther  craft  to  win  my  meit; 

Bot  war  it  pasche,16  that  men  suld  pultrie 
eit, 

As  kiddis,  lambes,  or  caponis  in  to  ply,17 

To  beir  your  office  than  wald  I  not  set  by.' 18 

1  bushes.  *  know.  >  scent.  4  even  if  they  should 
be  frightened.  *  sleeping.  •  trick.  1  way.  «  Cause 
me  to  be  recognized.  9  lie.  10  seekest  for  dangers 
to  excuse  thy  tricks.  "  excuses.  1Z  Falsehood,  n  do 
not  wait  till  you  are  broken.  »«  Lent.  »  stickleback. 
w  Easter.  »  in  good  condition.  »  decline. 


'Than,'  said  the  wolf,  in  wraith,  'wenis19 

thow  with  wylis, 

And  with  thy  mony  mowis20  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  raip22  had  tyit  me  till  aue  tre. 

'  Bot  now  I  se  he  is  ane  fule,  perfay,23 
That  with  his  maister  fallis  in  ressoning; 
I  did  but  till  assay  34  quhat  ye  wald  say; 
God  wait,  my  myud  was  on  ane  uther  thing; 
I  sail  fulfill  in  all  thing  your  bidding, 
Quhat  ever  ye  chairge,  on   nichtis  or  on 

dayis.' 
4  Weill,'  quod  the  wolf,  « I  wait  weill  quhat 

thow  sayis.  70 

'  Bot  yit  I  will  thow  mak  to  me  ane  aith,26 
For  to  be  leill  attour  all  levand  leid.' a 

*  Schir,'  said  the  foxe,  '  that  ane  word  makia 

me  wraith, 

For  now  I  se  ye  haif  me  at  ane  dreid;27 
Yit  sail  I  sweir,  suppois  it  be  not  neid, 
Be  luppiter,  and  on  pane  of  my  heid, 
I  salbe  trew  to  yow,  quhill28 1  be  deid.1 

With  that  ane  cadgear,  with  capill29  and 

with  creillis,80 
Come  carpand31  furth;  than  Lowrence  culd 

him  spy. 
The  fox  the  flewar  M  of  the  fresche  heiring 

feillis,  So 

And  to  the  wolf  he  roundis88  prively: 
'Schir,  yone  ar hering  the  cadgear  caryis  by; 
Thairfoir  I  rid  84  that  we  se  for  sum  wayis 
To   get  sum    fische    aganis    thir    fasting 

dayis. 

'  Sen  I  am  stewart,  I  wald  we  had  sum 

stuff, 

And  ye  ar  silver  seik,85  I  wait  richt  weill; 
Thocht  we  wald  thig86  yone  verray  chur- 

lische  chuff,87 

He  will  not  gif  us  ane  hering  of  his  creill, 
Befoir  yone  churle  on  kneis  thocht  we  wald 

kneill; 

"  thinkest.  «>  jests.  «  defeat.  «  red,  bloody 
rope.  "  in  faith.  «  try.  «  oath.  "  loyal  beyond 
all  living  people.  «  in  doubt.  28  till.  29  liorse. 
so  panniers,  baskets.  «  shouting.  32  smell. 

"  whispers.  s*  advise.  *  penurious.  »8  beg. 
87  mistrly  fellow. 


THE  FOX,  THE  WOLF,  AND  THE  CADGER 


377 


Bot  yit  I  trow  alsone l  that  ye  sail  se,        90 
Gif  I  can  craft  to  bleir  yone  carlis  ee.2 

1  Schir,  ane  thing  is,  and  8  we  get  of  yone 

pelf, 
Ye   man  tak  travell 4  and   mak  us  sum 

supple ; 5 
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  6  as  aue  be. 
And  ye  sail  follow  aue  litill  efterwart, 
And  gadder  hering,  for  that  salbe  your 

pairt.' 

With  that  he  kest  ane  compas  far  about, 
And  strawcht 7  him  doun  in  middis  of  the 

way,  ioo 

As  he  wer  deid  he  feinyeit8  him,  but  dout,9 
And  than  upoun  lenth  unliklie 10  lay ; 
The  quhite  he  turnit  up  of  his  ene  tway ; 
His  toung  out  hang  aue  hand  braid  u  of  his 

heid, 
And  still  he  lay,  als  straucht  as  he  wer 

deid. 

The  cad  gear  fand  the  fox,  and  he  was 

fane,12 
And  till  him  self  this  softlie  can  he  say: 

*  At  the  nixt  bait,13  in  faith,  ye  salbe  flane,14 
And  of   your   skin   I   sail   mak    mittenis 

tway/ 
He  lap15  about  [him]  lichtlie  quhair  he 

lay,  "o 

And  all  the  trace16  he  trippit  on  his  tais;17 
As  he  had  hard  ane  pyper  play,  he  gais. 

*  Heir  lyis,'  quod  he,  '  the  devill  deid  in  a 

dyke. 
Sic   ane   selcouth18   saw  I  not  this  sevin 

yeir; 

I  trow  ye  haif  bene  tussillit  with  sum  tyke,19 
That    garris20   yow   ly   sa   still  withoutin 

steir:21 
Schir   foxe,  in  faith,  ye   ar   deir  welcum 

heir; 

It  is  sum  wyfis  malisoun,22  I  trow, 
For  pultrie  pyking,28  that  lichtit  hes   on 

yow. 

i  quickly.      »  If  I  know  craft  to  deceive  that  fellow. 

*  if .    '     4  must  take  pains.          B  support.          •  busy. 
i  stretched.        8  feigned.        •  without  doubt.       «>  lay 
at  length,  helpless  looking.         "  breadth.         »  glad. 
i»  baiting-place.          "  flayed.         »  leapt.         "  way. 
"  toes.       is  strange  thing.        «  worried  by  some  dog. 
so  makes.       21  stir.       22  curse.       23  stealing  poultry. 


'  Thair  sail  na  pedder,24  for  purs,  nor  yit 

for  glufis,  120 

Nor  yit  for  pointis  ^  pyke  your  pellet  fra 

me;26 

I  sail  of  it  mak  mittenis  to  my  lufis,27 
Till  hald  my  handis  hait 28  quhair  ever  I 

be; 

Till  Flanderis  sail  it  never  saill  the  se/ 
With  that  iii  hy,29  he  hint80  him  by  the 

heillis, 
And  with  ane  swak  S1  he  swang  him  on  the 

creillis. 

Syne  m  be  the  heid  the  horss  in  hy  hes  hint; M 
The  fraudfiill  foxe  thairto  guid  tent  hes 

tane,84 
And  with   his  teith  the   stoppell,86  or  he 

stint,86  129 

Pullit  out,  and  syne  the  hering  ane  and  ane 
Out  of  the  creillis  he  swakkit 87  doun  gude 

wane.88 

The  wolf  was  war,89  and  gadderit  spedilie; 
The  cadgear  sang,  *  Huntis  up,  up,'  upoun 

hie.40 

Yit  at  ane  burne  the  cadgear  luikit  about; 
With  that  the  foxe  lap  quite  the  creillis 

fray;41 
The  cadgear  wald  haif  raucht  **  the  foxe  ane 

rout,48 
Bot  all  for  nocht,  he  wan  his  hoill 44  that 

day. 
Than  with  ane  schout  thus  can  the  cadgear 

say: 

*  Abyde,  and  thow  ane  nekhering 46  sail  haif, 
Is  worth  my  capill,  creillis,  and  all  the 

laif.'46  140 

*Now,'  quod  the  foxe,  *I  schrew  me  and 

we  meit: 
I  hard  quhat  thow  hecht 47  to  do  with  my 

skin. 
Thy  handis  sail  never  hi  thay  48  mittenis  tak 

heit, 
And  thow  war  hangit,  carle,  and  all  thy 

kin! 
Do  furth  thy  marcat; 49  at  me  thow  sail  not 

win; 

«  pedlar.  »«  laces.  8«  do  me  out  of  your  skin. 
»  palms.  *8  hot.  *•  haste.  w  seized.  "  toss. 
»»  Then.  "  seized.  »«  has  taken  careful  note. 

«  plug,  lid.  »•  ere  he  stopped.  «  threw.  *8  to 
good  purpose.  "  aware.  «°  in  a  loud  voice.  41  from. 
«  reached.  «  blow.  «  hole. 

«  A  blow;  also  apparently  specially  large  herring 
laid  on  the  top  or  neck  of  the  basket.  Of.  11.  165-168. 

«  rest.        «  promised.        «  those.        «  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  teyne1  quhair 

that  he  stuid; 
'  It  is  weill  worthie,'   quod   he,    '  I  want 

youe  tyke,2 

That  had  not  in  my  hand  sa  mekle  gude  150 
As  staf  or  sting,8  yone  truker4  for  to 

strike.' 

With  that  lichtlie  he  lap  out  ouer  ane  dyke, 
And  hakkit  douu  ane  staf,  for  he  was  tene,fi 
That  hevie  was  and  of  the  holyne  6  grene. 

With  that  the  fox  unto  the  wolf  culd  wend, 
And  fand  him  be  the  hering,  qufonr  he  lyis; 

*  Schir,'  said  he  than,  ' maid  1  not  fair  de 

fend?' 
Ane  wicht 8  man  wantit  never,  and  he  war 

wyse; 

Ane  bardie  hart  is  hard  for  to  suppryis.' 
Thau  said  the  wolf:  'Thow  art  ane  berne* 

full  bald,  I6o 

And  wyse  at  will,  in  gude  tyme 10  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  foxe,   '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  thryis12 

but  dout; 
The  wecht18  thair  of  neir  tit14  my  tuskis 

out. 

'  Now,  surelie,  schir,  mycht  we  that  heriug 

fang,1' 

it  wald  be  fische  to  us  thir  fourtie  dayis.' 
Than  said  the  wolf, ' Now  God  nor  that  I 

hang,18  ,7i 

Bot  to  be  thair  I  wald  gif  all  my  clays,17 
To  se  gif  that  my  wappynnis 18  micht  it  rais.' 
'Schir,'  said  the  foxe,  'God  wait,  I  wischit 

yow  oft, 
Quhen  that  my  teith  micht  not  beir  it  on 

loft. 

i  trembled  for  vexation.       »  I  well  deserved  to  miss 
that  fox.      »  pole.      «  swindler.       *  angry.      •  holly. 

*  defence,     s  brave.     •  fellow.      »  indeed.      »  idea. 
»  thrice.        »  weight.        "  tugged.       «  get  hold  of. 
u  God  grant  that  I  hang.    "  clothes.    "  weapons,  teeth. 


'  It  is  ane  side  of  salmond,  as  it  wair, 
And  callour,19  pypand  like  ane  pertrik  ee;20 
It  is  worth  all  the  hering  ye  half  tbair, 
Ye,  and  we  had  it  swa,  is  it  worth  sic  thre.' 
'  Than,'    said    the    wolf,    '  quhat    counsale 
gevis  thow  me  ?  '  180 

'  Schir,'    said    the   foxe,    '  wirk    efter   my 

devyis, 

And  ye  sail  haif  it,  and  tak  yow  na  sup 
pryis.21 

'  First,  ye  mon  cast  ane  compas  far  about, 
Syne  straucht  yow  doun  in  middis  of  the 

way; 
Baith   heid,   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 23  not  for  na  perrell  may  appeir, 
Bot  hald  yow  clois  quhea  that  the  carle 

cummis  neir. 

'And  thocht  ye  se  ane  staf,  haif  ye  na 

dout,  190 

Bot  hald  yow  winder24  still  in  to  that  steid;26 
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  haist26  will  hint  yow  be  the 

heillis, 
As  he  did  me,  and  swak  yow  on  his  creillis.' 

1  Now/  quod  the  wolf, '  I  sweir  the  be  my 

thrift, 

I  trow  yone  cadger  carle  he  will,  me  beir.' w 
'  Schir,'  said  the  foxe,  '  on  loft  he  will  yow 

lift, 

Upoun  his  creillis,  and  do  him  litill  deir.28 
Bot  ane  thing  dar  I  surelie  to  yow  sweir,  201 
Get  ye  that  hering  sicker  ^  in  sum  place, 
Ye  sail  not  fair  in  fisching80  mair  quhill 

pasche. 

'  I  sail  say  In  principio  upoun  yow, 
And  cros  your  corpis  froine  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,81 

»•  fresh.  w  shining  like  the  eye  of  a  partridge. 

81  no  surprise  take  you.  »»  stretch.  *»  fear.  *4  won 
derfully.  «  place.  *«  in  haste.  «  Ed.  Charteris 
reads,  dow  not  me  beir,  dare  not  lift  me.  28  harm, 

trouble.        «  secure.        w  go  a-fishiug.        "  goes. 


THE  FOX,  THE  WOLF,  AND  THE  CADGER 


379 


And   kest  ane  compas   about   the   cadger 

far; 
Syne  straucht  him  in  the  gait,1  or  he  come 

nar.  210 

He  laid  his  halfheid  2  sicker  hard  and  sad,3 
Syne  straucht  his  foure  feit  fra  him,  and 

his  heid, 
And  hang  his  toung  furth  as  the  foxe  him 

bad; 

Als  still  he  lay,  as  he  war  verray  deid, 
Rakkand  4  na  thing  of  the  carlis  favour  nor 

feid,5 

Bot  ever  upoun  the  nekhering  he  thinkis, 
And  quite  forgetis  the   foxe  and  all  his 

wriukis. 

With  that  the  cadger,  wavering  as  the  wind, 
Come  rydand  on  the  laid,6  for  it  was  licht, 
Thinkaud  ay  on  the  foxe  that  was  behind, 
Upoun   quhat    wyse   reveugit  on   him   he 
micht;  221 

And  at  the  last  of  the  wolf  gat  ane  sicht, 
Quhair  he  in  lenth  lay  streikit  in  the  gait; 
Bot  gif  he  lichtit  doun,  or  not,  God  wait ! 7 

'  Softlie,'  he  said.  « I  was  begilit  anis; 8 
Be  I  begilit  twyis,  I  schrew  us  baith, 
That  evill  bot9  sail  licht  upoun  thy  banis, 
He  suld  haif   had  that  hes  done  me  the 

skaith.'10 
On  hicht  he  hovit  the  stalf,11  for  he  was 

wraith, 

And  hit  him  with  sic  will  upoun  the  heid, 
Quhill  neir  he  swonit  and  swalt 12  in  to  that 

steid.18  231 

Thre  battis  he  buir,14  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 16  reddilie  quhether  it  wes  nicht  or 

day. 

The  foxe  beheld  that  service  quhair  he  lay, 
And  leuch  on  loft,16  quhen  he  the  wolf  sa 

seis, 
Baith  deif  and  dosirnit,17  fall  swounand  on 

his  kneis. 

He  that  of  ressoun  can  not  be  content, 
Bot  covetis  all,  is  abill  all  to  tyne.18        240 

i  stretched  himself  in  the  road.  >  side  of  his  head. 
«  solid.  «  recking.  6  feud.  •  load.  *  knows. 
8  once.  •  reward.  10  harm.  "  On  high  he  raised 
the  staff.  «  died.  »  place.  "  blows  he  bore. 
"  know.  i«  laughed  aloud.  »  dazed.  is  lose. 


The  foxe,  quhen  that  he  saw  the  wolf  wes 

sehent,19 

Said  to  him  selff, « Thir  hering  sal  be  myne '; 
I  le,  or  ellis  he  was  efterwart  fyne  20 
That  fand  sic  wayis  his  maister  for  to  greif : 
With  all  the  fische  thus  Lowreuce  tuik  his 

leif. 

The   wolf  was  neir   weill  dungin  to  the 

deid,21 

That  uneith  ffl  with  his  lyfe  away  he  wan, 
For  with  the  bastouu  28  weill  brokin  wes  his 

heid. 

The  foxe  in  to  his  den  sone  drew  him  than, 
That  had  betraisit24  his  maister  and  the 

man :  250 

The  ane  wantit  the  hering  of  his  creillis, 
The  utheris  blude  was  ryunand  ouer  his 

heillis. 

MORALITAS 

This  taill  is  mingit  M  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,27 
The  cadger  deith,  quhome  under  all  men 

preis : 28 
That  ever  tuik  lyfe  throw  cours  of  kynd  a 

man80  die, 
As  man,  and  beist,  and  fische  in  to  the  see. 

The  warld,  ye   wait,   is    stewart    to  the 

man,  260 

Qnhilk  iimkis  man  to  haif  namynd  of  deid,81 

Bot  settis  for  wynning  all  the  craft  thay 

can; 

The  hering  I  likkin  unto  the  gold  sa  reid, 
Quliilk  gart  the  wolf  in  perrell  put  his  heid: 
Kiel  it  swa  the  gold  garris  landis  and  cieteis 
With  weir82  be  waistit,  day  lie  as  men  seis. 

And  as  the  foxe  with  dissimulance  and  gile 
Gar  t  the  wolf  wene  88  to  haif  worschip  for 

ever, 
Richt  swa  this  warld  with  vane  gloir  for 

ane  quhile 
Flattens  with  folk,  as   thay  suld  failye 

never,  270 

Yit  suddandlie  men  seis  it  oft  dissever; 
With  thame  that  trowis  oft  to  fill  the  sek,84 
Deith  cnmmis  behind  and  nippis  thame  be 

the  nek. 

»  defeated.  *<>  subtle.  »  beaten  to  death. 

"  scarcely.  *»  stick.  *«  betrayed.  «  mixed. 
"  ere  I  stop.  «  truly.  *8  contend.  "  nature. 
»«  must.  «  death.  «  war.  »»  expect.  »«  sack. 


380 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


The  micht  of  gold  makis  mony  men  sa  blind, 
That  settis  on  averice  thair  felicitie, 
That  tliay  forget  the  cadger  cummis  behind 
To  stryke  thame,  of  quhat  stait  so  ever 

thay  be. 

Quhat  is  mair  dirk  l  than  blind  prosperitie  ? 
Quhairfoir  I  couiisall  michtie  men  to  haif 

mynd 
Of  the  ue'khering,  interpreit  in  this  kynd.  280 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  UPLANDISH  2 
MOUSE  AND  THE  BURGESS8 
MOUSE 

ESOPE,  myne  author,  makis  mentioun 

Of  twa  myis,  and  thay  wer  sisteris  deir, 
Of  quham  the  eldest   dwelt  in   ane   bor- 

rous  4  toun, 

The  uther  wynnit  nponland,  weill  neir,6 
Solitar,  quhyle  under  busk,  quhyle  under 

breir, 
Quhylis   in  the  corne,  and  uther  mennis 

skaith.6 
As  outlawis  dois  and  levis  on  thair  waith.7 

This  rurall  Mous  in  to  the  wynter  tyde 
Had   hunger,   cauld,    and   tholit 8   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  custum  9  mair  or  les, 
And  f redome  had  to  ga  quhair  ever  scho  list, 
Ainang  the  cheis  in  ark,10  and  meill  in  kist.11 

Ane  tyme  quhen  scho  wes  full  and  unfute 

sair,12 

Scho  tuik  in  mynde  hir  sister  uponland, 
And  langit  for  to  heir  of  hir  weilfair, 
To   se  quhat  lyfe  scho   had   under  the 

wand 18; 
Bairfute,   alloue,  with   pykestalf  in  hir 

hand, 

As  pure 14  pi  Igryme  scho  passit  out  of  toun,  20 
To  seik  hir  sister  baith  ouer  daill  and  doun. 

Furth  mony  wilsum 15  wayis  can  scho  walk 
Throw  mosse  and   muir,  throw  bankis, 
balk,16  and  breir, 

i  dark.     2  country.     »  town.     *  borough.     s  dwelt 
in  the  country  right  near.  «  harm.  1  hunting. 

8  Buffered.  •  without  taxes.  10  box.  "  chest. 
»  unfootsore,  comfortable.  "  in  the  open.  *«  A 
very.  »  wild.  «  ridge. 


Scho  ranne  with  mony  ane  hiddeous  quaik,17 
'Cum  furth  to  me,  my  awiu  sister  deir, 
Cry  peip  anis  ! '  18  With  that  the  mous 

cryit,  '  heir,' 

And  knew  her  voce,  as  kinnisman  will  do, 
Be  verray  kynd;19  and  furth  scho  come  hir 
to. 

The  hartlie  joy,  God  !  gif  ye  had  sene, 

Beis  kith  ao  quhen  that  thir  sisteris  met;  30 
And   greit  kyndenes   was   schawin   thame 

betuene; 
For  quhylis  thay  leuch,  and  quhylis  for 

joy  thay  gret,21 

Quhyle  kissit  s  weit,  quhylis  in  armis  p!et  ;M 
And  thus  thay  f ure,  quhill >2S  soberit  wes 

thair  mind, 
Syne  fute  for  fute24  unto  the  chalmer  wend. 

As  I  hard  say,  it  was  ane  sober  wane,25 
Of  fog26  and  fairn  full  febillie  was  maid, 

Ane  sillie  scheill 27  under  ane  steidfast  stane, 

Of  quhilk  the  entres  was  not  hie  nor  braid ; 

And  in  the  samiu28  thay  went  but  mair 

abaid,29  4o 

Without[in]  fyre  or  candill  birnand  bricht, 

For  commounlie  sicpykeris30  lufes  not  licht. 

Quhen  thay  werlugit  thus,  thir  selie  81  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   prompit88   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 : M 
I  keip  the  rate  **  and  custume  of  my  dame, 
And  of  my  leving  in  to  povertie,86 
For  laudis  haif  we  nane  in  propertied 

17  scream.  "  once.  19  instinct.  20  shown. 
«  wept.  «  folded.  «  fared  till.  «  keeping  step, 
a  dwelling.  «  moss.  «  A  frail  shelter  (sheilinpr). 
M  into  the  same.  "  without  more  delay.  *>  stealers. 
"  these  innocent.  »*  let  them  judge  (?)  **  started. 
34  womb.  **  style.  36  my  being  left  poor. 


THE  UPLANDISH   MOUSE  AND   THE   BURGESS   MOUSE    381 


*  My  fair  sister,'   quod  scho,  *  half  me  ex- 

cusit, 

This  rude  dyet  and  I  cnn  nocht  accord; 
Till  tender  meit  my  stomok  is  ay  usit, 
For    quhylis   I   fair    als    weill    as   ony 
lord ;  60 

Thir  widderit *  pels  and  nuttis,  or  thay 

be  bord,2 
Will  brek  my  teith,  and  mak  my  wame  full 

sklender,8 
Quhilk  wes  befoir  usit  to  meittis  tender.' 

'Weill,  weill, sister,'  quod  the  rurall  Mous, 

'  Git'  it  pleis  yow,  sic  thingis  ;is  ye  se  heir, 

Baith  meit  and  drink,  harberie  and  hous, 

Sal  be  your  a  win,  will  ye  re  mane  all  yeir; 

Ye  sail    it   haif  with  blyith  and  merie 

cheir, 
And  that  suld  mak  the  maissis4  that  ar 

rude, 

Aniang  t'reindis,  richt  tender  and  wonder 
gude.  70 

'  Quhat  plesure  is  in  f eistis  delicate, 

Theqnhilkisargevin  with  ane  glowmand5 

brow  '? 
Ane  gentill  hart  is  better  recreat 

With  blyith  curage,  than  seith6  till  him 

ane  kow: 

Ane  modicum  is  mair  for  till  allow,7 
Swa  that  gude  will  be  kerver  at  the  dais, 
Than  thrawin  8  will  and  mony  spycit  nuns.' 

For  all  hir  merie  exhortatioun, 

This  burges  mous  had  lytill  will  to  sing, 
Bpt  hevilie  scho  kest  hir  browis  douu,  80 

For  all  the  daynteis  that  scho  culd  hir 
bring. 

Yit  at  the  last  scho  said,  half  in  hething,9 
'  Sister,  this  victuall  and  your  royall  feist 
May  weill  suffice  unto  aue  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; 10 
My  disc-he  weschingis  is  worth  your  haill11 

expence; 

I  haif  housis  anew12  of  greit  defence; 
Of  cat  nor  fall-trap  I  haif  na  dreid.'          90 
'I  grant,'  quod  scho;  and  on togidder  thay 
yeid.18 

*  These  withered.  2  ere  they  are  bored.  s  belly 
full  lean_.  *  messes,  food.  B  glooming,  sullen.  «  boil. 
">  is  more  to  be  esteemed.  8  perverse.  Harl.  reads 

thrawin  milt,  ill-tempered  face.       •  suoru.      i"  Easter. 
«  whole.      «  enough.      "  went. 


In  stubbill  array  14  throw  [rankest]  gers 16 

and  corne, 
And  under  buskis  16  prevelie  couth  they 

creip, 

The  eldest  wes  the  gyde  and  went  beforne, 

The  younger  to  hir  wayis  tuke  gude  keip.17 

On  nicht  thay  ran,  and  on  the  day  can  sleip ; 

Quhill  in  the  morning,  or  the  laverock  18 

sang, 

Thay  fand  the  toun,  and  in  blythlie  couth 
gang. 

Nocht   fer   fra  thyne19  unto  ane  worthie 

wane  20 

This  burges  brocht  thame  sone  quhar  thai 

suld  be;  100 

Without  God  speid21  thair  herberie  wes  taue, 

Into  ane  spence  M  with  vittell  greit  pleu- 

tie; 
Baith  cheis  and  butter  upone  thair  skelfis 

hie,23 
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  wesche24  and  went 

to  meit, 

With  all  the  coursis  that  cukis  culd  devyne, 
Mnttoiin  and  beif  strikin  in  tailyeis  greit ;  2* 
And  lordis  fair  thus  couth  thay  counter 
feit,  no 
Except  ane  thing  —  thay  drank  the  watt  er 

cleir 

Insteid  of  wyne;  bot  yit  thay  maid  gudo 
cheir. 

With  blyith  upcast  and  merie  countenance, 
The  eldest  sister  sperit  at  hir  gaist,20 

Gif  that  scho  be  ressone  fand  diflerence 
Betuix  that  chalmer  and  hir  sarie  27  nest, 
*  Ye,  dame,'  quod  scho,    «  how  lang  will 
this  lest  ? ' 

'  For  evermair,  I  wait,28  and  langer  to.' 

