The Legend of Good Women (1380s) by Geoffrey Chaucer CONTINUED COMPLIMENTS OF WIKISOURCE The Legend of Good Women is a poem in the form of a dream vision by Geoffrey Chaucer. The poem is the third longest of Chaucer’s works, after The Canterbury Tales and Troilus and Criseyde and is possibly the first significant work in English to use the iambic pentameter or decasyllabic couplets which he later used throughout the Canterbury Tales. This form of the heroic couplet would become a significant part of English literature no doubt inspired by Chaucer.— Excerpted from The Legend of Good Women on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. The Legend of Thisbe of Babylon At Babiloine whylom fil it thus, The whiche toun the queen Semiramus Leet dichen al about, and walles make Ful hye, of harde tyles wel y-bake. 710 Ther weren dwellinge in this noble toun Two lordes, which that were of greet renoun, And woneden so nigh, upon a grene, That ther nas but a stoon-wal hem bitwene, As ofte in grete tounes is the wone. And sooth to seyn, that o man hadde a sone, Of al that londe oon of the lustieste. That other hadde a doghter, the faireste, That estward in the world was tho dwellinge. The name of everich gan to other springe 720 By wommen, that were neighebores aboute. For in that contree yit, withouten doute, Maidens been y-kept, for Ielosye, Ful streite, lest they diden som folye. This yonge man was cleped Piramus, And Tisbe hight the maid, Naso seith thus; And thus by report was hir name y-shove That, as they wexe in age, wex hir love; And certein, as by reson of hir age, Ther mighte have been bitwix hem mariage, 730 But that hir fadres nolde hit nat assente; And bothe in love y-lyke sore they brente, That noon of alle hir frendes mighte hit lette But prively somtyme yit they mette By sleighte, and speken som of hir desyr; As, wry the gleed, and hotter is the fyr; Forbede a love, and it is ten so wood. This wal, which that bitwix hem bothe stood, Was cloven a-two, right fro the toppe adoun. Of olde tyme of his fundacioun; 740 But yit this clifte was so narwe and lyte, It as nat sene, dere y-nogh a myte. But what is that, that love can nat espye? Ye lovers two, if that I shal nat lye, Ye founden first this litel narwe clifte; And, with a soun as softe as any shrifte, They lete hir wordes through the clifte pace, And tolden, whyl that they stode in the place, Al hir compleynt of love, and al hir wo, At every tyme whan they dorste so. 750 Upon that o syde of the wal stood he, And on that other syde stood Tisbe, The swote soun of other receyve, And thus hir wardeins wolde they deceyve. And every day this wal they wolde threte, And wisshe to god, that it were doun y-bete. Thus wolde they seyn -- "allas! Thou wikked wal, Through thyn envye thou us lettest al! Why nilt thou cleve, or fallen al a-two? Or, at the leste, but thou woldest so, 760 Yit woldestow but ones lete us mete, Or ones that we mighte kissen swete, Than were we covered of our cares colde. But natheles, yit be we to thee holde In as muche as thou suffrest for to goon Our wordes through thy lyme and eek thy stoon. Yit oghte we with thee ben wel apayd." And whan thise ydel wordes weren sayd, The colde wal they wolden kisse of stoon, And take hir leve, and forth they wolden goon. 770 And this was gladly in the even-tyde Or wonder erly, lest men hit espyde; And longe tyme they wroghte in this manere Til on a day, whan Phebus gan to clere, Aurora with the stremes of hir hete Had dryed up the dew of herbes were; Unto this clifte, as it was wont to be, Com Pyramus, and after com Tisbe, And plighten trouthe fully in hir fey That ilke same night to stele awey, 780 And to begyle hir wardiens everichoon, And forth out of the citee for to goon; And, for the feldes been so brode and wyde, For to mete in o place at o tyde, They sette mark hir meting sholde be Ther king Ninus was graven, under a tree; For olde payens that ydoles heried Useden tho in feldes to ben beried. And faste by this grave was a welle. And, shortly of this tale for to telle, 790 This covenant was affermed wonder faste; And longe hem thoughte that the sonne laste, That hit nere goon under the see adoun. This Tisbe hath so greet affeccioun And so greet lyking Piramus to see, That, whan she seigh her tyme mighte be, At night she stal awey ful prively With her face y-wimpled subtiny; For alle her frendes -- for to save her trouthe -- She hath for-sake; allas! and that is routhe 800 That ever woman wolde be so trewe To trusten man, but she the bet him knewe! And to the tree she goth a ful good pas, For love made her so hardy in this cas; And by the welle