680

The nexte vers, as I now have in minde. Qui bien aime a tard oublie. 'Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, That hast this wintres weders over-shake, And driven awey the longe nightes blake! Seynt Valentyn, that art ful hy onlofte;

Thus singen smale foules for thy sakeNow welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, 685 That hast this wintres weders over-shake. Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte, Sith ech of hem recovered hath his make; Ful blisful may they singen whan they wake;

Now welcom somer, with thy sonne softe, 690 That hast this wintres weders over-shake, And driven awey the longe nightes blake.' And with the showting, whan hir song was do,

The Wyse, y-knit un-to Good Aventure, That, for I love hir, +sleeth me giltelees. Hir love I best, and shal, why I may dure,

Bet than my-self an hundred thousand deel,

35 Than al this worldes richesse or creature.

Now hath nat Lovë me bestowed weel

To love, ther I never shal have part? Allas! right thus is turned me the wheel, Thus am I slayn with loves fyry dart. 40 I can but love hir best, my swete fo; Love hath me taught no more of his art But serve alwey, and stinte for no wo.

IV. (In ten-line stanzas.) [With]-in my trewe careful herte ther is So moche wo, and [eek] so litel blis,

That wo is me that ever I was bore; For al that thing which I desyre I mis, And al that ever I wolde nat, I-wis,

45

That finde I redy to me evermore ; And of al this I not to whom me pleyne. 50 For she that mighte me out of this bringe

Ne reccheth nat whether I wepe or singe;

So litel rewthe hath she upon my peyne.

Allas! whan sleping-time is, than I wake, Whan I shulde daunce, for fere than I quake; 55

[+Yow rekketh never wher I flete or sinke ;]

This hevy lyf I lede for your sake,

Thogh ye ther-of in no wyse hede take,

My hertes lady, and hool my lyves quene!
For trewly dorste I seye, as that I fele,
Me semeth that your swete herte of stele
Is whetted now ageynes me to kene.
My dere herte, and best beloved fo,
Why lyketh yow to do me al this wo, 65
What have I doon that greveth yow, or
sayd,

But for I serve and love yow and no mo?
And whylst I live, I wol do ever so;

And therfor, swete, ne beth nat evil apayd.

For so good and so fair as [that] ye be, 70 Hit were [a] right gret wonder but ye hadde

Of alle servants, bothe goode and badde; And leest worthy of alle hem, I am he.

But never-the-les, my righte lady swete, Thogh that I be unconning and unmete 75 To serve as I best coude ay your hy

That bet loved is noon, ne never shal; And yit I wolde beseche yow of no more But leveth wel, and be nat wrooth therfore,

And lat me serve yow forth; lo! this is al.

For I am nat so hardy ne so wood 90
For to desire that ye shulde love me;
For wel I wot, allas! that may nat be;
I am so litel worthy, and ye so good.
For ye be oon the worthiest on-lyve,
And I the most unlykly for to thryve; 95
Yit, for al this, [now] witeth ye right
wele,

That ye ne shul me from your service dryve

That I nil ay, with alle my wittes fyve,

Serve yow trewly, what wo so that I fele. For I am set on yow in swich manere 100 That, thogh ye never wil upon me rewe, I moste yow love, and fever been as trewe

As any can or may on-lyve [here].
+The more that I love yow, goodly free,
The lasse finde I that ye loven me;
Allas! whan shal that harde wit a-
mende?

Wher is now al your wommanly pitee,
Your gentilesse and your debonairtee,

105

Wil ye no thing ther-of upon me spende?

And so hool, swete, as I am youres al, 110

And so gret wil as I have yow to serve, Now, certes, and ye lete me thus sterve, Yit have ye wonne ther-on but a smal.

For, at my knowing, I do +no-thing why,

And this I wol beseche yow hertely, 115 That, ther ever ye finde, whyl ye live, A trewer servant to yow than am I, Leveth [me] thanne, and sleeth me hardely,

And I my deeth to you wol al forgive. And if ye finde no trewer +man than me, [Why] will ye suffre than that I thus spille,

121

The Compleynt of feire Anelida and fals Arcite.

Proem.

THOU ferse god of armes, Mars the rede, That in the frosty country called Trace, Within thy grisly temple ful of drede Honoured art, as patroun of that place! With thy Bellona, Pallas, ful of grace, 5 Be present, and my song continue and gye;

At my beginning thus to thee I crye.

