THE PROEM

1I have gret wonder, be this lighte,
2How that I live, for day ne nighte
3I may nat slepe wel nigh noght,
4I have so many an ydel thoght
5Purely for defaute of slepe
6That, by my trouthe, I take no kepe
7Of no-thing, how hit cometh or goth,
8Ne me nis no-thing leef nor loth.
9Al is y-liche good to me --
10Ioye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --
11For I have feling in no-thinge,
12But, as it were, a mased thing,
13Alway in point to falle a-doun;
14For sorwful imaginacioun
15Is alway hoolly in my minde.
16    And wel ye wite, agaynes kynde
17Hit were to liven in this wyse;
18For nature wolde nat suffyse
19To noon erthely creature
20Not longe tyme to endure
21Withoute slepe, and been in sorwe;
22And I ne may, ne night ne morwe,
23Slepe; and thus melancolye
24And dreed I have for to dye,
25Defaute of slepe and hevinesse
26Hath sleyn my spirit of quiknesse,
27That I have lost al lustihede.
28Suche fantasies ben in myn hede
29So I not what is best to do.
30    But men myght axe me, why soo
31I may not slepe, and what me is?
32But natheles, who aske this
33Leseth his asking trewely.
34My-selven can not telle why
35The sooth; but trewely, as I gesse,
36I holde hit be a siknesse
37That I have suffred this eight yere,
38And yet my bote is never the nere;
39For ther is phisicien but oon,
40That may me hele; but that is doon.
41Passe we over until eft;
42That wil not be, moot nede be left;
43Our first matere is good to kepe.
44    So whan I saw I might not slepe,
45Til now late, this other night,
46Upon my bedde I sat upright
47And bad oon reche me a book,
48A romaunce, and he hit me took
49To rede and dryve the night away;
50For me thoghte it better play
51Then playen either at chesse or tables.
52    And in this boke were writen fables
53That clerkes hadde, in olde tyme,
54And other poets, put in ryme
55To rede, and for to be in minde
56Whyl men loved the lawe of kinde.
57This book ne spak but of such thinges,
58Of quenes lyves, and of kinges,
59And many othere thinges smale.
60Amonge al this I fond a tale
61That me thoughte a wonder thing.
62    This was the tale: There was a king
63That hight Seys, and hadde a wyf,
64The beste that mighte bere lyf;
65And this quene hight Alcyone.
66So hit befel, therafter sone,
67This king wolde wenden over see.
68To tellen shortly, whan that he
69Was in the see, thus in this wyse,
70Soche a tempest gan to ryse
71That brak hir mast, and made it falle,
72And clefte her ship, and dreinte hem alle,
73That never was founden, as it telles,
74Bord ne man, ne nothing elles.
75Right thus this king Seys loste his lyf.
76    Now for to speken of his wife: --
77This lady, that was left at home,
78Hath wonder, that the king ne come
79Hoom, for hit was a longe terme.
80Anon her herte gan to erme;
81And for that hir thoughte evermo
82Hit was not wel he dwelte so,
83She longed so after the king
84That certes, hit were a pitous thing
85To telle hir hertely sorwful lyf
86That hadde, alas! this noble wyfe;
87For him she loved alderbest.
88Anon she sente bothe eest and west
89To seke him, but they founde nought.
90    'Alas!' quoth she, 'that I was wrought!
91And wher my lord, my love, be deed?
92Certes, I nil never ete breed,
93I make a-vowe to my god here,
94But I mowe of my lord here!'
95Such sorwe this lady to her took
96That trewely I, which made this book,
97Had swich pite and swich rowthe
98To rede hir sorwe, that, by my trowthe,
99I ferde the worse al the morwe
100After, to thenken on her sorwe.
101    So whan she coude here no word
102That no man mighte fynde hir lord,
103Ful ofte she swouned, and saide 'Alas!'
104For sorwe ful nigh wood she was,
105Ne she coude no reed but oon;
106But doun on knees she sat anoon,
107And weep, that pite was to here.
108    'A! mercy! swete lady dere!'
109Quod she to Iuno, hir goddesse;
110'Help me out of this distresse,
111And yeve me grace my lord to see
112Sone, or wite wher-so he be,
113Or how he fareth, or in what wyse,
114And I shal make you sacrifyse,
115And hoolly youres become I shal
116With good wil, body, herte, and al;
117And but thou wilt this, lady swete,
118Send me grace to slepe, and mete
119In my slepe som certeyn sweven,
120Wher-through that I may knowen even
121Whether my lord be quik or deed.'
122With that word she heng doun the heed,
123And fil a-swown as cold as ston;
124Hir women caught her up anon,
125And broghten hir in bed al naked,
126And she, forweped and forwaked,
127Was wery, and thus the dede sleep
128Fil on hir, or she toke keep,
129Through Iuno, that had herd hir bone,
130That made hir to slepe sone;
131For as she prayde, so was don,
132In dede; for Iuno, right anon,
133Called thus her messagere
134To do her erande, and he com nere.
135Whan he was come, she bad him thus:
136'Go bet,' quod Iuno, 'to Morpheus,
137Thou knowest hym wel, the god of sleep;
138Now understond wel, and tak keep.
139Sey thus on my halfe, that he
140Go faste into the grete see,
141And bid him that, on alle thing,
142He take up Seys body the king,
143That lyth ful pale and no-thing rody.
144Bid him crepe into the body,
145Aud do it goon to Alcyone
146The quene, ther she lyth alone,
147And shewe hir shortly, hit is no nay,
148How hit was dreynt this other day;
149And do the body speke so
150Right as hit was wont to do,
151The whyles that hit was on lyve.
152Go now faste, and hy thee blyve!'
153    This messager took leve and wente
154Upon his wey, and never ne stente
155Til he com to the derke valeye
156That stant bytwene roches tweye,
157Ther never yet grew corn ne gras,
158Ne tree, ne nothing that ought was,
159Beste, ne man, ne nothing elles,
160Save ther were a fewe welles
161Came renning fro the cliffes adoun,
162That made a deedly sleping soun,
163And ronnen doun right by a cave
164That was under a rokke y-grave
165Amid the valey, wonder depe.
166Ther thise goddes laye and slepe,
167Morpheus, and Eclympasteyre,
168That was the god of slepes heyre,
169That slepe and did non other werk.
170    This cave was also as derk
171As helle pit over-al aboute;
172They had good leyser for to route
173To envye, who might slepe beste;
174Some henge hir chin upon hir breste
175And slepe upright, hir heed y-hed,
176And some laye naked in hir bed,
177And slepe whyles the dayes laste.
