Puslapio vaizdai

Than to the chambre, that was very bryght,
They did me lede for to take myne ease,
After my trouble and my great sturdy fight;
But thre woundes I had, causing my disease:
My pane and wo they did sone appease,
And heled my woundes with salves aromatyke,
Telling me of a great giaunt lunatyke,

Whose name truely was called Variaunce,
Whome I should mete after my departyng.
These ladies unto me did great pleasaunce;
And in meane while as we were talking
For me my suppour was in ordeyning;
Thus whan by Temperaunce it was prepared,
And than to it we went and right well fared.

Tell me, quod Veritie, if you be content,
What is your name so hye adventurous,
And who that you into this cost hath sent?
Madame, I sayd, I was so amarous
Of La Belle Pucell so fayre and beauteous,
La Graunde Amoure truely is my name,
Which seke adventures to attayne the same.

A, ha! quod she, I thought as much before,
That you were he, for your great hardines.
La Bell Pucell must love you evermore,
Which for her sake, in your hye nobles,
Doth such actes by chyvalrous exces:
Her gentyl hert may nothing deny

To rewarde your mede with love full fervently.

Thus did we passe time in all maner of joye,
I lacketh nothyng that might make me solace,
But evermore, as noble Troyelus of Troy,
Full ofte I thought on my fayre ladyes face,
And her to se a muche longer space.
When time was come, to rest I was brought,
All to me longyng there lacked right nought.

What should I wade by perambulucion? My tyme is shorte and I have farre to sayle Unto the lande of my conclusion.

The wynde is east, ryght slowe without fayle,
To blowe my shyppe of diligent travayle
To the last ende of my matter troublous,
With waves enclosed so tempestuous.

Ryght in the morowe, when Aurora clere Her radiaunt beames began for to spreade, And splendent Phebus, in his golden spere, The cristalle ayr did make fayre and redde, Darke Dyane declining pale as any ledde, When the lytle byrdes swetely dyd syng Laudes to their maker early in the mornyng.



UP I rose, and did make me ready,
For I thought long unto my journeys ende:
My grahoundes lept on me ryght merely,
To cheare me forwarde they condescende;
And the thre ladies, my cheare to amende,
A good breakefast did for me ordayne;
They were ryght gladde the gyaunt was slayne.

I toke my leave and on my way
I ryde,
Through the woodes and on rockes hye.
I loked about, and on the hyll abode.
Till in the vale I sawe full hastely
To me come ryding a lady sikerly:
I well behelde the hye waye so used,
But of this lady ryght often I mused:

Till at the last we did mete together.
Madame, I sayde, the hye God you save!
She thanked me, and did aske me whether
That I so rode, and what I would have?
Truely, quod I, nothyng els I crave
Of the hye God, but to be so fortunate,
La Bell Pucell to have to my mate.

What is your name? then sayde she.
La Graunde Amoure, forsothe, madame, quod I.
Then was she glad as any one myght be,
And sayde she was sent fro myne owne lady.
Tidynges, I sayde, I praye you hartely!
Your lady, quod she, is in perfect health,
And would be glad to heare of your wealth.

She promised you in a garden grene
To love you best of any creature;
So doth she yet, as I thynke and wene,
Though that Disdayne brought her to her lure:
But of her harte nowe you shall be sure.
Be of good chere, and for nothyng dismaye,
I spake with her but nowe this other daye,

And she my selfe unto you hath sent;
My name is called dame Perceveraunce.
A little before that I from her went,
To her came Cupide, with great circumstaunce,
And brought a letter of Venus ordinaunce,
Whiche unto her he did anone present.
When she it reade and knewe the entent,

All inwardly full wondersly dismayed,
Withouten worde she did stande right well,
Her harded harte was full well delayed,
What for to do she knewe not good or yll.
You for to helpe or let you so spyll.

Disdayne and Strangenes did stande then therby;
Seing her countenaunce they gan to drawe nye.

Madame, quod they, why are ye so sadde?
Alas! quod she, it is no marvayle why.
Ryght nowe of Cupide a letter I had,
Sent from Venus, full ryght marveylously,
By whiche I have perceyved utterly
That a yong knyght called Graunde Amoure
Doth for my sake suffer suche doloure,

That of constraynte of wofull hevines
He is nere dead all onely for my sake;
Shall he nowe dye, or shall I him relese
Of his great wo and to my mercy take?
Abyde, quod Strangenes, and your sorowe slake:
Have you hym sene in any time before?
Yes, yes, quod she; that doth my wo restore.

At Penticost, nowe many dayes agone,
Musike to heare at great solemnitie,
To and fro he walked him selfe all alone
In a great temple of olde antiquitie;
Tyll that by fortune he had espied me;
And ryght anone, or that I was ware,
To me he came: I knewe nought of his care.

He semeth gentle, his maners ryght good,
I behelde ryght well all his condicion:
Humble of chere and of goodly mode;
But I thought nothyng of his affliction;
But his behavour sheweth the occasion
Of fervent love, as then in myne entent
I oft dyd deme, and geve a judgement.

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