Puslapio vaizdai
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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.

CAP. XXXIV.

HOW HE MET WITH PERCEVERAUNCE, AND REPOSED HYM
IN THE MANOUR PLACE OF DAME COMFORT.

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.

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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.

So after this I dyd then sone departe
Home to my countrey where I dyd abyde;
When I was gone full heavy was his harte.
As Cupide sayeth, I must for hym provyde
A gentle remedy at this sodayne tyde;
And for my sake he is adventurous

To subdue mine enemies to me contrarious.

A! quod Disdayne, knowe ye his substaunce?
Why wyll you love suche a one as he?
Though he seme gentle and of good governaunce,
You shall have one of farre hyer degre.
He is nothyng mete, as it semeth me,
To be your fere your favour to attayne.
What is it to you though he suffer payne?

Coulde your selfe let his eyen to have a syght
Of your beauty or his harte to be set,
What skilleth you though that he dye this nyght?
You called hym not when he with you mette;
And he will love you, you can not hym let.
Be as be may, ye shall have myne assent
Him for to forsake as is moste expedient.

Alas! madame, then saide dame Strangenes,
When he cometh hether your courage abate;
Loke hye upon hym; beware of mekenes;
And thinke that you shall have an hie estate.
Let not Graunde Amour saye to you checkmate.
Be straunge unto hym, as ye knowe nothyng
The perfite cause of his true commyng.

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