The goos, the duck, and the cuckow also,
So cried "Keke, keke, Cuckow, Queke queke hie,"
Through mine eares the noise went tho.
The goos said than "Al this nys worth a flie,
But I can shape hereof a remedie,
And will say my verdite, faire and swithe,
For water foule, whoso be wroth or blithe."
"And I for worm foule," said the fole cuckow "For I will of mine own authorite,
For common spede, take on me the charge now,
For to deliver us, it is great charite."
"Ye may abide a while, yet perde,"
(Quod the turtel)" if it be your will,
A wight may speak, it were as good be still.
"I am a sede foule, one the vnworthiest,
That wote I well, and leest of conning,
But better is that a wights tonge rest,
Than entremete him of such doing
Of which, he neither rede can nor sing,
And who so it doth, full foule himself acloyeth,
For office vncommitted oft annoyeth."
Nature, which that alway had an eare,
To murmure of the lewdenesse behind,
With facond voice said, "Hold your tongues there,
And I shall soone, I hope, a counsaile find,
You for to deliver, and fro this noyse unbind:
I charge of euery flock ye shall one call,
To say the verdite of you foules all.”
Assented were to this conclusion,
The birdes all: and foules of ravine
Have chosen first by plaine election,
The tercelet of the faucon to define
All hir sentence, and as him lust to termine,
And to Nature him they did present,
And she accepteth him with glad entent.
The tercelet said than in this manere,
"Full hard it were to preve it by reason,
Who loueth best this gentle formell here,
For everich hath such replicatioun,
That by skils may none be brought adoun,
I cannot see that arguments availe,
Than seemeth it there must be battaile."
"All ready" (quod these eagle tercels tho :)
"Nay sirs" (quod he)" if that I durst it say,
Ye do me wrong, my tale is not ydo:
For sirs, taketh nat a greefe I pray,
It may not be as ye would, in this way,
Ours is the voice, that have the charge in hand,
And to the judges dome ye must stand.
"And therefore peace I say, as to my wit,
Me would thinke, how that the worthiest
Of knighthood, and lengest had vsed it,
Most of estate, of blood the gentillest,
Were fitting for her, if that her lest,
And of these three, she wote her selfe I trow
Which that he be, for it is light to know."
The water foules have their heads laid
Togider, and of short avisement,
Whan everiche had this verdite said,
They said soothly all by one assent,
How that the goos, with the facond gent,
That so desireth to pronounce our nede,
Shal tel her tale, and praid to God her spede,
And for these water foules tho began
The goose to speake, and in her cakeling,
She said, "Peace now, take keep every man,
And herken which a reason I shall forth bring,
My witte is sharpe, I love no tarrying,
I say I rede him, tho he were my brother,
But she will love him, let him love another."
"Lo here a parfite reason of a goose" (Quod the sperhauke) "neuer mote she thee, Lo such a thing it is to have a tongue lose : Now parde foole, yet were it better for thee Haue held thy peace, than shewd thy nicete, It lieth nat in his wit, nor in his will, But sooth is said, a fool cannot be still."
The laughter arose of gentill foules all,
And right anone the seed foules chosen had
The turtle true, and gan her to hem call,
And prayed her to say the sooth sad
Of this matter, and asked what she rad?
And she answerd, that plainly her entent
She would shew, and soothly what she ment.
"Nay, God forbede a lover should chaunge,"
The turtle said (and wex for shame all red)
"Though that his lady evermore be straunge,
Yet let him serve her alway, till he be deed,
Forsooth, I praise not the gooses reed,
For tho she died, I would none other make,
I will be hers, till that the death me take."
"Well ybourded" (quod the duck) "by my hat,
That men should love alway causelesse,
Who can a reason find, or wit in that,
Daunceth he merry that is mirthlesse,
Who should recke of that is retchlesse,
Ye queke yet," quod the duck, "full well and fair,
There be mo sterres in the skie than a pair.”
"Now fie churle," quod the gentle tercelet,
"Out of the dunghill came that word aright,
Thou canst not see which thing is well beset,
Thou farest by love as owles do by light,
The day hem blindeth, full well they see by night,
Thy kind is of so low wretchedness,
That what love is, thou canst not se nor gess."
Tho gan the cuckow put him forth in preace,
For foule that eateth worme, and said bliue:
"So I," quod he, "may have my make in peace,
I retch not how long that ye strive,
Let ech of hem be soleine all hir live,
This is my rede, sens they may nat accord,
This short lesson needeth not record."
"6 Ye, have the glutton filde his pauuch, Than are we well," said the emerlon, "Thou murdrer of the heysugge on the braunch That brought thee forth, thou ruful glutton, Live thou solein, wormes corruption,
For no force is of lack of thy nature,
Go, leud be thou while the world may dure."