For hit ful depe is sonken in my minde, With pitous herte in English for t'endyte This olde storie, in Latin which I finde, 10 Of quene Anelida and fals Arcite,

That elde, which that al can frete and byte,

15

As hit hath freten mony a noble storie,
Hath nigh devoured out of our memorie.
Be favorable eek, thou Polymnia,
On Parnaso that, with thy sustres glade,
By Elicon, not fer from Cirrea,
Singest with vois memorial in the shade,
Under the laurer which that may not
fade,

And do that I my ship to haven winne; 20
First folow I Stace, and after him
Corinne.

The Story.

Iamque domos patrias, &c.; Statii Thebais,

xii. 519.

Whan Theseus, with werres longe and grete,

The aspre folk of Cithe had over-come, With laurer crouned, in his char goldbete,

Hoom to his contre-houses is y-come;- 25 For which the peple blisful, al and somme, So cryden, that unto the sterres hit wente, And him to honouren dide al hir en

tente ;

Beforn this duk, in signe of hy victorie, The trompes come, and in his baner large The image of Mars; and, in token of glorie, 31

Men mighten seen of tresor many a charge,

Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,

Many a fresh knight, and many a blisful route,

On hors, on fote, in al the felde aboute. 35
Ipolita his wyf, the hardy quene
Of Cithia, that he conquered hadde,
With Emelye, hir yonge suster shene,
Faire in a char of golde he with him ladde,
That al the ground aboute hir char she
spradde
40

With brightnesse of the beautee in hir

71

So what for love of him, and what for awe,
The noble folk wer to the toune y-drawe.
Among al these, Anelida the quene
Of Ermony was in that toun dwellinge,
That fairer was then is the sonne shene;
Through-out the world so gan hir name
springe,

That hir to seen had every wight lykinge;
For, as of trouthe, is ther noon hir liche, 76
Of al the women in this worlde riche.

Yong was this quene, of twenty yeer of elde,

Of midel stature, and of swich fairnesse, That nature had a joye hir to behelde; 80 And for to speken of hir stedfastnesse, She passed hath Penelope and Lucresse, And shortly, if she shal be comprehended, In hir ne mighte no-thing been amended. This Theban knight [Arcite] eek, sooth to 85

seyn,

Was yong, and ther-with-al a lusty knight, But he was double in love and no-thing pleyn,

And subtil in that crafte over any wight, And with his cunning wan this lady bright;

For so ferforth he gan hir trouthe assure, That she him †trust over any creature. 91 What shuld I seyn ? she loved Arcite so, That, whan that he was absent any throwe, Anon hir thoghte hir herte brast a-two; For in hir sight to hir he bar him lowe, 95 So that she wende have al his herte y-knowe;

But he was fals; it nas but feyned chere, As nedeth not to men such craft to lere.

But never-the-les ful mikel besinesse
Had he, er that he mighte his lady winne,
And swoor he wolde dyen for distresse, 101
Or from his wit he seyde he wolde twinne.
Alas, the whyle! for hit was routhe and
sinne,

That she upon his sorowes wolde rewe, But no-thing thenketh the fals as doth the trewe. 105

Hir fredom fond Arcite in swich manere, That al was his that she hath, moche or lyte,

Ne to no creature made she chere Ferther than that hit lyked to Arcite; Ther was no lak with which he mighte hir wyte,

She was so ferforth yeven him to plese, That al that lyked him, hit did hir ese.

110

So pleyn she was, and did hir fulle might, That she nil hyden nothing from hir knight,

Lest he of any untrouthe hir upbreyde; Withouten bode his heste she obeyde.

And eek he made him jelous over here, 120 That, what that any man had to hir seyd, Anoon he wolde preyen hir to swere What was that word, or make him evel apayd;

Than wende she out of hir wit have brayd; But al this nas but sleight and flaterye, Withouten love he feyned jelosye. 126

And al this took she so debonerly, That al his wille, hir thoghte hit skilful thing,

And ever the lenger +loved him tenderly, And did him honour as he were a king. 130 Hir herte was wedded to him with a ring ; So ferforth upon trouthe is hir entente, That wher he goth, hir herte with him