| A thousand sythes have I herd men telle |
| That there is joye in hevene and peyne in helle, |
| And I acorde wel that it be so; |
| But natheles, this wot I wel also, |
| 5 | That there ne is non that dwelleth in this contre |
| That eyther hath in helle or hevene ybe, |
| Ne may of it non other weyes witen |
| But as he hath herd seyd or founde it writen; |
| For by assay there may no man it preve. |
| 10 | But Goddes forbode but men shulde leve |
| Wel more thyng than men han seyn with ye! |
| Men shal nat wenen every thyng a lye |
| For that he say it nat of yore ago. |
| God wot a thyng is nevere the lesse so |
| 15 | Thow every wyght ne may it nat yse. |
| Bernard the monk ne say nat al, parde! |
| Thanne mote we to bokes that we fynde, |
| Thourgh whiche that olde thynges ben in mynde, |
| And to the doctryne of these olde wyse |
| 20 | Yeven credence, in every skylful wyse, |
| And trowen on these olde aproved storyes |
| Of holynesse, of regnes, of victoryes, |
| Of love, of hate, of othere sondry thynges, |
| Of which I may nat make rehersynges. |
| 25 | And if that olde bokes weren aweye, |
| Yloren were of remembrance the keye. |
| Wel oughte us thanne on olde bokes leve, |
| There as there is non other assay by preve. |
| And as for me, though that my wit be lite, |
| 30 | On bokes for to rede I me delyte, |
| And in myn herte have hem in reverence, |
| And to hem yeve swich lust and swich credence |
| That there is wel unethe game non |
| That fro my bokes make me to gon, |
| 35 | But it be other upon the halyday, |
| Or ellis in the joly tyme of May, |
| Whan that I here the smale foules synge, |
| And that the floures gynne for to sprynge. |
| Farwel my stodye, as lastynge that sesoun! |
| 40 | Now have I therto this condicioun, |
| That, of alle the floures in the mede, |
| Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, |
| Swyche as men calle dayesyes in oure toun. |
| To hem have I so gret affeccioun, |
| 45 | As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May, |
| That in my bed there daweth me no day |
| That I n' am up and walkynge in the mede |
| To sen these floures agen the sonne sprede |
| Whan it up ryseth by the morwe shene, |
| 50 | The longe day thus walkynge in the grene. |
| And whan the sonne gynneth for to weste, |
| Thanne closeth it, and draweth it to reste, |
| So sore it is afered of the nyght, |
| Til on the morwe that it is dayes lyght. |
| 55 | This dayesye, of alle floures flour, |
| Fulfyld of vertu and of alle honour, |
| And evere ylike fayr and fresh of hewe, |
| As wel in wynter as in somer newe, |
| Fayn wolde I preysen, if I coude aryght; |
| 60 | But wo is me, it lyth nat in my myght. |
| For wel I wot that folk han here-beforn |
| Of makyng ropen, and lad awey the corn; |
| [And] I come after, glenynge here and there, |
| And am ful glad if I may fynde an ere |
| 65 | Of any goodly word that they han left. |
| And if it happe me rehersen eft |
| That they han in here freshe songes said, |
| I hope that they wole nat ben evele apayd, |
| Sith it is seyd in fortheryng and honour |
| 70 | Of hem that eyther serven lef or flour. |
| For trusteth wel, I ne have nat undertake |
| As of the lef agayn the flour to make, |
| Ne of the flour to make ageyn the lef, |
| No more than of the corn agen the shef; |
| 75 | For, as to me, is lefer non, ne lother. |
| I am witholde yit with never nother; |
| I not who serveth lef ne who the flour. |
| That nys nothyng the entent of my labour. |
| For this werk is al of another tonne, |
| 80 | Of olde story, er swich strif was begonne. |
| But wherfore that I spak, to yeve credence |
| To bokes olde and don hem reverence, |
| Is for men shulde autoritees beleve, |
| There as there lyth non other assay by preve. |
| 85 | For myn entent is, or I fro yow fare, |
| The naked text in English to declare |
| Of many a story, or elles of many a geste, |
| As autours seyn; leveth hem if yow leste. |
| Whan passed was almost the month of May, |
| 90 | And I hadde romed, al the someres day, |
| The grene medewe, of which that I yow tolde, |
| Upon the freshe dayseie to beholde, |