'  Gif  it  be  swa,  ye  ar  at  eis,'  quod  scho. 

Til  eik29  thair  cheir  ane  subcharge80  furth 
scho  brocht,  120 

Ane  plait  of  grottis  31  and  ane  dische  full 
of  meill; 

14  Bannatyiie  MS.  reads  In  skugry  ay,  In  concealment 
ever.  «  grass.  «  bashes.  »  heed.  &  lark.  i»  thence. 
20  dwelling.  >i  i.e.,  without  greeting  their  hosts. 

22  larder.  23  shelves  high.  2*  washed.  25  cut  in 
great  slices.  2«  asked  of  her  guest.  «  sorry.  2»  wot. 
2»  Xo  increase.  30  second  course.  31  hulled  oata. 


382 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


Tbraf   caikkis 1   als   I   trow    scho    spairit 

nocht, 

Aboundantlie  about  hir  for  to  deill; 
And  inane  2  full  fyne  scho  brocht  insteid 

of  geill,8 
And  ane  quhyte  caudill  out  of  ane  coffer 

stall,4 

Insteid  of  spyce  to  gust 6  thair  mouth  with- 
all. 

Thus  maid  thay  merie  quhil  6  thay  micht 

na  inair, 
And,   'Haill,  Yule,  haill  P   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  7  come  with  keyis  in  his  hand, 
Opinuit  the  dure,  and  thame  at  denner  fand. 

Thay  taryit  nocht  to  wesche,  as  I  suppose, 
But  on  to  ga  quha  that  micht  fonnest 

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;8 
For  veray  dreid  scho  fell  in  swoun  neir 
deid.  140 

Bot  as  God  wald,  it  fell  ane  happy  cace; 
The  spenser  had  na  laser  9  for  to  byde, 
Nouther  to  seik  nor  serche,  to  sker10  nor 

chace, 
Bot  in  he   went,  and   left  the  dure  up 

wyde. 
The  bald   burges  his  passing    weill  hes 

spyde; 

Out  of  hir  hoill  scho  come  and  cryit  on  hie, 
1  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,"  149 

For  till  hir  hart  straik  mony  wofull  stound; 12 

As  in  ane  fever  scho  trimbillit  fute  and 

hand; 

And  quhan  hir  sister  in  sic  ply13  hir  fand, 
For  verray  pietie  scho  began  to  greit,14 
Syne  confort  hir  with  wordis  humbill  and 

sweit. 

i  Unleavened  cakes.    *  fine  bread.    »  jelly.      «  stole. 
>  tickle.  6  till.          i  butler,  keeper  of  the  spence. 

•  lacking  good  counsel.     *  leisure.     1°  scare.     "  sore 
dreading.      1S  pang.       13  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 16  and  to  gnaw  benis  or 
peis,  160 

Than  all  your  feist  in  this  dreid  and  diseis.' 

With  fair  tretie 16  yit  scho  gart n  hir  upryse, 
And  to  the  burde  thay  went  and  togidder 

sat; 

And  scantlie  had  thay  drunkin  anis  or  twyse, 
Quhen  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.1* 

Fra  fute  to  fute  he  kest  hir  to  and  fra, 

Quhylis  up,  quhylis  doun,  als  cant 20  as  ony 

kid;  170 

Quhylis  wald  he  lat  hir  run  under  the  stra, 

Quhylis  wald  he  wink,  and  play  with  her 

bukheid.21 

Thus  to  the  selie  mous  greit  pane  he  did, 
Quhill  at  the  last,  throw  fortune  and  gude 

hap, 
Betuix  aue  burde22  and  the  wall  scho  crap. 

And  up  in  baist  behind  ane  parralling  & 
Scho  clam  so  hie  that  Gilbert  rnicht  not 

get  hir, 

Syne  be  the  cluke24  thair  craftelie  can  hing, 
Till  he  wes  gane,  hir  cheir  wes  all  the 

better. 

Syne  doun  scho  lap  quhen  thair  wes  nane 
to  let M  hir,  180 

And  to  the  burges  mous  loud  can  scho  cry: 
1  Fairweill,  sister,  thy  feist  heir  I  defy ! >26 

'Thy  mangerie  is  myngit  ^  all  with  cair, 
Thy  guse  is  gude,  thy  gansell  28  sour  as 

gall; 

The  suboharge  of  thy  service  is  bot  sair, 
So  sail  thow  find  efterwart  na  fail  I.29 
I  thank  yone  courtyne  and  yone  perpall 

wall 

Of  my  defence  now  fra  ane  crewell  beist. 
Almychtie  God,  keip  me  fra  sic  ane  feist  I 

"  very  thin  broth.  "  entreaty.  »  caused. 

»«  Puss.  i»  seized.  20  playful.  »  hide-and-seek. 
22  board.  Bann.  dressour.  23  partition.  24  claw. 
2*  hinder.  2«  renounce.  27  Thy  feast  is  mingled. 
88  sauce.  »  without  doubt.  Bairn,  may  fail. 


ROBIN   AND  MAKIN 


383 


*Wer  I  into  the  kith1  that  I  come  fra,     190 

For  weill  nor  wo  suld  never  cumagane.' 

With  that  scho  tuke  hir  leif  and  furth  can  ga, 

Quhylis   throw   the    corne,  and   quhylis 

throw  the  plane; 
Quhen  scho  wes  furth  and  fre,  scho  wes 

f ul  fane, 

And  merilie  markit2unto  the  mure: 
I  can  not  tell  how  ef tirwart 8  scho  fure.4 

Bot  I  hard  say  scho  passit  to  hir  den, 
Als  warme  as  woll,  suppose  5  it  wes  not 

greit, 

Full  beiuly6  stuffit,  baith  but  and  ben,7 
Of  beinis  and  nuttis,  peis,  ry,  and  quheit; 
Quhen  ever  scho  list,  scho  had  aneuch  to 
eit,  201 

In  quyet  and  eis,  withoutin  ony  dreid; 
Bot  to  hir  sisteris  feist  na  mair  scho  yeid.8 

MORALITAS 

Friendis,  ye  may  find,  and  ye  will  tak  held, 

In  to  this  fabill  ane  gude  moralitie; 
As  fitchis  inyngit 9  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 10  thay  quhilk  climmis  up 
maist  hie.  an 

Blissit  be  sempill  lyfe  withoutin  dreid, 

Blissit  be  sober  feist  in  quietie: 
Qnha  hes  aneuch,  of  na  mair  lies  he  neid, 

Thocht  it  be  lytill  into  quantitie. 

Greit  aboundance  and  blind  prosperitie 
Oftymes  makis  ane  evill  conclusioun; 

The  sweitest  lyfe,  thairfoir,  in  this  cuntrie 
Is  sickernes,11  with  small  possessioun. 

Thy  awin  fyre,  my  friend,  sa  it  be  bot  ane 
gleid,12  220 

It  warmis  weill,  and  is  worth  gold  to  thee; 
And  Solomon  sayis,  gif  that  thow  will  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.18 

1  native  place.  2  hastened.  »  Bannatyne,  Char- 
teris  and  Harleian  read  weill  thaireftcr.  3  fared.  5  al- 
thouph.  8  comfortably.  7  both  outer  <md  inner  room. 
8  went.  •  vetches  mixed,  w  especially.  "  security. 
"  one  coal.  is  The  Harleiau  text  has  an  additional 
stanza  after  line  219. 


ROBIN   AND    MAKIN 

ROBENE  sat  on  gud  grene  hill, 

Kepandaflokof  fe;14 
Mirry  Makyne  said  him  till,15 

'  Robeiie,  thow  rew 16  on  me; 
I  haif  the  luvit  lowd  and  still, 

Thir  yeiris  two  or  thre; 
My  dule  in  dern  bot  gif  thow  dill,17 

Doutless  but  dreid  I  de.' 18 

Robene  answerit,  '  Be  the  rude,19 

Nathing  of  lufe  I  knaw,  10 

Bot  keipis  my  scheip  undir  yone  wid,20 

Lo  quhair  thay  raik  on  raw: 21 
Q.uhat,  hes  marrit  the  in  thy  mude, 

Makyne,  to  me  thow  schaw ; 
Or  quhat  is  lufe,  or  to  be  lude  ?  ^ 

Fane  wald  I  leir  23  that  law. 

'At  luvis  lair24  gife  thow  will  leir, 

Tak  thair  ane  a,  b,  c; 
Be  heynd,25  courtass,  and  fair  of  feir,26 

Wyse,  hardy,  and  fre ;  ao 

So  that  no  denger  do  the  deir,27 

Quhat  dule  in  dern  thow  dre;  28 
Preiss  the29  with  pane  at  all  poweir, 

Be  patient  and  previe.' 

Robene  answerit  hir  agane, 

'  I  wait80  nocht  quhat  is  luve; 
But  I  haif  mervell  in  certane 

Quhat  makis  the  this  wanrufe:81 
The  weddir  is  fair,  and  I  am  fane, 

My  scheip  gois  haill  aboif;82  30 

And  **  we  wald  play  us  in  this  plane, 

Thay  wald  us  bayth  reproif.' 

'  Robene,  tak  tent 84  unto  my  taill, 

And  wirk  all  as  1  reid, 
And  thow  sail  haif  my  hairt  all  haill, 

Eik  and  my  maidenheid. 
Sen  God  sendis  bute  for  baill  ^ 

And  for  murnyng  remeid,88 
In  dern  with  the,  bot  gif  I  daill,87 

Dowtles  I  am  bot  deid.'  40 

'  Makyne,  to  morne  this  ilk  a  tyde,88 
And  ye  will  meet  me  heir,  — 

i«  sheep.  15  to.  »  have  pity.  »  My  secret 
grief  unless  thou  assuage.  18  surely  I  die.  19  cross. 
20  wood.  21  range  in  row.  22  loved.  2!  learn. 
2*  lore.  25  gentle.  2«  look.  «  daunt.  «  What 
woe  in  secret  thou  endure.  M  Fxert  thyself.  *°  wot. 
»i  unliappiness.  »2  all  together  above.  33  If.  34  heed. 
»s  remedy  for  harm.  »•'  compensation.  87  Unless  I 
deal  in  secret  with  thee.  3S  tomorrow  this  same  time. 


3^4 


ROBERT   HENRYSON 


Peraventure  my  scheip  may  gang  besyd,1 
Qnhill  we  haif  liggit  *  full  neir; 

Bot  mawgre  haif  I  and  I  byd,8 
Fra  thay  begin  to  steir; 4 

Quhat  lyis  on  hairt  I  will  nocht  hyd; 
Makyn,  than  mak  gud  cheir.' 

'  Robene,  thow  reivis  me  roif  6  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  lemman  I  lue  nane.' 

'Robene,  I  stand  in  sic  a  sty  11;' 

I  sicht,7  and  that  full  sair.' 
'Makyne,  I  haif  bene  heir  this  quhyle; 

At  hame  God  gif  I  wair.' 8  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,9 

And  trowd  him  nevir  to  se. 
Robene  brayd  atour  the  bent; 10 

Than  Mawkyne  cryit  on  hie,  70 

'  Now  ma  thow  sing,  for  I  am  schent! u 

Quhat  alis  lufe  at  me  ? ' u 

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  assaill, 

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 18 

Is  all  my  cuvating; 
My  scheip  to  morne  quhill 14  houris  nyne 

Will  neid  of  no  keping.' 

i  stray.  *•  while  we  lie  (have  lain).  *  confounded 
be  I  if  I  abide.  4  stir.  5  bereavest  me  of  quiet. 
•  state.  7  eigh.  8  God  grant  I  were.  »  desire. 
"  started  across  the  moor.  "  lost.  »  What  has  love 
against  me?  "  To  have  thy  heart  wholly  mine.  "  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  quheu  he  wald." 
I  pray  to  Jesu  every  day 

Mot  eik 16  thair  cairis  cauld, 
That  first  preissis 16  with  the  to  play, 

Be  firth,17  forrest,  or  fauld.' 18 

*  Makyne,  the  nicht  is  soft  and  dry, 

The  weddir  is  warme  and  fair, 
And  the  grene  woid  rycht  neir  us  by 

To  walk  at  tour  all  quhair;  w    '     100 
Thair  ma  na  janglour  20  us  espy, 

That  is  to  lufe  contrair; 
Thairin,  Makyne,  bath  ye  and  I 

Uuseue  we  ma  repair.' 

'  Robene,  that  warld  is  all  away 

And  quyt  brocht  till  ane  end, 
And  nevir  agane  thairto  perfay21 

Sail  it  be  as  thow  wend;22 
For  of  my  pane  thow  maid  it  play, 

And  all  in  vane  I  spend;  no 

As  thow  hes  done,  sa  sail  I  say, 

Murne  on,  I  think  to  mend.' 

'  Mawkyne,  the  howp  of  all  my  heill,28 

My  hairt  on  the  is  sett, 
And  evirmair  to  the  be  leill, 

Quhill  I  may  leif  but  lett;24 
Nevir  to  faill,  as  ntheris  feill, 

Quhat  grace  that  evir  I  gett.' 
'Robene,  with  the  I  will  nocht  deill; 

Adew,  for  thus  we  mett.'  no 

Malkyne  went  hame  blyth  annewche, 

Attour  the  holttis  hair;25 
Robene  murnit,  and  Makyne  lewche ;  M 

Scho  sang,  he  sichit27  sair; 
And  so  left  him,  bayth  wo  and  wrewche,28 

In  dolour  and  in  cair, 
Kepand  his  hird  under  a  huche,29 

Amangis  the  holtis  hair. 

THE   GARMENT   OF   GOOD 
LADIES 

WALD  my  gud  lady  lufe  me  best, 

And  wirk  eftir  my  will, 
I  suld  ane  garmond  gudliest 

Gar  mak  hir  body  till.80 

»  increase.  "  try.  »  woodland.  «  fold.  »  To 
walk  about  everywhere.  2°  gossip.  *l  by  my  faith. 
«  weened.  2»  hope  of  all  my  health.  2<  without 
ceasing.  «  Over  the  hoar  hills.  *«  laughed.  "  sighed. 
*s  woeful  and  wretched.  "  cliff.  '<>  Cause  to  be 
made  for  her  body. 


THE  GARMENT  OF  GOOD  LADIES 


38S 


Off  he  l  honour  suld  be  hir  hud, 

Upoun  hir  held  to  weir, 
Garueist  with  governance  so  gud, 

Na  demyng  suld  hir  deir.2 

Hir  sark  8  suld  be  hir  bod/  nixt, 

Of  chestetie  so  quhyt,  10 

With  schame  and  dreid  togidder  mixt, 
The  same  suld  be  pert'yt. 

Hir  kirtill  suld  be  of  clene  Constance, 

Lasit  with  lesum  lufe,4 
The  mailyeis  of  continuance  5 

For  iievir  to  reniufe. 

Hir  gown  snld  be  of  gudliness, 
Weill  ribband  with  renowne, 

Purfillit6  with  plesour  in  ilk  place, 
Furrit  with  fyue  fassoun.7  ao 

Hir  belt  suld  be  of  benignitie, 
About  hir  middill  meit; 

1  high.        *  No  censure  should  injure  her.       '  shift. 
*  Laced  with  lawful  love.       6  eyelet-holes  of  persever- 
«  Adorned.        1  fashion. 


Hir  mantill  of  humilitie, 

To  tholl 8  bayth  wind  and  weit. 

Hir  hat  suld  be  of  fair  having,9 

And  hir  tepat 10  of  trewth; 
Hir  patelet  or  gude  pausing;11 

Hir  hals  ribbane  12  of  rewth.18 

Hir  slevis  suld  be  of  espe ranee, 

To  keip  hir  fra  dispair;  30 

Hir  gluvis  of  gud  govirnance, 
To  gyd  hir  fyngearis  fair. 

Hir  schone 14  suld  be  of  sickernes,1* 
In  syne  that  scho  noeht  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,16 
That  scho  woir  nevir  grene  nor  gray 

That  set17  hir  half  so  weill.  40 

s  endure.  •  behavior.  ">  tippet.  "  Her  ruff  of 
good  thought.  is  neck-ribbon.  *»  pity.  "  shoes. 
»  aureneas.  "  eeal(V)  happiness  (?).  »  became. 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


THE  GOLDEN  TARGE 

RYGHT  as  the  stern1  of  day  begouth  to 

schyne, 
Quhen  gone  to  bed  war  Vesper  and  Lucyne, 

I  raise,  and  by  a  rosere2  did  me  rest; 
Up  sprang  the  goldyn  candill  matutyue, 
With  clere  depurit  bemes  cristallyne, 

Glading  the  mery  foulis  in  thair  nest; 

Or  Phebus  was  in  purpur  kaip3  revest 
Up    raise  the  lark,  the  hevyns  raenstrale 
fyne. 

In  May,  hi  till  a  morow  myrthf ullest. 

Full  angellike  thir  birdis  sang  thair  houris  4 

Within  thair  courtyns  grene,  in   to  thair 

bouris,  ii 

Apparalit  quhyte  and  red,  wyth  blomes 

suete; 

Anamalit  was  the  felde  wyth  all  colonris, 
The  perly  droppis  schake  in  silvir  schouris, 
Quhill  all  in  baline  did  branch  and  levis 

flete;5 

To  part  f  ra  Phebus  did  Aurora  grete,6 
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  birotis  sang  upon  the  tender  croppis,7 
With   curiouse  note,  as   Venus   chapell 
clerHs:  21 

The  rosis  yong,  new  spreding  of  thair  knop- 

pis,8 
War  powderit  brycht  with  hevinly  beriall 9 

droppis, 
Throu  bemes  rede,  birnyng  as  ruby  sper- 

kis; 
The   skyes   rang  for   schoutyng  of   the 

larkis, 

The  purpur  hevyn  ourscailit  in  silvir  slop- 
pis10 

Ourgilt   the   treis,   branchis,   leivis   and 
barkis. 

i  star.  »  rose-garden.  »  garment.  *  services. 
•  float.  •  weep.  *  tops.  8  buds.  •  beryl. 
"  spangled  in  silver  doublet. 


Doun  throu  the  ryce11  a  ryvir  ran  wyth 

stremys, 
So  lustily  agayn  thai  lykand  lemys,12 

That  all  the  lake 13  as  lamp  did  leme  of 

licht,  3o 

Quhilk  schadouit  all  about  wyth  twynkling 

glemis; 

That  bewis  14  bathit  war  in  secund  bemys 
Throu  the  reflex  of  Phebus  visage  brycht; 
On  every  syde  the  hegies  raise  on  hicht,15 
The  bank  was  grene,  the  bruke  was  full  of 

bremys,16 

The  stanneris17  clere  as  stern  in  frosty 
iiicht. 

The  cristall  air,  the  sapher  firmament, 
The  ruby  skyes  of  the  orient, 

Kest   beriall  bemes  on  emerant   bewie 

grene; 

The  rosy  garth 18  depaynt  and  redolent,    40 
With  purpur,  azure,  gold,  and  goulis  gent19 

Arayed  was,  by  dame  Fflora  the  quene, 

So  nobily,  that  joy  was  for  to  sene;20 
The  roch21  agayn  the  ryvir  resplendent 

As  low  ^  enlumynit  all  the  leves  scheue.2* 

Quhat  throu  the  mery  foulys  armony, 
And  throu  the  ry  veris  sounn  that  ran  me  by, 

On  Fflorais  mantill  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  24  of  gold,  brycht  as  the  stern 

of  day; 
Quhilk  tendit  to  the  land  full  lustily, 

As  falcounn  swift  desyrouse  of  hir  pray. 


And 


burd25    unto    the    blomyt 


hard    on 

medis, 

Amang  the  grene  rispis  ^  and  the  red  is, 
Arrivit  sche;  quhar  fro  anonn  thare 

dis 
Ane  hundreth  ladyes,  lusty  in  to  wedis, 

»  thickets.  1*  in  those  pleasant  gleams.  «  wat 
"  boughs,  is  on  high.  i«  the  fish  bream.  »  grav 
on  the  bottom.  13  garden.  i»  fine  red.  20  ue 

«  flame.       *»  bright.       ««  round-top  on  i 
is  aground.        2«  grasses. 


rock. 


THE  GOLDEN   TARGE 


387 


Als  fresch  as  flouris  that  in  May  up  spre- 

dis'.    . 
In   kirtillis   grene,   withoutyn    kell1  or 

bandis ; 2  60 

Thair  brycht  hairis  hang  gletering  on  the 

strand  is 
In    tressis    clere,   wyppit 8  wyth    goldyn 

thredis, 
With  pappis  4  quhite,  and  middillis  small 

as  wandis. 

Discrive  I  wald,  bot  quho  coud  wele  en- 

dyte 

How  all  the  feldis  wyth  thai  lilies  quhite 
Depaynt  war  brycht,  quhilk  to  the  lievin 

did  glete:6 
Noucht  thour  [H]omer,als  fair  as  thou  coud 

wi-yte, 
For  all  thine  ornate  stilis  so  perfyte; 

Nor  yit  thou,  Tullius,  quhois  lippis  suete 
Off  rethorike  did  in  to  tennis  flete:  6      70 
Your  aureate  tongis  both  bene  all  tcTlyte,7 
For  to  compile  that  paradise  complete. 

Tbare  saw  I  Nature,  and  [als  dame]  Venus 

queue, 
The  fresch  Aurora,  and  lady  Flora  schene, 

luno,  Appollo 8  and  Proserpyna, 
Dyane  the  goddesse  chaste  of  woddis  grene, 
My    lady    Cleo,    that   help    of    Makaris9 

bene,10 

Thetes,  Pallas,  and  prudent  Minerva, 
Fair  feynit11  Fortune,  and  lemand12  Lu- 

cina, 

Thir  mychti  quenis  in  crounis  mycht  be 
sene,  80 

Wyth  bemys  blith,  bricht  as  Lucifera. 

There  saw  I  May,  of  myrthfull  monethis 

queue, 

Betwix  Aprile  and  June,  her  sister18  schene, 
Within   the   gardying  walking  up   and 

doun, 

Quham  of  the  foulis  gladdith  al  bedene; 14 
Scho  was  full  tendor  in  hir  yeris  grene. 
Thare  saw  I  Nature  present  hir  a  gounn 
Rich  to  behald,  and  nobil  of  renounn, 
Off  eviry  hew  that  under  the  hevin  that 

bene 

Depaynt,  and  broud15  be  gude  propor- 
cioun.  90 

>  caul.  *  fillets.  »  bound.  «  breasts.  »  shine. 
•  float  in  rhetorical  terms.  7  too  Inadequate.  8  Prob 
ably  for  Latona.  »  poets.  ">  is.  »  tricky. 
12  gleaming,  u  Plural.  ' !  In  whom  the  birds  rejoice 
all  suddenly.  "  embroidered. 


Full  lustily  thir  ladyes  all  in  fere  16 
Enterit  within  this  park  of  most  plesere, 
Quhare  that  I  lay  our  helit  17  wyth  levis 

ronk; 

The  mery  foulis,  blisfullest  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  w  to    dame    Flora,    on    the    samyn 
wyse,  ioo 

Thay  saluse,  and  thay  thank  a  thousand 

syse  ;  ^ 
And  to  dame  Venus,  lufis  mychti  queue, 

Thay  sang  ballattis  in   lufe,  as  was  the 


With  amourouse  notis  lusty  to  devise, 
As  thay  that  had  lufe  in  thair  hertis 

grene; 

Thair  hony  throtis,  opnyt  fro  the  splene,22 
With  werblis  suete  did  perse  the  hevinly 

skyes, 

Quhill  loud  resownyt  the  firmament  se 
rene. 

Ane  othir  court  thare  saw  I  consequent, 
Cupide  the  king,  wyth  bow  in  handy  bent,  no 

And   dredefull   arowis   grundyn   scharp 

and  square; 

Thare  saw  I  Mars,  the  god  armypotent, 
Aufull  and  sterne,  strong  and  corpolent; 

Thare  saw  I  crabbit  Saturn  aid  and  haire,28 

His  luke  was  lyke  for  to  perturb  the 

aire; 
Thare  was  Marcurius,  wise  and  eloquent, 

Of  rhethorike  that  fand  the  flouris  faire; 

Thare  was  the  god  of  gardingis,  Priapus; 
Thare  was  the  god  of  wildernes,  Phanus; 

And  lanus,  god  of  entree  delytable;     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 

-----     ^__—^  —  |  -  --^^••^ 

la  ole; 

Thare  wasTiTiito,  the  elrich24  incubus, 
In  cloke  of  grene,  his  court  usit  no  sable. 

18  in  company.  "  covered,  M  saluted.  "  after* 
wards.  *°  times.  21  guise,  fashion.  22  from  the 
heart,  i.e.  joyously.  «  hoar.  "  elvish. 


388 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


And  eviry  one  of  thir,  in  grene  arayit, 
On  harp  or  lute  full  merily  thai  playit, 
Aud    sang   ballettis   with  niicbty   notis 

clere : 

Ladyes  to  dance  full  sobirly  assayit,         130 
Endlang *  the  lusty  ry vir  so  thai  inayit ; 
Thair    observance    rycht    hevyuly   was 

to  here; 
Thau  crap  I  throu  the  levis,  and  drew 

nere, 

Quhare  that  I  was  richt  sudaynly  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  2  me  assayit. 

And  first  of  all,  with  bow  in  hand  ybent, 
Come  dame  Beautee,  rycht  as  scho  wald  me 

schent;  8 

Syne  folowit  all  hir  dameselis  yfere,4 
With  mony  diverse  aufnll  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, 
Defeudit  me  that  nobil  chevallere. 

Syne  tender  Youth  come  wyth  hir  virgyns 

yms> 

Grene  Innocence,  and  schamef ull  Abaising, 
And  quaking  Drede,  wyth  humble  Obe 
dience; 

The  Goldyn  Targe  harmyt  thay  nothing; 
Curage  in  thame  was  noucht  begonne   to 

spring; 

Full  sore  thay  dred  to  done  a  violence: 
Suete  Womauhede  I  saw  cum  in  pres 
ence,  160 
Of  artilye  5  a  warld  sche  did  in  bring, 
Servit  wyth  ladyes  full  of  reverence. 