adoun she gan her dresse. Allas! than comth a wilde leonesse Out of the wode, withouten more areste, With blody mouthe, of strangling of a beste, To drinken of the welle, ther as she sat; And, whan that Tisbe had espyed that, 810 She rist her up, with a ful drery herte, And in a cave with dredful foot she sterte, For by the mone she seigh hit wel with-alle. And, as she ran, her wimpel leet she falle, And took noon heed, so sore she was a-whaped. And eek so glad of that she was escaped; And thus she sit, and darketh wonder stille. Whan that this leonesse hath dronke her fille, Aboute the welle gan she for to winde, And right anoon the wimpel gan she finde, 820 And with her blody mouth hit al to-rente. Whan this was doon, no lenger she ne stente, But to the wode her wey than hath she nome. And, at the laste, this Piramus is come, But al to longe, allas! at hoom was he. The mone shoon, men mighte wel y-see, And in his weye, as that he com ful faste, His eyen to the grounde adoun he caste, And in the sonde, as he beheld adoun, He seigh the steppes brode of a leoun, 830 And in his herte he sodeinly agroos, And pale he wex, therwith his heer aroos, And neer he com, and fond the wimpel torn. "Allas!" quode he, "the day that I was born! This o night wol us lovers bothe slee! How sholde I axen mercy of Tisbe Whan I am he that have yow slain, allas! My bidding hath yow slain, as in this cas. Allas! to bidde a woman goon by nighte In place ther as peril fallen mighte, 840 And I so slow! allas, I ne hadde be Here in this place a furlong-wey or ye! Now what leoun that be in this foreste, My body mote he renden, or what beste That wilde is, gnawen mote he now myn herte!" And with that worde he to the wimpel sterte, And kiste hit ofte, and weep on hit ful sore, And seide, "wimpel, allas! ther nis no more But thou shalt fele as wel the blood of me As thou hast felt the bleding of Tisbe!" 850 And with that worde he smoot him to the herte. The blood out of the wounde as brode sterte As water, whan the conduit broken is. Now Tisbe, which that wiste nat of this, But sitting in her drede, she thoghte thus, "If hit so falle that my Piramus Be comen hider, and may me nat y-finde, He may me holden fals and eek unkinde." And out she comth, and after him gan espyen Bothe with her herte and with her yen, 860 And thoghte, "I wol him tellen of my drede Bothe of the leonesse and al my dede." And at the laste her love than hath she founde Beting with his heles on the grounde, Al blody, and therwith-al a-bak she sterte, And lyke the wawes quappe gan her herte, And pale as box she wex, and in a throwe Avysed her, and gan him wel to knowe, That hit was Piramus, her herte dere. Who coude wryte whiche a deedly chere 870 Hath Tisbe now, and how her heer she rente, And how she gan her-selve to turmente, And how she lyth and swowneth on the grounde, And how she weep of teres ful his wounde, How medeleth she his blood with her compleynte, And with his blood her-selven gan she peynte; How clippeth she the dede cors, allas? How doth this woful Tisbe in this cas! How kisseth she his frosty mouth so cold! "Who hath doon this, and who hath been so bold 880 To sleen my leef? O spek, my Piramus! I am thy Tisbe, that thee calleth thus!" And therwith-al she lifteth up his heed. This woful man, that was nat fully deed, Whan that he herde the name of Tisbe cryen, On her he caste his hevy deedly yen And doun again, and yeldeth up the gost. Tisbe rist up, withouten noise or bost, And seigh her wimpel and his empty shethe, And eek his swerd, that him hath doon to dethe; 890 Than spak she thus: "my woful hand," quod she, "Is strong y-nogh in swiche a werk to me; For love shal yive me strengthe and hardinesse To make my wounde large y-nogh, I gesse. I wol thee folwen deed, and I wol be Felawe and cause eek of thy deeth," quod she. "And thogh that nothing save the deeth only Mighte thee fro me departe trewely, Thou shalt no more departe now fro me Than fro the deeth, for I wol go with thee! 900 "And now, ye wrecched Ielous fadres oure, We, that weren whylom children youre, We prayen yow, withouten more envye, That in o grave y-fere we moten lye, Sin love hath brought us to this pitous ende! And rightwis god to every lover sende, That loveth trewely, more prosperitee Than ever hadde Piramus and Tisbe! And lat no gentil woman her assure To putten her in swiche an aventure. 