| And that the sonne out of the south gan weste, |
| And closed was the flour and gon to reste, |
| 95 | For derknesse of the nyght, of which she dredde, |
| Hom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde, |
| And in a lytel herber that I have, |
| Ybenched newe with turves fresshe ygrave, |
| I bad men shulde me my couche make; |
| 100 | For deynte of the newe someres sake, |
| I bad hem strowe floures on my bed. |
| Whan I was layd, and hadde myn eyen hed, |
| I fel aslepe withinne an hour or two. |
| Me mette how I was in the medewe tho, |
| 105 | And that I romede in that same gyse, |
| To sen that flour, as ye han herd devyse. |
| Fayr was this medewe, as thoughte me, overal; |
| With floures sote enbrouded was it al. |
| As for to speke of gomme, or herbe, or tre, |
| 110 | Comparisoun may non ymaked be; |
| For it surmountede pleynly alle odoures, |
| And of ryche beaute alle floures. |
| Forgeten hadde the erthe his pore estat |
| Of wynter, that hym naked made and mat, |
| 115 | And with his swerd of cold so sore hadde greved. |
| Now hadde th' atempre sonne al that releved, |
| And clothed hym in grene al newe ageyn. |
| The smale foules, of the seson fayn, |
| That from the panter and the net ben skaped, |
| 120 | Upon the foulere, that hem made awhaped |
| In wynter, and distroyed hadde hire brod, |
| In his dispit hem thoughte it dide hem good |
| To synge of hym, and in here song despise |
| The foule cherl that for his coveytyse |
| 125 | Hadde hem betrayed with his sophistrye. |
| This was here song, "The foulere we defye, |
| [And] [al] [his] [craft]." [And] [some] [songen] [clere] |
| [Layes] of love that joye it was to here, |
| In worshipe and in preysyng of hire make; |
| 130 | And [for] the newe blysful somers sake, |
| [They] sungen, "Blyssed be Seynt Valentyn! |
| [For] [on] his day I ches yow to be myn, |
| Withoute repentynge, myn herte swete!" |
| And therwithal here bekes gonne mete, |
| 135 | [Yelding] honour and humble obeysaunces; |
| And after diden othere observaunces |
| Ryht [longing] onto love and to nature; |
| So ech of hem [doth] [wel] to creature. |
| This song to herkenen I dide al myn entente, |
| 140 | For-why I mette I wiste what they mente, |
| Tyl at the laste a larke son above: |
| "I se," quod she, "the myghty god of Love. |
| Lo! yond he cometh! I se his wynges sprede." |
| Tho gan I loken endelong the mede |
| 145 | And saw hym come, and in his hond a quene |
| Clothed in real habyt al of grene. |
| A fret of goold she hadde next hyre her |
| And upon that a whit corone she ber |
| With many floures, and I shal nat lye; |
| 150 | For al the world, ryght as the dayesye |
| Ycorouned is with white leves lite, |
| Swiche were the floures of hire coroune white. |
| For of o perle fyn and oryental |
| Hyre white coroun was ymaked al; |
| 155 | For which the white coroun above the grene |
| Made hire lyk a dayesye for to sene, |
| Considered ek the fret of gold above. |
| Yclothed was this myghty god of Love |
| Of silk, ybrouded ful of grene greves, |
| 160 | A garlond on his hed of rose-leves |
| Stiked al with lylye floures newe. |
| But of his face I can not seyn the hewe, |
| For sikerly his face shon so bryghte |
| That with the glem astoned was the syghte; |
| 165 | A furlong-wey I myhte hym not beholde. |
| But at the laste in hande I saw hym holde |
| Two firy dartes as the gleedes rede, |
| And aungellych hys winges gan he sprede. |
| And al be that men seyn that blynd is he, |
| 170 | Algate me thoughte he myghte wel yse; |
| For sternely on me he gan beholde, |
| So that his lokynge doth myn herte colde. |
| And by the hond he held the noble quene |
| Corouned with whit and clothed al in grene, |
| 175 | So womanly, so benygne, and so meke, |
| That in this world, thogh that men wolde seke, |
| Half hire beaute shulde men nat fynde |
| In creature that formed is by kynde. |
| Hire name was Alceste the debonayre. |
| 180 | I preye to God that evere falle she fayre, |
| For ne hadde confort been of hire presence, |
| I hadde be ded, withouten any defence, |
| For dred of Loves wordes and his chere, |