1  along.       «  A  wondrous  pleasant  strife.        »  harm. 
«  together.       *  artillery. 


Scho  led  with  hir  Nurture  and  Lawlynes, 
Contenence,6   Pauience,    Gude   Fame,   and 

Stedfastnes, 

Discretioun,  Geatrise,7  and  Considerance, 
Leuefell 8  Company,  and  Honest  Besynes, 
Benigne  Luke,  Mylde  Chere,  and  Sobirues  : 
All  thir  bure   ganyeis9  to  do   me   gre- 

vance; 

But  Resoun  bure  the  Targe  wyth  sik  con- 
stance, 

Thair  scharp  assayes  mycht  do  no  dures10 
To  me,  for  all  thair  awf ull  ordynance.  171 

Unto  the  pres  persewit  Hie  Degre, 
Hir  folowit  ay  Estate  and  Digmtee, 

Comparisoun,  Honour,  and  Noble  Array, 
Will,  Wantonues,  Renoun,  and  Libertee, 
Riehesse,  Fredomm,  and  eke  Nobilitee: 

Wit  ye  thay  did  thair  baner  hye  display ; 

A  cloud  of  arowis  as  hayle  schour  lousit 

thay, 
And  schot,  quhill n  wastit  was  thair  artilye, 

Syne    went    abak    reboutit u    of    thair 
pray.  180 

Quhen  Venus  had  persavit  this  rebute, 
Dissymilance  scho  bad  go  mak  persute, 
At    all   powere 13  to  perse  the  Goldyn 

Targe; 

And  scho  that  was  of  doubilnes  the  rute 
Askit  hir  choise  of  archeris  in  refute.14 
Venus  the  best  bad  hir  to  wale15  at  large; 
Scho  tuke  Presence  plicht 16  anker  of  the 

barge, 
And  Fair  Callyng  that  wele  a  flayn 17  coud 

schute, 

And    Cherising    for    to    complete    hir 
charge. 

Dame    Hamelynes 18    scho    tuke   in   com 
pany,  190 
That  hardy  was,  and  hende 19  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  batail  broucht  on  bordour21  hard  us  by, 
The  salt22  was  all  the  sarar  suth  to  sayn. 

«  Restraint.  7  Gentleness.  «  Lawful.  •  these 
bore  arrows.  1°  harm.  "  till.  "  balked.  13  By 
all  means.  u  as  a  (last)  resort  (?)  "choose.  I6  sheet- 
anchor,  chief  anchor.  "  arrow.  1*  Homeliness. 
i»  skilled.  20  fought.  21  Ou  the  beach. 


THE   GOLDEN   TARGE 


389 


Thik   was   the  schote   of   grundyn   dartis 

kene; 

Bot  Resoun  with  the  Scheld  of  Gold  so 
schene  200 

Warly1  defendit,  quho  so  evir  assayit; 
The  auf  ull  stoure  2  he  manly  did  sustene, 
Quhill 8  Presence  kest  a  pulder 4  in  his 

ene, 
And  than  as  a  drunkyn  man  he  all  for- 

vayit  : 5 
Quhen  he  was  blynd  the  fule  wyth  hym 

thay  playit, 

And  banyst  hym  amang  the  bewis  grene; 
That  sory  sicht  me  sudaynly  affrayit. 

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  scho  semyt  lustiar  of  chere 
Efter   that   Resoun    tyut6    had    his    eyne 

clere, 

Than  of  before,  and  lufliare  of  face  : 
Quhy  was  thou  blynd  it,  Resoun  ?  quhi, 

allace ! 

And  gert 7  ane  hell  my  paradise  appere, 
And  mercy  seme,  quhare  that  I  i'and  no 
grace. 

Dissymulance  was  besy  me  to  sile,8 

And  Fair  Calling  did  oft  upoun  me  smyle, 

And  Cherising  me  fed  wyth  wordis  fair; 
New  Acquyntance  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.9 

And  at  the  last  departing  coud  hir  dresse,10 
And  me  delyverit  unto  Hevynesse 

For  to  remayne,  and  scho  in  cure  me 

take. 

Be  this  the  Lord  of  Wyndis,  wyth  wodenes,11 

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  hyue 12  went,  thare  was  bot  wilder- 

nes, 

Thare  was  no  more  bot  birdis,  bank,  and 
bruke. 

i  Warily.  2  attack.           »  Till.  <  powder. 

*  went  astray.  6  lost.          7  caused.  8  deceive. 

»  strange  look.  10  prepared  herself  »  madness. 
18  hence. 


In  twynkling  of  ane  eye  to  schip  thai  went, 
And   swyth  13   up  saile  unto   the  top  thai 

stent,14 
And  witli  swift  course  atour 15  the  Undo 

thay  frak; 16 

Thay  fyrit  gunnis  wyth  powder  violent, 
Till  that  the  reke 17  raise  to  the  firmament, 
The  rockis  all  resownyt  wyth  the  rak,18 
For  reird19  it  sernyt  that  the  raynbow 
brak;  241 

Wyth   spi-eit    affrayde    apon    my  fete    I 

sprent  20 

Amang  the  clewis,21  so  carefull  was  the 
crak. 

And  as  I  did  awake  of  my  suevfnjing,22 
The  joyfull  birdis  merily  did  syng 

For    myrth    of    Phebus    tendir    bemes 

schene ; 

Suete  war  the  vaponris,  soft  the  morowing, 
Halesum  the  vale,  depaynt  wyth  flouris  ying; 

The  air  attemperit,  sobir,  and  amene;23 

In  quhite  and  rede  was  all  the  felde  be- 
sene,24  250 

Throu  Naturis  nobil  fresche  anamalyng, 

In  mirthfull  May,  of  eviry  moneth  quene. 

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  riall; 
Thy  fresch  anamalit  termes  celicall25 
This   mater    coud    illumynit   have   full 

brycht. 
Was  thou  noucht  of  oure  Inglisch  all  the 

lycht, 

Surmounting  eviry  tong  terrestriall,        260 
Alls    fer  as   Mayes   morow   dois    myd- 
nycht  ? 

O  morall  Gower,  and  Ludgate  laureate, 
Your  sugurit  lippis  and  toungis  au rente, 

Rene  to  oure  eris  cause  of grete  delyte; 
Your  angel  mouthis  most  mellifluate 
Our  rude  langage  has  clere  illumynate, 

And  faire  our-gilt  oure  speche,  that  im- 
perfyte 

Stude,  or  your  goldyn  pennis  schupe26  to 

wryte; 
This  lie  before  was  bare,  and  desolate 

Off  rethorike,  or  lusty  fresch  endyte.  270 

is  swiftly.  i*  hoisted.  i»  over.  i«  hastened. 
i7  reek,  smoke.  18  noise.  i»  uproar.  20  sprang 
21  gorges.  22  dreaming.  23  agreeable.  Z4  di 
25  celestial.  26  shaped,  prepared. 


39° 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


Thou  lytill  Quair,1  be  e'vir  obedient, 
Humble,  subject,  and  symple  of  entent, 

Before  the  face  of  eviry  connyng  wicht; 
I  knaw  quhat  thou  of  rethorike  hes  spent; 
Off  all  hir  lusty  rosis  redolent 

Is  none  in  to  thy  gerland  sett  on  hicht; 

Eschame  thar  of,  and  draw  the  out  of 

sicht, 
Rude  is  thy  wede,  disteynit,  bare,  and  rent, 

Wele  aucht  thou  be  afiret2  of  the  licht. 


THE   THISTLE   AND   THE   ROSE 

QUHEN  Merche  wes  with  variand  windis 

past 
And  Appryll  had,  with  hir  silver  schoui'is, 

Tane  leif  at  Nature  with  aue  orient  blast; 
And  lusty  May,  that  muddir  is  of  flouris, 
Had  maid  the  birdis  to  begyn  thair  houris  8 

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,  10 

And  halsit4  me,  with  visage  paill  and 

grene ; 
On  quhois  hand  a  lark  sang  fro  the 

splene,5 

'  Awalk,  luvaris,  out  of  your  slomering, 
Se  how  the  lusty  morrow  dois  up  spring.' 

Me  thocht  fresche  May  befoir  my  bed  up- 

stude, 

In  weid  depaynt  of  mony  diverss  hew, 
Sobir,  benyng,  and  full  of  mansuetude,6 
In  brycht  atteir  of  flouris  forgit  new, 
He v  inly  of  color,  quhyt,  reid,  broun  and 
blew,  19 

Balmit  in  dew,  and  gilt  with  Phebus  bemys, 
Quhill  all  the  houss  illumynit  of  hir  lemys.7 

'  Slugird,'  scho  said,  *  a  walk  8  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- 

full  bene, 
Sangis  to  mak  undir  the  levis  grene.' 

»  book.     *  afraid.     »  prayers.      «  greeted.     »  from 
the  heart,  merrily.     6  benignity.    7  gleams.     8  awake. 


1  Quhairto,'  quod  I, '  sail  I  upryss  at  mor 
row, 

For  in  this  May  few  birdis  herd  I  sing  ?  30 
Thai  haif  inoir  cause  to  weip  and  plane 

thair  sorrow, 

Thy  air  it  is  nocht  holsum  nor  benyng;9 
Lord  Eolus  dois  in  thy  sessone  ring;10 
So  busteous  u  ar  the  blastis  of  his  borne, 
Amang  thy  bewis 12  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 18  the  Ross  of  most  ple- 

sance. 

Go  se  the  birdis  how  thay  sing  and  dance, 
Illumynit  our 14  with  orient  skyis  brycht,  41 
Annamyllit  richely  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,15 
In  serk  and  mantill  [efter  hir]  I  went 
Into  this  garth,16  most  dulce 17  and  redo 
lent 

Off  herb  and  flour,  and  tendir  plantis  sueit, 
And  grene  levis  doing  of  dew  donn  fleit.18 

The  purpour  sone,  with  tendir  bemys  reid, 
In  orient  bricht  as  angell  did  appeir,     $« 

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  blisf ull  face, 

Doing  all  sable  fro  the  hevynnis  chace.19 

And  as  the  blisf  ull  sonne  of  cherarchy20 
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  Jjiair 
To  ferss  Neptunus,  and  Jiolus  the  bawld, 

•  benign.  1°  reign.  »  rude.  »  boughs.  13  de 
scribe,  i*  over.  is  hastily  clad.  "  yard.  J7  sweet. 
18  leaves  swimming  with  dew.  "  doing  chase  =  chasing. 
10  aouud  of  the  hierarchy  (of  angels). 


THE   THISTLE   AND   THE   ROSE 


39 * 


Nocht  to  perturb  the  wattir  nor  the  air, 
And  that  no  schouris,  nor  blastis  cawld, 
Eft'ray  suld  flouris  nor  fowlis  on  the  fold; l 
Scho  bad  eik  Juno,  goddis  of  the  sky, 
That  scho  the  hevin  suld  keip  aiuene2  and 
dry.  7o 

Scho  ordand  eik  that  every  bird  and  beist 
Befoir  hir  hienes  suld  aimoiie  compeir,8 

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  iuclynnand  with  all  dew  reverens. 

With  that  annone  scho  send  the  swyft  Ro 

To  bring  in  beistis  of  all  condition!) ; 
The  restles  Snallow  commandit  scho  also 
To  feche  all  fowll  of  small  and  greit  re 
nown;  81 
And  to  gar  4  flouris  compeir  5  of  all  f  as- 

soun 

Full  craftely  conjnrit  scho  the  Yarrow, 
Quhilk  did  furth  swirk6  als  swift  as  ony 


AH  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  inclyne, 
With  visage  bawld,  and  curage  leonyne.  91 

This  awfull  beist  full  terrible  wes  of  cheir, 
Persing  of  luke,  and  stout  of  counte 
nance, 
Rycht  strong  of  corpis,  of  fassoun  fair,  but 

feir,7 

Lusty  of  schaip,  lycht  of  deliverance,8 
Reid  of  his  cullour,  as  is  the  ruby  glance; 
On  feild  of  gold  he  stnde  full  mychtely, 
With  flour  delycis  sirculit  lustely.9 

This  lady  liftit  up  his  cluvis  10  cleir,          99 
And  leit  him  listly  n  lene  upon  hir  kne, 

And  crownit  him  with  dyademe  full  deir, 
Off  radyous  stonis,  most  ryall  for  to  se; 
Saying,  '  The  King  of  Beistis  mak  I  the, 
i  earth.     «  pleasant.     »  appear.     «  make.     »  appear. 

•  dart.        i  without  peer.        »  motion.        »  This  is  the 

blazoning  of  the  royal  arms  of  Scotland.  w  claws. 


And   the   cheif   protector   in   woddis   and 

schawis;  12 
Onto  thi  leigis  go  f  urth,  and  keip  the  lawis. 

1  Exerce  justice  with  mercy  and  conscience, 
And  lat  no  small  beist  suffir  skaith  18  na 

skornis 
Of   greit  beistis  that    bene   of    moir  pis- 

cence  ;  14 

Do  law  elyk  16  to  aipis  and  unicornis, 
And  lat  no  bowgle,16  with  his  busteous 
hornis,  no 

The  meik  pluch  ox17  oppress,  for  all  his 


Bot  in  the  yok  go  peciable  him  besyd.' 

Quheu  this  was  said,  with  noyis  and  soun 

of  joy, 

All  kynd  of  beistis  in  to  thair  degre, 
At  onis  cry  it  lawd,  '  Vive  le  Roy  !  ' 
And  till  his  feit  fell  with  humilite, 
And   all  thay  maid  him    homege   and 

fewte;18 
And  he  did    thaine   ressaif  with   princely 

laitis,19 
Quhois  noble  yre  is  proceir  prostratis.20 

Syne  crownit  sclio  the  Egle  King  of  Fowlis, 

And  as  steill  dertis  scherpit  scho  his  pen- 

nis,21  13i 

And  bawd  him  be  als  just  to  awppis  M  and 

owlis, 
As  unto  pacokkis,  papingais,28  or  creu- 

nis,2* 
And  mak  a  law  for  wycht  ^  fowlis  and 

for  wrennis; 

And  lat  no  fowll  of  ravyne  do  efferay,26 
Nor  devoir  birdis  bot  his  awiri  pray. 

Than  call  it  scho  all  flouris  that  grew  on 

feild, 
Discirnyng  all  thair  fassionis  and  ef- 

feiris,27 

Upone  the  awfull  Thrissill  scho  beheld, 
And   saw  him   kepit  with  a   busche   of 
speiris;  i30 

Concedring  him  so  able  for  the  weiris, 
A  radius  croun  of  rubeis  scho  him  gaif, 
And  said,  «  In  feild  go  furth,  and  fend  the 
laif;28 


groves 


«  harm. 


.  . 

wild  ox.      "  plough  ox 


puissance.        »  alike. 
is  fealty.      «  gestures. 


w      ox.          poug    ox.      is  fealty.      «  gestures. 
20  Perhaps  "  to  spare  the  prostrate,"  proceir  tor  pro- 
ir,  from  proteger.  (Gregor's  note.)         «  quills. 
22  cnrlews.      2S  parrots.       2<  cranes.      ?B  powerful* 


teir...         .. 
cnrlews. 
"  affright. 


1  parrots. 
87  qualities 


««  defend  the  rest. 


392 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


'  And,  sen    thow  art  a  king,  thou  be  dis- 

creit; 
Herb  without  vertew  thou  bald  nocht  of 

sic  pryce 

As  herb  of  vertew  and  of  odor  sueit; 
And  lat  no  nettill  vyle,  and  full  of  vyce, 
Hir  fallow1  to  the  gudly  flour  delyce; 
Nor  latt  no  wyld  weid,  full  of  churlicheness, 
Compair  hir  till  the  lilleis  nobilness.        140 

1  Nor  hald  non  udir  flour  in  sic  denty  2 
As  the  f  resche  Ross,  of  cullour  reid  and 
quhy  t ; 8 

For  gife  thow  dois,  hurt  is  tbyne  honesty, 
Couciddering  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  dochtir  most  beiiyng, 

Aboif  the  lilly,  illustare  of  lynnage,4  150 
Fro  the  stok  ryell  rysing  f  resche  and  ying, 
But  ony  spot  or  inacull  doing  spring;  5 

Cum,  blowme  of  joy,  with  jemis  to  be  cround, 

For  our  the  laif  6  thy  bewty  is  renownd.' 

Acoistly  croun,  with  clarefeid  stonis  brycht, 
This  cuuily  quene  did  on  hir  held  incloiss, 
Quhill  all  the  land  illumynit  of  the  licht; 
Quhairfoir  me  thocht  all  flouris  did  reiois, 
ring  attonis,7  *  Haill,  be  thou  richest 

tl 
Haill,    hairbis    empryce,    haill,    freschest 

r3ne  of  flouris!  160 

glory  and  honour  at  all  houris! ' 

Thane  all  the  birdis  song  with  voce  on 

hicht, 
Quhois  mirthfull  soun  wes  mervelus  to 

heir; 
The  mavyss  song,  *  Haill,  Roiss,  most  riche 

and  richt, 

That  dois  up  flureiss  undir  Phebus  speir; 
Haill,  plant  of  yowth,  haill,  princes  doch 
tir  deir, 
Haill,  blosome  broking  out  of  the  bind  roy- 

all, 
Quhois  pretius  vertew  is  imperiall.' 

i  fellow,  join  herself.  *  estimation. 

*  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 
ft  French  princess.  5  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   nychtingaill   song,    '  Haill,  Naturis 

suffragene, 

In  bewty,  nurtour  and  every  nobilness, 
In  riche  array,  renown  and  gentiluess.' 

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  plesausand  our  paramour, 

Our  peax,8  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  9  I  turnyt  me  about 
To  se  this  court;  bot  all  wer  went  away: 
Than  up  I  lenyt,  halflingis  in  affrey,10 

And  thuss  I  wret,  as  ye  haif  hard  to  for- 
row,11 

Off  lusty  May  upone  the  nynt  morrow. 


LAMENT   FOR   THE    MAKERS12 

QUHEN   HE   WES    SEIK 

I  THAT  in  heill 18  wes  and  glaidnes, 
Am  trublit  now  with  gret  seiknes, 
And  feblit  with  infirmitie; 

Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me.14 

Our  plesance  heir  is  all  vane  glory, 
This  fals  warld  is  bot  transitory, 
The  fleshche  is  brukle,16  the  Fend  is  sle;18 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

The  stait  of  man  dois  change  and  vary,     9 
Now  sound,  now  seik,  now  blyth,  now  sary, 
Now  dnnsand  mirry,  now  like  to  dee; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

No  stait  in  erd17  heir  standis  sickir18 
As  with  the  wynd  wavis  the  wickir,19 
[So]  wavis  this  warldis  vanite; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

8  peace.  •  start.  1°  half  in  affright.  "  before. 
»z  Poets.  »  health.  "  The  fear  of  deatli  troubles  rue. 
»  frail,  "sly.  "earth.  i»  secure.  »  wicker,  twig. 


LAMENT   FOR   THE   MAKERS 


393 


Onto  the  ded  l  gois  all  estatis, 
Priueis,  prelotis,  and  potestutis, 
Baith  riche  and  pur  of  all  degre; 

Timor  Mortis  couturbat  me.  20 

He  takis  the  knychtis  in  to  feild, 
Anarmit  under  helme  and  scheild; 
Victour  he  is  at  all  melle;2 

Timor  Mimnuy  couturbat  me. 

That  strang  unmercifull  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  closit  in  the  tour,  3o 

The  lady  in  bour  full  of  bewte; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

He  spain s  no  lord  for  his  piscence,4 
Na  clerk  for  his  intelligence; 
His  awfull  strak  may  no  man  fle; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

Art,  magicianis,  and  astrologgis, 
Rethoris,  logicians,  and  theologgis, 
Thame  helpis  no  conclusionis  sle; 

Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me.  40 

In  medicyne  the  most  practicianis, 
Lechis,  surrigianis,  and  phisicianis, 
Thame  self  fra  ded  may  not  supple;8 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

I  see  that  makaris  amang  the  laif  6 

Playis    heir    ther   pageant,    syne   gois    to 

graif;7 

Sparit  is  nociit  ther  faculte;  8 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

He  hes  done  petuously  devour, 
The  noble  Cha_ucer,  of  makaris  flouir,        50 
The  Monk  of  Bery,9  and  Gower,  all  thre; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

Tho  gude  Syr  Hew  of  Eglintoun, 
Etlrik,10  Heryot,  et  Wyntoun,11 
He  hes  tane  out  of  this  cuntre; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

i  death.     *  contest.      '  the  champion  in  the  battle. 
<  puissance.         B  defend.         •  rest.         1  grave, 
s  profession.  •  i.e.,  Lydgate. 

10  So  Batmatyne  MS.  ;  Maitland  MS.  et  eik. 

11  For  all  these  poets  see  the  notes  to  the  Scottish 
Teit  Soc.  edition. 


That  scorpioun  fell  hes  done  infek 12 
Maister  Johne  Clerk,  and  James  Afflek, 
Fra  balat  making  and  trigide ; 
Timor  Mortis  coulurbat  me. 


Holland  and  Barbour  he  lias  berevit; 
Allace!  that  he  nought  with  us  levit 
Schir  Mungo  Lokert  of  the  Le; 
Timor  Mortis  couturbat  me. 

Clerk  of  Tranent  eik  he  has  tane, 
That  maid  the  anteris  13  of  Gawane ; 
Schir  Gilbert  Hay  endit  has  he; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

He  has  Blind  Hary,  and  Sandy  Traill 
Slaine  with  his  schour  of  mortall  haill,      70 
Quhilk   Patrik  Johnestoun  myght  nought 

fle; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

He  hes  reft  Merseir  his  endite,14 
That  did  in  luf  so  lifly  write, 
So  schort,  so  quyk,  of  sentence  hie; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

He  hes  tane  Roull  of  Aberdene, 
And  gentill  Roull  of  Corstorphiu[e]; 
Two  bettir  fallowis  did  no  man  se ; 

Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me.  80 

In  Dunfermelyne  he  has  done  roune  16 
With  Maister  Robert  Henrisoun; 
Schir  Johne  the  Ros  enbrast16  hes  he; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

And  he  has  now  tane,  last  of  aw,17 
Gud  gentill  Stobo  and  Quintyne  Schaw, 
Of  quham  all  wichtis  hes  pete; 
Timor  Mortis  couturbat  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 18  his  nyxt  pray  be; 
Timor  Mortis  conturbat  me. 

i»  has  stricken  and  withheld.  "  adventures. 

"  writing.  "  whispered.  "  embraced. 

"  all.  "  mu8t. 


394 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


Sen  for  the  deid  remeid  is  non, 
Best  is  that  we  for  dede  dispone,1 
Et'tir  our  deid  that  lif  may  we; 

Timor  Mortis  coaturbat  me.      too 

THE  DANCE  OF  THE  SEVEN 
DEADLY  SINS 

OFF  Februar  the  fyiftene  nycbt, 
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  schrewis  8  that  wer  nevir  schrevin, 
Aganiss  the  feist  of  Fasternis  evin,  4 

To  mak  thair  observance; 
He  bad  gallandis  ga  graith  a  gyiss,6          io 
And  kast  up  gamountis  6  in  the  skyiss, 

That  last  came  out  of  France. 

*  Lat  se,'  quod  he,  '  now  quha  begynnis  ?  * 
With  that  the  fowl!  Sevin  Deidly  Synnis 

Begowth  to  leip  at  anis. 
And  first  of  all  in  dance  wes  Pryd, 
With  hair  wyld  7  bak  and  bonet  on  syd, 

Lyk  to  mak  vaistie  wanis;  8 
And  round  abowt  him,  as  a  quheill, 
Han<r  all  in  rumpillis  to  the  heill  20 

His  kethat9  for  the  nanis:  10 
Mony  prowd  trumpour  11  with  him  trippit 
Throw  skaldand  fyre,  ay  as  thay  skippit 

Thay  gyrnd  u  with  hiddouss  grauis.18 

Heilie  harlottis  on  hawtane  wyiss  14 
Come  in  with  mony  sindrie  gyiss,15 
Bot  yit  luche  16  nevir  Mahoun; 
Quliill  "  preistis  come  in  with  bair  schevin 

nekkis, 
Than   all   the   feyndis  lewche,   and   maid 

gekkis,18 
Blak  Belly  and  Bawsy  Brown.19         30 

Than  Yre  come  in  with  sturt20  and  stryfe; 
His  hand  wes  ay  npotin  his  knyfe, 

He  brandeist  lyk  a  beirt21 
Bostaris,  bras:garis,  and  barganeris,22 
Eftir  him  passit  in  to  pairis, 

All  bodin  in  feir  of  weir;  M 


»  dispose.  z  Mahomet,  i.e.,  the  Devil.  »  rascals. 
«  the  eve  of  Lent.  6  gallants  prepare  a  masquerade. 
•  gambols.  7  combed.  8  desolate  dwellings.  •  cas 
sock.  10  nonce.  "  deceiver.  »  snarled.  l3  groans. 
i«  Proud  rascals  in  haughty  fashion.  15  costume. 

»•  laughed.        »  Till.        "  mocks.        "  Two  popular 
devils.  20  trouble.  2l  swaggered  like  a  bear. 

«  quarrellers.        "  arrayed  in  the  likeness  of  war. 


In  jakkis24  and  stryppis M  and  bonettis  of 

steill, 
Thair  leggis  wer  chenyeit *  to  the  heill, 

Ffrawart  wes  thair  affeir:27 
Sum  ii jiuun  udir  with  brandis  beft,28          40 
Sum  jag-git  »  uthiris  to  the  he  ft, 

With  knyvis  that  scherp  cowd  scheir. 

