|
Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;
|
|
Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun;
|
|
Hyd, Ionathas, al thy frendly manere;
|
|
Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun,
|
|
Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun;
|
|
Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne,
|
|
Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne.
|
|
210 |
Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere,
|
|
Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,
|
|
And Polixene, that boghte love so dere,
|
|
Eek Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,
|
|
Hyde ye your trouthe in love and your renoun;
|
|
And thou, Tisbe, that hast for love swich peyne;
|
|
Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne.
|
|
|
Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle in-fere,
|
|
And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,
|
|
And Canace, espyed by thy chere,
|
220 |
Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun,
|
|
Mak of your trouthe in love no bost ne soun;
|
|
Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye 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 his quene
|
|
With the whyte coroun, clad in grene;
|
230 |
And sithen al the remenant by and by,
|
|
As they were of degree, ful curteisly;
|
|
Ne nat a word was spoken in the place
|
|
The mountance of a furlong-wey of space.
|
|
|
I, lening faste by under a bente,
|
|
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,
|
240 |
And seyde, "sir, hit am I"; and cam him neer,
|
|
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 honourable.
|
|
Thou art my mortal fo, and me warreyest,
|
|
And of myne olde servaunts thou misseyest,
|
250 |
And hindrest hem with thy translacioun,
|
|
And lettest folk to han devocioun
|
|
To serven me, and haldest hit folye
|
|
To troste on me. Thou mayest hit nat denye;
|
|
For in pleyn text, hit nedeth nat to glose,
|
|
Thou hast translated the Romauns of the Rose,
|
|
That is an heresye ageyns my lawe,
|
|
And makest wyse folk fro me withdrawe.
|
|
And thinkest in thy wit, that is ful cool
|
|
The he nis but a verray propre fool
|
260 |
That loveth paramours, to harde and hote.
|
|
Wel wot I ther-by thou beginnest dote
|
|
As olde foles, whan hir spirit fayleth;
|
|
Than blame they folk, and wite nat what hem ayleth.
|
|
Hast thou nat mad in English eek the book
|
|
How that Crisseyde Troilus forsook,
|
|
In shewinge how that wemen han don mis?
|
|
But natheles, answere me not to this,
|
|
Why noldest thou as wel han seyd goodnesse
|
|
Of wemen, as thou hast seyd wikkednesse?
|
270 |
Was ther no good matere in thy minde,
|
|
Ne in alle thy bokes coudest 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 fulle of stories grete,
|
|
That bothe Romains and eek Grekes trete
|
|
Of sundry wemen, which lyf that they ladde,
|
|
And ever an hundred gode ageyn oon badde.
|
|
This knoweth god, and alle clerkes eke,
|
|
That usen swiche materes for to seke.
|
280 |
What seith Valerie, Titus, or Claudian?
|
|
What seith Ierome ageyns Iovinian?
|
|
How clene maydens, and how trewe wyves,
|
|
How stedfast widwes during al his 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,
|
290 |
They chosen to be dede in sundry wyse,
|
|
And deyden, as the story wol devyse;
|
|
And some were brend, and some were cut the hals,
|
|
And some dreynt, for they wolden nat be fals.
|
|
For alle keped they hir maydenhed,
|
|
Or elles wedlok, or hir widwehed.
|
|
And this thing was nat kept for holinesse,
|
|
But al for verray vertu and clennesse,
|
|
And for men shulde sette on hem no lak;
|
|
And yit they weren hethen, al the pak,
|
300 |
That were so sore adrad of alle shame.
|
|
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 epistels of Ovyde
|
|
Of trewe wyves, and of hir labour?
|
|
What Vincent, in his Storial Mirour?
|
|
Eek al the world of autours maystow here,
|
|
Cristen and hethen, trete of swich matere;
|
310 |
It nedeth nat alday thus for tendyte.
|
|
But yit I sey, what eyleth thee to wryte
|
|
The draf of stories, and forgo the corn?
|
|
By seint Venus, of whom that I was born,
|
|
Although [that] thou reneyed hast my lay,
|
|
As othere olde foles many a day,
|
|
Thou shalt repente hit, that hit shal be sene!"
|
|
|
Than spak Alceste, the worthieste quene,
|
|
And seyde, "god, right of your curtesye,
|
|
Ye moten herknen if he can replye
|
320 |
Agayns these points that ye han to him meved;
|
|
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 herth many a tale y-feyned.