178    This messager come flying faste,
179And cryed, 'O ho! awake anon!'
180Hit was for noght; ther herde him non.
181'Awak!' quod he, 'who is, lyth there?'
182And blew his horn right in hir ere,
183And cryed 'awaketh!' wonder hye.
184This god of slepe, with his oon ye
185Cast up, axed, 'who clepeth there?'
186'Hit am I,' quod this messagere;
187'Iuno bad thou shuldest goon' --
188And tolde him what he shulde doon
189As I have told yow here-tofore;
190Hit is no need reherse hit more;
191And wente his wey, whan he had sayd.
192    Anon this god of slepe a-brayd
193Out of his slepe, and gan to goon,
194And did as he had bede him doon;
195Took up the dreynte body sone,
196And bar hit forth to Alcyone,
197His wif the quene, ther-as she lay,
198Right even a quarter before day,
199And stood right at hir beddes fete,
200And called hir, right as she hete,
201By name, and sayde, 'my swete wyf,
202Awak! let be your sorwful lyf!
203For in your sorwe there lyth no reed;
204For certes, swete, I nam but deed;
205Ye shul me never on lyve y-see.
206But good swete herte, look that ye
207Bury my body, at whiche a tyde
208Ye mowe hit finde the see besyde;
209And far-wel, swete, my worldes blisse!
210I praye god your sorwe lisse;
211To litel whyl our blisse lasteth!'
212    With that hir eyen up she casteth,
213And saw noght; 'A!' quod she, 'for sorwe!'
214And deyed within the thridde morwe.
215But what she sayde more in that swow
216I may not telle yow as now,
217Hit were to longe for to dwelle;
218My first matere I wil yow telle,
219Wherfor I have told this thing
220Of Alcione and Seys the king.
221    For thus moche dar I saye wel,
222I had be dolven everydel,
223And deed, right through defaute of sleep,
224If I nad red and taken keep
225Of this tale next before:
226And I wol telle yow wherfore:
227For I ne might, for bote ne bale,
228Slepe, or I had red this tale
229Of this dreynte Seys the king,
230And of the goddes of sleping.
231Whan I had red this tale wel
232And over-loked hit everydel,
233Me thoughte wonder if hit were so;
234For I had never herd speke, or tho,
235Of no goddes that coude make
236Men for to slepe, ne for to wake;
237For I ne knew never god but oon.
238And in my game I sayde anoon --
239And yet me list right evel to pleye --
240'Rather then that I shulde deye
241Through defaute of sleping thus,
242I wolde yive thilke Morpheus,
243Or his goddesse, dame Iuno,
244Or som wight elles, I ne roghte who --
245To make me slepe and have som reste --
246I wil yive him the alder-beste
247Yift that ever he aboode his lyve,
248And here on warde, right now, as blyve;
249If he wol make me slepe a lyte,
250Of downe of pure dowves whyte
251I wil yive him a fether-bed,
252Rayed with golde, and right wel cled
253In fyn blak satin doutremere,
254And many a pilow, and every bere
255Of clothe of Reynes, to slepe softe;
256Him thar not nede to turnen ofte.
257And I wol yive him al that falles
258To a chambre; and al his halles
259I wol do peynte with pure golde,
260And tapite hem ful many folde
261Of oo sute; this shal he have,
262Yf I wiste wher were his cave,
263If he can make me slepe sone,
264As did the goddesse Alcione.
265And thus this ilke god, Morpheus,
266May winne of me mo fees thus
267Than ever he wan; and to Iuno,
268That is his goddesse, I shal so do,
269I trow that she shal holde her payd.'
270    I hadde unneth that word y-sayd
271Right thus as I have told hit yow,
272That sodeynly, I niste how,
273Swich a lust anoon me took
274To slepe, that right upon my book
275I fil aslepe, and therwith even
276Me mette so inly swete a sweven,
277So wonderful, that never yit
278I trowe no man hadde the wit
279To conne wel my sweven rede;
280No, not Ioseph, withoute drede,
281Of Egipte, he that redde so
282The kinges meting Pharao,
283No more than coude the leste of us;
284Ne nat scarsly Macrobeus,
285(He that wroot al thavisioun
286That he mette, Kyng Scipioun,
287The noble man, the Affrican --
288Swiche marvayles fortuned than)
289I trowe, a-rede my dremes even.
290Lo, thus hit was, this was my sweven.

THE DREAM

291Me thoughte thus: -- that hit was May,
292And in the dawning ther I lay,
293Me mette thus, in my bed al naked: --
294I loked forth, for I was waked
295With smale foules a gret hepe,
296That had affrayed me out of slepe
297Through noyse and swetnesse of hir song;
298And, as me mette, they sate among,
299Upon my chambre-roof withoute,
300Upon the tyles, al a-boute,
301And songen, everich in his wise,
302The moste solempne servyse
303By note, that ever man, I trowe,
304Had herd; for som of hem song lowe,
305Som hye, and al of oon acorde.
306To telle shortly, at oo worde,
307Was never y-herd so swete a steven,
308But hit had be a thing of heven; --
309So mery a soun, so swete entunes,
310That certes, for the toune of Tewnes,
311I nolde but I had herd hem singe,
312For al my chambre gan to ringe
313Through singing of hir armonye.
314For instrument nor melodye
315Was nowher herd yet half so swete,
316Nor of acorde half so mete;
317For ther was noon of hem that feyned
318To singe, for ech of hem him peyned
319To finde out mery crafty notes;
320They ne spared not hir throtes.
321And, sooth to seyn, my chambre was
322Ful wel depeynted, and with glas
323Were al the windowes wel y-glased,
324Ful clere, and nat an hole y-crased,
325That to beholde hit was gret Ioye.
326For hoolly al the storie of Troye
327Was in the glasing y-wroght thus,
328Of Ector and of king Priamus,
329Of Achilles and king Lamedon,
330Of Medea and of Iason,
331Of Paris, Eleyne, and Lavyne.
332And alle the walles with colours fyne
333Were peynted, bothe text and glose,
334Of al the Romaunce of the Rose.
335My windowes weren shet echon,
336And through the glas the sunne shon
337Upon my bed with brighte bemes,
338With many glade gilden stremes;
339And eek the welken was so fair,
340Blew, bright, clere was the air,
341And ful atempre, for sothe, hit was;
342For nother cold nor hoot hit nas,
343Ne in al the welken was a cloude.
