Fare well, quod she, I may no lenger tary;
My frendes wyll come; of that were I lothe:
I shall retayne you in my memory,
And they it knewe they wolde with me be wrothe.
To love you best I promise you my trouthe!
And than mine eyen great sorowe shewed,
Wyth teres salte my chekes were endewed.
Her eyes graye began to loke right reed,
Her gaye whyte coloure began for to pale,
Upon her chekes so the droppes were sprede
Whiche from her eyen began to advale;
Frome her swete herte she dyd the syghes hale;
Never before, as I trowe and wene,
Was suche departyng true lovers betwene.
We wyped our chekes our sorowe to cloke,
Outwardly faynyng us to be glad and mery,
That the people should not perceyve the smoke
Of our hote fyre to lyght the emyspery:
Thoughe inwardly wyth a stormy pery
The fyre was blowen, yet we dyd it cover,
Bycause abrode it should nothyng perceyver.
Out of the garden to an haven syde
Forth he went, where as a shyppe ryght large
That taryed there after the floynge tyde,
And so than dyd there many a bote and barge.
The shyp was great, fyve c. tonne to charge.
La Bell Pucell ryght anone me tolde:
In yondre shyp, whyche that ye beholde,
Forthe must I sayle wythout longer delaye;
It is full see; my frendes wyll come soone;
Therfore I pray you to go hence your waye,
It draweth fast now towarde the none.
Madame, quod I, your pleasure shal be done.
Wyth wofull herte and great syghes, ofte
I kyssed her lyppes, that were swete and softe.
She unto me nor I unto her colde speke,
And as of that it was no great wondre,
Our hertes swelled as that they should breke;
The fyre of love was so sore kept under.
Whan I from her should depart asundre,
Wyth her fayre head she dyd lowe enclyne,
And in lykewyse so dyd I wyth myne.
OF THE GREAT SOROWE THAT GRAUNDE AMOUR MADE AFTER THE DEPARTYNGE AND OF THE WORDES
HER frendes and she on theyr waye they sayled
Alonge the haven, God them save, and bryng
Unto the londe! I herd whan that they hayled,
Wyth a great peale of gunnes, at theyr departyng,
The marvaylous toure of famous cunnynge;
No gunne was shotte, but my herte dyd wepe
For her departynge wyth wofull teres depe.
Councell me comforted as ever he myght,
Wyth many storyes of olde antyquyte.
Remembre, he saide, that never yet was wyght
That lyved alway in great tranquylyte,
But that him happed some adversyte;
Than after that, whan the payne was paste,
The double joye dyd comfort them at laste.
Ye nede nothynge for to make great dolour,
Fortune to you hath bene ryght favourable,
Makyng you to attayne the good favour
Of your lady so swete and amyable.
No doubte it is she is true and stable;
And demeane you so that in no wyse
No man perceyve of your love surmyse.
Be hardy, fyers, and also coragyous,
In all your batayles without feblenes,
For ye shall be ryght well vyctoryous
Of all your enemyes so full of subtylnes.
Arme you wyth wysdome for more surenes,
Let wysdome werke, for she can stedfastly
In tyme of nede resyste the contrary.
Was never man yet surely at the bayte
Wyth Sapyence, but that he dyd repent;
Who that is ruled by her higher estate,
Of hys after wytte shall never be shent;
She is to man ryght benyvolent;
Wyth walles sure she doth hym fortyfye,
Whan it is nede to resyste a contrary.
Was never place where as she did guyde
Wyth enemyes brought to destruccyon;
A remedy she can so well provyde;
To her hygh werke is no comparison,
It hath so stronge and sure foundacyon:
Nothyng there is that can it molyfy,
So sure it is agaynst a contrary.
Of her alwayes it is the parfyte guyse
To begynne nothyng of mutabylyte,
As is the warre which may sone aryse
And wyl not downe, it may so stourdy be,
The begynner oft hath the iniquite.
Whan he began, wysdome did reply,
In his grete nede to resyst the contrary.
The myghty Pryant, somtyme kynge of Troye,
Wyth all his cyte so well fortyfyed,
Lytle regarded all his welth or joye,
Wythout wysdome truely exemplyfied,
His propre death him selfe he nutrifyed;
Agaynst his warre wysdome did reply,
At his grete nede to resyst the contrary.
And where that wysdome ruleth hardynes,
Hardynes than is ever invincyble,
There may nothinge it vanquishe or oppres;
For prudence is so well intellygyble,
To her there is nothing impossible;
Her grounded werke is made so perfytely,
That it must nedes resyst the contrary.
To wofull creatures she is goodly leche,
Wyth her good syster called Pacyence,
To the toure of joye she doth them tell weche,
In the way of hope wythout resystence;
Who to her lyst to applye hys dylygence,
She wyll hym brynge to worshyppe shortly
That he shall well resyst the contrary.
Ryght so let wysdome your sorowe surrendre,
And hye you fast unto dame Geometry,
And let no thought in your herte engendre,
But after thys speke to Astronomye;
And so frome thence to the toure of Chyvalry,
Wher of the worthy kynge Melyzyus
You shall be made soone knyght adventurous.
And fare you well, for I must frome you go,
To other lovers whyche are in dyspayre,
As I dyd you, to confort them also:
It is great nede that I to them repayre,
Habundant teres theyr hertes do refleyre.
Farewell! quod I, my good frende so true,
I wolde wyth me ye might alwaye ensue!
Then agayne I went to the toure melodyous
Of good dame Musyke, my leve for to take;
And pryvely wyth these wordes dolorous
I sayd: O toure! thou mayst well aslake
Suche melody now in the more to make
The gemme is gone of all famous porte,
That was chefe cause of the great comforte.
|