910 But god forbede but a woman can Been as trewe and loving as a man! And, for my part, I shal anoon it kythe!" And, with that worde, his swerd she took as swythe, That warm was of her loves blood and hoot, And to the herte she her-selven smoot. And thus ar Tisbe and Piramus ago. Of trewe men I finde but fewe mo In alle my bokes, save this Piramus, And therfor have I spoken of him thus. 920 For hit is deyntee to us men to finde A man that can in love be trewe and kinde. Heer may ye seen, what lover so he be, A woman dar and can as wel as he. Explicit Legenda Tisbe The Legend of Dido, Queen of Carthage Glory and honour, Virgil Mantuan, Be to thy name! and I shal, as I can, Folow thy lantern, as thou gost biforn, How Eneas to Dido was forsworn. In thyn Eneid and Naso wol I take The tenour, and the grete effectes make. 930 Whan Troye broght was to destuccioun By Grekes sleighte, and namely of Sinoun, Feyning the hors y-offred to Minerve, Through which that many a Troyan moste sterve; And Ector had, after his deeth, appered, And fyr so wood, it mighte nat be stered, In al the noble tour of Ilioun, That of the citee was the cheef dungeoun; And al the contree was so lowe y-broght, And Priamus the king fordoon and noght; 940 And Eneas was charged by Venus To fleen away, he took Ascanius, That was his sone, in his right hand, and fledde; And on his bakke he bar and with him ledde His olde fader, cleped Anchises, And by the weye his wyf Creusa he lees. And mochel sorwe hadde he in his minde Er that he coude his felawshippe finde. But, at the laste, whan he had hem founde, He made him redy in a certein stounde, 950 And to the see ful faste he gan him hye, And saileth forth with al his companye Toward Itaile, as wolde destinee. But of his aventures in the see Nis nat to purpos for to speke of here, For hit acordeth nat to my matere. But, as I seide, of him and of Dido Shal be my tale, til that I have do. So longe he sailed in the salte see Til in Libye unnethe aryved he, 960 With shippes seven and with no more navye; And glad was he to londe for to hye, So was he with the tempest al to-shake. And whan that he the haven had y-take, He had a knight, was called Achates; And him of al his felawshippe he chees To goon with him, the contre for tespye; He took with him no more companye. But forth they goon, and lafte his shippes ryde, His fere and he, with-outen any gyde. 970 So longe he walketh in this wildernesse Til, at the laste, he mette an hunteresse. A bowe in honde and arwes hadde she, Her clothes cutted were unto the knee; But she was yit the fairest creature That ever was y-formed by nature; And Eneas and Achates she grette, And thus she to hem spak, whan she hem mette. "Sawe ye," quod she, "as ye han walked wyde, And of my sustren walke yow besyde, 980 With any wilde boor or other beste That they han hunted to, in this foreste, Y-tukked up, with arwes in her cas?" "Nay, soothly, lady," quod this Eneas; "But, by thy beaute, as hit thinketh me, Thou mightest never erthely womman be, But Phebus suster artow, as I gesse. And, if so be that thou be a goddesse, Have mercy on our labour and our wo." "I nam no goddes, soothly," quod she tho; 990 "For maidens walken in this contree here, With arwes and with bowe, I this manere. This is the regne of Libie, ther ye been, Of which that Dido lady is and queen" -- And shortly tolde him al the occasioun Why Dido com into that regioun, Of which as now me lusteth nat to ryme; Hit nedeth nat; hit nere but los of tyme. For this is al and som, it was Venus, His owne moder, that spak with him thus; 1000 And to Cartage she bad he sholde him dighte, And vanished anoon out o fhis sighte. I coude folwe, word for word, Virgyle, But it wolde lasten al to longe a whyle. This noble queen, that cleped was Dido, That whylom was the wyf of Sitheo, That fairer was then is the brighte sonne, This noble toun of Cartage hath begonne; In which she regneth in so greet honour, That she was holde of alle quenes flour, 1010 Of gentilesse, of freedom, of beautee; That wel was him that mighte her ones see; Of kinges and of lordes so desyred, That al the world her beaute hadde y-fyred; She stood so wel in every wightes grace. Whan Eneas was come un-to that place, Unto the maister-temple of al the toun Ther Dido was in her devocioun, Ful prively his wey than hath he nome. Whan he was in the large temple come, 1020 I can nat seyn if that hit be possible, But Venus hadde him maked invisible -- Thus seith the book, with-outen any lees. And whan this Eneas and Achates Hadden in this temple been over-al, Than founde they, depeynted on a wal, How Troye and al the lond destroyed was. "Allas! that I was born," quod Eneas, "Through-out the world our shame is kid so wyde, Now it is peynted upon every side! 1030 We, that weren in prosperitee, Be now disslaudred, and in swich degre, No lenger for to liven I ne kepe!" And, with