344    And as I lay thus, wonder loude
345Me thoughte I herde an hunte blowe
346Tassaye his horn, and for to knowe
347Whether hit were clere or hors of soune.
348    I herde goinge, up and doune,
349Men, hors, houndes, and other thing;
350And al men speken of hunting,
351How they wolde slee the hert with strengthe,
352And how the hert had, upon lengthe,
353So moche embosed,I not now what.
354Anon-right, whan I herde that,
355How that they wolde on hunting goon,
356I was right glad, and up anoon;
357I took my hors, and forth I wente
358Out of my chambre; I never stente
359Til I com to the feld withoute.
360Ther overtook I a gret route
361Of huntes and eek of foresteres,
362With many relayes and lymeres,
363And hyed hem to the forest faste,
364And I with hem; -- so at the laste
365I asked oon, ladde a lymere: --
366'Say, felow, who shal hunten here'
367Quod I, and he answerde ageyn,
368'Sir, themperour Octovien,'
369Quod he, 'and is heer faste by.'
370'A goddes halfe, in good tyme,' quod I,
371'Go we faste!' and gan to ryde.
372Whan we came to the forest-syde,
373Every man dide, right anoon,
374As to hunting fil to doon.
375The mayster-hunte anoon, fot-hoot,
376With a gret horne blew three moot
377At the uncoupling of his houndes.
378Within a whyl the hert y-founde is,
379Y-halowed, and rechased faste
380Longe tyme; and so at the laste,
381This hert rused and stal away
382Fro alle the houndes a prevy way.
383The houndes had overshote hem alle,
384And were on a defaute y-falle;
385Therwith the hunte wonder faste
386Blew a forloyn at the laste.
387    I was go walked fro my tree,
388And as I wente, ther cam by me
389A whelp, that fauned me as I stood,
390That hadde y-folowed, and coude no good.
391Hit com and creep to me as lowe,
392Right as hit hadde me y-knowe,
393Hild doun his heed and Ioyned his eres,
394And leyde al smothe doun his heres.
395I wolde han caught hit, and anoon
396Hit fledde, and was fro me goon;
397And I him folwed, and hit forth wente
398Doun by a floury grene wente
399Ful thikke of gras, ful softe and swete,
400With floures fele, faire under fete,
401And litel used, hit seemed thus;
402For bothe Flora and Zephirus,
403They two that make floures growe,
404Had mad hir dwelling ther, I trowe;
405For hit was, on to beholde,
406As thogh the erthe envye wolde
407To be gayer than the heven,
408To have mo floures, swiche seven
409As in the welken sterres be.
410Hit had forgete the povertee
411That winter, through his colde morwes,
412Had mad hit suffren, and his sorwes;
413Al was forgeten, and that was sene.
414For al the wode was waxen grene,
415Swetnesse of dewe had mad it waxe.
416    Hit is no need eek for to axe
417Wher ther were many grene greves,
418Or thikke of trees, so ful of leves;
419And every tree stood by him-selve
420Fro other wel ten foot or twelve.
421So grete trees, so huge of strengthe,
422Of fourty or fifty fadme lengthe,
423Clene withoute bough or stikke,
424With croppes brode, and eek as thikke --
425They were nat an inche a-sonder --
426That hit was shadwe over-al under;
427And many an hert and many an hinde
428Was both before me and bihinde.
429Of founes, soures, bukkes, does
430Was ful the wode, and many roes,
431And many squirelles that sete
432Ful hye upon the trees, and ete,
433And in hir maner made festes.
434Shortly, hit was so ful of bestes,
435That thogh Argus, the noble countour,
436Sete to rekene in his countour,
437And rekened with his figures ten --
438For by tho figures mowe al ken,
439If they be crafty, rekene and noumbre,
440And telle of every thing the noumbre --
441Yet shulde he fayle to rekene even
442The wondres, me mette in my sweven.
443    But forth they romed wonder faste
444Doun the wode; so at the laste
445I was war of a man in blak,
446That sat and had y-turned his bak
447To an oke, an huge tree.
448'Lord,' thoghte I, 'who may that be?
449What ayleth him to sitten here?'
450Anoon-right I wente nere;
451Than fond I sitte even upright
452A wonder wel-faringe knight --
453By the maner me thoughte so --
454Of good mochel, and yong therto,
455Of the age of four and twenty yeer.
456Upon his berde but litel heer,
457And he was clothed al in blakke.
458I stalked even unto his bakke,
459And ther I stood as stille as ought,
460That, sooth to saye, he saw me nought,
461For-why he heng his heed adoune.
462And with a deedly sorwful soune
463He made of ryme ten vers or twelve
464Of a compleynt to him-selve,
465The moste pite, the moste rowthe,
466That ever I herde; for, by my trowthe,
467Hit was gret wonder that nature
468Might suffren any creature
469To have swich sorwe, and be not deed.
470Ful pitous, pale, and nothing reed,
471He sayde a lay, a maner song,
472Withoute note, withoute song,
473And hit was this; for wel I can
474Reherse hit; right thus hit began. --
475    'I have of sorwe so grete woon,
476That Ioye gete I never noon,
477    Now that I see my lady bright,
478    Which I have loved with al my might,
479Is fro me dedd, and is a-goon.
480And thus in sorwe lefte me alone.
481    'Allas, o deeth! what ayleth thee,
482That thou noldest have taken me,
483    'Whan that thou toke my lady swete?
484That was so fayr, so fresh, so free,
485So good, that men may wel y-see
486    'Of al goodnesse she had no mete!' --
487Whan he had mad thus his complaynte,
488His sorowful herte gan faste faynte,
489And his spirites wexen dede;
490The blood was fled, for pure drede,
491Doun to his herte, to make him warm --
492For wel hit feled the herte had harm --
493To wite eek why hit was a-drad,
494By kinde, and for to make hit glad;
495For hit is membre principal
496Of the body; and that made al
497His hewe chaunge and wexe grene
498And pale, for no blood was sene
499In no maner lime of his.
500    Anoon therwith whan I saw this,
501He ferde thus evel ther he sete,
502I wente and stood right at his fete,
503And grette him, but he spak noght,
504But argued with his owne thoght,
505And in his witte disputed faste
506Why and how his lyf might laste;
507Him thoughte his sorwes were so smerte
508And lay so colde upon his herte;
509So, through his sorwe and hevy thoght,
510Made him that he ne herde me noght;
511For he had wel nigh lost his minde,
512Thogh Pan, that men clepe god of kinde,
513Were for his sorwes never so wrooth.