|
|
For in your court is many a losengeour,
|
|
And many a queynte totelere accusour,
|
330 |
That tabouren in your eres many a thing,
|
|
For hat, or for Ielous imagining,
|
|
And for to han with yow som daliaunce.
|
|
Envye (I prey to god yeve his mischaunce!)
|
|
Is lavender in the grete court alway.
|
|
For she ne parteth, neither night ne day,
|
|
Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seith Dante;
|
|
Who-so that goth, alwey she moot [nat] wante.
|
|
This man to yow may wrongly been accused,
|
|
Ther as by right him oghte been excused.
|
340 |
Or elles, sir, for that this man is nyce,
|
|
He may translate a thing in no malyce,
|
|
But for he useth bokes for to make,
|
|
And takth non heed of what matere he take;
|
|
Therfor he wroot the Rose and eek Crisseyde
|
|
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
|
350 |
To translaten that olde clerkes wryten,
|
|
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, to doon the harm he can.
|
|
He moste thinke hit is his lige man,
|
360 |
And that him oweth, of verray duetee,
|
|
Shewen his peple pleyn benignitee,
|
|
And wel to here hir excusaciouns,
|
|
And hir compleyntes and peticiouns,
|
|
In duewe tyme, whan they shal hit profre.
|
|
This is the sentence of the philosophre:
|
|
A king to kepe his liges in Iustyce;
|
|
With-outen doute, that is his offyce.
|
|
And therto is a king ful depe y-sworn,
|
|
Ful many an hundred winter heer-biforn;
|
370 |
And for to kepe his lordes hir degree,
|
|
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 here stat be nat a-liche,
|
|
And han of pore folk compassioun,
|
|
For lo, the gentil kind of the lioun!
|
|
For whan a flye offendeth him or byteth,
|
|
He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth
|
380 |
Al esily; for, of his genterye,
|
|
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.
|
|
For, sir, hit is no maystrie for a lord
|
|
To dampne 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,
|
390 |
[But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte,
|
|
And profreth him, right in his bare sherte,
|
|
To been right at your owne Iugement,
|
|
Than oghte a god, by short avysement,
|
|
Considre his owne honour and his trespas.
|
|
For sith no cause of deeth lyth in his cas,
|
|
Yow oghte been the lighter merciable;
|
|
Leteth your yre, and beth somwhat tretable!
|
|
The man hath served yow of his conning,
|
|
And forthered your lawe with his making.
|
400 |
Whyl he was yong, he kepte your estat;
|
|
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 of the book that hight the Hous of Fame,
|
|
And eek the Deeth of Blaunche the Duchesse,
|
|
And the Parlement of Foules, and I gesse,
|
|
And al the love of Palamon and Arcyte
|
|
Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte;
|
410 |
And many an ympne for your halydayes,
|
|
That highten Balades, Roundels, Virelayes;
|
|
And, for to speke of other besinesse,
|
|
He hath in prose translated Boece;
|
|
And of the Wreched Engendering of Mankinde,
|
|
As man may in pope Innocent y-finde;
|
|
And mad the Lyf also of seynt Cecyle;
|
|
He made also, goon sithen a greet whyl,
|
|
Origenes upon the Maudeleyne;
|
|
Him oghte now to have the lesse peyne;
|
420 |
He hath mad many a lay and many a thing.
|
|
|
"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,
|
|
He shal no more agilten in this wyse;
|
|
But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse,
|
|
Of wemmen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve,
|
|
Wher-so ye wil, of maiden or of wyve,
|
430 |
And forthren yow, as muche as he misseyde
|
|
Or in the Rose or elles in Crisseyde."
|
|
|
The god of love answerde hir thus anoon,
|
|
"Madame," quod he, "hit is so long agoon
|
|
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 nat warne your requeste;
|
|
Al lyth in yow, doth with him as yow leste
|
440 |
And al foryeve, 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 yow, that ye the god of love
|
|
Han maked me his wrathe to foryive;
|
|
And yeve me grace so long for to live,
|
450 |
That I may knowe soothly what ye be
|
|
That han me holpen, and put in swich degree.
|
|
But trewely I wende, as in this cas,
|
|
Naught have agilt, ne doon to love trespas.
