At the uncoupling of his houndis.
Within a while the hartè found is ;
Y-hallowed1 and re-chased1 fast
Long timè; and so, at the last,
This hartè rused1 and stole away
Fro all the hounds a privy way.
The hounds had overshot him all,
And were on a default y-fall ;2
Therewith the hunter wonder fast
Blew a forloin3 at the last.
I was go walked fro my tree;
And as I went there came by me
A whelp, that fawned me as I stood,
That had y-followed, and coud no good.
It came, and crept to me as low
Right as it haddè me y-know,
Held down his head and joined his ears
And laid all smoothè down his hairs.
I would have caught it; and anon
It fleddè, and was fro me gone.
As I him followed, and it forth went :
Down by a flowery green it went,
Full thick of grass, full soft and sweet,
With flowers fele fair under feet,
And little used it? seemèd thus ;
For both Flora and Zephyrus,
They two that maken flowers grow,
Had made their dwelling there, I trow.
For it was on to behold
As though the earth envyè wold9
To be gayer than the heaven,
To have mo flowers suchè seven10
As in the welkin starrès be.
It had forgot the poverty
That winter through his coldè morrows
Had made it suffer, and his11 sorrows,—
All was forgotten; and that was seen,
For all the wood was waxen green;
Sweetness of dew had made it wax.' 12
2 Fallen on a false scent. 4 As if it had known me. 7 The flowery green. 8 To look on.
3 A hunting term signifying that the game is far off.
5 Quickly. 9 Would aspire. 10 Seven times more flowers than there are stars in the welkin.
THE LADY BLANCHE,1
I saw her dance so comelily,
Carol and sing so sweetèly,
Laugh and play so womanly,
And look so debonairely,
So goodly speak and so friendly,
That, certes, I trow that nevermore
N'as seen so blissful a tresore.
For every hair on her head
Sooth to say, it was not red,
Ne neither yellow, ne brown it was ;
Me thought most like gold it was
I have no wit that can suffice
To comprehende her beauty;
But this much dare I sayn, that she
Was ruddy, fresh, and lovely hued,
And every day her beauty newed.
And nigh her face was alder best ;2
For, certes, Nature had such lest3
To make that fair, that truly she
Was her chief pattern of beauty,
And chief ensample of all her work
And monstre: for, be it never so derk,5
Methinketh I see her evermo.
And yet, moreover, though all tho
That ever lived were now alive,
Ne wold have found they to descrive
In all her face a wicked sign,
For it was sad, simple, and benign.
And such a goodly softè speech
Had that sweet, my lifè's leech,8
So friendly, and so well y-grounded
Upon all reason, so well y-founded,
And so tretable9 to all good,
That I dare swear well by the rood10
Of eloquence was never found
So sweet a souning facound,11
Ne truer tongued, ne scornèd less,
Ne less flattering in her word;
That purely her simple record
1 This was the wife of John of Gaunt, who died 1369, after ten years of marriage. The husband is here supposed to be lamenting her loss and recounting
Was found as true as any bond
Or troth of any mannes hond ...
Her throat, as I have now memoire,
Seemed as a round tower of ivoire,
Of good greatness, and not too great ;1
And goodè fairè White' she hete.3
That was my Lady's namè right:
She was thereto fair and bright;
She had not her namè wrong.
When I first my lady sey'
I was right young, sooth to say ;
And full great need I had to learn,
When my heartè wolde yearn
To love, it was a great emprise.5
But, as my wit wold best suffise,
After my young childly wit,
Without drede I be-set it.
To love her in my best wise,
To do her worship and servise,
That I could tho,8 by my troth,
Without feigning either sloth.
For wonder fain10 I wold her see :
So mickle11 it amended me
That, when I saw her first a-morrow,"
I was warshed13 of all my sorrow;
Of all day after till it were eve
Me thought nothing might me grieve . . .
I bethoughtè me what woe
And sorrow that I suffered tho14
For her, and yet she wist it nought,
Ne tell her durst I not my thought.
Alas, thought I, I can no rede ;15
And but16 I tell her I am but dead;
And, if I tell her, to say right soth,
I am a-dread she will be wroth;
Alas, what shall I thenne do?
In this debate I was so wo
1 Large, but not too large.
2 Blanche.
6 Misgiving.
10 Gladly.
Methought mine heartè brast atwain.-
So at the last, sooth for to sayn,
I bethought me that Nature
Ne formed never in creature
So muchè beauty, truely,
And bounty, without mercy.
In hope of that, my tale I told. .,
I n'ot well how that I began ;
Full evil rehearse it I can ;
And eke, as help me God withal,
I trow it was in the3 dismal
That was the ten wounds of Egypt;
For many a word I overskipt
In my tale for purè fear
Lest my wordès mis-set were.
With sorrowful heart and woundès dead,*
Soft and quaking for pure dread
And shame, and stinting in my tale
For-feared, and my hue all pale,
Full oft I waxt both pale and red;
Bowing to her I heng' the head;
I durst not onès look her on,
For wit, manner, and all was gone;
I said "Mercy!" and no more.
It n'as no game, it sate me sore !
So, at the laste, sooth to sayn,
When that mine heart was come again,
To tellè shortly all my speech,
With whole heart I gan her beseech
That she wold be my lady sweet...
And, when I had my tale y-do,9
God wot, she accounted not a stree10
Of all my tale, so thoughtè me.
To tell shortly right as it is,
Truly her answer it was this:
cannot now well counterfeit
Her wordès, but this was the gretell
Of her answer ;-she said "Nay,"
All utterly. Alas that day!
The sorrow I suffered and the woe,
That truly Cassandra, that so
Bewailed the destruction
Of Troye and of Ilion,
3 To that degree dismal.
7 Hung.
Had never such sorrow as I tho.1
I durst no more say thereto
For pure fear, but stole away.
And thus I lived full many a day,
That truely I had no need
Further than my beddes head
Never a day to seeke sorrow;
I found it ready every morrow...
So it befell another year
I thought onès2 I wolde fond3
To do1 her know and understond
My woe. And she well understood
That I ne wilned thing but good,
And worship, and to keep her name
Over all things, and dread her shame,
And was so busy her to serve,
And pity were that I should sterve,
Sith that I willed none harm, I wiss.
So, when my lady knew all this,
My lady gave me all wholly
The noble gift of her mercy.
FROM TROILUS AND CRESEIDE.
But, as she sat alone and thoughtè thus,
The ascry arose at skarmochR all without;
And men cried in the street, "See, Troilus
Hath right now put to flight the Greekès' rout!"
With that gan all her meinie9 for to shout
"Ah, go we see! Cast up the gatès wide;
For through this street he mote1o to palace ride!
"For other way is fro the gatès none.
Of Dardanus there open is the chain."
With that come he, and all his folk anon,
An easy pace riding in routes11 twain ;
Right as his happy day was, sooth to sayn;
For that, men saith, may not disturbed be
That shall betidè of necessity.
This Troilus sat on his bayè steed,
All armed save his head full richely;
And wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed,
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