514    But at the laste, to sayn right sooth,
515He was war of me, how I stood
516Before him, and dide of myn hood,
517And grette him, as I best coude.
518Debonairly, and no-thing loude,
519He sayde, 'I prey thee, be not wrooth,
520I herde thee not, to sayn the sooth,
521Ne I saw thee not, sir, trewely.'
522    'A! goode sir, no fors,' quod I,
523'I am right sory if I have ought
524Destroubled yow out of your thought;
525For-yive me if I have mis-take.'
526    'Yis, thamendes is light to make,'
527Quod he, 'for ther lyth noon ther-to;
528Ther is no-thing missayd nor do,'
529    Lo! how goodly spak this knight,
530As it had been another wight;
531He made it nouther tough ne queynte
532And I saw that, and gan me aqueynte
533With him, and fond him so tretable,
534Right wonder skilful and resonable,
535As me thoghte, for al his bale.
536Anoon-right I gan finde a tale
537To him, to loke wher I might ought
538Have more knowing of his thought.
539    'Sir,' quod I, 'this game is doon;
540I holde that this hert be goon;
541Thise huntes conne him nowher see.'
542    'I do no fors therof,' quod he,
543'My thought is ther-on never a del.'
544    'By our lord,' quod I, 'I trow yow wel,
545Right so me thinketh by your chere.
546But, sir, oo thing wol ye here?
547Me thinketh, in gret sorwe I yow see;
548But certes, good sir, yif that ye
549Wolde ought discure me your wo,
550I wolde, as wis god help me so,
551Amende hit, yif I can or may;
552Ye mowe preve hit by assay.
553For, by my trouthe, to make yow hool,
554I wol do al my power hool;
555And telleth me of your sorwes smerte,
556Paraventure hit may ese your herte,
557That semeth ful seke under your syde.'
558    With that he loked on me asyde,
559As who sayth, 'Nay, that wol not be.'
560'Graunt mercy, goode frend,' quod he,
561'I thanke thee that thou woldest so,
562But hit may never the rather be do,
563No man may my sorwe glade,
564That maketh my hewe to falle and fade,
565And hath myn understonding lorn,
566That me is wo that I was born!
567May noght make my sorwes slyde,
568Nought the remedies of Ovyde;
569Ne Orpheus, god of melodye,
570Ne Dedalus, with playes slye;
571Ne hele me may phisicien,
572Noght Ypocras, ne Galien;
573Me is wo that I live houres twelve;
574But who so wol assaye him-selve
575Whether his herte can have pite
576Of any sorwe, lat him see me.
577I wrecche, that deeth hath mad al naked
578Of alle blisse that ever was maked,
579Y-worthe worste of alle wightes,
580That hate my dayes and my nightes;
581My lyf, my lustes be me lothe,
582For al welfare and I be wrothe.
583The pure deeth is so my fo
584Thogh I wolde deye, hit wolde not so;
585For whan I folwe hit, hit wol flee;
586I wolde have hit, hit nil not me.
587This is my peyne withoute reed,
588Alway deinge and be not deed,
589That Sesiphus, that lyth in helle,
590May not of more sorwe telle.
591And who so wiste al, be my trouthe,
592My sorwe, but he hadde routhe
593And pite of my sorwes smerte,
594That man hath a feendly herte.
595For who so seeth me first on morwe
596May seyn, he hath y-met with sorwe;
597For I am sorwe and sorwe is I.
598    'Allas! and I wol telle the why;
599My song is turned to pleyning,
600And al my laughter to weping,
601My glade thoghtes to hevinesse,
602In travaile is myn ydelnesse
603And eek my reste; my wele is wo,
604My goode is harm, and ever-mo
605In wrathe is turned my pleying,
606And my delyt in-to sorwing.
607Myn hele is turned into seeknesse,
608In drede is al my sikernesse.
609To derke is turned al my light,
610My wit is foly, my day is night,
611My love is hate, my sleep waking,
612My mirthe and meles is fasting,
613My countenaunce is nycete,
614And al abaved wher-so I be,
615My pees, in pleding and in werre;
616Allas! how mighte I fare werre?
617    'My boldnesse is turned to shame,
618For fals Fortune hath pleyd a game
619Atte ches with me, allas! the whyle!
620The trayteresse fals and ful of gyle,
621That al behoteth and no-thing halt,
622She goth upryght and yet she halt,
623That baggeth foule and loketh faire,
624The dispitouse debonaire,
625That scorneth many a creature!
626An ydole of fals portraiture
627Is she, for she wil sone wryen;
628She is the monstres heed y-wryen,
629As filth over y-strawed with floures;
630Hir moste worship and hir flour is
631To lyen, for that is hir nature;
632Withoute feyth, lawe, or mesure.
633She is fals; and ever laughinge
634With oon eye, and that other wepinge.
635That is broght up, she set al doun.
636I lykne hir to the scorpioun,
637That is a fals, flateringe beste;
638For with his hede he maketh feste,
639But al amid his flateringe
640With his tayle he wol stinge,
641And envenyme; and so wol she.
642She is thenvyouse charite
643That is ay fals, and seemeth wele,
644So turneth she hir false whele
645Aboute, for it is no-thing stable,
646Now by the fyre, now at table;
647Ful many oon hath she thus y-blent;
648She is pley of enchauntement,
649That semeth oon and is not so,
650The false theef! what hath she do,
651Trowest thou? By our lord, I wol thee seye.
652Atte ches with me she gan to pleye;
653With hir false draughtes divers
654She stal on me, and took my fers.
655And whan I saw my fers aweye,
656Alas! I couthe no lenger playe,
657But seyde, "Farewel, swete, y-wis,
658And farwel al that ever ther is!"
659Therwith Fortune seyde, "Chek here!"
660And "Mate!" in mid pointe of the chekkere
661With a poune erraunt, allas!
662Ful craftier to pley she was
663Than Athalus, that made the game
664First of the ches: so was his name.
665But God wolde I had ones or twyes
666Y-koud and knowe the Ieupardyes
667That coude the Grek Pithagores!
668I shulde have pleyd the bet at ches,
669And kept my fers the bet therby;
670And thogh wherto? for trewely,
671I hold that wish nat worth a stree!
672Hit had be never the bet for me.
673For Fortune can so many a wyle,
674Ther be but fewe can hir begyle,
675And eek she is the las to blame;
676My-self I wolde have do the same,
677Before god, hadde I been as she;
678She oghte the more excused be.