|
|
Forwhy a trewe man, with-outen drede,
|
|
Hath nat to parten with a theves dede;
|
|
Ne a trewe lover oghte me nat blame,
|
|
Thogh that I speke a fals lover som shame.
|
|
They oghte rather with me for to holde,
|
|
For that I of Creseyde wroot or tolde,
|
460 |
Or of the Rose; what-so myn auctour mente,
|
|
Algate, god wot, hit was myn entente
|
|
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 arguinge;
|
|
For Love ne wol nat countrepleted 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
|
470 |
For thy trespas, and understond hit here:
|
|
Thou shalt, whyl that thou livest, yeer by yere,
|
|
The moste party of thy lyve spende
|
|
In making of a glorious Legende
|
|
Of Gode Wemen, maidenes and wyves,
|
|
That were trewe in lovinge al hir lyves;
|
|
And telle of false men that hem bitrayen,
|
|
That al hir lyf ne doon nat but assayen
|
|
How many wemen they may doon a shame;
|
|
For in your world that is now holden game.
|
480 |
And thogh thee lesteth nat a lover be,
|
|
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 quene, or countesse, or of what degree,
|
|
That hath so litel penance yeven thee,
|
490 |
That hast deserved sorer for to smerte?
|
|
But pitee renneth sone in gentil herte;
|
|
That mayst thou seen, she kytheth what she is."
|
|
And I answerde, "nay, sir, so have I blis,
|
|
No more but that I see wel she is good."
|
|
|
"That is a trewe tale, by myn hood,"
|
|
Quod Love, "and that thou knowest wel, pardee,
|
|
If hit be so that thou avyse thee.
|
|
Hastow nat in a book, lyth in thy cheste,
|
|
The grete goodnesse of the quene Alceste,
|
500 |
That turned was into a dayesye:
|
|
She that for hir husbande chees to dye,
|
|
And eek to goon to helle, rather than he,
|
|
And Ercules rescued hir, pardee,
|
|
And broghte hir out of helle agayn to blis?"
|
|
|
"And I answerde ageyn, and seyde, "yis,
|
|
Now knowe I hir! And is this good Alceste,
|
|
The dayesye, and myn owne hertes reste?
|
|
Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wyf,
|
|
That bothe after hir deeth, and in hir lyf,
|
510 |
Hir grete bountee doubleth hir renoun!
|
|
Wel hath she quit me myn affeccioun
|
|
That I have to hir flour, the dayesye!
|
|
No wonder is thogh Iove hir stellifye,
|
|
As telleth Agaton, for hir goodnesse!
|
|
Hir whyte coroun berth of hit witnesse;
|
|
For also many vertues hadde she,
|
|
As smale floures in hir coroun be.
|
|
In remembraunce of hir and in honour,
|
|
Cibella made the dayesy and the flour
|
520 |
Y-coroned al with whyt, as men may see;
|
|
And Mars yaf to hir coroun reed, pardee,
|
|
In stede of rubies, set among the whyte."
|
|
|
Therwith this quene wex reed for shame a lyte,
|
|
Whan she was preysed so in hir presence.
|
|
Than seyde Love, "a ful gret negligence
|
|
Was hit to thee, to write unstedfastnesse
|
|
Of women, sith thou knowest hir goodnesse
|
|
By preef, and eek by stories heer-biforn;
|
|
Let be the chaf, and wryt wel of the corn.
|
530 |
Why noldest thou han writen of Alceste,
|
|
And leten Criseide been a-slepe and reste?
|
|
For of Alceste shuld thy wryting be,
|
|
Sin that thou wost that kalender is she
|
|
Of goodnesse, for she taughte of fyn lovinge,
|
|
And namely of wyfhood the livinge,
|
|
And alle the boundes that she oghte kepe;
|
|
Thy litel wit was thilke tyme a-slepe.
|
|
But now I charge thee, upon thy lyf,
|
|
That in thy Legend thou make of this wyf,
|
540 |
Whan thou hast other smale mad before;
|
|
And fare now wel, I charge thee no more.
|
|
|
"At Cleopatre I wol that thou beginne;
|
|
And so forth; and my love so shalt thou winne."
|
|
|
And with that word of sleep I gan a-awake,
|
|
And right thus on my Legend gan I make.
|
|
|
Explicit prohemium
|