FROM THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.1
Hard is his heart that loveth nought2
In May, when all this mirth is wrought;
When he may on these branches hear
The smalle birdès singen clear
Their blissful sweet song piteous.
And in this season delitous,3
When love affirmeth allè thing,
Me-thought one night, in my sleeping,
Right in my bed full readily,
That it was by the morrow early ;*
And up I rose and gan me clothe.
Anon I wesh my hondès both;
A silver needle forth I drew
Out of an aguiler quaint enew,
And gan this needle thread anon,—
For out of town me list to gon,
The sound of birdès for to hear
That on the buskès singen clear
In the sweet season that lefe is.
With a thread basting my sleevis,
Alone I went in my playing,
The small fowles' song hearkening,
That painèds them full many a pair
To sing on bowès blossomed fair.
Jolif and gay, full of gladness,
Toward a river gan I me dress,9
That I heard rennè fastè by.
For fairer playing none saw I
Than playen me by the rivère.
For, from an hill that stood there near,
Come down the stream full stiff and bold.
Clear was the water, and as cold
As any well is, sooth to sayn;
And somedeal less it was than Seine. ...
And with that water that ran so clear
1 The original poem, of which this was an English version, was entitled Roman de la Rose. It was begun about 1250 by Guillaume de Lorris, and finished about fifty years later by Jean de Meun, and was by far the most renowned of the great trouvère romances during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Recent doubts have arisen whether this translation is Chaucer's work, and the question is still being pursued.
4 Early morning.
8 Strove.
5 Needle-case.
9 Approach.
My face I wesh; then saw I weel
The bottom pavèd everydeal
With gravel, full of stonès sheen.1
The meadows softè, sote,2 and green,
Beat right upon the water side;
Full clear was then the morrow-tide,
And full attemper3 out of drede.
Then gan I walken through the mead,
Downward aye in my playing
The river's side coösting.
And, when I had a while y-gone,
I saw a garden right anon
Full long and broad; and everydeal
Enclosed was, and wallèd weel
With highè wallès enbattailed,
Portrayed without, and well entailed
With many richè portraitures.
THE GARDEN OF NARCISSUS.
These trees were set, that I devise,
One from another in assise
Five fathom or six, I trowè so;
But they were high and great also ;
And, for to keep out well the sun,
The croppès were so thick y-run,
And every branch in other knit,
And full of greenè leaves sit,
That sunnè might there none descend,
Lest the tender grasses shend.6
There might men does and roes y-see,
And of squirrels full great plentee
From bough to bough alway leaping.
Conies there were also playing
That comen out of their clapers,8
Of sundry colours and maners,
And maden many a tourneying
Upon the freshè grass springing.
In places saw I wellès there
In which there no froggès were ;
And fair in shadow was every well;
But I ne can the number tell
Of streamès small
About the brinkès of these wells,
And by the streamès over all else,
Sprang up the grass, as thick y-set
And softè as any velvet. . . .
There sprang the violet all new,
And fresh pervinkè1 rich of hue,
And flowers yellow, white, and red;
Such plenty grew there never in mead.
Full gay was all the ground, and quaint,2
And powdred, as men had it paint,
With many a fresh and sundry flower
That casten up full good savour.
I went on right hand and on left
About the place; it was not left
Till I had all the garden been
In the esters3 that men might seen.
And thus while I went in my play
The God of Love me followed aye,
Right as an hunter can abide1
The beast, till he seeth his tide
To shooten at goodness to the deer,
When that him needeth go no near.
And so befell, I rested me
Beside a well under a tree,
Which tree in France men call a pine;
But, sith the time of King Pepine,
Ne grew there tree in mannès sight
So fair, ne so well wox7 in hight:
In all that yard so high was none.
And, springing in a marble stone,
Had nature set, the sooth9 to tell,
Under that pine-tree a well;
And on the border all without
Was written on the stone about
Letters small that saiden thus,—
Here starf10 the faire Narcissus.
I curse and blame generally
All them that loven villainy ;
For villany maketh villein,
And by his deeds a churl is seen.
These villains1 are without pitie,
Friendship, love, and all bountie.2
I n'ill3 receive to my servise
Them that been villains of emprise.*
But understond in thine entent,
This is not mine intendement,5
To clepè no wight in no ages
Only gentle for his linages ;7
But whoso is virtuous
And in his port not outrageous,
When such one thou seest thee beforn,8
Though he be not gentle born,
Thou mayest well sayn this in soth
That he is gentle, because he doth
As longeth to a gentleman. . . .
For nothing eke thy tongue apply
To speake words of ribaldry.
To villain speech in no degree
Let never thy lip unbounden be.
For I nought hold him, in good faith,
Curteis that foulè wordès saith.
And all women serve and praise,
And to thy power their honour raise.
And, if that any mis-sayere
Despise women, that thou mayst hear,
Blame him, and bid him hold him still.
And set thy might and all thy will
Women and ladies for to please,
And to do thing that may them ease,
That they ever speak good of thee,
For so thou mayst best praised be...
And alway with good cheer
Thou give, if that thou have richesse;
And, if thou have not, spend the less.
Alway be merry if thou may,
But waste not thy good alway.
Have hat of flowers fresh as May,
Chaplet of roses of Whitsunday..
Alway in heartè I rede1 thee
Glad and merry for to be,
And be as joyful as thou can :
Love hath no joy of sorrowful man.
If ever thou knew of love distress,
Thou shalt mo2 learn in that sickness;
And thus enduring shalt thou lie,
And rise on morrow up early
Out of thy bed, and harness thee
Ere ever dawning thou mayst see.
All privily then shalt thou gone,
Whatwhither it be, thy self alone,
For rain or hail, for snow, for sleet,
Thither she dwelleth that is so sweet.
The which may fall3 asleepè be,
And thinketh but little upon thee...
Women well ought pity to take
Of them that sorrowen for their sake.
FROM THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF.
When that Phoebus his chair of gold so high
Had whirled up the starry sky aloft,
And in the Bull was entered certainly;
When showers sweet of rain descended soft,
Causing the ground feole1 times and oft
Up for to give many a wholesome air;
And every plainè was y-clothèd fair
With newè green; and maketh smallè flowers
To springen here and there in field and mead :
So very good and wholesome be the showers
That it reneweth that was old and dead
In winter time; and out of every seed
Springeth the herbe, so that every wight
Of this season wexethR glad and light;
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