Nixt  in  the  dance  followit  Invy, 
Fild  full  of  feid  8°  and  fellony, 

Hid  inalvce  and  dispyte; 
Ffor  pryvie  hatrent81  that  tratour  trymlit. 
Him  followit  mony  freik  ^  dissymlit, 

With  fenyeit  wirdis88  quhyte; 

And  flattereris  in  to  menis  facis, 

And  bakbyttaris  in  secreit  placis  50 

To  ley84  that  had  delyte; 
And  rownaris  of  fals  lesingis;85 
Allace!  that  Courtis  of  noble  kingis 

Of  thame  can  nevir  be  quyte. 

Nixt  him  in  dans  come  Cuvatyce, 
Rute  of  all  evill  and  grund  of  vyce, 

That  nevir  cowd  be  content; 
Catvvis,  wrechis,  and  okkeraris,86 
Hud-pykis,  hurdaris,  and  gadderaris87 

All  with  that  warlo  38  went:  6a 

Out  of  thair  throttis  thay  sohot  on  udder  ^ 
Hett  moltin  gold,  me  thocht  a  fudder,40 

As  fyretiawi-ht41  maist  fervent; 
Ay  as  thav  tomit42  thame  of  schot, 
Ffeynrlis  fild  thame  new  up  to  the  thrott 

With  gold  of  allkin  prent.48 

Syne  Sweirnes,44  at  the  secound  bidding, 
Come  lyk  a  sow  out  of  a  midding, 

Full  slepy  wes  his  grunyie:  ^ 
Mony  sweir  humbard  belly  huddf-oun,48    70 
Mony  slute  daw  47  and  slepy  duddroun.48 

Him  serwit  ay  with  sounyie.49 

He  drew  thame  fnrth  in  till  a  chenyie,60 
And  Belliall,  with  a  brydill  renyie,51 
Evir  lascht  thame  on  the  lunyie  : 62 

«  corselets.  »  strips.  But  Bannatyne  MS.  may 

be  read  scrt/ppin,  bags.  Neither  is  satisfa  ctory. 

s«  covered  with  chain-mail.  "  Wild  was  their 

behavior.  *»  beat.  »  stabbed.  »°  feud.  3»  hatred. 
«  person.  33  words.  M  lie.  35  whisperers 

of  false  lies.  «  usurers.  37  Misers,  hoarders, 

and  gatherers.  »»  wizard.  »•  others.  «o  great 
quantity  (lit.  128  Ibs.).  <»  wildfire.  «*  emptied. 
«  all  kinds  of  coinage.  <«  Sloth.  «  visage.  ««  lazy, 
tun-bellied  sloven  (Chalmers).  «  idle  rogue.  ««  drab. 
49  care.  »o  chain.  »i  rein.  69  loin. 


THE  PETITION   OF  THE  GRAY   HORSE,  OLD   DUNBAR    395 


In  dance  thay  war  so  slaw  of  feit, 
Thay  gaif  tbame  in  the  fyre  a  heit, 

And  maid  thame  quicker  of  counyie.1 

Than  Lichery,  that  lathly  corss, 

Berand  2  lyk  a  bagit  horss,8  80 

And  idilness  did  him  leid; 
Thair  wes  with  him  ane  ugly  sort,4 
Full  mony  stynkand  fowll  tramort,6 

That  had  iu  syn  bene  deid. 


Than  the  fowll  monstir  Glntteny, 
Off  wame  6  unsasiable  and  gredy, 

To  dance  he  did  him  dress. 
Him  followit  mony  fowll  drunckart, 
With  can  and  collep,7  cop  and  quart, 

In  surffett  and  excess; 

Full  mony  a  waistless  wallydrag,8 
With  wainiss  unweildable,9  did  furth  wag, 
In  creische 10  that  did  incress;  99 

I  Drynk ! '    ay    thay    cryit,    with    mony    a 

gaip,11 

The  feyndis  gaif  thame  hait  leid  to  laip,12 
Thair  leveray  13  wes  na  less. 

Na  menstrallis  playit  to  thame  but  dowt; 
Fi'or  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  richt. 

Than  cryd    Mahoun   for  a  Heleand  pad- 

yane;14 
Syne  ran  a  feynd  to  feche  Makfadyane,  no 

Ffar  north  wart  in  a  nuke;16 
Be  he  the  correnoch  16  had  done  schout, 
Erschemen17  so  gadderit  him  abowt, 

In  Hell  grit  rowme  thay  tuke. 

Time  tarmegantis,18  with  tag  and  tatter, 
Ffull  lowde  in  Ersche19  begowth  to  clatter, 

And  rowp  lyk  revin  and  ruke ; 20 
The  Devill  sa  devit 21  wes  with  thair  yell, 
That  in  the  depest  pot  of  Hell 

He  smorit  ^  thame  with  smuke.         120 

i  apprehension.      *  snorting,  roaring.      3  stallion  (?) 
Maitland  reads  beu-kit,  balky.  *  lot.  B  corpse. 

8  belly.     7  mug.     8  sloven.     *  huge  bellies.     1°  grease. 

II  gape.  12  hot  lead  to  lap.  i3  livery,  reward. 
i4  Highland  pageant.      i5  no^k,  corner.      i8  coronach, 
dirge.                  i?  Ersemen,  Gaels  from  the  Highlands. 
"  termagants,  fiends.           "  Gaelic.  20  croak  like 
raven  and  rook.        21  deafened.        22  smothered> 


THE  PETITION  OF  THE  GRAY 
HORSE,  OLD  DUNBAR 

Now  lufferis  cummis  with  largess  lowd,28 

Quhy  sould  not  palfrayis  thane  be  prowd, 

Quhen  gillettis  wil  be  schomd  and  schroud,24 

That  ridden  ar  baith  with  lord  and  lawd?28 

Schir,  lett  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 

That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald !  2« 

Quhen  I  was  young  and  into  ply,27 
And  wald  cast  gammaldis  28  to  the  sky, 
I  had  beine  boeht  in  realmes  by,29 
Had  I  consentit  to  be  sauld.  Zo 

Schir,  lett  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald  ! 

With  gentill  horss  quhen  I  wald  knyp,80 
Thane  is  thair  laid  on  me  ane  quhip, 
To  colleveris  81  than  man  I  skip, 
That  scabbit  ar,  lies  cruik82  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  88  I  wald  be  happit, 
Aganis  this  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,84 
Schott  furth  our  clewch86  to  pull  the  clever,88 
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  !        30 

I  am  ane  auld  horss,  as  ye  knaw, 
That  evir  in  duill  dois  drug87  and  draw; 
Great  court  horss  puttis  me  fra  the  staw,88 
To  fang  the  fog  be  firthe  and  fald.89 
Schir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald ! 

I  haif  run  lang  furth  in  the  feild, 

On  pastonris  that  ar  plane  and  peild;40 

I  mycht  be  now  tein 41  in  for  eild,42 

23  lovers  come  with  plenteous  generosity. 

*<  fillies  will  be  protected  and  dressed. 

25  lewd,  i.  e.,  common. 

28  Yule  jade,  i.  e.,  having  nothing  new  to  wear  for 
Christmas,  hence  unfortunate,  disgraced. 

27  in  condition.     *8  gambols.     2»  near.     !0  eat  grass. 

»i  coal-heavers,  or  better  coal-aivers,  colliers'  horses. 

32  are  lame.  33  housing.  8«  spent  jade.  K  Thrust 
out  into  the  rough  ravine.  *«  clover.  s7  drag. 

SB  stall.  »•  To  crop  the  moss  by  field  and  fold. 

«o  stripped.  "  taken.  «  age. 


396 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


My  beikis  ar  spruniug  he  1  and  bauld.        40 
Suhir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  bu  tald, 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald  ! 

My  mane  is  turned  in  to  quhyt, 
And  thairof  ye  haff  all  the  wyt ! 2 
Quhen  uther  horss  had  bran  to  byt 
I  gat  bot  griss,3  cnype  4  gif  I  wuld. 
Schir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuiliis  yald. 

I  was  nevir  dautit 5  into  stabell, 

My  lyf  hes  bene  so  miserable,  50 

My  hyd  to  offer  I  am  abill 

For  evill  schom  strae  that  I  reive  wald.6 
Schir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald, 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald  ! 

And  yitt,  suppois  my  thrift  7  be  thyne, 
Gif  that  I  die  your  aucht  8  within, 
Latt  nevir  the  soutteris  9  have  my  skin, 
With  uglie  gumes  to  be  gnu  win.10 

Schir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald  !      60 

The  court  hes  done  my  enrage  cuill,11 
And  maid  me  [ane]  forriddiu  muill ;  u 
Yett,  to  weir  trappouris  18  at  this  Yuill, 
I  wald  be  spurrit  at  everie  spald.14 
Schir,  latt  it  nevir  in  toun  be  tald 
That  I  sould  be  ane  Yuillis  yald  ! 

RESPONSIO   REGIS 
Ef  tir  our  wrettingis,  thesaurer,15 
Tak  in  this  gray  horss,  Auld  Dnnbar, 
Quhilk  in  my  aucht  with  schervice  trew 
In  lyart 16  changeit  is  in  hew.  70 

Gar  howss  17  him  now  aganis  this  Yuill, 
And  busk  18  him  lyk  ane  beschopis  muill, 
For  with  my  hand  I  have  indost 
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, 

i  My  eye-teeth  are  projecting  high.  2  blame.  3  grass. 
«  bite,  s  petted.  «  ill-kept(?)  straw-that  I  would  take 
eagerly.  1  earnings.  8  in  your  possession.  •  sho^- 
makars.  10  gnawed  (for  softening  and  tanning),  "has 
cooled  my  spirit.  "  over-ridden  mule.  13  trappings. 
"  joint,  «  treasurer.  »  To  grey.  »  clothe.  "  deck. 


In  Edinburcht  with  all  mirriness, 

To  yow  of  Sirivilling  in  distress, 

Quhair  nowdir  19  pleusance  nor  delyt  is, 

For  pety  thus  ane  Apostill  wrytis. 

O  !  ye  herenieilis  and  hankersaidilis,20 

That  takis  your  peunance  at  your  tablis,   to 

And  eitis  nocht  meit  restorative, 

Nor  drynkis  no  wyn  confortafcive, 

Bot  ajll,  and  that  is  thyn  and  small: 

With  few  coursis  into  your  hall, 

But'21  cumpany  of  lordis  and  kuychtis, 

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,  *> 

Off  Edinburgh  the  mirry  toun 

We  sail  begyn  ane  cairfull  soun; 

Ane  dergy  23  devoit  and  meik, 

The  Lord  of  bliss  doing  beseik24 

Yow  to  delyver  out  of  your  noy,25 

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  mirthfull  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: 
Say  ye  amen,  for  cheritie. 

RESPONSIO,   TU   AUTEM   DOMINE 

Tak  consolatioun  in  your  pane, 
In  tribulatiouii  tak  cousolatioun,  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.26 

LECTIO  SECUNDA 

Patriarchis,  profeitis,  and  appostillis  deir, 
Confessouris,  virgynis,  and  marteris  cleir, 
And  all  the  saitt27  celestiall, 
Devotely  we  npoun  thame  call, 

»•  neither.  »°  hermits  and  anchorites.  »  Without. 
"  other.  *»  dirge.  "  beseeching.  25  aunoy,  pain. 
«  ready.  »  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,1 

And  every  fisehe  that  swymis  in  rever; 

To  drynk  witli  us  the  new  fresche  wyne, 

That  grew  upoun  the  rever  of  Ryne, 

Ffresche  fragrant  clairettis  out  of  Fiance, 

Of  Angerss  and  of  Orliance, 

With  mony  ane  courss  of  grit  dyntie  :  2 

Say  ye  amen,  for  cheritie. 

RESPONSORIUM,   TU   AUTEM   DOMINE 

God  and  Sauct  Jeill  8  heir  yow  convoy 
Baith  sone  and  weill,  God  and  Sanct  Jeill, 
To  soiice  and  seill,4  solace  and  joy,  61 

God  and  Sanct  Geill  heir  yow  convoy. 
Out  of  Strivilling  panis  fell, 
In  Ediuburght  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  pemiance, 

That  ye  may  sone  play,  sing,  and  dance 

Heir  in  to  Edinburcht  and  inak  «ude  cheir, 

Quhair  welth  and  weilfair  is,  but  wtir;6   70 

And  I  that  dois  your  panis  discryve  6 

Thinkis  for  to  vissy7  yow  belyve 

Nocht  in  desert  with  yow  to  dwell, 

Bot  as  the  angell  Sanct  Gabriell 

Dois  go  betweue  fra  heviuis  glory- 

To  thaine  that  are  in  purgatory, 

And  in  thair  tribulatioun 

To  gif  thame  consolatioun, 

And  schaw  thame  qnhen  thair  panis  ar  past, 

Thay  sail  till  hevin  cum  at  last;  80 

And  how  nane  servisy  to  half  sweitness 

That  nevir  taistit  bittirness, 

And  thairfoir  how  suld  ye  consirldir 

Of  Edinburcht  bliss,  quhen  ye  cum  hiddir, 

Bot  gif  10  ye  taistit  had  befoir 

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  glorius  Trinitie  ! 

Say  ye  amen,  for  cheritie. 

RESPONSORIUM 

Cum  hame  and  dwell  no  moir  in  Strivilling; 
Frome  hiddouss  hell  cum  hame  and  dwell, 


parrpfi  and  plover.  *  daintiness.  '  Giles. 
*  abundance  and  happiness.  5  without  doubt.  «  de- 
•cribe.  *  visit.  »  soon.  •  deserves.  10  unless. 


Quhair  fisehe  to  sell  is  non  bot  spirling;  u 
Cum  hauie  and  dwell  no  moir  in  Strivilling. 

Et   ne   nos    inducas  in   temptationem    de 
Strivilling: 

Sed  libera  nos  a  malo  illius. 

Requiem  Edinburgi  dona  eijs,  Domine, 

Et  lux  ipsius  luceat  eijs.  100 

A  porta  tristitie  de  Stiivilling, 

Erue,  Domine,  animas  et  corpora  eorum. 

Credo  gustare  statim  viuum  Ediuburgi, 

In  villa  viventium. 

Requiescant  Edinburgi.  Amen. 

Domiue,  exaudi  orationem  meam, 
Et  clamor  iiieus  ad  te  veniat. 

OREMUS 

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  requiescat  Strivilliug.  Amen. 

Heir  endis  Dtinbaris  Dergy  to  the  King, 
bydand  1J  to  lang  in  Stirling. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  KIND  KITTOK 

MY  Gudame  wes  a  gay  wif,  bot  scho  wes 

rycht  gend,18 
Scho  duelt   furth  fer  in  to    France,  apon 

Falkland  fellis; 
Thay  callit  her  Kynd  Kittok,  quhasa  hir 

weill  kend:14 
Scho  wes  like  a  caldrone  cruke  16  cler  under 

kellis;^ 
Thay  threpit17  that  scho  deit  of  thrist,  and 

maid  a  gud  end. 
Efter   hir  dede,18  scho  dredit19  nought  in 

hevin  fur  to  duell; 
And  sa  to  hevin  the  hieway  dreidless  scho 

wend, 
Yit  scho  wanderit,  and  yeid  by  20  to  aue  el- 

riche21  well. 
Scho  met  thar,  as  I  wene, 

Ane  ask22  rydand  on  a  snaill,  10 

And  cryit,  'Ourtane23  fallow,  haill ! ' 
And  raid  ane  inche  behind  the  taill, 
Till  it  wes  neir  evin. 

"  sprats.  11  dwelling.  "  genteel.  "  knew. 
is  pot-hook.  i«  head-dress.  "  insisted.  »s  death. 
i»  doubted.  "  went  aside  "  fairy.  »  newt. 
»  Overtaken. 


WILLIAM   DUNBAR 


Sa  scho  had  hap  to  be  horsit  to  hir  berbry,1 
Att  ane    ailhous   neir   heviii,    it   nyghttit 2 

thaini  thare; 
Scho  deit  of  thrist  in  this  warld,  that  gert 

hir  be  so  dry, 
Scho  never  eit,  bot  drank  our  mesur  8  and 

mair. 
Scho  slepit  quhill  the  morne  at  none,  and 

rais  airly; 
And  to  the  yettis4  of  hevin  fast  can5  the  vvif 

fair,* 

And   by  Sanct  Petir,  in  at  the  yet,  scho 

stall 7  prevely:  20 

God  lukit  and  saw  hir  lattin  in,  and  lewch8 

his  hert  sair. 
And  thar,  yeris  sevin 
Scho  levit  a  gud  life, 
And  wes  our  Lady  is  hen  wif : 
And  held  Sanct  Petir  at  stryfe, 
Ay  quhill  scho  wes  in  hevin. 

Sche  lukit  out  on  a  day,  and  thoght  ryght 

lang9 
To  se   the   ailhous  beside,  in  till  an  evill 

hour; 
And  out  of  hevin  the  hie  gait 10  cowth  n  the 

wif  gang 

For  to  get  hir  ane  fresche  drink;  the  aill  of 

heviii  wes  sour.  30 

Scho  come  againe  to  hevinnis  yet,  quhen 

the  bell  rang, 
Sanct  Petir  hat  hir  with  a  club,  quhill  a 

gret  clour  12 

Rais  in  hir  heid,  becaus  the  wif  yeid18  wrang. 
Than  to  the  ailhous  agane  scho  ran,  the 

pycharis  14  to  pour, 
And  for  to  brew,  and  baik. 
Frendis,  I  pray  you  hertfully, 
Gif  ye  be  thristy  or  dry, 
Drink  with  my  Guddame,  as  ye  ga  by, 
Anys 15  for  my  saik. 


HOW   DUNBAR  WAS   DESIRED 
TO    BE   A   FRIAR 

THIS  nycht  befoir  the  dawing 16  cleir, 
Me  thocht  Sanct  Francis  did  to  me  appeir, 
With  ane  religious  abbeit17  in  his  hand, 
And  said,  '  In  thiss  go  cleith 18  the,  my  ser- 

wand; 

Reffuss  the  warld,  for  thow  mon19  be  a  freir.' 
i  inn.  *  night  overtook.  *  beyond  measure.  4  gates. 
>  did.  •  go.  i  stole.  8  laughed.  »  yearned. 
»«  high  road.  »  did.  1*  lump.  »»  went.  "  pitchers. 
«  once.  "  dawning.  »  habit.  »•  clothe.  "  mu»t. 


Witli  him  and  with  his  abbeit  bayth  I  skar- 

rit» 
Lyk  to  ane  man  that  with  a  gaist  wes  mar- 

rit:21 

Me  thocht  on  bed  he  layid  it  me  abone, 
Bot  on  the  flure  dely  vei-ly  22  and  sone 
I  lap  thairfra,  and  nevir  wald  cum  uar  it. 

Quoth  he,  '  Quhy  skarris  thow  with  this 
holy  weid  ?  n 

Cleith  the  thairin,  for  weir  23  it  thow  most 
neid; 

Thow,  that  hes  lang  done  Venus  lawis 
teiclie, 

Sail  now  be  freir,  and  in  this  abbeit  preiche ; 

Delay  it  nocht,  it  mon  be  done  but  dreid.'24 

Quod  I,  « Sanct  Francis,  loving  be  the  till,26 
And  thankit  mot  thow  be  of  thy  gude  will 
To  me,  that  of  thy  clayis26  ar  so  kynd; 
Bot  thame  to  weir  it  nevir  come   in  my 

mynd; 
Sweit  Confessour,  thow  tak  it  nocht  in  ill. 

'  In  haly  legendis  haif  I  hard  allevin,27      21 
Ma  28  sanctis  of  bischoppis  nor  freiris,  be  sic 

sevin;29 
Off  full  few  freiris  that  hes  bene  sanctis  I 

reid; 
Quhairfoir  ga  bring  to  me  ane  bischopis 

weid, 
Gife  evir  thow  wald  my  saule  gaid80  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,81  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  fleichit,83 
In  it  haif  I  in  pulpet  gon  and  preichit 
In  Derntoun  kirk,  and  eik  in  Canterberry; 
In  it  I  past  at  Dover  our  88  the  ferry 
Throw  Piccardy,  and  thair  the  peple  teich- 
it.  40 

»  was  frightened.  *>  scared.  «  actively.  «  wear. 
»*  without  doubt.  »  praise  be  to  thee.  «  clothes. 
27  alleged.  »  More.  »  by  a  great  deal.  *>  guide. 
"  Without  any  ado.  «»  flattered.  »  over. 


A   NEW   YEAR'S   GIFT  TO   THE   KING 


399 


1  Als  lang  as  I  did  beir  the  freiris  style, 
In  me,  God  wait,  wes  mony  wrink l  and  wyle ; 
In  me  wes  falset'2  with  every  wicht  to  tiatter, 
Quhilk  myclit  be  flemit 8  with  na  lialy  watter ; 
I  wes  ay  reddy  all  men  to  begyle.' 

This  freir  that  did  Sanct  Francis  thairappeir, 
Ane  fieind  he  wes  in  liknes  of  ane  freir; 
He  vaneist  away  wtih  stynk  and  fyrie  srnowk; 
With  him  me  thocht  all  the  hous-end  he  towk, 
And  I  awoik  as  wy  4  that  wes  in  weir.6      50 

A  NEW  YEAR'S  GIFT  TO   THE 
KING 

MY  prince  in  God  gif  the  guid  grace, 
Joy,  glaidnes,  con  fort,  and  solace, 
Play,  pleasanee,  myrth,  and  mirrie  cheir, 
In  hansell6  of  this  guid  new  yeir. 

»  trick.        *  falsehood.        «  banished.        «  man. 
»  doubt.        •  As  a  first  gift. 


God  gif  to  the  ane  blissed  chance, 
And  of  all  vertew  aboundance, 
And  grace  ay  for  to  perseveir, 

In  hausell  of  this  guid  new  yeir. 

God  give  the  guid  prosperitie, 
Fair  fortoun  and  felicitie,  I0 

Evir  muir  in  earth  quhill  thow  ar  heir, 
In  hansell  of  this  guid  new  yeir. 

The  heavinlie  Lord  his  help  the  send, 
Thy  realme  to  renll  and  to  defend, 
In  peace  and  justice  it  to  steir, 

In  hansell  of  this  guid  new  yeir. 

God  gif  the  blis  quhair  evir  thow  bownes,7 
And  send  the  many  Fraunce  crownes, 
Hie  liberall  heart,  and  handis  nocht  sweir,8 
In  hansell  of  this  guid  new  yeir.         20 


goest. 


*  reluctant. 


GAVIN    DOUGLAS 


TRANSLATION   OF   THE  ^ENEID 

(i,  Prologue  1-103) 

LAUDE,  honor,  prasingis,  tbankis  infynite 
To  the,  and  thi  dulce 1  ornate  fresche  endite,2 
Mast   reverend   Virgill,   of  Latyue  poetis 

prince, 

Getmne  of  ingine8  and  fluide  of  eloquence, 
Thow  peirles  perle,  patroun  of  poetrie, 
Hois,4  register,5  palme,  lanrer,  and  glory, 
Chosin   cherbukle,6    cheif   flour  and  cedir 

tree, 

Lanterne,  leidsterne,7  mirrour,  and  a  perse, 
Muster  of  masteris,  sweit  sours  and  spring- 

and  well, 

Wyde  quhar  our  all8  ringis  tbihevinlebell: 
I  inene  thi  crafty  work's  curious,  » 

Sa  quik,  lusty,  and  mast  sentencious, 
Plesable,  perfyte,  and  felable  in  all  degre, 
As  quha  the  mater  held  to  foir  9  tliar  ee; 
In  every  volume  quhilk  the  list  do10  write, 
Surmonting  fer  all  uther  maneir  endite, 
Lyk  as  the  rois  in  June  with  bir  sneit  smell 
The  mary guide  or  dasy  doith  excell. 
Quhy  suld  I  than,  with  dull  forhede  and 

vane,11 
With  ruide  engine  and  barrand  emptive  12 

bra%ie,  20 

With  bad  harsk  13  speche  and  lewit 14  bar- 

bour  tong, 
Presume  to  write  quhar  thi  sueit  bell  is 

rung, 

Or  contirfait  sa  precious  wourdis  d«  ir  ? 
Na,  na,  noclit  sua,  bot  knele  quhen  I  thame 

heir. 

For  quhat  compair  betuix  midday  and  n ycht, 
Or  quhat  compare  betuix  myrknes 16  and 

lycht, 

Or  quhat  compare  is  betuix  blak  and  quhyte, 
Far  gretar  diference  betuix  rny  blunt  endyte 
And  thi  scharp  sugurat  sang  Virgiliane, 
Sa  wyslie  wrocht  with  nevir  ane  word  in 

vane ;  30 

i  sweet.  *  writing.  »  invention,  imagination. 
«  Rose.  5  standard.  '  carbuncle.  *  lodestar. 
•  Quite  everywhere.  •  before.  «  it  pleased  fcliee. 
»  empty.  12  barren,  empty.  "  harsh.  "  lewd, 
ignorant.  "  darkness. 


My  waverand  wit,  my  cunnyng  feble  at  all, 
My  mynd  mysty,  thir  ma  nocht  rnyss 16  ane 

fall. 

