But now to purpos of my rather speche.
So looth to hem a-sonder goon it were,
That ech from other wende been biraft,
Or elles, lo, this was hir moste fere, 1341
That al this thing but nyce dremes were;
For which ful ofte ech of hem seyde, ‘O swete,
Clippe ich yow thus, or elles I it mete?’
That never his look ne bleynte from hir face,
And seyde, ‘O dere herte, may it be
That it be sooth, that ye ben in this place?’
‘Ye, herte myn, god thank I of his grace!’
Quod tho Criseyde, and therwith-al him kiste, 1350
That where his spirit was, for joye he niste.
Gan for to kisse, and seyde, ‘O eyen clere,
It were ye that wroughte me swich wo,
Ye humble nettes of my lady dere! 1355
Though ther be mercy writen in your chere,
God wot, the text ful hard is, sooth, to finde,
How coude ye with-outen bond me binde?’
And wel an hundred tymes gan he syke,
Nought swiche sorwful sykes as men make
For wo, or elles whan that folk ben syke,
But esy sykes, swiche as been to lyke,
That shewed his affeccioun with-inne;
Of swiche sykes coude he nought bilinne.
As fil to purpos of this aventure,
And pleyinge entrechaungeden hir ringes,
Of which I can nought tellen no scripture;
But wel I woot a broche, gold and asure,
In whiche a ruby set was lyk an herte, 1371
Criseyde him yaf, and stak it on his sherte.
That blameth love and holt of it despyt,
That, of tho pens that he can mokre and kecche, 1375
Was ever yet y-yeve him swich delyt,
As is in love, in oo poynt, in som plyt?
Nay, doutelees, for also god me save,
So parfit joye may no nigard have!
Tho bisy wrecches, ful of wo and drede!
They callen love a woodnesse or folye,
But it shal falle hem as I shal yow rede;
They shul forgo the whyte and eke the rede,
And live in wo, ther god yeve hem mischaunce, 1385
And every lover in his trouthe avaunce!
Servyse of love, hadde eres al-so longe
As hadde Myda, ful of coveityse;
And ther-to dronken hadde as hoot and stronge 1390
As Crassus dide for his affectis wronge,
To techen hem that they ben in the vyce,
And loveres nought, al-though they holde hem nyce!
Whan that hir hertes wel assured were,
Tho gonne they to speken and to pleye,
And eek rehercen how, and whanne, and where,
They knewe hem first, and every wo and fere
That passed was; but al swich hevinesse,
I thanke it god, was tourned to gladnesse.
Of any thing of swich a tyme agoon,
With kissing al that tale sholde breke,
And fallen in a newe joye anoon,
And diden al hir might, sin they were oon, 1405
For to recoveren blisse and been at ese,
And passed wo with joye countrepeyse.
For it accordeth nought to my matere;
God woot, they toke of that ful litel keep,
But lest this night, that was to hem so dere, 1411
Ne sholde in veyn escape in no manere,
It was biset in joye and bisinesse
Of al that souneth in-to gentilnesse. 1414
Gan on his brest to bete, and after crowe,
And Lucifer, the dayes messager,
Gan for to ryse, and out hir bemes throwe;
And estward roos, to him that coude it knowe, 1419
Fortuna maior, †than anoon Criseyde,
With herte sore, to Troilus thus seyde:—
That I was born, allas! What me is wo,
That day of us mot make desseveraunce!
For tyme it so to ryse, and hennes go, 1425
Or elles I am lost for evermo!
O night allas! why niltow over us hove,
As longe as whanne Almena lay by Jove?
That shapen art by god this world to hyde 1430
At certeyn
| Previous chapter/page | Back | Home | Email this | Search | Discuss | Bookmark | Next chapter/page |