"Now peace," quod Nature, "I commaund here, For I have heard all your opinion,
And in effect yet be we neuer the nere,
But finally, this is my conclusion,
That she her selfe shall have her election
Of whom her list, who so be wrothe or blithe,
Him that she cheseth, he shall her haue as swithe.
"For sith it may not here discussed be
Who loveth her best, as said the tercelet,
Than woll I done this favour to her, that she
Shall have right him, on whom her herte is set,
And he her, that his herte hath on her knet,
This judge I nature, for I may not lie
To none estate, I have none other eye.
"But as for counsaile, for to chuse a make,
If I were reason, than would I
Counsaile you, the royal tercell take,
As said the tercelet, full skilfully,
As for the gentillest, and most worthy,
Which I have wroght so wel to my plesaunce
That to you it ought ben a suffisaunce."
With dredeful voice that formel her answerd,
"My rightful lady, goddess of Nature,
Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,
As is everich other creature,
And must be yours while my life may dure,
And therefore graunt me my first boone,
And mine entent, you woll I say right soone."
"I graunt it you," quod she, and right anone
This formel eagle spake in this degree:
"Almighty quene, unto this year be done
I aske respite for to avisen mee,
And after that to have my choice all free,
This all and some, that I would speak and sey,
Ye get no more, although ye do me dey.
"I woll not seruen Venus ne Cupide,
Forsooth as yet, by no manner way."
"Now sens it may none other ways betide"
(Quod Nature)" here is no more to say,
Than would I that these foules were away,
Ech with his make, for tarying lenger here,"
And said hem thus, as ye shall after here.
"To you speke I, ye tercelets" (quod Nature)
"Beth of good herte, and serveth all three,
A yeare is not so long to endure,
And ech of you paine him in his degree,
For to do well, for God wote quit is she
Fro you this year, what after so befall,
This entremes is dressed for you all."
And whan this werk brought was to an end,
To every foule Nature yave his make,
By even accord, and on hir way they wend,
And Lord the blisse and joy that they make,
For ech of hem gan other in his wings take,
And with hir neckes ech gan other wind,
Thanking alway the noble goddess of kind.
But first were chosen foules for to sing,
As yere by yere was alway hir vsaunce,
To sing a roundel at hir departing,
To do Nature honour and pleasaunce,
The note I trow maked was in Fraunce,
The words were such, as ye may here find,
The next verse, as I now have in mind.
Qui bien ayme tard oublye.
"Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,
That hast this winter weathers overshake,
Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,
Which driuest away the long nights blake,
Thus singen smale foules for thy sake,
Well have they cause for to gladen oft,
Sens each of hem recovered bath his make,
Full blisful may they sing whan they awake."
And with the shouting whan hir song was do,
That the foules made at hir flight away,
I woke, and other bookes took me to
To rede upon, and yet I rede alway,
I hope ywis to rede so some day,
That I shall mete something for to fare
The bet, and thus to rede I nill not spare.
QUEEN ANNELIDA AND FALSE ARCITE.
Arcite a Theban knight, forsaketh queen Annelida, who loved him intirely, and taketh a new lady: whereupon Annelida maketh this great complaint.
"O THOU fiers God of armes Mars the rede,
That in thy frosty countrey called Thrace,
Within thy grisly temples full of drede,
Honoured art as patrone of that place,
With the Bellona, Pallas full of grace,
Be present, and my song continue and gie,
At my beginning thus to thee I cry.
"For it full depe is sonken in minde, With pitous herte in English to endite, This old story, in Latine which I finde, Of queene Annelida and false Arcite, That elde, which all can frete and bite, And it hath freten many a noble story, Hath nigh devoured out of our memory.
"Be favourable eke thou Polimnia
On Pernaso that hath thy sisters glade,
By Elicon, not far from Cirsa,
Singest with voice memorial in the shade,
Under the laurer, which that may not fade,
And doe that I my ship to haven winne,
First follow I Stace, and after him Corinne.
Jamque domos patrias Cithiæ post aspera gentis,
Prælia laurigeo subeuntem Thesea curru,
Lætifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi, &c.
Whan Theseus with warres long and great,
The aspre folke of Cithe had ouercome,
The laurer crowned in his chaire gold beat,
Home to his country houses is ycome,
For which the people blisful all and some,
So criden, that to the sterres it went,
And him to honouren did all hir entent.
Before this duke in sign of victory,
The trompes come, and in his baner large,
The image of Mars, and in token of glory,
Men might see of treasure many a charge,
Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,
Many a fresh knight, and many a blisful rout,
On horse and on foot, in all the field about.