Stra17  for  this  ignorant  blabring  im  perfyte 
Beside  thi  polyte  tennis  redemy te ; 18 
And  no  the  les  witb  support  and  correctioun, 
For  naturall  luife  and  freindfull  affectioun 
Quhilkis  1!*  I  beir  to  thi  werkis  and  endyte, 
Althocht,  God  wait,  I  kuaw  tharin  full  lyte, 
And  that  thi  facund20  sentence  mycht  be 

song 

In  our  langage  als  weill  as  Latyne  tong  —  40 
Alswele,  na,  na,  impossible  war,  per  de,  21 
Yit  with  your  leif,  Virgill,  to  follow  the, 
I  wald  into  my  rurale  vulgar  gros, 
Write  sum  savoring  of  thi  Eneados. 
Bot  fair  I  drede  for  to  distene  ^  the  quyte, 
Throu  my  corruptit  cadens  imperfyte; 
Distene  the,  na  forsuith,  that  ma  I  nocht, 
Weill  ma   I  schaw  my  burell  busteous w 

thocht; 

Bot  thi  work  sail  enduire  in  laude  and  glory, 
Bot24  spot  or  fait,  conding25  eterne  memory. 
Thocht  I  offend,  onhermit26  is  thine  fame, 
Thyne  is  the  thank,  and  myne  sal  be  the 

shame.  52 

Quha  ma  thi  versis  follow  in  all  degre, 
In  bewtie,  sentence,  and  in  gravite  ? 
Nane  is,  nor  was,  nor  yit  sal  be,  trow  I, 
Had,  has,  or  sal  have  sic  crafte  in  poetrie. 
Of  Helicon  so  drank  thou  dry  the  fluid 
Tl-at  of  the  copiose  flowith27  or  plenitud 
All  man28   purches  drink  at  thi   sugurat 

tone,29 

So  lamp  of  day  thou  art,  and  shynanrl  mono, 
All  uthei  is  on  force  mon  28  their  lycht  beg  or 

borow.  61 

Thou  art  Vesper,  and   the   day  sterne  at 

niorow; 

Thou  Phebus,  lychtnar  of  the  planeti*  all, 
I  not80  quhat  dewlie  I  the  clepe31  sail, 
For  thou  art  al  and  sum,  quhat  nedis  moir, 
Of  Latyne  poetis  that  sens  82  wes  or  befoir. 

i«  there  may  not  fail.  "  A  straw.          »  ornate. 

i»  Which.  20  eloquent.  «i  par  Dieu.  22  sully. 
"  uncultivated,  rou^h.  2«  Without.  25  deserving. 
z«  unharmed.  27  abundance.  2s  must.  29  tun, 
wine-cask.  *°  know  not.  «  call.  32  siuce. 


DEATH   OF   PRIAM 


401 


Of  the  writis  Macrobius,  sans  fail, 
In  his  grete  volume  clepit  Saturnail, 
Thi  sawis  in  sic  eloquence  doith  fleit,1 
So  inventive  of  rhetorik  flouris  sueit          70 
Thou  art,  and  lies  sa  hie  prof und  sentence 
Therto  perfyte,  but  ony  indigence, 
That  na  lovingis  2  ma  do  incres  tin  fame, 
Nor  na  reproche  diminew  thi  gnid  name. 
But  sen  I  am  compellit  the  to  translait, 
And  nocht  onlie  of  my  enrage,  God  wait, 
Durst  interprise  sic  outragious  foli, 
Quhar  I  offend,  the  les  repreif  serf8  I; 
And  at 4  ye  knaw  at  quhais  instaunce  I  tuik 
For  to  translait  this  mast  excellent  buik,  80 
I  mene  Virgilis  volume  niaist  excellent, 
Set5  this  my  werk  full  feble  be  of  rent,6 
A  t  the  request  of  ane  lorde  of  renowne, 
Of  ancistry  noble  and  illuster  barowne, 
Fader  of  bukis,  protectour  to  science  and 

lare,7 
My  speciall  gude  lord  Henry  Lord  Sanct 

Clair, 

Quhilk  with  grete  instance  divers  tymesseir,8 
Prayit  me  translait  Virgill  or  Omeir; 
Quhais  plesour  suithlie  as  I  uuderstuid, 
As  neir  coniuuct9  to  his  lordschip  in  bluid, 
So  that  me  thocht  his  requeist  ane  com 
mand,  91 
Half  disparit10  this  wark  tuik  on  hand, 
Nocht  fullie  grantand,  nor  anis  sayand  ye,11 
Bot  onelie  to  assay  quhow  it  mycht  be. 
Quha  mycht  ganesay  a  lord  sa  gentle  and 

kynd, 

That  evir  hed  ony  curtasy  in  thair  mynd, 
Quhilk  beside  his  innative  12  polecy, 
Hmnanite,  curaige,  fredome,  and  chevalry, 
Bukis  to  recollect,  to  reid  aud  se, 
Hes  greit  delite  als  evir  hed  Ptolome  ?    100 
Quharfor  to  his  nobilite  and  estaite, 
Quhat  so  it  be,  this  buik  I  dedicaite, 
Writing  in  the  language  of  Scottis  natioun, 
And  thus  I  mak  my  protestacioun. 

DEATH   OF   PRIAM 
(n,  chap,  ix) 

PERAVENTUR,  of  Priamus  ye  wald  speir 18 
How  tyde 14  the  chance;  his  fait,  gif  ye  list, 

heir. 

Quhen  he  the  cietie  saw  takin  and  doun  bet,15 
And  of  his  palice  brokin  every  yet,16 

i  float.  2  praising.  *  deserve.  4  that.  »  Suppose. 
•  value.  7  learning.  *  several.  •  allied.  w  in 
despair.  "  once  saying  "yea."  "inborn.  13  ask. 
"  k«tided.  "  beaten.  »«  gate. 


Amyd  the  secrete  closettis  eik  his  fais,17 
The    aid    gray18    all    for    uocht,   to   him 

tays 19 
His   hawbrek   quhilk   was    laug   furth   of 

usage,20 
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,21  under  the  hevin  all  bair, 
Stude  thair  that  tyme  a  niekle  fair  altair, 
Neir  quhame  thar  grew  a  rycht  auld  laurer 

tree, 

Bowand  towart  the  altair  a  little  wee,22 
That  with  his  schaddow  the  goddis  did  our- 

heild.28 

Hecuba  thidder,  with  hir  childir,  for  beild  a4 
Ran  all  in  vane,  and  about  the  altair 

swarmis, 

Brasand25  the  godlik  ymage  in  thair  armis, 
As  for  the  storme  dowis  26  flockis  togidder 

ilkane.27  19 

Bot  quhen  scho  saw  how  Priamus  hes  tane 
His  armour,  so  as  thoch  he  had  beiie  ying: 
*  Quhat  fulich  28  thocht,  my  wrechit  spous 

aud  king, 

Movis  ye  now  sic  wapnis  for  to  weild  ? 
Quhidder   haistis  thou  ? '  quod    scho,   '  Of 

na  sic  beild  a 
Have  we  now  mister,80  nor  yit  defendouiis 

as  ye, 

The  tyme  is  nocht  ganand 31  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  cuin 

hiddir, 

And  lat  this  altair  salf  82  us  all  togiddir,   30 
Or  than  at  anis  all  heir  lat  us  de.' 
Thus  said  scho,  and,  with  sic  sembland  83  as 

mycht  be, 

Him  towart  hir  hes  brocht,  bot  ony  threte,84 
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; 
Woundit  he  was,  and  come  to  seek  reskew; 
Ardentlie  Pirrus  can  him  fast  persew,       4o 

17  His  foe  even  in  the  secret  chambers.  18  old  gray 
(man).  i»  takes.  20  out  of  use.  »  courtyard. 
22  way.  23  protect.  *4  shelter.  *&  Embracing. 
2«  doves.  27  each  one.  28  foolish.  29  protection, 
so  need.  3*  advantageous.  32  gave.  M  appearance 
«  without  any  threat.  «  passages. 


402 


GAVIN   DOUGLAS 


With  grundin  lance  at  hand  so  iieir  furth 

strykit, 

Alniaist  he  haid  him  tuichit  and  arrekit.1 
Quhill2  at  the  last,  quhen  he  is  cumin,  I 

wene, 

Befoir  his  faderis  and  his  moderis  ene,8 
Smate  him  doun  deid,  in  thair  sycht  quhar 

he  stude, 
The  gaist   he  yald4  with  habundance   of 

blude.    ' 

Priamus  than,  thocht  he  was  half  deil5  deid, 
Mycht  nocht  contene  his  ire  nor  wordis  of 

feid,« 

Bot  cry  is  furth:  'For  that  cruell  offence, 
And  outrageous  fuile-hardy  violence,        5o 
Gif  thair  be  pietie  in  the  hevin  abouu 
Quhilk  takis  heid  to   this  that   thou   hes 

doun, 

The  goddis  rnocht  condingly  the  foryeld,7 
Eftir  thi  desert  rendring  sic  ganyeld,8 
Causit  me  behald  my  awine  child  slane, 

allace  ! 

And  with  his  blude  filit  his  faderis  face. 
Bot  he,  quham  by  thou  f enys  9  thiself  byget, 
Achill,  was  nocht  to  Priame  sa  hart  set; 
For  he,  of  right  and  faith  eschamit 10  eik, 
Quhen  that  1  come  him  lawlie  to  beseik,  60 
The  deid  body  of  Hector  rendrit  me, 
And  me  convoit  hame  to  my  citie.' 
Thus  sayand,  the  auld  waiklie,  but  force  or 

dynt, 
A  dart  did  cast,  quhilk,  with  a  pik,11  can 

stynt  M 

On  his  harnys,  and  in  the  scheild  did  hing, 
But  ony  harme  or  uthir  dammaging. 
Quod  Pirrus,  '  Allwais  sen  thou  sais  swa, 
To  Pilleus  sone,  my  fadir,  thou  most  ga; 
Ber  him  this  message,  rainember  weil  thou 

tell 

Him  all  my  werkis  and  deidis  sa  crnell.    70 
Schaw  Neoptolemus  is  degenerit  clene; 
Now  sail  thou  dee.'  And  with  that  word, 

in  tene,18 
The  auld  trumbling  towart  the  altair  he 

drew, 
That  in  the  hate  blude  of  his  sone,  sched 

new, 
Funderit;14  and  Pirrus  grippis  him  by  the 

hair 
With  his  left  hand,  and  with  the  udir16  all 

bair 

i  reached.  *  Till.  «  eyes.  «  yielded.  »  part. 
•  feud,  hostility.  7  must  punish  thee  according  to  thy 
deserts.  *  recompense.  •  by  whom  thou  feignest. 
w  ashamed.  "  peck.  "  did  atop.  "  auger. 
"  Stumbled.  "  other. 


Drew  furth  his  schynand  swerd,  quhilk  in 

his  syde 
Festynnit,16  and  unto  the  hiltis  did  it  hyde. 

Of  Priamus  thus  was  the  finale  fait;17 
Fortune  heir  endit  his  glorius  estait.          80 
Seand18  Ilion  all  birning  in  firis  broun, 
And  Troyis  wallis  fall  and  tumblit  doun; 
That  riall  prince,  umquhill,19  our20  Asia, 
Apone  sa  fell21  pepill  and  ralmis22  alsua 
Ringit28  in  weltht,  now  by  the  coist24  lyia 

deid 

Bot  as  ane  stok,  and  of  hakkit25  his  heid; 
A  corps,  but26  life,  renowne,  or  uthir  fame, 
Unknawin  of  ony  wycht  quhat  was  his  name. 


MORNING    IN   MAY 

(Prologue  to  the  Twelfth  Book  of  the  ^Eneid) 

DvoNEA,27  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, 
Fleand  eschamyt28  within  Cylenyus29  cave; 
Mars  onbydrew,80  for  all  his  grundin  glave,81 
Nor   frawart  **  Saturn,   from  his    mortal! 

speyr,88 

Durst  langar  in  the  firmament  appeir, 
Bot  stall  abak  yond  in  his  regioun  far 
Behynd  the  circulat  warld  of  Jupiter;       10 
Nycthemyne,84  affrayit  of  the  lycht, 
Went  undir  covert,  forgone  was  the  nycht; 
As  f resch  Aurora,  to  mychty  Ty thone  spous, 
Ischit86  of  hir  safron  bed  and  evir86  hous, 
In  crammysin87  cled  and  granit88  violat, 
With  sanguyne  cape,  and  selvage  purpurat,89 
Onschot  the  windois  of  hir  large  hall, 
Spred  all  wyth  rosys,  and  full  of  balm  ryall, 
And  eik  the  hevinly  portis  crystallyne 
Upwarpis  braid,40  the  warld  to  illumyn.    20 
The  twinkling  stremowris  41  of  the  orient 
Sched  piirpour  sprangis42  with  gold  and 

asure  ment,48 

Persand44  the  sabill  barmkyn45  nocturnall, 
Bet  doun  the  skyis  clowdy  mantill  wall: 
Eous  the'steid,  with  ruby  hamis46  reid, 
Abuf  the  seyis47  lyftis  furth  his  heid, 

«  Stuck.  «  fate.  "  Seeing.  i»  formerly. 
»o  over.  *i  many.  "  realms.  23  Reigned.  2*  coast. 
*5  hacked  off.  *•  without.  *7  Venus  (as  evening  and 
morning  star).  *8  ashamed.  s»  Mercury's.  30  with 
drew.  «  sharp  ground  sword.  "  perverse.  «  deadly 
sphere.  »«  Nyctimene.  See  Ovid,  Meta.  ii,  590.  »  Is 
sued.  »•  ivory.  "  crimson  cloth.  38  deep  dyed. 
»•  purple.  «o  Opens  wide.  41  streamers.  42  rays, 
«  mixed.  «<  Piercing.  «s  battlement.  «  hamei 
—  part  of  a  horse-collar.  "  Above  the  seas. 


MORNING   IN   MAY 


403 


Of  cullour  soyr,1  and  sum  deill  broun  as 

berry, 

For  to  alichtyn  and  glaid  our  emyspery, 
The  flambe  owtbrasty  ng  at  his  neys  t liyrlys  ;2 
Sa    fast    Phaeton    wyth    the    quhip    him 

quhirlys,  30 

To  roll  Apollo  his  faderis  goldin  chair, 
That  schrowdyth  all  the  hevynnis  and  the 

ayr; 
Quhill3  schortly,  with  the  blesand4  torch  of 

day, 

Abilyeit6  in  his  lemand6  fresch  array, 
Furth  of  hys  palyce  ryall  ischyt  Phebus, 
Wyth  goldin  croun  and  vissage  gloryus, 
Crysp7  hairis,  brycht  as  chrysolite  or  to- 

pace, 
For  quhais   hew  mycht  nane   behald  his 

face, 

The  fyry  sparkis  brastyng  f ra  his  ene, 
To  purge   the   ayr,   and   gylt   the  tendyr 

o-rene,  4o 

Defundand8  from  hys  sege9  etheriall 
Glaid  influent  aspectis  celicall.10 
Before  his  regale  hie  magnificens 
Mysty  vapour  upspringand,  sweit  as  sens,11 
In  smoky  soppis12  of  donk  dewis  wak,18 
Moich  hail  sum  stovis  ourheildand  the  slak;14 
The  aureat  fanys 16  of  hys  trone  soverane 
With  glytrand  glans  ourspred  the  occiane, 
The  large  fludis  lemand  all  of  lycht 
Bot  with  a  blenk16  of  his  supernale  sycht.  50 
For  to  behald,  it  was  a  gloir  to  se 
The  stabillit17  wyndis  and  the  cawmyt18  see, 
The  soft  sessoun,  the  firmament  serene, 
The  lowne19  illumynat  air,  the  fyrth  ainene  j20 
The  sylver  scalit  fyschis  on  the  greit21 
Ourthwort22  cleir  stremis  spry nkland28  for 

the  heyt, 

Wyth  fynnis  schynand  broun  as  synopar,24 
And  chyssell26  talis,  stowrand26  heyr  and 

thar; 

The  new  cullour  alychtnyng  all  the  landis, 
Forgane  thir  stannyris27  schane  the  beryall 

strand  is,  60 

Quhill  the  reflex  of  the  diurnal  bemis 
The  bene  bonkis28  kest  ful  of  variant  glemis, 
And  lusty  Flora  did  hir  blomis  spreid 
Under  the  feit  of  Phebus  sulyart29  steid; 

i  sorrel.  *  nostrils.  »  Till.  «  blazing.  « Attired. 
•  gleaming.  1  Curly.  8  Pouring.  •  seat,  10  celes 
tial.  11  incense.  "  clouds.  "  wet.  "  Moist 
wholesome  mists  covering  the  swamp.  is  The  golden 
vanes.  16  glance.  17  stilled.  ia  calmed  sea.  i»  quiet. 
»o  woodland  pleasant.  21  gravel.  22  Athwart. 

*3  darting.  24  cinnabar.  «  shaped  like  chisels. 
**  rushing.  2?  Opposite  these  gravelly  shores.  *8  pleas 
ant  banks.  "  gleaming. 


The  swardit  soy  11  enbroud  wyth  selcouth80 

hewis 

Wod  and  forest  obumbrat81  with  thar  b^ wis, 
Quhois  bli^sfull  branchis,  porturat 32  on  the 

grund, 
With  schaddois  schene  schew  rochis  ruby- 

cund: 

Towris,  turattis,  kyrnellis,88  pynnaclis  hie 
Of  kirkis,  castellis,  and  ilke  fair  cite,         70 
Stude  payntit,  every  fyall,  fane,  and  stage,84 
Apon  the  plane  grund,  by  thar  awin  um- 


Of  Eolus  north  blastis  havand  no  dreyd, 
The   sulye86  spred    hyr  braid    bosum   on 

breid,8* 

Zephyrus'  confortabill  inspiratioun 
For  till  ressave  law  in  hyr  barm37  adoun; 
The   cornis   croppis88  and   the    beris   new 

brerd89 

Wyth  glaidsum  garmond  revesting  the  erd; 
So  thik  the  plantis  sprang  in  every  peee,  79 
The  feyldis  ferleis40  of  thar  fructuus  flece; 
Byssy  dame  Ceres,  and  proud  Pryapus, 
Rejosyng  of  the  planis  pleuteus, 
Plenyst41  sa  plesand  and  maist  propirly, 
By  nature  nurist  wondir  nobilly. 
On  the  fertill  skyrt  lappis  of  the  ground 
Stroking42  on  breid  ondyr  the  cirkill  round, 
The  variant  vestur  of  the  venust  vaill43 
Schrowdis  the  scherald  fur,44  and  every  faill46 
Ourfret  with  fulyeis46  of  figuris  full  divers, 
The  spray  bysprent  with  spryngand  sproutis 

dispers;47  90 

For  callour48  humour  on  the  dewy  nycht, 
Rendryng49  sum  place  the  gers  pilis80  thar 

hycht 

Ala  far  as  catal,  the  lang  symmeris  day, 
Had  in  thar  pastur  eyt  and  knyp  61  away; 
And  blisfull  blossummis  in  the  blomyt  yard 
Submittis  thar   hedis   in  the  yoiig  sonnis 

salfgard; 

Ive  levis  rank  ourspred  the  barmkin52  wall, 
The  bloomyt  hawthorn  cled  his  pikis53  all; 
Furth  of  fresch  burgionis  the  wyne  grapis 

ying  99 

Endlang  the  treilyeis  dyd  on  twystis  hing. 
The  lowkyt  buttonis54  on  the  gemmyt  treis 
Ourspredand  leyvis  of  naturis  tapestreis ; 

*°  strange.       $1  shaded.      **  portrayed.      88  crenel- 
ations.  *4  pinnacle,  vane,  and  storey.  3S  soil. 

»8  abroad.  87  low  in  her  bosom.  M  tops.  w  barley 
newly  sprouted.  40  wonder.  '  «i  Replenished. 

41  Stretching.  4S  pleasant  vale.  44  new  mown  furrow. 
*5  turf.  4«  Adorned  with  leaves.  47  here  and  there. 
«  refreshing.  4»  Restoring.  "  grass  blades, 

si  cropped.  «»  rampart.  "  prickles,  twigs.  **  un 
opened  buds. 


404 


GAVIN   DOUGLAS 


Soft  gresy  verdour  eftir  balmy  schowris 
On  cm-land  stalkis  smyling  to  thar  flowris; 
Behaldaud  tbarae  sa  inony  divers  hew, 
Sum  pers,1  sum  paill,  sum  burnet,2  and  sum 

blew, 
Sum  grece,8  sum  gowlis,4  sum  purpour,  sum 

sangwane, 
Blanchit  or  broune,  fawch6  yallow  mony 

ane, 

Sum  hevynly  cullorit  in  celestiall  gre,8     109 
Stun  wattry  he  wit  as  the  haw  wally  see,7 
And    sum    depart  8    in    frekly  9    red    and 

quhyte, 

Sum  brycht  as  gold  with  aureat  levis  lyte. 
The  dasy  dyd  on  breid10  hir  crownell  smaill 
And  every  flour  onlappit11  in  the  daill; 
In  battill  gyrs  burgionys  the  ban  wart  wyld,12 
The  clavyr,  catcluke,18and  the  cammamyld; 
The   flour  delice  furth  spred  his   hevinly 

hew, 
Flour  dammes,14  and  columby  blank  16  and 

blew; 

Seyr  ie  downis  smaill  on  dent  de  lion  sprang, 
The  ying  grene  bloaiyt  straberry  levis 

aiuang;  120 

Gymp  gerraflouris17  thar  royn18  levys  un- 

schet, 

Fresche  prymros,  and  the  purpour  violet; 
The  roys  knoppis,  tetand  19  furth  thar  heyd, 
Gan  chyp,20  and  kytli  21  thar  vermel  lippis 

red, 
Crysp  scarlet   levis  sum  scheddand,  baith 

attains 
Kest  fragrant    smell  amyd   from    goldin 

grain's; 
Hevinly    lylleis,    with    lokerand  M   toppis 

quhyte, 
Oppynnit  and    schew  thar   creistis  redy- 

myte,28 
The  balmy  vapour  from  thar  sylkyn  crop- 

pis  129 

Distylland  hailsum  sugnrat  hunny  droppis, 
And  sylver  schakaris24  gati  fra  levis  hyng, 
Wyth  crystal  sprayngis25  on  the  verdour 


The  plane  puldery  t  26  with  semely  settis  w 

sound, 
Bedyit  2*  full  of  dewy  peirlis  round, 

>  blue.  *  brown.  •  gray.  4  red.  5  dun. 
•  degree.  *  wan  wavy  sea.  s  divided.  •  speckled. 
10  spread  abroad.  "  opened.  12  In  rich  rank  grass 
burgeons  the  banewort  wild,  w  the  clover,  bird's  foot. 
"  Damask  rose.  »  columbine,  white.  »  Many. 
"  Pretty  gilly-flowers.  is  vermilion.  »•  rosebuds 
peeping.  *o  burst.  J1  show.  «  curling.  *»  ornate. 
«  dew-drops.  «  sprays.  »«  powdered.  *7  shoots. 
»  Moistened. 


So  that  ilk  burgioun,  syon,29  herb,  and  flour, 
Wolx  all  enbalmyt  of  the  fresch  liqueur, 
And  bathit  bait M  did  in  dulce  humouris 

fleit,81 

Quharof  the  beis  wrocht  thar  hunny  sweit, 
By  niichty  Phebus  operatiounis 
In  sappy  subtell  exalatiounis.  140 

Forgane  82  the  cummyu  of  this  prince  potent, 
Redolent  odour  up  from  rutis  sprent,83 
Hail  sum  of  smell  as  ony  spicery, 
Tryakle,84  droggis,  or  electuary, 
Seroppis,  sewane,36  sugour,  and  synamome, 
Precyus    iuunctment,    salve,    or    fragrant 

pome,36 

Aromatik  gummis,  or  ony  fyne  potioun, 
Must,87  myr,  aloes,  or  confeetioun; 
Ane  paradice  it  semyt  to  draw  neyr 
Thyr  galyart38  gardyiigis  and  ilke  greyn 

herbere.39  I5o 

Maist  umyabiil  walxis  the  amerant  medis:  ^ 
Swannys  swouchis  41  throw  out  the  rysp42 

and  redis, 

Our  al  thir  lowys  48  and  the  fludis  gray 
Seyrsand  by  kynd44  a  place  quhar  thai  suld 

lay: 
Phebus   red    fowle   hys  corall  creist  can 

steyr,4* 
Oft  stroking46  furth  hys  hekkyll,47  era  wand 

cl  eir, 

Amyd  the  wortis48  and  the  rutys  gent 
Pykland  49  his  meyt  in  alleis  quhar  he  went, 
Hys  wifis,  Toppa  and  Pertelok,  hym  by, 
As  byrd  al  tyme  that  hantis50  bygamy:    160 
The  payntit  poune,51  pasand  with  plomys 

gym,62 
Kest  up  his  taill,  a  proud  plesand  quheil 

rym,58 
Yschrowdry t  in  hys  fedramme  54  brycht  and 

schene, 
Schapand65  the  prent  of  Argus  hundreth 

ene: 

Amang  the  brounis  M  of  the  olyve  twestis  67 
Seyr68  small  fowlis  wirkand  crafty  nestis, 
Endlang  the  hedgeis   thyk,  and  on   rank 

akis,59 
Ilk   byrd    rejosyng   with   thar    myrthfull 

makis.60 

*•  scion.     »o  warm.     81  float.     »'  Against.     «  sprang. 
M  Medicinal  syrup.  »*  savin,  a  drug  made  from  a 

variety  of  juniper.  *«  scent-ball.  J7  Musk.  S8  pay. 
89  garden  or  arbour.  «°  emerald  meads.  «i  rustle. 
42  bulrushes.  48  lakes.  44  Seeking  by  nature. 

4*  raise.  «  stretching.  47  long  shining  feathers  on  a 
cock's  neck.  48  herbs.  4»  Pecking.  60  practises. 
61  peacock.  52  neat.  "  wheel-rim.  54  Covered 
with  his  plum  age.  "  Showing,  rebranches.  »  twiga. 
«•  Many.  »  oaks.  <>°  mates. 


MORNING  IN   MAY 


405 


In  corneris  and  cleir  fenystaris1  of  glas 
Full  byssely  Aragne  wevand  was,  170 

To  knit  hyr  nettis  and  hir  wobbys  sle,2 
Tharwith  to  caucht  the  myghe  and  littill 

fle:8 

So  dusty  puldyr  upstowris  4  in  every  streyt, 
Quhill  corby  6  gaspyt  for  the  fervent  heyt. 
Under  the  bewys  beyn  6  in  lusty  valis, 
Within  fermans 7  and  parkis  cloys  of  palys, 
The  bustuus  bukkis  rakis 8  furth  on  raw; 
Heyrdis   of    herds   throw   the   thyk   wod 

schaw, 
Baith  the  brokettis,9  and  with  brayd  burn- 

yst  tyndis; 10 
The  sprutlyt11  calvys   sowkand   the   reid 

hyndis,  180 

The  yong  fownis  followand  the  dun  dayis,12 
Kyddis  skippaud  throw  ronnis la  eftir  rayis.14 
In  lyssouris  15  and  on  leys  16  littill  lammis 
Full  tait  and  trig  17  socht  bletand  to  thar 

dam  mis. 

