And therewithal he must his leavè take; And cast his eye upon her pitously, And near he rode, his cause1 for to make, To take her by the hand all soberly; And, Lord, so gan she weepen tenderly ! And he full soft and slyly gan her sey3 "Now, hold your day, and do me not to die."...
With that his courser turnèd he about, With face all pale; and unto Diomede No word he spake, ne none of all his rout : Of which the son of Tydeus took heed,- As he that couthè more than the creed In such a craft, and by the rein her hent;8 And Troilus to Troyè homewards went.
On morrow, as soon as day began to clear, This Troilus gan of his sleep abraid, And to Pandarus, his own brother dear, "For love of God," full pitously he said, "Aso go we seen the palace of Creseid; For, since we yet may have no morè feast, So let us seen her palace at the least!"
And therewithal, his meinie for to blend, 10 A cause he found in townè for to go, And to Creseidè's housè they gan wend; But, Lord, this sely11 Troilus was wo! Him thought his sorrowful heartè brast atwo ;12 For, when he saw her doorès sparrèd13 all, Well nigh for sorrow adown he gan to fall.
Therewith, when he was ware, and gan behold How shut was every window of the place, As frost him thought his heartè gan to cold ; For which, with changed deadly palè face, Withouten word he forth-by gan to pace, And, as God would, he gan so faste ride That no wight of his countenance espied.
Then said he thus : "O palace desolate, O house of houses, whilom1 best y-hight,2 O palace, empty and disconsolate, O thou lantern of which queint is the light, O palace, whilom day that now art night, Well oughtest thou to fall, and I to die, Since she is went that wont was us to gie !5
"O palace, whilom crown of houses all, Enluminèd with sun of allè bliss ! O ring of which the ruby is out-fall! O cause of wo that cause hast been of bliss ! Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss Thy coldè doorès, durst I for this rout ; And farewell shrine of which the saint is out!
Therewith he cast on Pandarus his eye, With changed face and pitous to behold; And, when he might his time aright aspie, Aye as he rode to Pandarus he told His newè sorrow, and eke his joyès old, So pitously and with so dead an hue That every wight might on his sorrow rue.
Fro thennesforth he rideth up and down, And everything came him to remembrance As he rode forth by places of the town In which he whilom had all his pleasance. "Lo, yonder saw I mine own lady dance; And in that temple with her eyen clear Me caughtè first mine own right lady dear.
"And yonder have I heard full lustily My dearè heartè laugh; and yonder play Saw I her onès eke full blissfully; And yonder onès to me gan she say : 'Now, good sweet, loveth me well, I pray!' And yond so goodly gan she me behold That to the death mine heart is to her hold.10
And at the corner, in the yonder house, Heard I mine alderlevest1 lady dear, So womanly, with voice melodious,
Singen so well, so goodly, and so clear, That in my soul yet me thinketh I hear The blissful soun;1 and in that yonder place My lady first me took unto her grace."
FROM THE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS. ST. VALENTINE'S DAY.
When I was come again into the place That I of spake, that was so sweet and green, Forth walked I then myselven to solace. Then was I ware where that there sate a queen That, as of light the summer sonnè sheen Passeth the star, right so over measure She fairer was than any creature.
And in a land, upon an hill of flowers, Was set this noble goddess of Nature; Of branches were her hallès and her bowers Y-wrought, after her craft and her measure. Never was fowl that cometh of engendure That they ne were all prest in her presence, To take their doom and give her audience.
For this was on Saint Valentinès day, When every bird cometh to choose his make, 6 Of every kindè that men thinkè may, And that so huge a noisè gan they make That earth, and tree, and sea, and every lake, So full was that unnethè there was space For me to stand: so full was all the place.
And right as Aleyn, in the Plaint of Kind, Deviseth Nature in array and face, In such array men mightè her there find. This noble emperessè full of grace Bade every fowl to take his owen place, As they were wont alway from year to year, Saint Valentinès day, to standè there.
That is to say, the fowlès of ravine
Were highest set; and then the fowlès small,
Of worm or thing of which I tell no tale; And water fowl sat lowest in the dale; But fowls that live by seed sat on the green And that so fele1 that wonder was to seen.
There mightè men the royal Eagle find, That with his sharpè look pierceth the sun, And other eagles of a lower kind Of which that clerkès well devisen con: There was the Tyrant, with his feathers dun And grey,-I mean the Gos-hawk, that doth To birdès for his outrageous ravine.
The gentle Falcon, that with his feet distrai The kingès hand; the hardy Spar-hawk eke The quailès foe; the Merlion, that paineth Himself full oft the larkè for to seek : There was the Dove with her eyen meek; The jealous Swan, against his death that sin The Owl eke, that of death the bode-word br
The Cranè giant, with his trompe's soun;5 The thiefè Chough, and eke the jangling Pie The scorning Jay; the eelès foe, Heroun; The falsè Lapwing, full of treacherie; The Starling, that the counsel can bewrie; The tamè Ruddock, and the coward Kite; The Cock, that orloge is of thorpès lite;
The Sparrow, Venus' son; the Nightingale, That clepeth1o forth the greenè leavès new; The Swallow, murderer of the fliès small That maken honey of flowers fresh of hue; The wedded Turtle, with her heartè true; The Peacock, with his angel feathers bright The Pheasant, scorner of the Cock by night night
The waker Goose; the Cuckoo most unkind The Popinjay, full of delicacy;
The Drake, destroyer of his owen kind;
The Stork, the wreaker of adultery;
The hot Cormeraunt, full of gluttony;
The Raven wise; the Crow, with voice of car
The Throstle old; the frosty Feldefare.
FROM THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.1
Hard is his heart that loveth nought In May, when all this mirth is wrought; When he may on these branches hear The smallè birdès singen clear Their blissful sweet song piteous.
And in this season delitous,3 When love affirmeth alle thing, Me-thought one night, in my sleeping, Right in my bed full readily, That it was by the morrow early ;4 And up I rose and gan me clothe. Anon I wesh my hondès both; A silver needle forth I drew Out of an aguiler quaint enew, And gan this needle thread anon,- For out of town me list to gon, The sound of birdès for to hear That on the buskès singen clear In the sweet season that lefe is.
With a thread basting my sleevis, Alone I went in my playing, The small fowles' song hearkening, That painèd them full many a pair To sing on bowès blossomed fair. Jolif and gay, full of gladness, Toward a river gan I me dress, That I heard rennè fastè by. For fairer playing none saw I Than playen me by the rivère. For, from an hill that stood there near, Come down the stream full stiff and bold. Clear was the water, and as cold As any well is, sooth to sayn ; And somedeal less it was than Seine.... And with that water that ran so clear
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