HIDE, Absolon, thy giltë tresses clere ;
Ester, lay thou thy meekness all a-doun;
Hide, Ionathas, all thy friendly manére ;
Penalopee and Marcia Catoun,
Make of your wifehood no comparisoun;
Hide ye your beauties, Isoude and Eleyne :
My lady cometh, that all this may disteyne!
Thy faire body, let it not appere,
Lavyne; and thou, Lucrece of Rome toun,
And Polixene, that boughten love so dere,
And Cleopatre, with all thy passioun,
Hide ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;
And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love such peyne:
My lady cometh, that all this may disteyne!
Herró, Didó, Laudómia, all y-fere,
And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,
And Canacé, espiéd by thy chere,
Ysiphilé, betrayséd with Jasoun,
Maketh of your trouth neither boast nor soun,
Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne :
My lady cometh, that all this may disteyne!
Geoffrey Chaucer.
Therewith when he was ware, and gan behold
How shut was every window of the place,
As frost, him thought, his hertë gan to cold;
For which with changéd, deedlich, palë face,
With-outen word, he forth began to pace;
And, as God would, he gan so fastë ride,
That no wight of his countenance espied.
Then said he thus:- O palace desolate,
O house of houses whilom best y-hight,
O palace empty and disconsolate,
O thou lantern, of which quaint 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 gye!
O palace, whilom crown of houses all,
Enlumined with sun of allë bliss!
O ring fro which the ruby is out-fall!
O cause of woe, that cause hast been of lisse !
Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss
Thy coldë dorës, durst I for this route-
And farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!'
Fro thennësforth he rideth up and down,
And everything com him to remembrance
As he rood forth by places of the town,
In which he whilom had all his pleasance :-
'Lo, yond saw I mine owen lady dance;
And in that temple, with her eyen clere,
Me caughtë first my rightë lady dere.
And yonder have I heard full lustily
My derë hertë laugh, and yonder play
Saw I her onës eke full blissfully.
And yonder ones to me gan she say :-
"Now goode swetë, love me well, I pray."
And yond so goodly gan she me behold,
That to the death mine herte is to her hold.
And at that corner, in the yonder house,
Heard I mine alderlevest lady dere
So womanly, with voice melodious,
Singing so well, so goodly, and so clere,
That in my soul yet methinketh I hear
The blissful sound; and, in that yonder place,
My lady first me took unto her grace.'
A song of wordes but a few,
Somewhat his woful hertë for to light.
And when he was from every mannës sight,
With softë voice he, of his lady dear,
That was absent, gan sing as ye may hear :
'O star, of which I lost have all the light,
With hertë sore well ought I to bewail,
That ever dark in torment, night by night,
Toward my death with wind in stern I sail;
For which the tenthë night, if that I fail
The guiding of thy bemes bright an hour,
My ship and me Carybdis will devour.'
This song when he thus songen hadde, sone
He fell again into his sickness old;
And every night, as was his wont to done,
He stood the brightë monë to behold,
And all his sorrow he to the monë told;
And said: 'I wis, when thou art hornéd new,
I shall be glad, if all the world be true!
'I saw thine hornës old eke by the morrow,
When hennes rode my rightë lady dere,
That cause is of my torment and my sorrow;
For which, O brightë Lúcina the clere,
For love of God, run fast about thy sphere !
For when thy hornës newë ginnë spring,
Then shall she come, that may my blisse bring!'
Upon the wallës fast eke would he walk,
And on the Greekës host he wolde see,
And to himself right thus he woldë talk:
'Lo, yonder is mine owen lady free,
Or elles yonder, there tho' tentës be!
And thennes comth this air, that is so sote
That in my soul I feel it doth me bote.
And hardely this wind, that more and more
Thus stoundëmele increaseth in my face,
Is of my lady's depë sicknesse sore.
I prove it thus, for in no other place
Of all this town, save only in this space,
Feel I no wind that souneth so like pain.
It saith:-"Alas! why twinned be we twain ?""
YOUR eyen two will slay me suddenly :
I may the beauty of hem not sustene,
So woundeth it through-out my hertë kene.
And but your word will helen hastily
My hertes woundë, while that it is green,
Your eyen two will slay me sodenly :
I may the beauty of hem not sustene.
Upon my troth I say you faithfully,
That ye be of my life and death the queen,
For with my death the truthë shall be seen:
Your eyen two will slay me sodenly:
I may the beauty of hem not sustene,
So woundeth it through-out my hertë kene.
So hath your beauty from your herte chased
Pity, that me ne availeth not to plain :
For Daunger halt your mercy in his chain.
Guiltless my death thus have ye me purchased;
I say you sooth, me needeth not to feign:
So hath your beauty from your hertë chased
Pity, that me ne availeth not to plain.
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