Tydy  ky  lowys,18  veilys 19  by  thame  rynnis; 
All  snog  and  slekyt  worth20  thir  bestis 

skynnis. 

On  salt  stremis  wolx21  Doryda  and  Thetis, 
By  rynnand  strandis  Nymphis  and  Naedes, 
Syk22  as  we  clepe  wenchis  and  damy- 

sellis,  189 

In  gresy  gravis  23  wandrand  by  spring  wellis, 
Of  blomyt  branchis  and  flowris  quhite  and 

rede 

Plettand  thar  lusty  chaiplettis  for  thar  hede ; 
Sum  sing  sangis,  dansis  ledys,24  and  roun- 

dis,25 

Wyth  vocis  schill,26  quhill  all  the  daill  re- 
son  ndis ; 

Quharso  thai  walk  into  thar  caraling, 
For  amorus  lays  doith  all  the  rochis  ryng. 
Ane  sang,    '  The  scbip  salis  our  the   salt 

fame, 
Will  bring  thir  merchandis  and  my  leminan 

name;' 
Sum  other   singis,  'I    wil    be    blyth    and 

lycht, 

Myne  hart  is  lent  apon  sa  gudly  wycht.'  200 
And  thochtfull  luffaris  rowmys  to  and  fro, 
To  leis  27  thar  pane,  and  plene  28  thar  joly 

wo, 

i  windows.      *  subtle  webs.      »  midge  and  little  fly. 
•  arises.          8  Till  the  crow.  «  beauteous  boughs. 

i  enclosures.  8  bold  bucks  range.  9  two-year-old 
red-deer.  10  prongs.  n  speckled.  12  does. 

i»  thickets.  14  roes.  15  pastures.  '«  meadows,  leas. 
"  sportive  and  active.  1S  Fat  kine  low.  w  calves. 
*>  are.  21  waxed,  appeared.  "  Such.  "  groves. 
*«  lead.  «  round  dances,  carols.  «  clear.  «  lose. 


Eftyr  thar  gys,29  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  t  hoc  lit  to  flat  and 

fene,80  209 

Sum  to  hant81  bawdry  and  onlesum  mene; 82 
Sum  rownys  88  to  hys  fallow,  thame  betwene, 
Hy  s  mery  stouth84  and  pastans86  lait  y  istrene. 
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?' 
1  In  sik  a  place   heyr  west,  we  bayth  to- 

giddyr,  220 

Quhar  scho  so  freschly  sang  this  hyndir  87 

nycht; 
Do  chois  the  ane  and  I  sal  quynch  the 

lycht.' 

'  I  sal  be  thar  I  hope,'  quod  he,  and  lewch; 88 
'  Ya,  now  I  knaw  the  mater  weill  enewch.' 
Thus  oft  dywulgat89  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  kyud  ilk  thyng  springis  and 

revertis.  230 

Dame    Naturis    menstralis,  on  that   other 

part, 

Thayr  blyssf nil  bay  41  entonyng  every  art, 
To    beyt    thar    amouris   of    thar    nychtis 

baill,42 

The  merll,  the  mavys,  and  the  nychtingale 
With  mery  notis  myrthf ully  furth  brest, 
Enforsing  thame  quha  mycht  do  clynk  it  ** 

best. 

The  cowschet  crowdis  and  pirkis  on  the  rys,44 
The  styrlyng  changis  divers  stevynnys  nys;46 

89  guise,  fashion,  so  flatter  and  feign.  s*  practise. 
32  unlawful  means.  Js  whispers,  34  stolen  pleasures. 
«  pastime.  »•  jest.  «  last.  »»  laughed.  39  pub 
lished.  40  tickles.  41  chorus.  «  To  rid  their  loves  of 
the  night's  tedium.  «  make  it  ring.  «  The  ring-dove 
(cushat)  coos  and  perches  on  the  twig.  "  delicate  notes. 


406 


GAVIN   DOUGLAS 


The  sparrow  chyrrnis  1  in  the  wallis  clyft; 
Goldspynk  and  lyntquhyte  fordynnand  the 

lyft;a  240 

The   gukgo  galis,8  and  so  quytteris4   the 

quaill, 
Quhill  ryveris  rerdyt,6  schawis,  aud  every 

vaill, 

And  tender  twystis  trymlyt  on  the  treis, 
For  byrdis  san«*  and  bemyng  6  of  the  beis. 
In  wrablis  7  dulce  of  hevyuly  armonyis 
The  larkis,  lowd  relescband  8  in  the  skyis, 
Lovys  thar  lege  9  with  tonys  curyus, 
Baith  to  Dame  Natur  and  the  f  resch  Venus 
Rendryng  hie  lawdis  in  thar  observance, 
Quhais  suguryt  throtis  mayd  glayd  hartis 

dans,  250 

And  al  small  fowlys  singis  on  the  spray: 
'  Welcum,  the  lord  of  lycht  and  lamp  of  day, 
Welcum,  fostyr10  of  tendir  herbys  grene, 
Welcum,  quyknar  of  florist  flowris  schene, 
Welcum,  support  of  euery  rute  and  vane  !  n 
Welcum,  conf ort  of  alkynd  f ruyt  and  grane  ! 
Welcum,    the    byrdis    beyld u    apon    the 

breyr ! 

Welcum,  maister  and  rewlar  of  the  yeyr  ! 
Welcum,    weilfar    of     husbandis    at     the 

plewis  ! 
Welcum,    reparar  of    woddis,  treis,   and 

bewis;  260 

Welcum,  depayntar  of  the  blomyt  medis  ! 
Welcum,  the  ly  f  e  of  euery  thing  that  spredis ! 
Welcum,  stourour 18  of  alkynd  bestiall ! 
Welcum  be  thi  brycht  bemys,  glading  all ! 
Welcum  celestial  1  myrrour  and  aspy, 
Attechyng 14  all  that  hantis  sluggardy  ! ' 
And  with  this  word,  in  chalmer  quhair  I  lay, 
The  nynt  morow  of  fresche  temperat  May, 
On  fut  I  sprent 15  into  my  bayr  sark,16     269 
Wilf ull  for  till  compleyt  my  langsum  wark 
Twichand17  the  lattyr  bukeof  Dan  Virgill, 
Quhilk  me  had  tareyt  al  to  lang  a  quhile, 
And  to  behald  the  cummyng  of  this  kyng,18 
That  was  sa  welcum  tyll  all  warldly  thyng, 
With  sic  tryumphe  andpompos  enrage  glayd 
Than  of  his  souerane  chymmis,19  as  is  sayd, 
Newly  arissyn  in  hys  estayt  ryall, 
That,  by  hys  hew,  but  orleger20  or  dyall, 
I  knew  it  was  past  four  houris  of  day, 
And  thocht  I  wald  na  langar  ly  in  May  280 

»  chirps.  *  making  the  air  resound.  »  cuckoo 
calls.  *  twitters.  5  resounded.  •  din.  7  warbles. 
«  releasing  (their  voices).  »  Praise  their  liege  lord. 
10  fosterer.  "  vein,  pore.  1S  shelter.  13  stirrer. 
**  Reproving.  »  sprang.  w  shirt.  17  Touching. 
»  the  sun.  "  mansions.  »  without  one  to  call 
the  hours. 


Les  Phebus  suld  me  losanger  attaynt:21 
For   Progne  had,  or  than,  sung  hyr  cora- 

playiit, 

And  eik  hir  dreidful  systir  Philomene 
Hir  lais  endit,  and  in  woddis  grene 
Hyd  hir  selvin,  eschamyt  of  hyr  chance; 
And  Esacus  ^  completis  his  pennance 
In  riveris,  fludis,  and  on  every  laik; 
And  Peristera28  byddis  luffaris  awaik ; 
4  Do  serve  my  lady  Venus  heyr  with  me  ! 
Lern  thus  to  mak  your  observance,'  quod 

she,  290 

*  Into  myne  hartis  ladeis  sweit  presens 
Behaldis  how  I  beinge,24  and  do  reverens.' 
Hir  nek  scho  wrinklis,  trasing  mony  fold, 
With  plomis  glitterand,  asur  apon  gold, 
Rendring  a  cullour  betwix  grene  and  blew 
In  purpour  glans  of  hevinly  variant  hew; 
I  meyn  our  awin  native  bird,  gentill  dow,28 
Syngand   in  hyr  kynd  'I  come  bidder  to 

wow ;' 

So  prykly ng  hyr  grene  curage  for  to  crc wd  ^ 
In  amorus  voce  and  wowar  soundis  lowd, 
That,  for  the  dynning  of  hir  wanton  cry,  301 
I  irkyt  of  my  bed  and  mycht  nocht  ly, 
Bot  gan  me  blys,27  syne  in  my  wedis  dres, 
And,  for  it  was  ayr  morow,  or  tyme  of  mes,28 
I  hynt  a  scriptour29  and  my  pen  furth  tuike. 
Syne   thus   begouth  of   Virgill  the   twelt 

buike. 


KING   HART80 
(11. 1-80) 

KING  HART  in  to  his  cumlie  castell  strang, 
Closit  about  with  craft  and  meikill  ure,81 
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  ronk82  or  ony  rayne;  10 
In  all  his  lusty  lecam  88  nocht  ane  spot; 
Na  never  had  experience  into  payne, 

*i  call  me  sluggard. 

«  Aesacus,  son  of  Priam,  changed  into  a  bird,  the 
diver,  after  having  caused  the  death  of  his  wife. 

»3  dove.       u  bow.      «  dove.      «  coo.      z7  cross. 

«s  early  morn,  ere  time  of  mass. 

»  seized  a  writing-case. 

»o  The  text  is  based  on  the  Maitland  MS.  as  printed 
by  Gregory  Smith  in  Specimens  of  Middle  Scots. 

"  work.        "  mist.        "  body. 


KING   HART 


407 


Bot  alway  into  lyking,1  nocht  to  layue; 2 
Onlie  to  love  and  verrie  gentilues 
He  wes  inclynit  cleinlie  to  remane, 
And  wonn8  under  the  wyng  of  wantownnes. 

Yit  was  this  wourthy  wicht   King  under 

warde, 

For  wes  he  nocht  at  fredome  utterlie. 
Nature   had   lymmit 4  folk   for   thair   re- 

warde 

This  godlie  king  to  governe  and  to  gy;6  20 
For  so  thai  kest6  thair  tyme  to  occupy 
In  welthis  for  to  wyne;  for  thai  him  teichit 
All  lustis  for  to  lane 7  and  underly ;  8 
So  prevelie  thai  preis  him  and  him  prei- 

cheid. 

First  Strenth,  (....)  Lust,  and  Wantown 
nes, 

Grein  Lust,  Disport,  Jelousy,  and  Invy; 
Freschnes,  Newgot,9  Waistgude,10  and  Wil- 

fulnes, 

Delyvernes,  Fulehardenes  thairby; 
Gentrice,  Fredome,11  Price,  Previe  Espy, 
Wantwyt,  Vanegloir,  Prodigalitie,  30 

Unrest,  Nichtwalk,  and  felloun  Glutony, 
Uuricht,  Dyme  Sicht,  with  Slicht  and  Sub- 
tilitie. 

Thir  war  the  inwarde  ythand 12  servitouris, 
Quhilk  gouernouris  war  to  this  nobil  king, 
And  kepit  him  inclynit  to  thair  curis; 
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 

re  warde,18 

Dansing,  disport,  singing,  revelling, 
With  bissiues  all  bly  th  to  pleis  the  lairde.  40 

Thir  folk,  with  all  the  femell 14  thai  micht 

fang, 

Quhilk  nummerit  ane  milyon  and  weill  mo, 
That  wer  upbred  as  servitouris  of  lang,15 
And  with  this  king  wald  wonn16  in  weill  and 

wo, 
For  favour  nor  for  f eid 17  wald  found 18  him 

fro 
Unto  the  tyme  thair  daitbe  run  and  past: 

i  pleasure.  *  not  to  lie,  i.e.,  to  tell  the  truth. 

»  dwell.       4  appointed.        «  guide.        «  planned. 

i  hide.  So  G.  Smith  from  Maitland  MS.  Pinkerton 
reads  love  =  love ;  Small  lave,  and  explains  as  u  subject 
t(»."  a  doubtful  gloss.  «  experience.  •  New  Fashion. 
i«  Prodigality.  "  Generosity.  »  diligent.  «  in 
terests.  "  family.  is  for  a  long  time.  i«  dwell. 
«  hostility.  "  go. 


That  gold  nor  gude  micht  gar  thame  fro 

him  go, 
No  greif  nor  grame 19  suld  grayth  20  thame 

so  agast. 

Fyve  servitouris  this  king  he  had  without, 
That  teichit  war  ay  tressoun  to  espy ;        50 
Thai  watchit  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  Ijarknit  bissely 
Out  of  quhat  airt 21  that  ever  the  wyndia 
blew. 

Syne22  wes  thair  ane  to  taist  all  nutriment 
That  to  this  king  wes  servit  at  the  deiss; 
Ane  uther  wes  all  fovellis  23  for  to  sent,24 
Of  licour  or  of  ony  lustie  meiss;  60 

The  fyft  thair  wes  quhilk  culd  all  [ken]26 

but  leiss,26 
The  heit,  the  cauld,  the  hard,  and  eik  the 

soft  — 
Ane  ganand  27  servand  bay  th  for  weir  and 

pece; 
Yit  hes  thir  folk  thair  king  betrasit28  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 

myii;80  , 

Bot   he  ane  port   had   enterit    with   ane 

gvn,81 

And  up  he  can  in  haist  to  the  grit  toure,  70 
And  said  he  suld  it  parall82  all  with  fyu 
And  f resche  delyt,  with  inony  florist  floure. 

So  strang  this  king  him  thocht  his  castell 

stude, 

With  mony  towre  and  turat  crownit  hie: 
About  the  wall  thair  ran  ane  water  woid,88 
Blak,  stinkand,  sowr,  and  salt  as  is  the 

sey, 

That  on  the  wallis  wiskit,84  gre  be  gre,*5 
Boldning  M  to  ryis  the  castell  to  confound ; 
Bot  thai  within  maid  sa  grit  melody, 
That  for  thair  reird  w  thay  micht  nocht  heir 

the  sound.  80 

!•  anger,  sorrow.  2°  make.  zl  direction.  **  Then. 
«  provisions.  *4  smell.  «  know.  *•  without  liea. 
v  profitable.  "  betrayed.  *»  gate.  »°  greater  and 
less.  3i  trick.  »»  decorate.  "  wild.  »«  splashed. 
5*  step.  *<  Swelling. 


408 


GAVIN   DOUGLAS 


HONOUR! 

0  HIE   honour,   sweit  heviulie  flour  de- 

gest,2 

Gem  verteous,  maist  precious,  gudliest. 
For  hie  renoun  thou  art  guerdouu  con- 
ding,8 
Of  worschip  kend4  the  glorious  end  and 

rest, 
But 6  quhome  in  richt  na  worthie  wicht  may 

lest. 
Thy  greit  puissance  may  maist  avance 

all  thing, 

And   poverall    to    mekill    availl6  sone 
bring. 

1  the  require  sen  thow  but  peir7  art  best, 
That  ef  ter  this  in  thy  hie  blis  we  ring.8 

Of  grace  thy  face  in  everie  place  sa  schy- 

nis,  10 

That  sweit  all  spreit  baith  heid  and  feit 

inclynis,9 
Thy  gloir  afoir  for  till  imploir  remeid.10 

i  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  virtuosity  in  metre 
of  the  Middle  Scots  poets. 

1  sober.        3  condign.       *  acknowledged.     , B  With 
out.         •  poor  folk  to  great  consequence.         7  without 
equal.        8  reign.         9  That  sweet  (sight)  inclines  all 
spirit  (i.  e.,  everybody)  with  both  head  and  feet. 
M  advancement. 


He  docht11  richt  nocht,  quhilk  out  of  thocht 

the  tyuis;12 

Thy  name  but  blame,  and  royal  fame  di 
vine  is; 
Thow  port,  at  schort,18  of  our  comfort 

and  reid 14 

Till  bring  all  thing  till  glaiding  efter  deid, 
All  wicht  but  sicht  of  thy  greit  micht  ay 

crynis,16 

O  schene,16  I  mene n  nane  may  sustene 
thy  feid.18 

Haill  rois  maist  chois  till  clois19  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  gar20  say  the  way  of  licht; 

Amend,  offend,21  and  send  our  end  ay  richt. 

Thou  stant,  ordant  as   sauct,  of   grant 

maist  wise, 

Till  be  supplie,22  and  the  hie  gre28  of  price. 
Delite  the  tite  me  quite  of  site  to  dicht,'24 
For  I  apply  schortlie  to  thy  devise.25 

"  avails.  »  loses.  «  in  short.  "  counsel, 
i*  shrivels.  lt  shining  one.  "  mean.  "  enmity. 
19  end.  *°  causing  (sense  dubious).  Z1  Cause  us 
pleasure,  or  pain.  22  to  be  succour.  "  reward. 

24  Be  pleased  quickly  to  make  me  quit  of  shame. 

«  In  brief  I  put  myself  in  thy  control. 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


THE  DREAM   (11.918-1036) 

COMPLAYNT    OF  THE   COMMOUNWEILL 
OF   SCOTLAND1 

AND  thus  as  we  wer  talking,  to  and  fro, 
We  saw  a  bousteous  berne  2  cum  ouir  the 

bent,8 

Bot  4  hors,  on  fute,  als  fast  as  he  mycht  go, 
Q u hose   raymeut  wes  all  raggit,  rev  in, 

and  rent, 

With  visage  leyne,  as  he  had  fastit  Lent: 
And  ford  wart  fast  his  wayis  he  did  advance, 
With  ane  ryeht  melancolious  countynance, 

With  scrip  on   hip,  and  pyikstaff  in  his 

baud, 

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  iny  name  have  ane 

feill,5 

Forsuith,  thay  call  me  John  the  Commoun- 
weill.' 

'Schir   Commonnweill,   quho   hes  yow  so 

disgysit  ?  ' 
Quod  I :  '  or  quhat  makis  yow  so  miser- 

byll  ? 

I  have  marvell  to  se  yow  so  supprysit,8 
The  quhilk  that  I  have  seue  so  honor- 

abyll. 
To  all  the  warld  ye  have  bene  profit- 

abyll, 

And  weill  honourit  in  everilk  natioun:      20 
How  happiunis  now  your  tribulatioun  ? ' 

'  Allace  ! '  quod  he, '  thow  seis  how  it  dois 

stand 
With  me,  and  quhow  I  am  disherisit  7 

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.  «  field.  «  Without. 
«  knowledge.  *  oppressed.  '  disinherited. 


Of  all  my  grace,  and  mon  pass  of 8  Scot 
land, 

And  go,  afore  quhare  I  was  cherisit. 
Remane  I  heir,  I  am  bot  perysit; 
For  thare  is  few  to  me  that  takis  tent,9 
That  garris 10  me  go  so  raggit,  revin,  and 
rent: 

'  My  tender   friendis   are   all  put   to   the 

flycht; 

For  policy e  is  fled  agane  in  France.11    30 
My  syster,  Justice,  almaist  haith  tynt  M  hir 

sycht, 
That  scho  can  nocht  hald  evinly  the  bal- 

lance. 

Plane  Wrang  is  plane  capitane  of  ordi 
nance, 

The  quihilk  debarris  laute  18and  reasoun; 
And  small  remeid  is  found  for  open  trea- 
sotin. 

'In-to  the  South,  allace  !  I  was  neir  slane; 

Oner  ull  the  land  I  culd  fynd  no  releif. 
Alnioist    betuix    the    Mers   and    Lowma- 
bane 14 

I  culde  nocht  knaw  ane  leill  man  be  ane 

theif. 
To  schaw  thair   reif,15  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 16  thay  tuke  of  me 

non  heid, 
Nor  atnangs  thame  lat  me  re  mane  ane 

quhyle. 

Als,  in  the  Oute  Ylis,  and  in  Argyle, 
Unthrift,  sweirnes,    falset,    povertie,  and 

stryfe 
Pat  Policye  in  dainger  of  hir  lyfe. 

s  must  pass  out  of.  •  heed.  ">  makes. 

II  An  allusion  to  the  defeat  of  the  French  party. 

w  lost.       is  loyalty.      «  i.e.,  in  the  whole  Lowland. 
16  robbery.         18  Those  lazy  rogues. 


4io 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


'In  the  Lawland  I  come  to  seik  refuge,    50 
And    purposit    thare   to   mak   my   resi 
dence; 
Bot  singulare  prof eit l  gart  me  soune  dis- 

luge, 

And  did  me  gret  injuries  and  offence, 
And  said  to  me,  "  Swyith,  harlote,2  hy 

thee  hence, 

And  in  this  countre  see  thow  tak  no  curis,8 
So  lang  as  my  auctoritie  induris." 

'  And  now  I  may  mak  no  langer  debait; 
Nor  I  wate  nocht  quhome  to  I  suld  me 

mene;4 
For  I  have  socht  throw  all  the  Spirituall 

stait, 

Quhilkis  tuke  na  compt  for  to  heir  me 

complene.  60 

Thair  ofticiaris,  thay  held  me  at  disdene; 

For  Symonie,  he  rewlis  up  all  that  rowte; 

And  Covatyce,  that  carle,  gart5  bar  me  oute. 

'  Pryde  haith  chaist  far  frome  thame  Hu- 

m  ili  tie; 

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  6 

Nor  thai  do  of  thair  constitutions 
Thus  are  thay  blyndit  be  ambitioun.          70 

'  Our  gentyll  men  are  all  degenerat; 
Liberalise  and  lawte  boith  ar  lost, 
And  Cowardyce  with  lordis  is  laureat, 
And  knychtlie  Curage  turn  it  in  brag  and 

boast. 

The  civele  weir  misgydis  everilk  oist;7 
Thare  is  noclit  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  ! '  8 

Bot,  wyt  ye  weill,  my  hart  was  wounder 
sarye  80 

Quhen  Comounweill  so  sopit9  was  in  sor 
row. 

1  Yit  efter  the  nycht  cumis  the  glaid  mor 
row; 

»  individual  interest.  *  In  haste,  fellow.  »  offices. 
«  complain,  moan.  »  caused  to.  »  money.  7  host. 
•  for  your  surety.  •  steeped. 


Quharefor,  I  pray  yow,  schiiw  me  in  cer- 

tane 
Quheii  that  ye  purpose  for  to  cum  agane.' 

'  That  questioun,  it  sail  be  sone  decydit,' 
Quod  he,  '  thare  sail  ua  Scot  have  con- 
forty  ng 

Of  me  tyll  that  I  see  the  countre  gydit 
Be  wysedome  of  ane  gude  auld  prudent 

Kyng, 
Quhilk  sail  delyte  him  maist,  abone 10  all 

thyng, 

To  put  Justice  tyll  executioun,  90 

And  on  strang  traitouris  mak  punitioun. 

1  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  fell11  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  cove12  quhare  I  began  to  sleip. 

With  that,  one  schip  did  spedalye  approche, 

Full  plesandlie  saling  apone  the  deip, 

And  syne 18  did  slake  hir  salis  and  gan  to 

creip 

Towart  the  land,  anent 14  quhare  that  I  lay. 
Bot, wyt  ye  weill,  I  gat  ane  fellown  fray:15 

All  hir  cannounis  sche  leit  craik  of  at  onis: 
Down  schuke  the  stremaris  frome  the  top- 

castell; 
Thay  sparit  nocht    the    poulder  nor  the 

stonis ; lfl 
Thay  schot  thair  boltis,  and  doun  thair 

ankeris  fell; 

The  marenaris,  thay  did  so  youte  n  and 
yell,  no 

That  haistalie  I  stert  out  of  my  dreme, 
Half  in  ane  fray,18  and  spedalie  past  hame. 

And  lychtlie  dynit,  with  lyste19  and  appetyte, 
Syne  efter  past  in-tyll  ane  oratore, 

1°  above.     u  wood  and  hill.    1!  cavern.     1S  presently. 
i«  near.  "  a  wicked  fright.  i«  stone  bullets. 

»  shout.          »8  fright.         »  pleasure. 


TESTAMENT   OF   THE   KING'S    PAPINGO 


411 


And  tuke  my  pen,  and  thare  began  to  wry  te 
All    the    visioun    that    I    have   sehawin 

afore. 
Schir,  of  my  dreme  as  now  thou  gettis 

no  more, 

Bot  I  beseik  God  for  to  send  tliee  grace 
To  rewle  thy  realme  in  unitie  and  peace. 


THE  TESTAMENT  AND  COM 
PLAINT  OF  OUR  SOVEREIGN 
LORD'S  PAPINGO 

(11.626-1190) 

ADEW,  Edinburgh!  thou  heych  tryumph- 

aut  toun, 
Within   qnhose  boundis  rycht  blythfull 

have  I  bene, 
Of  trew  merchandis  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,1  thay  mycht  be  found 
in  thee. 

Adew,  fair  Snawdoun! 2   with  thy  totiris  hie, 
Thy  Chapell    Royall,   park,   and  tabyll 

rounde  ! 8 

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!4  quhose  Palyce  of  ples- 

ance 

Mycht  be  one  patrone  6  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  lustye  lyfe, 
The  fallow  deir,  to  see  thame  raik  on 

raw.6 
Court  men  to  cum  to  thee,  thay  stand 

gret  awe, 

Sayand   thy   burgh   bene   of  all  burrowis 
baill,7  20 

Because  in  thee  thay  never  gat  gude  aill. 

i  lost.  a  An  old  name  of  Stirling. 

»  An  ancient  earthwork.         *  Linlithgow. 
•  pattern.        «  range  in  row.        »  the  worst. 


THE   COMMONYNG   BETUIX   THE  PAPYNGO 
AND    HIR   HOLYE   EXECUTOURIS  8 

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,10  and  yow  confes  com- 
pleit. 