| As, whan tyme is, hereafter ye shal here. |
| 185 | Byhynde this god of Love, upon this grene, |
| I saw comynge of ladyes nyntene |
| In real habyt, a ful esy pas, |
| And after hem come of wemen swich a tras |
| That, syn that God Adam [had] mad of erthe, |
| 190 | The thridde part of wemen, ne the ferthe, |
| Ne wende I not by possibilite |
| Hadden evere in this [wyde] world ybe; |
| And trewe of love these wemen were echon. |
| Now whether was that a wonder thyng or non, |
| 195 | That ryght anon as that they gonne espye |
| This flour, which that I clepe the dayesye, |
| Ful sodeynly they stynten alle atones, |
| And knelede adoun, as it were for the nones. |
| And after that they wenten in compas, |
| 200 | Daunsynge aboute this flour an esy pas, |
| And songen, as it were in carole-wyse, |
| This balade, which that I shal yow devyse. |
| |
| |
| Hyd, Absalon, thy gilte tresses clere; |
| Ester, ley thow thy meknesse al adoun; |
| 205 | Hyd, Jonathas, al thyn frendly manere; |
| Penelope and Marcia Catoun, |
| Mak of youre wyfhod no comparisoun; |
| Hyde ye youre beautes, Ysoude and Eleyne: |
| Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. |
| 210 | Thy fayre body, lat it nat apeere, |
| Laveyne; and thow, Lucresse of Rome toun, |
| And Polixene, that boughte love so dere, |
| Ek Cleopatre, with al thy passioun, |
| Hide ye youre trouth in love and youre renoun; |
| 215 | And thow, Tysbe, that hast for love swich peyne: |
| Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. |
| Herro, Dido, Laodomya, alle in-fere, |
| Ek Phillis, hangynge for thy Demophoun, |
| And Canace, espied by thy chere, |
| 220 | Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun, |
| Mak of youre trouthe in love no bost ne soun; |
| Nor Ypermystre or Adriane, ne pleyne |
| Alceste is here, that al that may disteyne. |
| Whan that this balade al ysongen was, |
| 225 | Upon the softe and sote grene gras |
| They setten hem ful softely adoun, |
| By order alle in compas, enveroun. |
| Fyrst sat the god of Love, and thanne this queene |
| With the white corone, clad in grene, |
| 230 | And sithen al the remenant by and by, |
| As they were of degre, ful curteysly; |
| Ne nat a word was spoken in that place |
| The mountaunce of a furlong-wey of space. |
| I, lenynge faste by under a bente, |
| 235 | Abod to knowe what this peple mente, |
| As stille as any ston, til at the laste |
| The god of Love on me his eye caste |
| And seyde, "Who restith there?" And I answerde |
| Unto his axynge, whan that I hym herde, |
| 240 | And seyde, "Sire, it am I," and cam hym ner, |
| And salewede hym. Quod he, "What dost thow her |
| In my presence, and that so boldely? |
| For it were better worthi, trewely, |
| A worm to comen in my syght than thow." |
| 245 | "And why, sire," quod I, "and it lyke yow?" |
| "For thow," quod he, "art therto nothyng able. |
| My servaunts ben alle wyse and honourable. |
| Thow art my mortal fo and me werreyest, |
| And of myne olde servauntes thow mysseyest, |
| 250 | And hynderest hem with thy translacyoun, |
| And lettest folk to han devocyoun |
| To serven me, and holdest it folye |
| To truste on me. Thow mayst it nat denye, |
| For in pleyn text, it nedeth nat to glose, |
| 255 | Thow hast translated the Romauns of the Rose, |
| That is an heresye ageyns my lawe, |
| And makest wise folk fro me withdrawe; |
| And thynkest in thy wit, that is ful col, |
| That he nys but a verray propre fol |
| 260 | That loveth paramours to harde and hote. |
| Wel wot I therby thow begynnyst dote, |
| As olde foles whan here spiryt fayleth; |
| Thanne blame they folk, and wite nat what hem ayleth. |
| Hast thow nat mad in Englysh ek the bok |
| 265 | How that Crisseyde Troylus forsok, |
| In shewynge how that wemen han don mis? |
| But natheles, answere me now to this; |
| Why noldest thow as wel [han] seyd goodnesse |
| Of wemen, as thow hast seyd wikednesse? |
| 270 | Was there no good matere in thy mynde, |
| Ne in alle thy bokes ne coudest thow nat fynde |
| Som story of wemen that were goode and trewe? |
| Yis, God wot, sixty bokes olde and newe |