679For this I say yet more therto,
680Hadde I be god and mighte have do
681My wille, whan she my fers caughte,
682I wolde have drawe the same draughte.
683For, also wis god yive me reste,
684I dar wel swere she took the beste!
685    'But through that draughte I have lorn
686My blisse; allas! that I was born!
687For evermore, I trowe trewly,
688For al my wil, my lust hoolly
689Is turned; but yet what to done?
690Be oure lord, hit is to deye sone;
691For no-thing I ne leve it noght,
692But live and deye right in this thoght.
693There nis planete in firmament,
694Ne in air, ne in erthe, noon element,
695That they ne yive me a yift echoon
696Of weping, whan I am aloon.
697For whan that I avyse me wel,
698And bethenke me every-del,
699How that ther lyth in rekening,
700In my sorwe for no-thing;
701And how ther leveth no gladnesse
702May gladde me of my distresse,
703And how I have lost suffisance,
704And therto I have no plesance,
705Than may I say, I have right noght.
706And whan al this falleth in my thoght,
707Allas! than am I overcome!
708For that is doon is not to come!
709I have more sorowe than Tantale.'
710    And whan I herde him telle this tale
711Thus pitously, as I yow telle,
712Unnethe mighte I lenger dwelle,
713Hit dide myn hert so moche wo.
714    'A! good sir!' quod I, 'say not so!
715Have som pite on your nature
716That formed yow to creature,
717Remembre yow of Socrates;
718For he ne counted nat three strees
719Of noght that Fortune coude do.'
720    'No,' quod he, 'I can not so.'
721    'Why so? good sir! parde!' quod I;
722'Ne say noght so, for trewely,
723Thogh ye had lost the ferses twelve,
724And ye for sorwe mordred your-selve,
725Ye sholde be dampned in this cas
726By as good right as Medea was,
727That slow hir children for Iason;
728And Phyllis als for Demophon
729Heng hir-self, so weylaway!
730For he had broke his terme-day
731To come to hir. Another rage
732Had Dydo, quene eek of Cartage,
733That slow hir-self for Eneas
734Was fals; a whiche a fool she was!
735And Ecquo dyed for Narcisus.
736Nolde nat love hir; and right thus
737Hath many another foly don.
738And for Dalida died Sampson,
739That slow him-self with a pilere.
740But ther is noon a-lyve here
741Wolde for a fers make this wo!'
742    'Why so?' quod he; 'hit is nat so,
743Thou woste ful litel what thou menest;
744I have lost more than thow wenest.'
745'Lo, sir, how may that be?' quod I;
746'Good sir, tel me al hoolly
747In what wyse, how, why, and wherfore
748That ye have thus your blisse lore,'
749    'Blythly,' quod he, 'com sit adoun,
750I telle thee up condicioun
751That thou hoolly, with al thy wit,
752Do thyn entent to herkene hit.'
753'Yis, sir.' 'Swere thy trouthe ther-to.'
754'Gladly.' 'Do than holde her-to!'
755'I shal right blythly, so god me save,
756Hoolly, with al the witte I have,
757Here yow, as wel as I can,'
758    'A goddes half!' quod he, and began: --
759'Sir,' quod he, 'sith first I couthe
760Have any maner wit fro youthe,
761Or kyndely understonding
762To comprehende, in any thing,
763What love was, in myn owne wit,
764Dredeles, I have ever yit
765Be tributary, and yiven rente
766To love hoolly with goode entente,
767And through plesaunce become his thral,
768With good wil, body, herte, and al.
769Al this I putte in his servage,
770As to my lorde, and dide homage;
771And ful devoutly prayde him to,
772He shulde besette myn herte so,
773That it plesaunce to him were,
774And worship to my lady dere.
775    'And this was longe, and many a yeer
776Or that myn herte was set o-wher,
777That I did thus, and niste why;
778I trowe hit cam me kindely.
779Paraunter I was therto most able
780As a whyt wal or a table;
781For hit is redy to cacche and take
782Al that men wil therin make,
783Wher-so so men wol portreye or peynte,
784Be the werkes never so queynte.
785    'And thilke tyme I ferde so
786I was able to have lerned tho,
787And to have coud as wel or better,
788Paraunter, other art or letter.
789But for love cam first in my thought,
790Therfore I forgat hit nought.
791I chees love to my firste craft,
792Therfor hit is with me y-laft.
793Forwhy I took hit of so yong age,
794That malice hadde my corage
795Nat that tyme turned to no-thing
796Through to mochel knowleching.
797For that tyme youthe, my maistresse,
798Governed me in ydelnesse;
799For hit was in my firste youthe,
800And tho ful litel good I couthe,
801For al my werkes were flittinge,
802And al my thoghtes varyinge;
803Al were to me y-liche good,
804That I knew tho; but thus hit stood.
805    'Hit happed that I cam on a day
806Into a place, ther I say,
807Trewly, the fayrest companye
808Of ladies that ever man with ye
809Had seen togedres in oo place.
810Shal I clepe hit hap other grace
811That broght me ther? nay, but Fortune,
812That is to lyen ful comune,
813The false trayteresse, pervers,
814God wolde I coude clepe hir wers!
815For now she worcheth me ful wo,
816And I wol telle sone why so.
817    'Among thise ladies thus echoon,
818Soth to seyn, I saw ther oon
819That was lyk noon of al the route;
820For I dar swere, withoute doute,
821That as the someres sonne bright
822Is fairer, clere, and hath more light
823Than any planete, is in heven,
824The mone, or the sterres seven,
825For al the worlde so had she
826Surmounted hem alle of beaute,
827Of maner and of comlinesse,
828Of stature and wel set gladnesse,
829Of goodlihede so wel beseye --
830Shortly, what shal I more seye?
831By god, and by his halwes twelve,
832It was my swete, right al hir-selve!
833She had so stedfast countenaunce,
834So noble port and meyntenaunce.
835And Love, that had herd my bone,
836Had espyed me thus sone,
837That she ful sone, in my thoght,
838As helpe me god, so was y-caught
839So sodenly, that I ne took
840No maner reed but at hir look
841And at myn herte; for-why hir eyen
842So gladly, I trow, myn herte seyen,
843That purely tho myn owne thoght
844Seyde hit were bet serve hir for noght
845Than with another to be wel.
846And hit was sooth, for, everydel,
847I wil anoon-right telle thee why.
848    I saw hir daunce so comlily,
849Carole and singe so swetely,
850Laughe and pleye so womanly,
851And loke so debonairly,
852So goodly speke and so frendly,
853That certes, I trow, that evermore
854Nas seyn so blisful a tresore.