I  have  power,  be  your  contritioun, 

Of  all  your  mys  u  to  geve  yow  full  remis- 
sioun. 

*  I  am,'  said  he,  '  one  Channoun  regulare, 

And  of  my  brother  Pryour  principall:    30 
My  quhyte  rocket  my  clene  lyfe  doith  de 
clare; 
The  blak   bene12  of  the   deith  memo- 

riall: 

Quharefor  I  thynk  your  gudis  naturall 
Sulde  be  submyttit  hole  into  my  care; 
Ye  know  I  am  aue  holye  creature.' 

The  Ravin  come  rolpand,13  quhen  he  hard 

the  rair;14 
So  did  the  Gled,16  with  mony  pieteous 

pew;* 

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  beych  promotioun,        41 
Religious  men,  of  gret  devotioun.' 

I 1  am  ane  blak  Monk/  said  the  rutlande n 

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  cleir; 
The  blak  Bybill18  pronunce  I  sail  per- 

queir,19 

So  tyll  our  brether  ye  will  geve  sum  gude; 

God    wat  geve20    we  hes    neid  of  lyves 

fude! '  49 

The  Papyngo  said,  « Father,  be  the  Rude, 
Howbeit  your  rayment  be  religious  lyke, 

»  executors.  9  weep.  10  Dispose  of  your  goods. 
11  sins.  !2  are.  13  croaking.  i«  rumpus.  »  Kite. 
i«  thin  cry.  «  croaking.  «  The  prayer  for  the  dead. 
19  by  heart,  par  coeur.  *•  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  ane 

dyke.' 
'  I  grant/  said  he.  '  That  hen  was  my  gude 

freind, 
And  I  that  chekin  tuke  bot  for  my  teind.2 

*  Ye  knaw  the  faith  be  us  mon  be  susteind: 
So  be  the  Pope  it  is  preordinate 

That  spiritual!  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, 
Schaw  f urth  your  syn  in  haist,  quhil  ye  haif 

space; 

Syne  of  your  geir  mak  one  memorial!. 

We  thre  sal  mak  your  feistis  funerall, 

And  with  gret  blys  bury  we  sail  your  bonis, 

Syne  trentalls  twenty  trattyll8  all  at  onis.  70 

'The   roukis   sail   rair,  that   men   sail  on 

thame  rew, 

And  crye  Commemoratio  Animarum. 
We  sail  gar  chekiiis  cheip,  and  geaslyngis 

pew,4 
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,5 
Cryand  for  yow  the  cairfull  corrynogh.6 

'  And  we  sail  syng  about  your  sepulture 
Sanct  Mongois 7  matynis  and  the  mekle 

creid, 

And  syne  devotely  saye,  I  yow  assure,  80 
The  auld  Placebo  bakwart,  and  the  beid; 8 
And  we  sail  weir  for  yow  the  murnyng 

weid 
And,  thocht  your  spreit   with  Pluto  war 

profest, 
Devotelie  sail  your  diregie  8  be  addrest.' 

i  steal.  *  tithe. 

»  rattle  off  twenty  services  of  thirty  masses  each. 
«  make  chickens  chirp  and  goslings  squeak. 
*  as  surety.       •  coronach,  lament.       7  Mungo's  (i.e., 
Keiitigern'a).        8  prayer.        '  funeral  service. 


'  Father,'  said  seho,  *  your  facunde  10  wordis 

fair, 
Full  sore   I   dreid   be   contrar  to  your 

dedis. 

The  wyffis  of  the  village  cryis  with  cair 
Quhen  thai  persave  your  mowe11  ouir- 

thort  thar  medis ; 
Your  fals  consult  boith  duke  and  draik  u 

sore  dreidis, 

I  marvell,  suithlie,13  ye  be  nocht  eschamit 
For  your  defaltis,  beyug  so  defamit.          91 

1  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  Senye 14  and  the  Ses- 

sioun. 

To  put  my  geir  in  your  possession n, 
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,  ioo 

My  obsequeis  and  feistis  funerall 

Ordour  thay  wald,  with  notis  of  the  new. 
The  plesand  Pown,15  most  angellyke  of 

hew, 

Wald  God  I  wer  this  daye  with  hym  confest, 
And  my  devyse16  dewlie  be  hym  addrest ! 

« The  myrthfull  Maveis,  with  the  gay  Golds- 
pink, 
The  lustye  Larke,  wald  God  thay  war 

present ! 

My  infortune,  f orsuith,  thay  wald  forthink,17 

And  comforte  me  that  bene  so  impotent. 

The  swyft  Swallow,  in  prattick 18  inoste 

prudent,  no 

I  wate  scho  wald  my  bledyng  stem  bely ve 19 

With   hir   moste  verteous   stone  restring- 

ityve.'20 

'  Compt 21  me  the  cace,  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. 

10  eloquent.         «  ugly  mug.         u  duck  and  drake. 

11  forsooth.         14  Consistory  court.          "  peacock. 
18  testament.       »  regret.        18  practice,  e.g.,  house 

building.          »»  forthwith.          *>  styptic.          "  give 
account  of. 


TESTAMENT   OF   THE   KING'S   PAPINGO 


'  Be  thy  travell  thou  hes  experience,         120 

First,  beand  bred  in-to  the  Orient, 
Syne  be  thy  gude  servyce  and  delygence 
To  preneis  inaid  heir  in  the  Occident. 
Thow  knawis  the  vulgare  pepyllis  juge- 

ment 
Quhare  thou  transcurrit1  the  hote  Meridion- 

all, 

Syne  nyxt  the  Poill  the  plaige  2  Septentri- 
onall. 

'  So,  be  thyne  heych  ingyne  8  superlatyve, 
Of  all  countreis  thou  knawis  the  quali- 


Quharefore,  I  thee  conjure,  be  God  of  lyve, 

The  veritie  declare,  withouttin  leis,4     130 

Quliiit  thou  hes  hard,  lie  landis  or  be  seis, 

Of  us  kirkmen,  boith  gude  and  evyll  re- 

porte; 

And  quhow  thay  juge,  schaw  us,  we  thee 
exhorte.' 

1  Father,'  said  scho,  '  I,  catyve  creature, 
Dar  nocht  presume  with   sic  mater  to 

mell.6 

Of  your  caces,  ye  knaw,  I  have  no  cure; 
Demand  thame  quhilk  in  prudence  doith 

precell.6 
I  maye  nocht  pew,7  my  panes  bene  so 

fell: 
And  als,  perchance,  ye  wyll  nocht  stand 

content 
To  kiiaw  the  vulgare  pepyllis  jugement.  140 

«Yit,  wyll  the  deith  alyte  8  withdrawe  his 

darte, 
All  that  lyis  in  my  memory  all 

I  sail  declare  with  trew  unfenyeit  hart. 
And  first  I  saye  to  you  in  generall 
The  comnioun  peple  sayith  ye  bene  all 

Degenerit  frome  your  holy  pirmityvis,9 

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. 


*  region.       *  intelligence.       «  lies. 
6  meddle.       •  excel.         1  apeak.  8  a  little. 

9  primitives,  the  fathers  of  the  church. 


1  To  f ortyfie  the  faith  thay  tuke  no  feir 

Afore  prencis,  prechiug  full  prudentlie; 
Of  dolorous  deith  thay  doutit   nocht   the 

deb,™ 

The  veritie  declaryng  ferventlie; 
And  martyrdome  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  myrncklis  thay  wer  so  manifest. 
In  name  of  Christe  thay  hailit  mouy  houn- 

der," 
Rasyng  the  dede,  and  purgeing  the  pos- 

sest, 
With  perverst  spreitis  quhilkis  had  bene 

opprest. 
The  crukit  ran,  the  blynd  men  gat  thair 

ene, 

The  deiff  men  hard,  the  lypper 12  war  maid 
clene. 

'  The  prelatis  spousit  wer  with  Povertie, 
Those   dayis,  quhen   so   thay  flurisit   in 
fame,  i70 

And  with  hir  generit 18  lady  Chaistitie 
And  dame  Devotioun,  notabyll  of  name. 
Humyll  thay  wer,  simpyll,  and  full  of 

schame. 

Thus  Chaistitie  and  dame  Devotioun 
Wer  principall  cause  of  thair  promotioun. 

'Thus  thay  contynewit  in  this  lyfe  devyne 
Aye  tyll  thare   rang,14  in   Koines    gret 

cietie, 

Ane  potent  prince  was  nainit  Constantyne, 
Persavit  the  Kirk  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, 
Withouttin  ony  dispensatioun, 

The  Kirk  he  spowsit  with  dame  Propirtie, 
Quhilk  haistelye,  be  proclamatioun, 
To  Povertie  gart 15  mak  riarratioun, 

Under  the  pane  of  peirsyng  of  hir  cine,16 

That  with  the  Kirk  scho  sulde  no  more  be 
seine. 

1°  injury.     »  healed  many  hundreds.        lz  lepers. 
i*  begat.  14  reigned.  is  ne  caused. 

16  Upon  pain  of  putting  out  her  eyes. 


414 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


'Sanct  Sylvester  that  tyme  rang  Pope  in 
Rome,  190 

Qnhilk  first  consentit  to  the  mariage 
Of  Propirtie,1  the  quhilk  began  to  blome, 
Taking  on  hir  the  cure  with  heych  cor- 

rage. 

Devotioun  drew  hir  tyll  one  heremytage 
Quhen  scho  considerit  lady  .Propirtie 
So  heych  exaltit  in-to  dignitie. 

'  O  Sylvester,  quhare  was  thy  discretioun  ? 
Quhilk  Peter  did  renounce,  thow  did  re- 


Androw  and  Jhone  did  leif  thair  posses- 

sioun, 

Thair  schippis,  and  nettis,  lynes,  and  all 

the  lave;2  200 

Of  tempcrall    substance   no-thing  wald 

thay  have 

Contrarious  to  thair  contemplatioun, 
Bot  soberlye  thair  susteutatiouu. 

1  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  ryehes.'          aio 

The  Gled  said,  'Yit  I  heir  no-thyng  bot 

gude. 

Proceid  schortlye,  and  thy  mater  avanoe.' 
The  Papyngo  said,  *  Father,  be  the  Rude, 
It  wer  too  lang  to  schaw  the  circum 
stance, 

Quhow  Propertie,  with  hir  new  alyance, 
Grew  gret  with  chylde,  as  trew  men  to  me 

talde, 
And  bure  two  dochteris  gudelie  to  behalde. 

*  The  eldest  dochter  named  was  Ryches, 

The  secunde  syster,  Sensualytie; 
Quhilks  did  incres,  within  one  schorte  pro- 
ces,  220 

Preplesande  8  to  the  Spiritualytie. 
In  gret  substance  and  excellent  bewtio 
Thir  Ladyis  two  grew  so,  within  few  yeiris, 
That  in  the  warlde  wer  non  mycht  be  thair 
peiris. 

i  Under  Silvester  (4th  century)  the  Church  first  ac 
quired  much  property. 
«  reat.  »  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  luffaris,  thair  ladyis  for  to  pleis.  230 
God  wate  geve 4  than  thair  hartis  war  at  eis. 

'Soune  thay  foryet  to  study,  praye,  and 

preche, 

Thay  grew  so  subject  to  dame  Sensuall, 
And  thocht  bot  paine  pure   pepyll  for  to 

teche; 

Yit  thay  decretit,  in  thair  gret  Connsall, 
Thay  wald  no  more  to  manage  he  thrall, 
Traistyng  surely  tyll  observe  Chaistitie, 
And  all  begylit,  quod  6  Sensualytie. 

'  Apperandlye  thay  did  expell  thair  wyffis 
That  thay  mycht  leif  at  large,  without 
thirlage,6  240 

At  libertie  to  lede  thair  lustie  lyffis, 

Thynkand  men  thrall  that  bene  in  raari- 

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 

scharae, 
Frome  tyme  scho  did  persave  thair  pro- 

viance.7 

Dame  Sensuall  one  letter  gart  proclame, 
And  hir  exilit  Italy  and  France. 
In  In^lande  couthe  scho  get  none  ordi 
nance.8  250 
Than  to  the  kyng  and  courte  of  Scotlande 
Scho  markit  hir,9  withouttin  more  demande. 

'  Traistyng  in-to  that  court  to  get  conf  orte, 
Scho  maid  hir  humyll  supplycatioun. 

Schortlye  thay  said  scho  sulde  get  na  sup- 

porte, 

Bot  bostit  hir,10  with  blasphematioun, 
"  To  preistis  go  mak  your  protestatioun. 

It  is,"  said  thay,  "  mony  one  houndreth  yeir 

Sen  Chaistitie  had  ony  entres  n  heir." 

'  Tyrit  for  travell,  scho  to  the  preistis  past, 
And  to  the  rewlaris  of  religioun.          261 

4  knows  if.  B  quoth,  said.  •  bondage. 

7  purveyance,  conduct.  »  settlement. 

•  She  marched.      "  ordered  her.      "  entry. 


TESTAMENT  OF  THE  KING'S   PAPINGO 


Of  hir  presens  schortlye  thay  war  agast, 

Sayaud  thay  thocht  it  bot  abusiouu 

Hir  to  resave:  so,  with  conclusion, 

With  one  avyce  decretit  and  gave  dome, 

Thay  walde  resset x  no  rebell  out  of  Rome. 

« "  Sulde  we  resave  that  Romania  hes  re- 

fusit, 

And  baneist  Inglande,  Italye,  and  France, 
For  your  flattrye,  than  wer  we  weill  abusit. 
Passe  hyue,"  2  said  thay,  "  and  fast  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  syching- 

full  sore. 

Thay  gaif  hir  presens,  with  processioun, 
Ressavand   hir   with   honour,  laud,  and 

glore, 

Purposyng  to  preserve  hir  ever  more. 
Of  that  novellis  8  come  to  dame  Propertie, 
To  Ryches,  and  to  Sensualytie;  280 

'Quhilkis  sped  thame  at  the   post  rycht 

spedalye, 
And  sett  ane  seage  proudlye  about  the 

place. 

The  sillye  nonnis  did  yeild  thame  haistelye, 
And  humyllye  of  that  gylt  askit  grace, 
Syne   gave   thair   bandis   of    perpetuall 

peace. 
Ressavand  thame,  thay  kest  up  wykkets 4 

wyde: 
Than  Chaistytie  walde  no  langer  abyde. 

'  So  for  refuge,  fast  to  the  freris  scho  fled; 
Quhilks  said  thay  wald  of  ladyis  tak  no 

cure.' 

'Quhare   bene  scho  now?'  than  said  the 

gredy  Gled.  29o 

'  Nocht  amang  yow,'  said  scho,  *  I  yow 

assure. 

I  traist  scho  bene  upon  the  Borrow-mure 
Besouth  6  Edinburgh,  and  that  rycht  mony 

menis,6 
Profest  amang  the  Systeris  of  the  Schenis.7 

'  Thare  hes  scho  found  hir  mother   Pov- 
ertie, 

i  receive.  »  hence.  *  news. 

4  doors.  «  South  of.  6  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,  aud 

Charitie, 

Togidder  with  the  Vertues  Cardinall. 
Thare  hes  scho  found  ane  convent  yit  un- 

thrall 

To  dame  Sensuall,  nor  with  riches  abusit; 
So  quietlye  those  ladyis  bene  iiiclusit.'     301 

The  Pyote  said,  <I  dreid,  be  thay  assail- 

yeit, 

Thay  rander  thame,  as  did  the  holy  non 
nis.' 
*  Doute  nocht,'  said  scho,  '  for  thay  bene  so 

artalyeit,8 
Thay  purpose  to  defend  thame  with  thair 

gunnis. 
Reddy  to  schute  thay  have  sax  gret  can- 

nounnis. 

Perseverance,  Constancye,  and  Conscience, 
Austerytie,  Laubour,  and  Abstynance. 

'  To  resyste  subtell  Sensualytie 

Strongly   thay  bene    enarmit,   feit  and 

hand  is,  3IO 

Be  Abstynence,  and  keipith  Povertie, 

Contrar  Ryches  and  all  hir  fals  servandis. 

Thay  have  ane  boumbard  braissit  up  in 

bandis  9 

To  keip  thair  porte,  in  myddis  of  thair  clois, 
Quhilk  is  callit,  'Domine  cuslodi  nos  • 

'Within  quhose  schote  thare  dar  no  ene- 

meis 
Approche  thair  place,  for  dreid  of  dyntis 

doure.10 
Boith  nycht  and  daye  thay  wyrk,  lyke  be- 

sye  beis, 
For  thair  defence  reddye  to  stande  in 

stoure,11 

And  hes  sic  watcheis  on  thair  utter  toure 

That   dame    Sensuall  with  seage  dar  not 

assailye,  32I 

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, 

8  provided  with  artillery.          •  a  hooped  mortar. 
»o  hard  blows.       "  shock  of  battle.       »  artillery. 


416 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


Quhilkis  plesandlye,  withouttiu  obstakle, 
Haith  thame  resavit  in  their  babitakle?  l 

*  Quhow  long,  traist  ye,  those  ladyis  sail 
remaue  33o 

So  solytar,  in  sic  perfectioun?  ' 

The  Papingo  said,  *  Brother,  in  certaue, 
So  lang  as  thay  obey  correctioun, 
Cheisyng  thair  heddis  be  electioun, 

Un  thrall  to  Ryches  or  to  Povertie,2 

hot  as  requyrith  thair  necessitie. 

'O    prudent    prelatis,   quhare   was    your 

presciance, 
That  tuke  on  hand  tyll  observe  Chaisti- 

tie, 

But  8  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,'  4  the  Ravin  said,  '  be 

the  Rude, 

So  to  reprove  Ryches  or  Propertie. 
Abraham,  and  Ysaac  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  reasoue  is  nocht  worth 

ane  myte, 
As  I  sail  prove,  with  protestatioun 

That  no  man  tak  my  wordis  in  dispyte. 
I  save,  the   temporall   prencis   lies   the 

wyte,6 

That  in  the  Kirk  sic  pas  tours  dois  provyde 
To  governe  saulis,  that  not  tham-selfis  can 


'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  chosin  be  electioun, 

As  Gregore,  Jerome,  Ambrose,  and  Augus- 

tyne, 

Benedict,    Bernard,   Clement,    Cleit,   and 
Lyne.6 

i  habitation.  *  Qy.  Propertie  (?) 

»  Without.        «  recklessly.        »  blame. 
•  The  first  two  popes  after  8.  Peter. 


'  Sic  pacient  prelatis  enterit  be  the  porte, 
Plesand  the  peple  be  predicatioun. 

Now  dyke-lowparis 7  dois  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 8  wolfis  to 
keip.  37I 

*  No  marvell  is  thocht  we  religious  men 

Degeiierit  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  treukouris9  bene 

intrusit. 

Lawit10  men  hes  now  religious  men  in  can's; 
Profest  virgenis  in  keipyng  of  strong  huris.11 

'Prencis,  prencis,  quhar  bene  your  heych 

prudence 

In  dispositioun  of  your  beneficeis?        380 
The  guerdonyng  of  your  courticience  u 
Is  sum  cause  of  thir  gret  enormyteis. 
Thare  is  one  sorte  wattand 18  lyke  houn- 

gre  fleis,14 
For  spirituall  cure,  thocht  thay  be  no-thing 

abyll, 
Quhose  gredie  thristis 15  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 16  can  get  no  re- 

warde? 

Allace!   that  ever  one  braggar  or  ane 
barde,  39o 

Ane  hure-maister,  or  commoun  hasarture,17 
Sulde  in  the  Kirk  get  ony  kynde  of  cure! 

'War  I  one  man  worthy  to  weir  ane  croun, 
Aye  quhen  thare  vakit 18  ony  beneficeis, 

I  suld  gar  call  ane  congregatioun, 
The  principall  of  all  the  prelaceis, 
Moste  cunnyng  clerkis  of  universiteis, 

Moste  famous  fatheris  of  religioun, 

With  thair  advyse  mak  dispositioun. 

*  I  suld  dispone  all  offices  pastorallis         400 

Tyll  doctouris  of  devynitie,  or  jure;19 

i  leapers  over  the  wall.        8  greedy.        9  tricksters, 
in  Lewd,  unlearned.  J1  whores.  12  courtiers. 

i*  waiting.     «  fleas.     "  thirsts.     16  skill,  knowledge. 
"  gambler.        »s  fell  vacant.        »  law. 


TESTAMENT   OF   THE   KING'S   PAPINGO 


And   cause  dame  Vertew  pull  up  all   hir 

saillis, 
Quhen   cunnyng   men  had  in  the   Kirk 

moist  cure; 

Gar  lordis  send  thair  sonnes,  I  yow  as 
sure, 

To   seik   science,  arid   famous   sculis   fre 
quent; 

Syne  thame  promove  that  wer  moste  sapi 
ent. 

'  Gret   plesour  wer  to  heir  ane   byschope 

preche, 

One  deaue,  or  doctour  in  divinitie, 
One  abbote  quhilk  could  weill  his  convent 

teche, 

One  persoun1  flowing  in  phylosophie.  410 
I  tyne2  my  tyine  to  wys8  quhilk  wyll 

nocht  be. 
War  nocht 4  the  preaching  of  the  Begging 

Freris, 
Tynt  war  the  faith  amang  the  seculeris.* 

1  As    for   thair   precheing,'   quod   the   Pa- 

pingo, 
'  I  thame  excuse,  for  quhv,  thay  bene  so 

thrall 

To  Propertie,  and  hir  ding6  dochteris  two, 
Dame  Ryches,  and  fair  lady  Sensuall, 
That  may  nocht  use  no  pastyme  spirit- 

uall; 

And  in  thair  habitis  thay  tak  sic  delyte 
Thay   have   renuncit    russat   and   raploch 


quhyte,6 


420 


*Cleikand7  to  thame  skarlote  and  cram- 

mosie,8 
With  menever,martrik,  grice,  and  ryche 

armyne  9 
Thair  lawe  bartis  exaultit  ar  so  hie, 

To   see   thair   papale    pompe   it  is  ane 


More  ryche  array  e  is  now,  with  f  renyeis  u 

fyne, 
Upon  the  bardyng12  of  ane  byscheopis 

mule, 
Nor  ever  had  Paule  or  Peter  agane  Yule. 

'  Syne  fair  lady  is  thair  chene  may  not  es- 

chape, 

Dame  Sensuall  sic  seid   haith   in   tham 
sawin, 

1  parson.  2  lose.          *  wish-          4  If  it  had  not 

been  for.          5  digue,  worthy.          •  homespun  white. 
7  Taking.          8  crimson.  •  miniver,  marten,  prey, 

and  rich  ermine.     "  pain.     "  fringes.     "  caparison. 


Les  skaith  13  it  war,  with  lycence  of  the 

Pape,  430 

That  ilke  prelate  one  wyfe  had  of  his 

avvin, 
Nor  se  thair  bastardis  ouirthort  the  coun- 

tre  blawm; 14 
For  now,  be  thay  be  weill  cumin  frome  the 

sculis, 
Thay  fall  to  work  as  thay  war  cumin oun 

bullis.' 

'  Pew  !' 16  quod  the  Gled,  'tbow  prechis  all 

in  vaine: 
Ye   seculare  floks   hes   of   our  cace  no 

curis.' 16 
'I  grant,'  said  scho;  'yit  men  wyll  speik 

agane, 
Quhow  ye  haif  maid  a  hundreth  thousand 

huris 
Quhilkis   nevir  had   bene  war  not  your 

lychorous  luris. 

And  geve  I  lee,17  bartlye  I  me  repent;    440 
Was  never  bird,  I  watt,  more  penitent.' 

Than  scho  hir  shrave,18  with  devote  contyn- 

ance, 
To  that  fals  Gled  quhilk  fenyeit  hym  one 

freir; 

And  quhen  scho  had  fulfyllit  hir  pennance, 
Full  subtellye  at  hir  lie  gan  inqueir: 
'  Cheis   yow,'   said    he,    4  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, 
1  That  ye  frier  Gled,  and  Corby  Monk, 
your  brother,  450 

Have  cure  of  all  my  guddis,  and  no  mo, 
Sen  at  this  tyme  freindschip  I  fynd  non 

uther.' 
'We   salbe   to  yow  trew,    as   tyll   our 

mother,' 

Quod  thay,  and  sweir  tyll  f ulfyll  hir  intent. 
'  Of  that,'    said   scho,    *  I  tak  ane  instru 
ment.' 

The  Pyote  said,    '  Qubat  sail  myne  office 

bee?' 

1  Ouirman,' 19  said  scho,  *  unto  the  tother 
two.' 

"  harm.     14  blown  all  over  the  country.      1B  Pshaw . 
i«  Our  condition  is  no  affair  of  you  secular  flocks  (or, 
more  probably,  folks). 
"ill  lie.        i»  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  noeht 
so;  46o 

We  wyll  remane,  and  haldin  up  hir  hede, 
Aud  never  depart   from   hir   till  scho   be 
dede.' 

The  Papingo  tharae  thankit  tenderlye, 
And  said,  '  Sen  ye  have  tane  on  yow  this 

cure, 

Depart  myne  naturall  gnddis  equalye, 
That  ever  I  had  or  hes  of  dame  Nature, 
First,  to  the  Howlet,1  indigent  and  pure, 
Quhilk  on  the  daye,  for  schame,  dar  nocht 

be  sene; 
Tyll  hir  I  laif  my  gaye  galbarte  2  of  grene. 

'  My  brycht  depurit  ene,8  as  christall  cleir, 
Unto  the  Bak4ye  sail  thame  boith  pre 
sent;  47i 
In  Phebus  presens  quhilk  dar  nocht  appeir, 
Of  naturall  sycht  scho  bene  so  impotent. 
My  birneist 5  beik  I  laif,  with  gude  en- 
tent, 

Unto  the  gentyll,  pieteous  Pellicane, 
To  helpe  to  peirs  hir  tender  hart  in  twane. 