Ipolita his wife, and hardy queene
Of Cithia, that he conquered had,
With Emely her young suster shene,
Faire in a chaire of gold he with him lad,
That all the ground about her chair she sprad
With brightness of beauty in her face,
Fulfilled of largesse and of grace.
With his triumph and laurer crowned thus,
In all the floure of fortunes yeuing,
Let I this noble prince Theseus,
Toward Athenes in his way riding,
And fonde I woll in shortly to bring,
The slye way of that I gan to write,
Of queene Annelida and false Arcite.
Mars that through his furious course of ire,
The old wrath of Juno to fulfill,
Hath set the peoples hertes both on fire
Of Thebes and Grece, and euerich other to kill With bloody speres, rested never still,
But throng now here now there among hem both, That euerich other slue, so were they wroth.
For whan Amphiorar and Tideus,
Ipomedon and Partinope also
Were dedde, and slain proud Campaneus,
And whan the wretched Thebans brethren two
Were slain, and king Adrastus home ago,
So desolate stood Thebes and so bare,
That no wight could remedy his care.
And whan the old Creon gan espy,
How that the blood royal was brought adown,
He held the citee by his tyranny,
And did the gentils of that regioun
To been his friends, and dwell in the toun,
So what for loue of him, and what for awe,
The noble folke were to the towne ydrawe.
Among all these, Annelida the queene
Of Ermony was in that towne dwelling,
That fairer was than the Sonne sheene,
Throughout the world so gan her name spring,
That her to see had every wight liking,
For as of trouth is there none her liche,
Of all the women in this world riche.
Yong was this queene, of twenty yere old,
Of middle stature, and of soch fairnesse,
That Nature had a ioy her to behold,
And for to speaken of her stedfastnesse,
She passed hath Penelope and Lucresse,
And shortly if she may ben comprehended,
In her might nothing been amended.
This Theban knight eke sothe to sain,
Was yong, and thereto withall a lusty knight,
But he was double in love, and nothing plain,
And subtill in that craft ouer any wight,
And with his conning wan this lady bright:
For so ferforth he gan her trouth assure,
That she him trusteth ouer any creature.
What should I sain, she loueth Arcite so
That whan that he was absent any throw,
Anone her thought her herte brast atwo,
For in her sight to her he bare him low,
So that she wende have all his herte yknow,
But he was false, it nas but fayned chere,
As nedeth not soche crafte men to lere.
But neuerthelesse full mikell businesse
Had he, er that he might his lady winne,
And swore he would dien for distresse,
Or from his witte he said he would twinne:
Alas the while, for it was routh and sinne,
That she upon his sorrowes would rue,
But nothing thinketh the false as doth the true.
Her fredome found Arcite in soch manere,
That all was his, that she hath, moch or lite,
Ne to no creature made she cheer,
Further than it liked to Arcite,
There was no lack, with which he might her wite,
She was so ferforth yeuen him to please,
That all that liked him did her ease.
There nas to her no maner letter sent,
That touched loue, from any maner wight,
That she ne shewed him, or it was brent,
So plain she was, and did her full might,
That she nyl hide nothing from her knight,
Lest he of any vntrouth her vpbreyde,
Without bode his herte she obeyd.
And eke he made him ialous ouer her,
That what that any man had to her sayd,
Anon he would praien her to swere
What was that word, or make him yuell apaid,
Than wende she out of her wit have braid,
But all was but sleight and flatterie,
Without love he fained jelousie.
And all this tooke she so debonairly,
That all his will, her thought it skilful thing
And ever the lenger she loved him tenderly,
And did him honour as he were a king,
Her herte was to him wedded with a ring,
For so ferforth vpon trouth is her entent,
That where he goth, her herte with him went.
Whan she shal eat, on him is so her thought,
That well vnneth of meate toke she keepe,
And whan she was to her rest brought,
On him she thought alway till that she slepe,
Whan he was absent, priuely doth she wepe,
Thus liueth faire Annelida the queene,
For false Arcite, that did her all this tene,
This false Arcite, of his newfanglenesse,
For she to him so lowly was and trewe,
Tooke lesse deintee for her stedfastnesse,
And saw another lady proude and newe,
And right anon he clad him in her hewe,
Wote I not whether in white, reed, or grene,
And falsed faire Annelida the queene.
But neverthelesse, great wonder was it none
Though he were false, for it is the kind of man,
Sith Lamech was, that is so long agone,
To be in love as false as euer he can,
He was the first father that began
To loven two, and was in bigamye.
And be found tents first, but if men lye.
This false Arcite, somewhat must he faine,
Whan he was false, to coueren his tratoury,
Right as an horse, that can both bite and plaine,
For he bare her in honde of treachery,
And swore he coude her doublenesse espye,
And all was falsenesse that she to him ment,
Thus swore this thefe, and forth his way he went.