855For every heer upon hir hede,
856Soth to seyn, hit was not rede,
857Ne nouther yelw, ne broun hit nas;
858Me thoghte, most lyk gold hit was.
859And whiche eyen my lady hadde!
860Debonair, goode, glade, and sadde,
861Simple, of good mochel, noght to wyde;
862Therto hir look nas not a-syde,
863Ne overthwert, but beset so wel,
864Hit drew and took up, everydel,
865Alle that on hir gan beholde.
866Hir eyen semed anoon she wolde
867Have mercy; fooles wenden so;
868But hit was never the rather do.
869Hit nas no countrefeted thing,
870It was hir owne pure loking,
871That the goddesse, dame Nature,
872Had made hem opene by mesure,
873And close; for, were she never so glad,
874Hir loking was not foly sprad,
875Ne wildely, thogh that she pleyde;
876But ever, me thoght, hir eyen seyde,
877"By god, my wrathe is al for-yive!"
878    'Therwith hir liste so wel to live,
879That dulnesse was of hir a-drad.
880She nas to sobre ne to glad;
881In alle thinges more mesure
882Had never, I trowe, creature.
883But many oon with hir loke she herte,
884And that sat hir ful lyte at herte,
885For she knew no-thing of her thoght;
886But whether she knew, or knew hit noght,
887Algate she ne roghte of hem a stree!
888To gete hir love no ner was he
889That woned at home, than he in Inde;
890The formest was alway behinde.
891But goode folk, over al other,
892She loved as man may do his brother;
893Of whiche love she was wonder large,
894In skilful places that bere charge.
895    'Which a visage had she ther-to!
896Allas! myn herte is wonder wo
897That I ne can discryven hit!
898Me lakketh bothe English and wit
899For to undo hit at the fulle;
900And eek my spirits be so dulle
901So greet a thing for to devyse.
902I have no wit that can suffyse
903To comprehenden hir beaute;
904But thus moche dar I seyn, that she
905Was rody, fresh, and lyvely hewed;
906And every day hir beaute newed.
907And negh hir face was alder-best;
908For certes, Nature had swich lest
909To make that fair, that trewly she
910Was hir cheef patron of beautee,
911And cheef ensample of al hir werke,
912And moustre; for, be hit never so derke,
913Me thinketh I see hir ever-mo.
914And yet more-over, thogh alle tho
915That ever lived were not a-lyve,
916They ne sholde have founde to discryve
917In al hir face a wikked signe;
918For hit was sad, simple, and benigne.
919    'And which a goodly, softe speche
920Had that swete, my lyves leche!
921So frendly, and so wel y-grounded,
922Up al resoun so wel y-founded,
923And so tretable to alle gode,
924That I dar swere by the rode,
925Of eloquence was never founde
926So swete a sowninge facounde,
927Ne trewer tonged, ne scorned lasse,
928Ne bet coude hele; that, by the masse,
929I durste swere, thogh the pope hit songe,
930That ther was never yet through hir tonge
931Man ne woman gretly harmed;
932As for hir, ther was al harm hid;
933Ne lasse flatering in hir worde,
934That purely, hir simple recorde
935Was founde as trewe as any bonde,
936Or trouthe of any mannes honde.
937Ne chyde she coude never a del,
938That knoweth al the world ful wel.
939    'But swich a fairnesse of a nekke
940Had that swete that boon nor brekke
941Nas ther non sene, that mis-sat.
942Hit was whyt, smothe, streght, and flat,
943Withouten hole; and canel-boon,
944As by seming, had she noon.
945Hir throte, as I have now memoire,
946Semed a round tour of yvoire,
947Of good gretnesse, and noght to grete.
948    'And gode faire Whyte she hete,
949That was my lady name right.
950She was bothe fair and bright,
951She hadde not hir name wrong.
952Right faire shuldres, and body long
953She hadde, and armes; every lith
954Fattish, flesshy, not greet therwith;
955Right whyte handes, and nayles rede,
956Rounde brestes; and of good brede
957Hyr hippes were, a streight flat bake.
958I knew on hir non other lak
959That al hir limmes nere sewing,
960In as fer as I had knowing.
961    'Therto she coude so wel pleye,
962Whan that hir liste, that I dar seye,
963That she was lyk to torche bright,
964That every man may take of light
965Ynogh, and hit hath never the lesse.
966    'Of maner and of comlinesse
967Right so ferde my lady dere;
968For every wight of hir manere
969Might cacche ynogh, if that he wolde,
970If he had eyen hir to beholde.
971For I dar sweren, if that she
972Had among ten thousand be,
973She wolde have be, at the leste,
974A cheef mirour of al the feste,
975Thogh they had stonden in a rowe,
976To mennes eyen coude have knowe.
977For wher-so men had pleyd or waked,
978Me thoghte the felawship as naked
979Withouten hir, that saw I ones,
980As a coroune withoute stones.
981Trewly she was, to myn ye,
982The soleyn fenix of Arabye,
983For ther liveth never but oon;
984Ne swich as she ne know I noon.
985    'To speke of goodnesse; trewly she
986Had as moche debonairte
987As ever had Hester in the bible
988And more, if more were possible.
989And, soth to seyne, therwith-al
990She had a wit so general,
991So hool enclyned to alle gode,
992That al hir wit was set, by the rode,
993Withoute malice, upon gladnesse;
994Therto I saw never yet a lesse
995Harmul, than she was in doing.
996I sey nat that she ne had knowing
997What harm was; or elles she
998Had coud no good, so thinketh me.
999    'And trewly, for to speke of trouthe,
1000But she had had, hit had be routhe.
1001Therof she had so moche hir del --
1002And I dar seyn and swere hit wel --
1003That Trouthe him-self, over al and al,
1004Had chose his maner principal
1005In hir, that was his resting-place.
1006Ther-to she hadde the moste grace,
1007To have stedfast perseveraunce,
1008And esy, atempre governaunce,
1009That ever I knew or wiste yit;
1010So pure suffraunt was hir wit.
1011And reson gladly she understood,
1012Hit folowed wel she coude good.
1013She used gladly to do wel;
1014These were hir maners every-del.
1015    'Therwith she loved so wel right,
1016She wrong do wolde to no wight;
1017No wight might do hir no shame,
1018She loved so wel hir owne name.