'  I  laif  the  Goik,6  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  rhetoricall.     480 
And  tak  and  drye  my  bonis,  gret  and 

small, 
Syne  close   thame  in  one  cais  of  ebure7 

fyne, 
And  thame  present  onto  the  Phenix  syne, 

'To   birne   with  hir  quhen  scho   hir   lyfe 

renewis. 

In  Arabye  ye  sail  hir  fynde  but  weir,8 
And  sail  knaw  hir  be  hir  moste  hevinly 

hewis, 
Gold,  asure,  gowles,9  purpour,  and  syno- 

peir.10 
Hir  dait ll  is  for  to  leif  fyve  houndreth 

yeir. 

Mak  to  that  bird  my  commendatioun. 
And  als,  I  mak  yow  supplycatioun,  490 

i  owl.  «  mantle.  *  eyeB.  *  bat.  «  burnished. 
•  cuckoo.  7  ivory.  »  without  doubt.  •  red. 
"  green.  "  date,  term  of  life. 


'  Sen  of  my  corps  I   have   yow  gevin  the 

cure, 
Ye  speid  yow  to  the  court,  but  tareyng, 

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  reporte. 

'Ye  thre   my   trypes  sail   have,  for  your 

travel!,12 
With  luffer  and  lowng,18  to  part  equale 

amang  yow; 

Prayand  Pluto,  the  potent  prince  of  hell, 
Geve  ye  failye,  that  in  his  feit  he  fang 14 
yow.  5or 

Be  to  me  trew,  thocht  I  no-thyng  belaug 

yow. 

Sore  I  suspect  your  conscience  be  too  large.' 
'  Doute  nocht,'  said  they,  '  we  tak  it  with 
the  charge.' 

'Adew,  brother  !'  quod  the  pure  Papingo; 
'  To  talking  more  I  have  no  time  totarye; 

Bot,  sen  my  spreit  mon  fra  my  body  go, 
I  recommend  it  to  the  Quene  of  Farye, 
Eternallye  in-tyll  hir  court  to  carye, 

In  wyldernes  among  the  holtis  hore.' 16    510 

Than  scho  inclynit  hir  hed,  and   spak  no 


Plungit  in-tyll  hir  mortall  passioun, 

Full    grevouslie    scho    gryppit    to    the 

ground. 
It  war  too  lang  to  mak  narratioun 

Of   sychis   sore,   with  mony   stang  and 

stound.16 

Out  of  hir  wound  the  blnde  did  so  abound, 
One  compas  round  was  with  hir  blude  maid 

reid: 

Without  remeid,17  thare  wes  no-thyng  bot 
dede.18 

And  be  19  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- 
itvve.20  522 

The  Ravin  began  rudely  to  rug  and  ryve, 
Full  gormondlyke,21  his  emptie  throte  to 

feid. 
«  Eit  softlye,  brother,'  said  the  gredy  Gled: 


travail,  work 


*  liver  and  lung.  l4  seize. 


"  death. 


roo'ded  hills.      i«  sting  and  pang.      "  remedy. 
»»  by  the  time  that.    20  keen.    «  gluttonlike. 


KITTY'S   CONFESSION 


419 


*  Quhill  scho  is  hote,  depart  hir  evin  amang 

us. 
Tak  thow  one  half,  and  reik 1  to  me  ane- 

uther. 
In-tyll  our  rycht,  I  wat,  no  wycht  dar  wrang 

us.' 
The  Pyote  said,  'The  feind  resave  the 

fouther! 2 
Quhy  mak  ye  me  Stephanie,  and  I  your 

brother  ?  530 

Ye  do  me  wrang,  schir  Gled,  I  schrew  8  your 

harte.' 

*  Tak  thare,'  said  he,  '  the  puddyngis  4  for 

thy  parte.' 

Than,  wyt  ye  weill,  my  hart  wes  wounder 

sair 

For  to  behalde  that  dolent  departyng,8 
Hir  angell  fedderis  fleying  in  the  air. 
Except  the  hart,  was  left  of  hir  no-thing. 
The  Pyote  said,  'This  pertenith  to  the 

Kyng, 

Quhilk  tyll  his  Grace  I  purpose  to  pre 
sent.' 

'Thow,'  quod  the  Gled,  'sail  faill  of  thyne 
en  tent.' 

The  Revin  said,  '  God !  nor  I  rax  in  ane 

raipe,  54o 

And  6  thow  get  this  tyll  outher  kyng  or 

duke ! ' 
The  Pyote  said,    'Plene  I  nocht7  to  the 

Pape 
Than  in  ane  smedie8  I  be  smorit9  with 

smuke.' 
With  that  the  Gled  the  pece  claucht  in 

his  duke,10 
And  fled  his  way:  the  lave,  with  all  thair 

mycht, 
To  chace  the  Gled,  flew  all  out  of  my  sycht. 

Now  have  ye  hard  this  lytill  tragedie, 
The  sore  complent,  the  testament,  and 

myschance 
Of  this  pure  bird  quhilk  did  ascend  so 

hie. 

Beseikand  yow  excuse  myne  ignorance 
And  rude  indyte,11  quhilk  is  uocht  tyll 
avance.  55  r 

And  to  the  quair,12  I  geve  commandiment, 
Mak  no  repair  quhair  poetis  bene  present. 

1  reaoh.         *  the  lot.          8  beshrew.          «  entrails, 
s  doleful  dividing.  «  May  I  stretch  on  a  rope,  i.e., 

hansr,  if,  etc.  7  If  I  do  not  complain.        »  smithy. 

9  smothered.          w  clutched  in  his  claw.          "  style. 
«  quire,  book. 


Because  thow  bene 

But  Rethorike,  so  rude, 
Be  never  sene 

Besyde  none  other  buke, 
With  Kyng,  nor  Queue, 

With  lord,  nor  man  of  gude. 
With  coit 18  unclene,  560 

Clame  kynrent14  to  sum  cuke; 
Steil  in  ane  nuke16 

Quhen  thay  lyste  on  thee  luke. 
For  smell  of  smuke 

Men  wyll  abhor  to  beir  thee. 
Heir  I  manesweir16  thee; 

Quhairfor,  to  lurke  go  leir  l7  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,18 
The  Curate  Kittie  wald  have  kist; 
Bot  yit  ane  countenance  he  bure 
Degeist,19  devote,  daine,20  and  demure; 
And  syne  began  hir  to  exempne.21 
He  wes  best  at  the  efter  game. 
Quod  he,  '  Have  ye  na  wrangous  geir  ? ' M 
Quod  scho,  '  I  staw23  ane  pek  of  beir.'24  to 
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.     *> 
Quod  he,  '  Hard  ye  na  Inglis  bukis  ?  ' n 
Quod  scho,  '  My  maister  on  thame  lukis.' 
Quod  he,  '  The  bischop  that  sail  knaw, 
For  I  am  sworne  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.' 

»  coat.         i*  kindred.         »  nook.         "  forswear. 

17  learn.  '«  as  best  she  knew.  >•  Grave.  *>  modest. 
«  examine.  «  illicit  possessions.  *3  stole.  *<  barley. 
»  ask.  "  toyed  with.  «  Reformation  writings, 
especially  the  Bible,  printed  in  England. 


420 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


Quod  scho,  '  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  speirit1  mony  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,2 

Thocht  8  he  na  pryce  with  me  wald  mak; 

And  mekil  Latyne  he  did  muinmill, 

I  hard  na-thing  hot  hummill  bummill. 

He  schew  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  schew  me  nocht  the  maledictioun 

Of  God  for  syn,  nor  the  affiictioun 

And  in  this  lyfe  the  greit  mischeif 

Ordanit  to  punische  hure  and  theif ; 

Nor  schew  he  me  of  hellis  pane, 

That  I  mycht  feir,  and  vice  reframe; 

He  counsalit  me  nocht  till  abstene, 

And  leid  ane  holy  lyfe,  and  dene. 

Of  Christis  blude  na-thing  he  knew, 

Nor  of  His  premisses  full  trew,  60 

That  saiiis  all  that  wyll  beleve, 

That  Sathan  sail  us  never  greve. 

He  teichit  me  nocht  for  till  traist 

The  confort  of  the  Haly  Ghaist. 

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  A  ve  Marie  for  to  say, 

And  Fridayis  fyve  na  fische  to  eit, 

(Bot  butter  and  eggis  ar  better  meit), 

And  with  ane  plak  to  buy  aue  messe 

Fra  drounkin  Scbir  Jhone  Latynelesse. 

Quod  he,  "  Ane  plak  I  wyll  gar  Sandie 

Give  thee  agane,  with  handle  dandio."  4 

Syne5  into  pilgrimage  to  pas  — 

The  verray  way  to  wantounes.  80 

Of  all  his  pennance  I  was  glaid, 

I  had  them  all  perqneir,6  I  said. 

To  mow  and  steill  I  ken  the  pryce, 

I  sail  it  set  on  cincq  and  syce.7 

i  asked  about.  *  the  third  of  a  penny.  »  Though. 
•  a  child's  Rii«s«:ntr  pame.  '  Then.  •  by  heart. 
T  «  ave  and  six,1  dicing  terms. 


Bot  he  my  counsale  culd  nocht  keip; 
He  maid  him  be  the  fyre  to  sleip, 
Syne  cry  it,  "  Colleris,8  beif  and  coillis,9 
Hois,  and  schone  with  dowbill  soillis, 
Caikis  and  candill,  creische  10  and  salt, 
Curnis  n  of  meill,  and  luiffi  His  12  of  malt,  90 
Wollin  and  linuing,  werp  and  woft  — 
Dame  !  keip  the  keis  of  your  woll  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  18  this  Conf  essioun, 
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  inindis  for  to  knaw, 
Quharethrow   thay  syle  14  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;  no 

And  traist  in  Christ,  as  wrytis  Paule, 
Quhilk  sched  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  uu  possible  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,16 
And  how  thow  suld  thame  richtlie  use, 
And  all  hypocrisie  refuse. 


•  Collars.      •  coals. 
fuls.        i»  without.       n 
increase  and  strengthen. 


lard.     "  Grains. 
deceive.       »  decoy. 


hand- 
"  t« 


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,1 
Wes  in  the  gude  Kirk  primityve; 
Swa  wes  coufessioun  ordanit  first,  139 

Thocht  Codrus2  kyte3  suld  cleve  and  birst. 


THE   TESTAMENT  OF  SQUIRE 
MELDRUM 

THE  holie  man  lob,  ground  of  pacience, 
In  his  greit  trubill  trewlie  did  report,  — 
Quhilk  I  persave,  now,  be  experience,  — 
That  mennis  lyfe,  in  eirth,  bene  4  wounder 

short. 

My  youth  is  gane ;  and  eild6  now  dois  resort: 
My  time  is  gane;  I  think  it  bot  ane  dreame: 
Yit  efter  deith  remane  sail  my  gude  fame. 

I  persave  shortlie  that  I  man  6  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  executouris,  — 
Lindesayis,  all  thrie,  in  surname  of  renoun: 
Of  my  Testament  thay  sail  have  hail7  the 

cure,8 

To  put  my  mind9  till  executioun. 
That  surname  failyeit10  never  to  the  Croun; 
Ka  mair  will  thay  to  me,  I  am  richt  sure, 
Quhilk  is  the  caus  that  I  give  them  the 

cure.  21 

First,  David,  Erll  of  Craufuird,  wise  and 

wicht;11 
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  lies  maid  my  bodie  impotent, 

(Yit   in   my  hart  hie   courage   doeth   pre- 
celljtf  3o 

i  describe.  *  A  poet  ridiculed  by  Virgil  in  the 

Ecloyues.  *  belly.  4  is.  5  old  age.  9  must. 
">  wholly.  «  care.  »  intention.  "  failed.  "  brave, 
etout.  i*  dominate. 


Quhairfoir,  I  leif  to  God,  with  gude  intent, 
My  spreit,  the  quhilk  he  lies  maid  iinmor- 

tell, 

Intill  his  Court  perpetuallie  to  dwell, 
And   nevir   moir   to  steir18  furth  of  that 

steid, 
Till  Christ  discend  and  judge  baith  quick 

and  deid. 

I  yow  beseik,  my  Lordis  Executouris, 
My  geir 14  geve  till  the  nixt  of  my  kynrent.1* 
It  is  weill  kend,16  I  never  tuik  na  cures 
Of  conquessing  of  riches  nor  of  rent: 
Dispone  n  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, 
Faill  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  clenge18  my  bodie 

clene,  so 

Within  and  out;  syne,19  wesche  it  weill  with 

wyne,  — 

Bot  honestie20  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  my  hart  and  toung,  richt  craftelie: 
My  sepulture,  sune,  gar21  mak  for  my  banis, 
Into  the  Tempill  of  Mars,  triumphandlie,  60 
Of  marbill  stanis  carvit  richt  curiouslie, 
Quhairin  my  kist22  and  banis  ye  sail  clois, 
In  that  triumphand  Tempill  to  repois. 

Mars,  Venus,  and  Mercurius,  all  thre 
Gave  me  my  natural  inclinatiounis, 
Quhilk  rang28  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- 
noun.  7o 

'"  stir.  "  property.  »»  kindred.  '•  known. 
"  Dispose.  i«  cleanse.  »•  then.  »o  Without  honor. 
21  cauae.  "  coffin.  «  reigned. 


422 


SIR   DAVID   LYNDESAY 


Quho  list  to  knaw  the  actis  bellical,1 
Let  thaine  go  reid  the  legend  of  my  life; 
Thair  sail  thai  find  the  deidis  martiall, 
How  I  have  stand,  in  monie  stalwart  strife, 
Victoriouslie,  with  speir,  sheild,  sword,  and 

knife : 

Qnhairfoir,  to  Mars,  the  God  Armipotent, 
My  corps  ineloisit  ye  do  till  him  present. 

Mak  offering  of  my  toung  rhetoricall 
Till  Mercurius,  quhilk  gaif  me  eloquence, 
In  his  Tempill  to  hing  perpetuall:  80 

I  can  mak  him  na  better  recompence; 
For,  quhen  I  was  brocht  to  the  presence 
Of   Kings,  in   Scotland,   Ingland,   and   in 

France, 
My  ornate  toung  my  honour  did  avance. 

To  f  resche  Venus  my  hart  ye  sail  present, 
Quhilk  hes  to  me  bene,  ay,  eomfortabill: 
And  in  my  face  sic  grace  scho  did  imprent, 
All  creatures  did  think  me  amiabill. 
Wemen  to  me  scho  maid  sa  favorabill, 
Wes  never  ladie  that  luikit  in  my  face,   90 
But  honestlie  I  did  obtene  hir  grace. 


And,  syne,  hing  vp,  above  my  sepulture, 
My  bricht  names,  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;2 
My  baner,  basnet,8  with  my  temperall,4 
As  bene  the  use  of  feistis  funerall. 

This  beand6  done,  I  pray  yow  tak  the  pane 
My  Epitaphe  to  writ,  upon  this  wyis,        100 
Abone  my  grave,  in  goldin  letteris  fyne: 
'  The  maist  invincibill  weiriour  heir  lyia, 
During  his  time  quhilk  wan  sic  laud  and 


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  uther. 
I  pray  to  God,  and  to  the  Virgine  Marie, 
With  your  Lady  to  leif  lang  in  the  Struther. 
Maister  Patrik,  with  young  Normond,  your 
brother,  1 10 

With  my  Ladies,  your  sisteris,  al,  adew! 
My  departing,  I  wait  weill,  ye  will  rew. 
i  warlike.    »war.    » helmet.    < coat-armor,    'being. 


Bot,  maist  of  all,  the  fair  Ladies  of  France, 
Quhen  thai  heir  tell,  but  dout,  that  I  am 

deid, 

Extreme  dolour  wil  change  thair  counte 
nance, 
And,  for  my  saik,  will  weir  the  murning 

weid. 

Qnhent  hir  novellis6  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  lemant7  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  thaine 

all,  ,3i 

Sterne 8  of  Stratherne,  my  Lndie  Soverane, 
For  quhom  I  sched  my  blud  with  nn  kill 

pane! 

Yit,  wald  my  Ladie  luke,at  evin  and  morrow, 
On  niy  Legend  at  lenth,  scho  wald  not  mis 
How,  for  hir  saik,  I  sufferit  mekill  sorrow. 
Yit,  give9  I  micht,  at  this  time,  get  my  wis,10 
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! 

Brether  in  Armes,  adew,  in  generall! 

For  me,  I  wait,11  your  hartis  bene  full  soir. 

All  trew  company eounis,  into  speciall, 

I  say  to  yow,  adew,  for  evermoir, 

Till  that  we  meit  agane  with  God  in  Gloirl 

Sir  Curat,  now  gif  me,  incontinent, 

My  crysme,12  with  the  holie  Sacrament. 

My  Spreit  hartlie  I  recommend 

In  maims  tnas,  Domine. 

My  hoip  to  the  is  till  ascend,  150 

Rex,  quia  redemisti  me. 

Fra  syn  resurrexisti  me; 

Or  ellis  my  saull  had  bene  forlorne: 

With  sapience  docnisti  me; 

Blist  be  the  hour  that  thow  wes  borne! 

•  these  news.     »  flaming.     «  star.     •  if.      "  wick 
11  wot,  know.  u  extreme  unction. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 


BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES 

ROBERT   MANNING   OF   BRUNNE 

ROBERT  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  Brunnewake  in 
Kesteven,  six  miles  from  Sempringham,  in  the  extreme  south  of  the  county;  and  here  in 
1303  he  began  the  Handling  Sin,  a  free  translation  in  12,632  lines  of  William  of  Wading- 
ton's  French  Manuel  des  Pechiez.  (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 
Bruce'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  Furnivall,  London,  1889;  the  Handling  Sin,  by  Furnivall  for  the  Early 
English  Text  Soc.,  London,  1901-03.  The  present  text  is  FurnivaH's  with  a  few  changes 
in  punctuation  and  typography;  thus  the  letters  3  and  \>  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. 

i  It  ought  to  be  noted  that  the  identification  of  the  author  of  Gawain  and  the  Green  Knight  with  that  of  The 
Pearl,  etc.,  U  based  oa  internal  evidence  and  is  not  universally  accepted. 


426         BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTES 

These  four,  with  Winner  and  Waster  and  The  Parliament  of  the  Three  Ages  (edited  together 
by  Gollaucz  for  the  Roxburghe  Club,  1897)  and  the  Thornton  Morte  Arthure  (edited  by 
Perry  and  Brock  for  the  E.  £.  T.  8.,  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;  higbly  edu 
cated,  and  conversant  with  the  best  society  of  his  time.  Guesses  about  his  personality  may 
be  found  in  Gollancz  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  opinions,  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  medieval  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  Gollancz  (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  Miss  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.  Recent  articles  are  those  of  Knott  in  Modern  Language  Notes,  xxx  (1915), 
p.  102,  and  Hulbert  in  Modern  Philology,  xin  (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 

UPOX  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  has  been  made  out  for  him.  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  f our  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  significant  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  Plowman  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,  n,  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. 

JOHN   GOWER 

JOHN  GOWER,  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,  South wark.  He 
was  a  well-to-do  member  of  an  extensive  Kentish  family,  and  possibly  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  VOmme  (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  his  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  though  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.  Macaulay,  4  vols.,  Oxford,  1901,  from  which  our 
extracts  are  taken.  The  capitalization  has  been  modernized. 

GEOFFREY  CHAUCER 

GEOFFREY  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,  a  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- 
ine  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 
$3800  or  $5200  of  our  money;  and  similar  grants  were  continued  to  the  poet  after  Phil- 
ippa's  death  by  Edward  Hi'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,  and  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  Filostrato;  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  Globe  Chaucer  by  Pollard 
and  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  R.  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. 

THE   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 
bad  long  been  interested,  and  traces  of  Boccaccio's  poem  crop  up  in  Anelida  and  Arcite,  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  eat  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.  I.,  as  The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawaine,  and  in  Sir  Frederick  Madden's 
Sir  Gawayne  as  the  Weddynge  of  Syr  Gawen  and  Dame  Ragnd.  For  the  oldest  types  of  it 
see  G.  H.' Maynadier's  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  London,  1901. 

THE  ROMANCE   OF  THE  ROSE 

THE  thirteenth  century  French  Roman  de  la  Rose,  by  Guillaume  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  1-1705  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  Richard  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,  Modern  Philology,  vm  (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  Socie'te'  des  Anciens  Textes  Francois, 
1904  f.).  Benoit  elaborated  the  brief  accounts  of  the  Trojan  War  found  in  the  late  Latin 
writers  Dares  and  Dietys;  and  his  own  work  was  latinized  in  about  1287  byGuido  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.  Young,  Origin 
and  Development  of  the  Story  of  T.  fy  C.,  Chaucer  Soc.,  1908;  Tatlock,  Development  and 
Chronology  of  Chaucer's  Works,  Chaucer  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  Boccaccio,  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  Maehault,  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  Occleve)  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  his  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  nai've  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  mediaeval  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  Philosojfres  (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.  MacCracken  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,  and  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  j£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  sufficiently 
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  and  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  stock 
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  E  tin  our  Ramming  (c.  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  ?  (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  the  present.  Recent  articles  on  Skelton  are  A.  Kolb- 
ing's  Zur  Characteristic  Skeltons,  and  Friedrich  Brio's  Skelton  Studien,  in  Englische  Studient 


STEPHEN   HAWES 

STEPHEN  HAWES  (c.  1474-c.  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  A  moure  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  in  Arithmetic,  Music,  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  Denth  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  neglected 
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  A  ncient 
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  the  most  notable  of  the  collectors. 

Ballads  are  the  simplest  of  poetry,  the  usual  metre  being  a  stanza  of  four  roughly 
iambic  lines,  the  unrhymed  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.  Gum  mere, 
The  Popular  Ballad,  Boston,  1907. 

JOHN   BARBOUR 

FOB  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  Scots  "  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  northern  dialect,  a  northern  collection  of  Legends  of 
the  Saints,  and,  with  perhaps  better  reason,  the  Buik  of  Alexander.  Still  further  additions 
to  his  canon  are  proposed  by  G.  Neilson  in  his  John  Barbour,  London,  1900  (cf.  Athencenm, 
27  Feb.,  1897,  and  Scottish  Antiquary,  Jan.,  1897).  See  also  J.  T.  T.  Brown,  The  Wallace 
and  the  Bruce  Re-studied,  Bonn,  1900;  and  VV.  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  Harry"  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  onergetic  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  Grahnm  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  type  best  known  by  the  Romance  of  the  Rose,  and  it 
abounds  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  1123  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  lre  d' Ecosse  fut-il 
poete,  Paris,  1897;  R.  S.  Rait's  The  King's  Quair  and  the  new  Criticism,  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  mediaeval  machinery  at  the  start,  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  affecting 
poems  of  the  century,  as  his  Robyn  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 

DUNBAR  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  des}rrd  to  be  ane 
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 
TTiistle  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  s;iven;  but  it  is  in  the  Seven  Deadly  *Smx,  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. 

Dnnbar  wrote  in  all  about  a  hundred  poems.  The  most  useful  editions  are  those  of  J. 
Selnpper,  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  Uedichte,  Berlin,  1884. 


BIOGRAPHICAL   AND   BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   NOTES          435 


GAVIN    DOUGLAS 

GAVIN  DOUGLAS  (c.  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  jEneid  (1513),  "  the  first  version  of  a  great 
poet  iii  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  anainalit  termes  celicall,"  the  "sugurit,"  "aureate,"  " inelliiiuate,"  coinages  of 
these  late  Scottish  mediae valists,  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 
mediaeval  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 


)  LYNDESAY  lived  approximately  from  1490  to  1555.  He  may  have  attended 
University;  thereafter,  for  most  of  his  life,  he  was  a  personal  attendant,  in 


SIR  DAVID 
St.  Andrews 

various  offices,  upon  James  V  of  Scotland,  finally  in  1529  attaining  knighthood  and  the 
office  of  chiff  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  niisgovernment ";  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  mediaeval 
romances,  but  which  is  brought  quite  up  to  date  —  being  founded  indeed  upon  contem 
porary  happenings.  The  Fifeshire  hero-squire  defeats  the  English  champion  in  France, 
wins  a  sea-fight,  also  a  lovely  lady,  takes  a  great  castle,  is  at  last  dreadfully  wounded 
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  vivacious  and 
realistic  of  moralities. 

Lyndesay  is  the  last  of  the  Scottish  Chaucerians:  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. 

Jineid,  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  Rumming,  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  Robyn  Hode,  The,  303  n. 

Get  up  and  Bar  the  Door,  330. 

Glasgerion,  288. 

Godfrey  Gobilyve,  253. 

Golden  Targe,  The,  386. 

Good  Counsel,  366. 

Gower,  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,  Robert,  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,  409^422;  Biog.  and 

Bibliog.,  435. 

Maid  freed  from  the  Gallows,  The,  298. 
Male  Regie,  La,  206. 


INDEX 


441 


Manning  of  Brunne,  Robert,  1-5;  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  ^Eneid,  400. 
Prologue  to   the  Legend  of  Good  Women, 

184. 
Prologue  to  Sir  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,  156;  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. 

Sir  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  Florent,  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  Humming,  The,  238. 
Twa  Corbies,  The,  264. 
Twa  Sisters,  The,  257. 
Two  Mice,  The,  380. 


Uplandish  Mouse  and  the  Burgess  Mouse, 
The,  380. 

Vision    of    William    concerning    Piers    the 
Ploughman,  The,  48;  Bibliog.,  426. 


442 


INDEX 


Wallace,  The,  340;  Bibliog.,  433. 
Wallace  and  the  English  Queen,  341. 
Wee  Wee  Man,  The,  268. 
Wife  of  Usher's  Well,  The,  294. 
Wife  wrapt  in  Wether's  Skin,  The,  330. 
Witch  and  her  Cow-Sucking  Bag,  The,  2. 
Witchcraft  and  Dreams,  1. 
Woman's  Superiority,  201. 


Women's  Horns,  On,  222. 
Wyf  of  Bathes  Tale,  The,  151. 

York,    Balade    to    my    Gracious    Lord    of, 

204. 

Young  Akin,  270. 
Young  Bicham,  277. 
Young  Waters,  298. 


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