| Pite, that I have sought so yore agoo |
| With herte soore and ful of besy peyne, |
| That in this world was never wight so woo |
| Withoute deth -- and yf I shal not feyne, |
| 5 | My purpos was to Pite to compleyne |
| Upon the crueltee and tirannye |
| Of Love, that for my trouthe doth me dye. |
| |
| And when that I, be lengthe of certeyne yeres, |
| Had evere in oon a tyme sought to speke, |
| 10 | To Pitee ran I al bespreynt with teres |
| To prayen hir on Cruelte me awreke. |
| But er I myghte with any word outbreke |
| Or tellen any of my peynes smerte, |
| I fond hir ded, and buried in an herte. |
| |
| 15 | Adoun I fel when that I saugh the herse, |
| Ded as a ston while that the swogh me laste; |
| But up I roos with colour ful dyverse |
| And pitously on hir myn eyen I caste, |
| And ner the corps I gan to presen faste, |
| 20 | And for the soule I shop me for to preye. |
| I was but lorn, ther was no more to seye. |
| |
| Thus am I slayn sith that Pite is ded. |
| Allas, that day, that ever hyt shulde falle. |
| What maner man dar now hold up his hed? |
| 25 | To whom shal any sorwful herte calle? |
| Now Cruelte hath cast to slee us alle, |
| In ydel hope, folk redeless of peyne, |
| Syth she is ded, to whom shul we compleyne? |
| |
| But yet encreseth me this wonder newe, |
| 30 | That no wight woot that she is ded, but I -- |
| So many men as in her tyme hir knewe -- |
| And yet she dyed not so sodeynly, |
| For I have sought hir ever ful besely |
| Sith first I hadde wit or mannes mynde, |
| 35 | But she was ded er that I koude hir fynde. |
| |
| Aboute hir herse there stoden lustely, |
| Withouten any woo as thoughte me, |
| Bounte parfyt, wel armed and richely, |
| And fresshe Beaute, Lust, and Jolyte, |
| 40 | Assured Maner, Youthe, and Honeste, |
| Wisdom, Estaat, Drede, and Governaunce, |
| Confedred both by bonde and alliaunce. |
| |
| A compleynt had I, writen in myn hond, |
| For to have put to Pite as a bille; |
| 45 | But when I al this companye ther fond, |
| That rather wolden al my cause spille |
| Then do me help, I held my pleynte stille, |
| For to that folk, withouten any fayle, |
| Withoute Pitee ther may no bille availe. |
| |
| 50 | Then leve I al these vertues, sauf Pite, |
| Kepynge the corps as ye have herd me seyn, |
| Confedered alle by bond of Cruelte |
| And ben assented when I shal be sleyn. |
| And I have put my complaynt up ageyn, |
| 55 | For to my foes my bille I dar not shewe, |
| Th' effect of which seith thus, in wordes fewe: |
| |
| Humblest of herte, highest of reverence, |
| Benygne flour, coroune of vertues alle, |
| Sheweth unto youre rial excellence |
| 60 | Youre servaunt, yf I durste me so calle, |
| Hys mortal harm in which he is yfalle, |
| And noght al oonly for his evel fare, |
| But for your renoun, as he shal declare. |
| |
| Hit stondeth thus: your contraire, Crueltee, |
| 65 | Allyed is ayenst your regalye |
| Under colour of womanly Beaute -- |
| For men shulde not, lo, knowe hir tirannye -- |
| With Bounte, Gentilesse, and Curtesye, |
| And hath depryved yow now of your place |
| 70 | That hyghte "Beaute apertenant to Grace." |
| |
| For kyndely by youre herytage ryght |
| Ye ben annexed ever unto Bounte; |
| And verrayly ye oughte do youre myght |
| To helpe Trouthe in his adversyte. |
| 75 | Ye be also the corowne of Beaute, |
| And certes yf ye wanten in these tweyne, |
| The world is lore; ther is no more to seyne. |
| |
| Eke what availeth Maner and Gentilesse |
| Withoute yow, benygne creature? |
| 80 | Shal Cruelte be your governeresse? |
| Allas, what herte may hyt longe endure? |
| Wherfore, but ye the rather take cure |
| To breke that perilouse alliaunce, |
| Ye sleen hem that ben in your obeisaunce. |
| |
| 85 | And further over yf ye suffre this, |
| Youre renoun ys fordoo than in a throwe; |
| Ther shal no man wite well what Pite is. |
| Allas, that your renoun is falle so lowe! |
| Ye be than fro youre heritage ythrowe |
| 90 | By Cruelte that occupieth youre place, |
| And we despeyred that seken to your grace. |
| |
| Have mercy on me, thow Herenus quene, |
| That yow have sought so tendirly and yore; |
| Let som strem of youre lyght on me be sene |
| 95 | That love and drede yow ever lenger the more; |
| For sothly for to seyne I bere the soore, |
| And though I be not konnynge for to pleyne, |
| For Goddis love have mercy on my peyne. |
| |
| My peyne is this, that what so I desire |
| 100 | That have I not, ne nothing lyk therto; |
| And ever setteth Desir myn hert on fire. |
| Eke on that other syde where so I goo, |
| What maner thing that may encrese my woo, |
| That have I redy, unsoght, everywhere; |
| 105 | Me lakketh but my deth and than my bere. |
| |
| What nedeth to shewe parcel of my peyne? |
| Syth every woo that herte may bethynke |
| I suffre and yet I dar not to yow pleyne; |
| For wel I wot although I wake or wynke, |
| 110 | Ye rekke not whether I flete or synke. |
| But natheles yet my trouthe I shal sustene |
| Unto my deth, and that shal wel be sene. |
| |
| This is to seyne I wol be youres evere, |
| Though ye me slee by Crueltee your foo, |
| 115 | Algate my spirit shal never dissevere |
| Fro youre servise for any peyne or woo. |
| Sith ye be ded -- allas that hyt is soo -- |
| Thus for your deth I may wel wepe and pleyne |
| With herte sore and ful of besy peyne. |