This lifès pomp is all his peace;
Yet shall he die nevertheless;
And thereof thinketh he but lite ;1
For all his lust is to delight
In newè thingès proud and vain,
As far forth as he may attain.
I trow, if that he mightè make
His body new, he wolde take
A newè form and leave his old:
For, what thing that he may behold,
The which to common use is strange,
Anon, his oldè guise to change
He woll, and fallè thereupon
Like unto the chamelion;
Which, upon every sundry hue
That he beholt,2 he mote renew
His colour, and thus unavised
Full oftè time he stant3 disguised
More jolif than the bird in May.
He maketh him ever fresh and gay,
And doth all his array disguise,
So that of him the newè guise
Of lusty folk all other take.1
And ekè he can carols make,
Roundel, balad, and virelay.5
And with all this, if that he may
Of love get him the avauntage,
Anon he wexth of his courage
So over-glad that of his end
He thinketh there is no death comend.
For he hath then at allè tide9
Of love such a manner pride10
Him thinketh his joy is endeless.
Lover. My Father, yea, a thousand sithe11
When I have seen another blithe
Of love, and had a goodly cheer,1
Etna, which burneth year by year,
4 All other lusty folk
6 Success in love.
9 At all times.
2 Beholdeth.
imitate his new fashions.
7 Is waxed in spirit. 10 So great pride.
Was thennè not so hot as I
Of thilke sore which privily
Mine heartès thought withinne brenneth.
The ship which on the wavès renneth,
And is forstormèd and forblowe,1
Is not more painèd for a throwe?
Than I am thennè when I see
Another which that passeth me
In that fortune of Lovès gift . .
But this ye may right well believe,
Toward my lady that I serve,
Though that I wistè for to sterve,3
Mine heart is full of such folly
That I myself may nought chasty.*
When I the court see of Cupide
Approach unto my lady side
Of them that lusty been and fresh,
Though it avail them nought a resh,5
But only that they been of speech,
My sorrow then is not to seech;
But, when they rounen in her ear,
Then groweth all my mostè fear;
And, namely, when they talen long,
My sorrow thennè be so strong,
Of that I see them well at ease,
I can nought tellè my disease.
But, sire, as of 10 my lady-selve,
Though she have wooers ten or twelve,
For no mistrust I have of her
Me grieveth nought."..
But netheless I am beknow12
That when I see at any throw,1
Or else if that I may it hear,
That she make any man good cheer,
Though I thereof have nought to doon,14
My thought woll entermetel him soon.
For, though I be myselven strange,16
Envy maketh mine heart to change,
That I am sorrowfully bestad1
Of that I see another glad
2 For a time.
4 Chastise.
9 Because.
12 To confess.
16 Estranged.
5 Not a rush. 10 As regards. 13 Time. 17 Distressed.
1 Storm-driven and blown about.
3 Though I knew I should die.
6 Seek. 7 Chiefly.
11 I do not grieve for mistrust of her.
14 Nothing to do with it. 15 Interpose.
With her; but of other,1 all
Of love what-so may befall,
Or that he fail, or that he speed,
Thereof take I but little heed.
Confessor. Now list, my son, and thou shalt hear. Hate is a wrathè nought shewend,2
But of long time gatherend,3
And dwelleth in the heartè locken1
Till he see timè to be wroken.5
And then he sheweth his tempest
More sudden than the wildè beast,
Which wot nothing what mercy is.
My son, art thou knowen' of this?
Lover. My good father, as I ween,8
Now wot I somedeal9 what ye mean.
But I dare safely make an oath
My lady was me10 never loath.11
I woll nought swearè netheless
That I of hate am guiltèless.
For, when I to my lady ply
From day to day, and mercy cry,
And she no mercy on me laith,12
But shortè wordès to me saith,
Though I my lady love algate,13
The wordès must I needès hate,
And wolde they were all dispent,"
Or so far out of londè15 went
That I never after should them hear;
And yet love I my lady dear.
Thus is there hate, as ye may see,
Between my lady's word and me:
The word I hate, and her I love,
Whatso16 shall me betide of love!
THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE.
A maiden whilom1 there was one
Which Daphne hight; 2 and such was none
Of beauty then, as it was said.
Phoebus his love hath on her laid;
And thereupon to her he sought
In his fool-haste, and so besought
That she with him no restè had.
For ever upon her love he grad,3
And she said ever unto him "Nay."
So it befell upon a day,
Cupidè, which hath every chance
Of love under his governance,
Saw Phoebus hasten him so sore;
And, for he should him hasten more,
And yet not speeden at the last,
A dart throughout his heart he cast,
Which was of gold and all a-fire,
That made him many-fold desire
Of love morè than he did.
To Daphne eke in the same stead
A dart of lead he cast, and smote,
Which was all cold and no-thing hot.
And thus Phoebus in lovè brenneth,
And in his haste aboutè renneth
To look if that he mightè win;
But he was ever to begin.
For ever away fro him she fled,
So that he never his love sped.
And, for to make him full believe
That no fool-hastè might achieve
To getten love in such degree,
This Daphne into a laurel tree
Was twined; which is ever green,
In token, as yet it may be seen,
That she shall dwell a maiden still,
And Phoebus failen of his will.
Confessor. Now, son, tell me then so,
What hast thou done of busy-ship
To Love, and to the ladyship
Of her which thy lady is?
Lover. My father, ever yet ere this
In every place, in every stead,1
What so my lady hath me bid2
With all my heart obedient
I have thereto been diligent;
And, if so is that she bid nought,
What thing that then into my thought
Comth first of that I may suffice,
I bow and proffer my service,
Sometime in chamber, sometime in hall,
Right as I see the timès fall.
And, when she goth to hearè mass,
That timè shall not overpass
That I n'approach her lady-head,
In aunter3 if I may her lead
Unto the chapel and again;4
Then is not all my way in vain.
But afterward it doth me harm
Of pure imagination;
For thennè this collation5
I make unto myselven oft,
And say: Ha, lord, how she is soft,
How she is round, how she is small;
Now, wolde God, I had her all
Withoute daunger at my will!
And then I sigh and sittè still,
Of that I see my busy thought
Is turnèd idle into nought.
But, for all that, let I ne may,"
When I see time another day,
That I ne do my busyness
Unto my lady's worthiness ;
For I thereto my wit affaite9
To see the timès and await
What is to done10 and what to leave.
And so, when time is, by her leave,
What thing she bid me done I do;
And where she bid me gone I go;
And, when her list to clepe,11 I come.
Thus hath she fully overcome
3 To adventure. 4 To the chapel and home again. 8 Service.
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