1019Hir luste to holde no wight in honde;
1020Ne, be thou siker, she nolde fonde
1021To holde no wight in balaunce,
1022By half word ne by countenaunce,
1023But-if men wolde upon hir lye;
1024Ne sende men in-to Walakye,
1025To Pruyse, and in-to Tartarye,
1026To Alisaundre, ne in-to Turkye,
1027And bidde him faste, anoon that he
1028Go hoodles to the drye see,
1029And come hoom by the Carrenare;
1030And seye, "Sir, be now right ware
1031That I may of yow here seyn
1032Worship, or that ye come ageyn!'
1033She ne used no suche knakkes smale.
1034    'But wherfor that I telle my tale?
1035Right on this same, as I have seyd,
1036Was hoolly al my love leyd;
1037For certes, she was, that swete wyf,
1038My suffisaunce, my lust, my lyf,
1039Myn hap, myn hele, and al my blisse,
1040My worldes welfare, and my lisse,
1041And I hires hoolly, everydel.'
1042    'By our lord,' quod I, 'I trowe yow wel!
1043Hardely, your love was wel beset,
1044I not how ye mighte have do bet.'
1045'Bet? ne no wight so wel!' quod he.
1046'I trowe hit, sir,' quod I, 'parde!'
1047'Nay, leve hit wel!' 'Sir, so do I;
1048I leve yow wel, that trewely
1049Yow thoghte, that she was the beste,
1050And to beholde the alderfaireste,
1051Who so had loked hir with your eyen.'
1052    'With myn? Nay, alle that hir seyen
1053Seyde and sworen hit was so.
1054And thogh they ne hadde, I wolde tho
1055Have loved best my lady fre,
1056Thogh I had had al the beautee
1057That ever had Alcipyades,
1058And al the strengthe of Ercules,
1059And therto had the worthinesse
1060Of Alisaundre, and al the richesse
1061That ever was in Babiloyne,
1062In Cartage, or in Macedoyne,
1063Or in Rome, or in Ninive;
1064And therto al-so hardy be
1065As was Ector, so have I Ioye,
1066That Achilles slow at Troye --
1067And therfor was he slayn also
1068In a temple, for bothe two
1069Were slayn, he and Antilegius,
1070And so seyth Dares Frigius,
1071For love of hir Polixena --
1072Or ben as wys as Minerva,
1073I wolde ever, withoute drede,
1074Have loved hir, for I moste nede!
1075"Nede!" nay, I gabbe now,
1076Noght "nede", and I wol telle how,
1077For of good wille myn herte hit wolde,
1078And eek to love hir I was holde
1079As for the fairest and the beste.
1080    'She was as good, so have I reste,
1081As ever was Penelope of Grece,
1082Or as the noble wyf Lucrece,
1083That was the beste -- he telleth thus,
1084The Romayn Tytus Livius --
1085She was as good, and no-thing lyke,
1086Thogh hir stories be autentyke;
1087Algate she was as trewe as she.
1088    'But wherfor that I telle thee
1089Whan I first my lady say?
1090I was right yong, the sooth to sey,
1091And ful gret need I hadde to lerne;
1092Whan my herte wolde yerne
1093To love, it was a greet empryse.
1094But as my wit coude best suffyse,
1095After my yonge childly wit,
1096Withoute drede, I besette hit
1097To love hir in my beste wise,
1098To do hir worship and servyse
1099That I tho coude, be my trouthe,
1100Withoute feyning outher slouthe;
1101For wonder fayn I wolde hir see.
1102So mochel hit amended me,
1103That, whan I saw hir first a-morwe,
1104I was warished of al my sorwe
1105Of al day after, til hit were eve;
1106Me thoghte no-thing mighte me greve,
1107Were my sorwes never so smerte.
1108And yit she sit so in myn herte,
1109That, by my trouthe, I nolde noghte,
1110For al this worlde, out of my thoght
1111Leve my lady; no, trewly!'
1112    'Now, by my trouthe, sir,' quod I,
1113'Me thinketh ye have such a chaunce
1114As shrift withoute repentaunce.'
1115    'Repentaunce! nay, fy,' quod he;
1116'Shulde I now repente me
1117To love? nay, certes, than were I wel
1118Wers than was Achitofel,
1119Or Anthenor, so have I Ioye,
1120The traytour that betraysed Troye,
1121Or the false Genelon,
1122He that purchased the treson
1123Of Rowland and of Olivere.
1124Nay, why! I am a-lyve here
1125I nil foryete hir never-mo.'
1126    'Now, goode sir,' quod I right tho,
1127'Ye han wel told me her-before.
1128It is no need reherse hit more
1129How ye sawe hir first, and where;
1130But wolde ye telle me the manere,
1131To hir which was your firste speche --
1132Therof I wolde yow be-seche --
1133And how she knewe first your thoght,
1134Whether ye loved hir or noght,
1135And telleth me eek what ye have lore;
1136I herde yow telle her-before.'
1137    'Ye,' seyde he, 'thow nost what thou menest;
1138I have lost more than thou wenest.'
1139    'What los is that, sir?' quod I tho;
1140'Nil she not love yow? Is hit so?
1141Or have ye oght y-doon amis,
1142That she hath left yow? is hit this?
1143For goddes love, telle me al.'
1144    'Before god,' quod he, 'and I shal.
1145I saye right as I have seyd,
1146On hir was al my love leyd;
1147And yet she niste hit never a del
1148Noght longe tyme, leve hit wel.
1149For be right siker, I durste noght
1150For al this worlde telle hir my thoght,
1151Ne I wolde have wratthed hir, trewely.
1152For wostow why? she was lady
1153Of the body; she had the herte,
1154And who hath that, may not asterte.
1155    'But, for to kepe me fro ydelnesse,
1156Trewly I did my besinesse
1157To make songes, as I best coude,
1158And ofte tyme I song hem loude;
1159And made songes a gret del,
1160Al-thogh I coude not make so wel
1161Songes, ne knowe the art al,
1162As coude Lamekes sone Tubal,
1163That fond out first the art of songe;
1164For, as his brothers hamers ronge
1165Upon his anvelt up and doun,
1166Therof he took the firste soun;
1167But Grekes seyn, Pictagoras,
1168That he the firste finder was
1169Of the art; Aurora telleth so,
1170But therof no fors, of hem two.