That love you most, God thou wost alway,
Yet turne ayen, and yet be playne some day,
And than shall this that now mis, ben game,
And all foryeue, while I lyue may.
"Lo herte myne, al this is for to saine,
As whether shall I pray or els playne,
Which is the way to done you to be trew,
For eyther mote I haue you in my chayne,
Or with the deth ye mote depart vs twayne,
There bethe none other meane wayes new,
For God so wisely on my soule rewe,
As verely ye slaine me with the payne,
That mowe ye see vnfained on mine hewe.
"For thus ferforth haue I my deth sought,
My selfe I murder with my priuie thought,
For sorow and routh of your vnkindnesse,
I wepe, I wayle, I fast, all helpeth naught,
I voide joy that is to speake of aught,
I voide company, I flie gladnesse,
Who may auaunt her better of heuinesse,
Than I? and to this plite haue ye me brought,
Without gilte, me needeth no witnesse.
"And should I pray, and weiuen womanhede,
Nay rather death, than do so foule a dede,
And aske mercy and giltlesse, what nede,
And if I plaine what lyfe I lede,
You recketh not, that know I out of drede,
And if I vnto you mine othes bede,
For mine excuse, a scorne shall be my mede,
Your chere floureth, but it woll not sede,
Full long agon I might haue taken hede.
"For though I had you to morow agayne,
I might as well hold Aprill from rayne,
As holde you to maken stedfast,
Almighty God, of trouth the souerayn,
Where is that trouth of man, who hath it slayn,
She that hem loueth, shall hem find as fast,
As in a tempest is a rotten mast,
Is that a tame beest, that is aye fayne
To renne away, whan he is lest agast.
"Now mercy sweete, if I missay,
Haue I aught sayd out of the way,
I not, my witte is all away,
I fare as doth the songe of chantepleure,
For now I plaine, and now I pley,
I am so mased that I dey,
Arcite hath borne away the key
Of all my world, aud my good auenture.
"For in this world there is no creature,
Walking in more discomfiture,
Than I, ne more sorowe endure,
For if I sleepe a furlonge way or twey,
Than thinketh me that your figure
Before me stante clad in asure,
Efte to profre a newe assure,
For to ben trewe, and mercy me to prey.
"The long night, this wonder sight ydrie,
That on the day for such affray I die,
And of all this right naught ywis ye retche,
Ne neuermore mine eyen to ben drye,
And to your routh, and to your trouth I crye,
But well away, to ferre been they to fetch,
Thus holdeth me my desteny a wretch,
But me to rede out of this drede or gye,
Ne may my wit (so weake is it) not stretch.
"Than end I thus, sith I may do no more,
yeue it vp for now and euermore,
For I shall neuer efte putten in balaunce
My sikernesse, ne lerne of loue the lore,
But as the swan, I haue herde say full yore,
Ayenst his deth woll sing in his penaunce,
So sing I here the destinie and chaunce,
How that Arcite, Annelida so sore
Hath thrilled with the point of remembraunce."
Whan that Annelida this wofull queene,
Hath of her hand written in this wise,
With face deed, betwixt pale and greene,
She fell a swoune, and sithe she gan to rise,
And vnto Mars avoweth sacrifise
Within the temple, with a sorowful chere,
That shapen was, as ye may plainly here.
COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT.
The heavy complaint of a knight, for that he cannot win his ladies grace.
In May, whan Flora the fresh lusty quene,
The soyle hath cladde in grene, red, and whight,
And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene,
Amidde the Bulle, with all the beames bright,
And Lucifer, to chace away the night,
Ayen the morow our orizont hath take,
To bid all lovers out of hir slepe awake.
And hertes heavy for to recomfort,
From drerihed of heavy night sorow,
Nature bad hem rise, and hem disport,
Ayen the goodly glad grey morow,
And hope also, with sainct Johan to borow,
Bad in dispite of daunger and dispaire,
For to take the holsome lusty ayre.
And with a sigh I gan for to abreide
Out of my slumber, and sodainly vp starte,
As he (alas) that nigh for sorow deide,
My sicknesse sate aye so nye my herte,
But for to finde soccour of my smart,
Or at the least some release of my peine,
That me so sore halte in every veine.
I rose anone, and thought I would gone
Into the wodde, to heare the birdes sing,
Whan that the misty vapour was agone,
And cleare and faire was the morning,
The dewe also like silver in shining
Upon the leaves, as any baume swete,
Till firy Titan with his persant hete
Had dryed vp the lusty licour new, .
Upon the herbes in the grene mede,
And that the floures of many divers hew,
Upon hir stalkes gon for to sprede,
And for to splay out hir leves in brede
Againe the Sunne, gold burned in his spere,
That doune to hem cast his beams clere.
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