that worde, he brast out for to wepe So tenderly, that routhe hit was to sene. This fresshe lady, of the citee quene, Stood in the temple, in her estat royal, So richely, and eek so fair with-al, So yong, so lusty, with her eyen glade, That, if that god, that heven and erthe made, 1040 Wolde han a love, for beaute and goodnesse, And womanhod, and trouthe, and seemlinesse, Whom sholde he loven but this lady swete? There nis no womman to him half so mete. Fortune, that hath the world in governaunce, Hath sodeinly broght in so newe a chaunce, That never was ther yit so fremd a cas. For al the companye of Eneas, Which that he wende han loren in the see, Aryved is, nat fer fro that citee; 1050 For which, the grettest of his lordes some By aventure ben to the citee come, Unto that same temple, for to seke The quene, and of her socour her beseke; Swich renoun was ther spronge of her goodnesse. And, whan they hadden told al hir distresse, And al hir tempest and hir harde cas, Unto the quene appered Eneas, And openly beknew that hit was he. Who hadde Ioye than but his meynee, 1060 That hadden founde hir lord, hir governour? The quene saw they dide him swich honour, And had herd ofte of Eneas, er tho, And in her herte she hadde routhe and wo That ever swich a noble man as he Shal been disherited in swich degree; And saw the man, that he was lyk a knight, And suffisaunt of persone and of might, And lyk to been a veray gentil man; And wel his wordes he besette can, 1070 And had a noble visage for the nones, And formed wel of braunes and of bones. For, after Venus, hadde he swich fairnesse, That no man might be half so fair, I gesse. And wel a lord he seemed for to be. And, for he was a straunger, somwhat she Lyked him the bet, as, god do bote, To som folk ofte newe thing is swote. Anoon her herte hath pitee of his wo, And, with that pitee, love com in also; 1080 And thus, for pitee and for gentilesse, Refressed moste he been of his distresse. She seide, certes, that she sory was That he hath had swich peril and swich cas; And, in her frendly speche, in this manere She to him spak, and seide as ye may here. "Be ye nat Venus sone and Anchises? In good feith, al the worship and encrees That I may goodly doon yow, ye shul have. Your shippes and your meynee shal I save;" 1090 And many a gentil word she spak him to; And comaunded her messageres go The same day, with-outen any faile, His shippes for to seke, and hem vitaile. She many a beste to the shippes sente, And with the wyn she gan hem to presente; And to her royal paleys she her spedde, And Eneas alwey with her she ledde. What nedeth yow the feste to descryve? He never beter at ese was his lyve. 1100 Ful was the feste of deyntees and richesse, Of instruments, of song, and of gladnesse, And many an amorous loking and devys. This Eneas is come to Paradys Out of the swolow of helle, and thus in Ioye Remembreth him of his estat in Troye. To dauncing-chambres ful of parements, Of riche beddes, and of ornaments, This Eneas is lad, after the mete. And with the quene whan that he had sete, 1110 And spyces parted, and the wyn agoon, Unto his chambres was he lad anoon To take his ese and for to have his reste, With al his folk, to doon what so hem leste. Ther nas coursere wel y-brydled noon, Ne stede, for the Iusting wel to goon, Ne large palfrey, esy for the nones, Ne Iuwel, fretted ful of riche stones, Ne sakkes ful of gold, of large wighte, Ne ruby noon, that shynede by nighte, 1120 Ne gentil hautein faucon heronere, Ne hound, for hert or wilde boor or dere, Ne coupe of gold, with florins newe y-bete, That in the lond of Libie may be gete, That Dido ne hath hit Eneas y-sent; And al is payed, what that he hath spent. Thus can this [noble] quene her gestes calle, As she that can in freedom passen alle. Eneas sothly eek, with-outen lees, Hath sent un-to his shippe, by Achates, 1130 After his sone, and after riche thinges, Both ceptre, clothes, broches, and eek ringes, Som for to were, and som for to presente To her, that all thise noble thinges him sente; And bad his sone, how that he sholde make The presenting, and to the quene hit take. Repaired is this Achates again, And Eneas ful blisful is and fain To seen his yonge sone Ascanius. But natheles, our autour telleth us, 1140 That Cupido, that is the god of love, At preyere of his moder, hye above, Hadde the lyknes of the child y-take, This noble quene enamoured to make On Eneas; but, as of that scripture, Be as be may, I make of hit no cure. But sooth is this, the quene hath mad swich chere Un-to this child, that wonder is to here; And of the present that his fader sente She thanked him ful ofte, in good entente. 