| Hast thow thyself, alle ful of storyes grete, |
| 275 | That bothe Romayns and ek Grekes trete |
| Of sundry wemen, which lyf that they ladde, |
| And evere an hundred goode ageyn oon badde. |
| This knoweth God, and alle clerkes eke |
| That usen swiche materes for to seke. |
| 280 | What seith Valerye, Titus, or Claudyan? |
| What seith Jerome agayns Jovynyan? |
| How clene maydenes and how trewe wyves, |
| How stedefaste widewes durynge alle here lyves, |
| Telleth Jerome, and that nat of a fewe, |
| 285 | But, I dar seyn, an hundred on a rewe, |
| That it is pite for to rede, and routhe, |
| The wo that they endure for here trouthe |
| For to hyre love were they so trewe |
| That, rathere than they wolde take a newe, |
| 290 | They chose to be ded in sondry wyse, |
| And deiden, as the story wol devyse; |
| And some were brend, and some were cut the hals, |
| And some dreynt for they wolden not be fals; |
| For alle keped they here maydenhede, |
| 295 | Or elles wedlok, or here widewehede. |
| And this thing was nat kept for holynesse, |
| But al for verray vertu and clennesse, |
| And for men schulde sette on hem no lak; |
| And yit they were hethene, al the pak, |
| 300 | That were so sore adrad of alle shame. |
| These olde wemen kepte so here name |
| That in this world I trowe men shal nat fynde |
| A man that coude be so trewe and kynde |
| As was the leste woman in that tyde. |
| 305 | What seyth also the epistel of Ovyde |
| Of trewe wyves and of here labour? |
| What Vincent in his Estoryal Myrour? |
| Ek al the world of autours maystow here, |
| Cristene and hethene, trete of swich matere; |
| 310 | It nedeth nat al day thus for to endite. |
| But yit, I seye, what eyleth the to wryte |
| The draf of storyes, and forgete the corn? |
| By Seynt Venus, of whom that I was born, |
| Althogh thow reneyed hast my lay, |
| 315 | As othere olde foles many a day, |
| Thow shalt repente it, so that it shal be sene!" |
| Thanne spak Alceste, the worthyeste queene, |
| And seyde, "God, ryght of youre curteysye, |
| Ye moten herkenen if he can replye |
| 320 | Ageyns these poynts that ye han to hym meved. |
| A god ne sholde not thus been agreved, |
| But of his deite he shal be stable, |
| And therto ryghtful, and ek mercyable. |
| He shal nat ryghtfully his yre wreke |
| 325 | Or he have herd the tother partye speke. |
| Al ne is nat gospel that is to yow pleyned; |
| The god of Love hereth many a tale yfeyned. |
| For in youre court is many a losengeour, |
| And many a queynte totelere accusour, |
| 330 | That tabouren in youre eres many a thyng |
| For hate, or for jelous ymagynyng, |
| And for to han with you som dalyaunce. |
| Envye -- I preye to God yeve hire myschaunce! -- |
| Is lavender in the grete court alway, |
| 335 | For she ne parteth, neyther nyght ne day, |
| Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seyth Dante; |
| Whoso that goth, alwey she mot [nat] wante. |
| This man to yow may wrongly ben acused, |
| There as by ryght hym oughte ben excusid. |
| 340 | Or elles, sire, for that this man is nyce, |
| He may translate a thyng in no malyce, |
| But for he useth bokes for to make, |
| And taketh non hed of what matere he take, |
| Therfore he wrot the Rose and ek Crisseyde |
| 345 | Of innocence, and nyste what he seyde. |
| Or hym was boden make thilke tweye |
| Of som persone, and durste it not withseye; |
| For he hath write many a bok er this. |
| He ne hath not don so grevously amys |
| 350 | To translate that olde clerkes wryte, |
| As thogh that he of maleys wolde endyte |
| Despit of love, and hadde hymself ywrought. |
| This shulde a ryghtwys lord han in his thought, |
| And not ben lyk tyraunts of Lumbardye, |
| 355 | That usen wilfulhed and tyrannye. |
| For he that kyng or lord is naturel, |
| Hym oughte nat be tyraunt and crewel |
| As is a fermour, to don the harm he can. |
| He moste thynke it is his lige man, |
| 360 | And that hym oweth, of verray duetee, |
| Shewen his peple pleyn benygnete, |
| And wel to heren here excusacyouns, |
| And here compleyntes and petyciouns, |
| In duewe tyme, whan they shal it profre. |