1171Algates songes thus I made
1172Of my feling, myn herte to glade;
1173And lo! this was the alther-firste,
1174I not wher that hit were the werst. --
1175    "Lord, hit maketh myn herte light,
1176Whan I thenke on that swete wight
1177    That is so semely on to see;
1178And wisshe to god hit might so be,
1179That she wolde holde me for hir knight,
1180My lady, that is so fair and bright!" --
1181    'Now have I told thee, sooth to saye,
1182My firste song. Upon a daye
1183I bethoghte me what wo
1184And sorwe that I suffred tho
1185For hir, and yet she wiste hit noght,
1186Ne telle hir durste I nat my thoght.
1187'Allas!' thoghte I, 'I can no reed;
1188And, but I telle hir, I nam but deed;
1189And if I telle hir, to seye sooth,
1190I am a-dred she wol be wrooth;
1191Allas! what shal I thanne do?"
1192    'In this debat I was so wo,
1193Me thoghte myn herte braste a-tweyn!
1194So atte laste, soth to sayn,
1195I me bethoghte that nature
1196Ne formed never in creature
1197So moche beaute, trewely,
1198And bounte, withouten mercy.
1199    'In hope of that, my tale I tolde,
1200With sorwe, as that I never sholde;
1201For nedes, and, maugree my heed,
1202I moste have told hir or be deed.
1203I not wel how that I began,
1204Ful evel rehersen hit I can;
1205And eek, as helpe me god with-al,
1206I trowe hit was in the dismal,
1207That was the ten woundes of Egipte;
1208For many a word I over-skipte
1209In my tale, for pure fere
1210Lest my wordes mis-set were.
1211With sorweful herte, and woundes dede,
1212Softe and quaking for pure drede
1213And shame, and stinting in my tale
1214For ferde, and myn hewe al pale,
1215Ful ofte I wex bothe pale and reed;
1216Bowing to hir, I heng the heed;
1217I durste nat ones loke hir on,
1218For wit, manere, and al was gon.
1219I seyde "mercy!" and no more;
1220Hit nas no game, hit sat me sore.
1221    'So atte laste, sooth to seyn,
1222Whan that myn herte was come ageyn,
1223To telle shortly al my speche,
1224With hool herte I gan hir beseche
1225That she wolde be my lady swete;
1226And swor, and gan hir hertely hete
1227Ever to be stedfast and trewe,
1228And love hir alwey freshly newe,
1229And never other lady have,
1230And al hir worship for to save
1231As I best coude; I swor hir this --
1232"For youres is al that ever ther is
1233For evermore, myn herte swete!
1234And never false yow, but I mete,
1235I nil, as wis god helpe me so!"
1236    'And whan I had my tale y-do,
1237God wot, she acounted nat a stree
1238Of al my tale, so thoghte me.
1239To telle shortly as hit is,
1240Trewly hir answere, hit was this;
1241I can not now wel counterfete
1242Hir wordes, but this was the grete
1243Of hir answere: she sayde, "nay"
1244Al-outerly. Allas! that day
1245The sorwe I suffred, and the wo!
1246That trewly Cassandra, that so
1247Bewayled the destruccioun.
1248Of Troye and of Ilioun,
1249Had never swich sorwe as I tho.
1250I durste no more say therto
1251For pure fere, but stal away;
1252And thus I lived ful many a day;
1253That trewely, I hadde no need
1254Ferther than my beddes heed
1255Never a day to seche sorwe;
1256I fond hit redy every morwe,
1257For-why I loved hir in no gere.
1258    'So hit befel, another yere,
1259I thoughte ones I wolde fonde
1260To do hir knowe and understonde
1261My wo; and she wel understood
1262That I ne wilned thing but good,
1263And worship, and to kepe hir name
1264Over al thing, and drede hir shame,
1265And was so besy hir to serve; --
1266And pite were I shulde sterve,
1267Sith that I wilned noon harm, y-wis.
1268So whan my lady knew al this,
1269My lady yaf me al hoolly
1270The noble yift of hir mercy,
1271Saving hir worship, by al weyes;
1272Dredles, I mene noon other weyes.
1273And therwith she yaf me a ring;
1274I trowe hit was the firste thing;
1275But if myn herte was y-waxe
1276Glad, that is no need to axe!
1277As helpe me god, I was as blyve,
1278Reysed, as fro dethe to lyve,
1279Of alle happes the alder-beste,
1280The gladdest and the moste at reste.
1281For trewely, that swete wight,
1282Whan I had wrong and she the right,
1283She wolde alwey so goodely
1284For-yeve me so debonairly.
1285In alle my youthe, in alle chaunce,
1286She took me in hir governaunce.
1287    'Therwith she was alway so trewe,
1288Our Ioye was ever y-liche newe;
1289Our hertes wern so even a payre,
1290That never nas that oon contrayre
1291To that other, for no wo.
1292For sothe, y-liche they suffred tho
1293Oo blisse and eek oo sorwe bothe;
1294Y-liche they were bothe gladde and wrothe;
1295Al was us oon, withoute were.
1296And thus we lived ful many a yere
1297So wel, I can nat telle how.'
1298    'Sir,' quod I, 'where is she now?'
1299'Now!' quod he, and stinte anoon.
1300    Therwith he wex as deed as stoon,
1301And seyde, 'allas! that I was bore,
1302That was the los, that her-before
1303I tolde thee, that I had lorn.
1304Bethenk how I seyde her-beforn,
1305"Thou wost ful litel what thou menest;
1306I have lost more than thou wenest" --
1307God wot, allas! right that was she!'
1308    'Allas! sir, how? what may that be?'
1309'She is deed!' 'Nay!' 'Yis, by my trouthe!'
1310'Is that your los? By god, hit is routhe!'
1311    And with that worde, right anoon,
1312They gan to strake forth; al was doon,
1313For that tyme, the hert-hunting.
1314    With that, me thoghte, that this king
1315Gan quikly hoomward for to ryde
1316Unto a place ther besyde,
1317Which was from us but a lyte,
1318A long castel with walles whyte,
1319Be seynt Iohan! on a riche hil,
1320As me mette; but thus it fil.
1321    Right thus me mette, as I yow telle,
1322That in the castel was a belle,
1323As hit had smiten houres twelve. --
 
1324    Therwith I awook my-selve,
1325And fond me lying in my bed;
1326And the book that I had red,
1327Of Alcyone and Seys the king,
1328And of the goddes of sleping,
1329I fond it in myn honde ful even.
1330    Thoghte I, 'this is so queynt a sweven,
1331That I wol, be processe of tyme,
1332Fonde to putte this sweven in ryme
1333As I can best'; and that anoon. --
1334This was my sweven; now hit is doon.

Explicit the Boke of the Duchesse.

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