| 365 | This is the sentence of the Philosophre, |
| A kyng to kepe his lyges in justice; |
| Withouten doute, that is his office. |
| And therto is a kyng ful depe ysworn |
| Ful many an hundred wynter herebeforn; |
| 370 | And for to kepe his lordes hir degre, |
| As it is ryght and skylful that they be |
| Enhaunsed and honoured, [and] most dere -- |
| For they ben half-goddes in this world here -- |
| This shal he don bothe to pore [and] ryche, |
| 375 | Al be that her estat be nat alyche, |
| And han of pore folk compassioun. |
| For lo, the gentyl kynde of the lyoun: |
| For whan a flye offendeth hym or byteth, |
| He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth |
| 380 | Al esyly; for, of his genterye, |
| Hym deyneth nat to wreke hym on a flye, |
| As doth a curre, or elles another best. |
| In noble corage oughte ben arest, |
| And weyen every thing by equite, |
| 385 | And evere han reward to his owen degre. |
| For, sire, it is no maystrye for a lord |
| To dampne a man withoute answere or word, |
| And, for a lord, that is ful foul to use. |
| And if so be he may hym nat excuse, |
| 390 | [But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte, |
| And profereth hym, ryght in his bare sherte, |
| To been ryght at youre owene jugement, |
| Than ought a god, by short avisement, |
| Considere his owene honour and his trespas. |
| 395 | For syth no cause of deth lyth in this cas, |
| Yow oughte to ben the lyghter merciable; |
| Leteth youre yre, and beth somwhat tretable. |
| The man hath served yow of his konnynge, |
| And forthered [wel] youre lawe with his makynge. |
| 400 | Whil he was yong, he kepte youre estat; |
| I not wher he be now a renegat. |
| But wel I wot, with that he can endyte |
| He hath maked lewed folk to delyte |
| To serven yow, in preysynge of youre name. |
| 405 | He made the bok that highte the Hous of Fame, |
| And ek the Deth of Blaunche the Duchesse, |
| And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse, |
| And al the love of Palamon and Arcite |
| Of Thebes, thogh the storye is knowen lite; |
| 410 | And many an ympne for your halydayes, |
| That highten balades, roundeles, vyrelayes; |
| And, for to speke of other besynesse, |
| He hath in prose translated Boece, |
| And Of the Wreched Engendrynge of Mankynde, |
| 415 | As man may in Pope Innocent yfynde; |
| And mad the lyf also of Seynt Cecile. |
| He made also, gon is a gret while, |
| Orygenes upon the Maudeleyne. |
| Hym oughte now to have the lesse peyne; |
| 420 | He hath mad many a lay and many a thyng. |
| Now as ye ben a god and ek a kyng, |
| I, youre Alceste, whilom quene of Trace, |
| I axe yow this man, ryght of youre grace, |
| That ye hym nevere hurte in al his lyve; |
| 425 | And he shal swere to yow, and that as blyve, |
| He shal no more agilten in this wyse, |
| But he shal maken, as ye wol devyse, |
| Of women trewe in lovynge al here lyve, |
| Wherso ye wol, of mayden or of wyve, |
| 430 | And fortheren yow as muche as he mysseyde |
| Or in the Rose or elles in Crisseyde." |
| The god of Love answerede hire thus anon: |
| "Madame," quod he, "it is so longe agon |
| That I yow knew so charytable and trewe, |
| 435 | That nevere yit sith that the world was newe |
| To me ne fond I betere non than ye; |
| That, if that I wol save my degre, |
| I may, ne wol, not warne youre requeste. |
| Al lyth in yow, doth with hym what yow leste; |
| 440 | And al foryeve, withoute lenger space. |
| For whoso yeveth a yifte or doth a grace, |
| Do it by tyme, his thank is wel the more. |
| And demeth ye what he shal do therfore. |
| Go thanke now my lady here," quod he. |
| 445 | I ros, and doun I sette me on my kne, |
| And seyde thus, "Madame, the God above |
| Foryelde yow that ye the god of Love |
| Han maked me his wrathe to foryive, |
| And yeve me grace so longe for to live |
| 450 | That I may knowe sothly what ye be |
| That han me holpen and put in swich degre. |
| But trewely I wende, as in this cas, |
| Naught have agilt, ne don to love trespas. |
| For-why a trewe man, withoute drede, |
| 455 | Hath nat to parte with a theves dede; |
| Ne a trewe lovere oghte me nat to blame |
| Thogh that I speke a fals lovere som shame. |
| They oughte rathere with me for to holde |
| For that I of Criseyde wrot or tolde, |
| 460 | Or of the Rose; what so myn auctour mente, |
| Algate, God wot, it was myn entente |
| To forthere trouthe in love and it cheryce, |
| And to be war fro falsnesse and fro vice |
| By swich ensaumple; this was my menynge." |
| 465 | And she answerde, "Lat be thyn arguynge, |
| For Love ne wol nat counterpletyd be |
| In ryght ne wrong; and lerne this at me! |
| Thow hast thy grace, and hold the ryght therto. |
| Now wol I seyn what penaunce thow shalt do |
| 470 | For thy trespas, and understond it here: |
| Thow shalt, whil that thow livest, yer by yere, |
| The moste partye of thy tyme spende |
| In makynge of a gloryous legende |
| Of goode women, maydenes and wyves, |
| 475 | That were trewe in lovynge al here lyves; |
| And telle of false men that hem betrayen, |
| That al here lyf ne don nat but assayen |
| How manye wemen they may don a shame; |
| For in youre world that is now holden game. |
| 480 | And thogh the lesteth nat a lovere be, |
| Spek wel of love; this penaunce yeve I thee. |
| And to the god of Love I shal so preye |
| That he shal charge his servaunts by any weye |
| To fortheren the, and wel thy labour quite. |
| 485 | Go now thy wey, thy penaunce is but lyte." |
| The god of Love gan smyle, and thanne he seyde: |
| "Wostow," quod he, "wher this be wif or mayde, |
| Or queen, or countesse, or of what degre, |
| That hath so lytel penaunce yiven the, |
| 490 | That hast deserved sorer for to smerte? |
| But pite renneth sone in gentil herte; |
| That mayst thow sen; she kytheth what she is." |
| And I answerde, "Nay, sire, so have I blys, |
| No more but that I se wel she is good." |
| 495 | "That is a trewe tale, by myn hood!" |
| Quod Love, "and that thow knowest wel, parde, |
| Yif it be so that thow avise the. |
| Hast thow nat in a bok, lyth in thy cheste, |
| The grete goodnesse of the queene Alceste, |
| 500 | That turned was into a dayesye; |
| She that for hire husbonde ches to dye, |
| And ek to gon to helle rather than he, |
| And Ercules rescued hire, parde, |
| And broughte hyre out of helle ageyn to blys?" |
| 505 | And I answerde ayen, and seyde, "Yis, |
| Now knowe I hire. And is this goode Alceste, |
| The dayesye, and myn owene hertes reste? |
| Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wif, |
| That bothe after hire deth and in hire lyf |
| 510 | Hire grete bounte doubleth hire renoun. |
| Wel hath she quit me myn affeccioun |
| That I have to hire flour, the dayesye. |
| No wonder is thogh Jove hire stellifye, |
| As telleth Agaton, for hyre goodnesse! |
| 515 | Hire white coroun bereth of it witnesse; |
| For also manye vertues hadde she |
| As smale flourys in hyre coroun be. |
| In remembraunce of hire and in honour |
| Cibella made the dayesye and the flour |
| 520 | Ycoroned al with whit, as men may se; |
| And Mars yaf to hire corone red, parde, |
| In stede of rubies, set among the white." |
| Therwith this queene wex red for shame a lyte |
| Whan she was preysed so in hire presence. |
| 525 | Thanne seyde Love, "A ful gret neglygence |
| Was it to the, to write unstedefastnesse |
| Of women, sith thow knowest here goodnesse |
| By pref, and ek by storyes herebyforn. |
| Let be the chaf, and writ wel of the corn. |
| 530 | Why noldest thow han writen of Alceste, |
| And laten Criseide ben aslepe and reste? |
| For of Alceste shulde thy wrytynge be, |
| Syn that thow wost that calandier is she |
| Of goodnesse, for she taughte of fyn lovynge, |
| 535 | And namely of wifhod the lyvynge, |
| And alle the boundes that she oughte kepe. |
| Thy litel wit was thilke tyme aslepe. |
| But now I charge the upon thy lyf |
| That in thy legende thow make of this wif |
| 540 | Whan thow hast othere smale mad byfore; |
| And far now wel, I charge the no more. |
| At Cleopatre I wol that thow begynne, |
| And so forth, and my love so shalt thow wynne." |
| And with that word, of slep I gan awake, |
| 545 | And ryght thus on my Legende gan I make. |