1150 Thus is this quene in plesaunce and in Ioye, With al this newe lusty folk of Troye. And of the dedes hath she more enquered Of Eneas, and al the story lered Of Troye; and al the longe day they tweye Entendeden to speken and to pleye; Of which ther gan to breden swich a fyr, That sely Dido hath now swich desyr With Eneas, her newe gest, to dele, That she hath lost her hewe, and eek her hele. 1160 Now to theffect, now to the fruit of al, Why I have told this story, and tellen shal. Thus I beginne; hit fil, upon a night, When that the mone up-reysed had her light, This noble quene un-to her reste wente; She syketh sore, and gan her-self turmente. She waketh, walweth, maketh many a brayd, As doon thise loveres, as I have herd sayd. And at the laste, unto her suster Anne She made her moon, and right thus spak she thanne. 1170 "Now, dere suster myn, what may hit be That me agasteth in my dreme?" quod she. "This ilke Troyan is so in my thoght, For that me thinketh he is so wel y-wroght, And eek so lykly for to be a man, And therwithal so mikel good he can, That al my love and lyf lyth in his cure. Have ye not herd him telle his aventure? Now certes, Anne, if that ye rede hit me, I wolde fain to him y-wedded be; 1180 This is theffect; what sholde I more seye? In him lyth al, to do me live or deye." Her suster Anne, as she that coude her good, Seide as her thoughte, and somdel hit with-stood. But her-of was so long a sermoning, Hit were to long to make rehersing; But fynally, hit may not been with-stonde; Love wol love -- for no wight wol hit wonde. The dawning up-rist out of the see; This amorous quene chargeth her meynee 1190 The nettes dresse, and speres brode and kene; An hunting wol this lusty fresshe quene; So priketh her this newe Ioly wo. To hors is al her lusty folk y-go; Un-to the court the houndes been y-broght, And up-on coursers, swift as any thoght, Her yonge knightes hoven al aboute, And of her wommen eek an huge route. Up-on a thikke palfrey, paper-whyt, With sadel rede, enbrouded with delyt, 1200 Of gold the barres up-enbossed hye, Sit Dido, al in gold and perre wrye; And she is fair, as is the brighte morwe, That heleth seke folk of nightes sorwe. Upon a courser, startling as the fyr, Men mighte turne him with a litel wyr, Sit Eneas, lyk Phebus to devyse; So was he fresshe arayed in his wyse. The fomy brydel with the bit of gold Governeth he, right as him-self hath wold. 1210 And forth this noble guene thus lat I ryde An hunting, with this Troyan by her syde. The herd of hertes founden is anoon, With "hey! go bet! prik thou! lat goon, lat goon! Why nil the leoun comen of the bere, That I mighte ones mete him with this spere?" Thus seyn thise yonge folk, and up they kille These hertes wilde, and han hem at hir wille. Among al this to-romblen gan the heven, The thunder roret with a grisly steven; 1220 Doun com the rain, with hail and sleet so faste, With hevenes fyr, that hit so sore agaste This noble quene, and also her meynee, That ech of hem was glad a-wey to flee. And shortly, for the tempest her to save, She fledde her-self into a litel cave, And with her wente this Eneas al-so; I noot, with hem if ther wente any mo; The autour maketh of hit no mencioun. And heer began the depe affeccioun 1230 Betwix hem two; this was the firste morwe Of her gladnesse, and ginning of her sorwe. For ther hath Eneas y-kneled so, And told her al his herte, and al his wo, And sworn so depe, to her to be trewe, For wele or wo, and chaunge for no newe, And as a fals lover so wel can pleyne, That sely Dido rewed on his peyne, And took him for husband, [to been] his wyf For ever-mo, whyl that hem laste lyf, 1240 And after this, whan that the tempest stente, With mirth out as they comen, hoom they wente. The wikked fame up roos, and that anon, How Eneas hath with the queen y-gon In-to the cave; and demed as hem liste; And whan the king, that Yarbas hight, hit wiste, As he that had her loved ever his lyf, And wowed her, to have her to his wyf, Swich sorwe as he hath, maked, and swich chere, Hit is a routhe and pitee for to here. 1250 But, as in love, al-day hit happeth so, That oon shal laughen at anothers wo; Now laugheth Eneas, and is in Ioye And more richesse than ever he was in Troye. O sely womman, ful of innocence, Ful of pitee, of trouthe, and conscience, What maked yow to men to trusten so? Have ye swich routhe upon hir feined wo, And han swich olde ensamples yow beforn? See ye nat alle, how they been for-sworn? 1260 Wher see ye oon, that he ne hath laft his leef, Or been unkinde, or doon her som mischeef, Or pilled her, or bosted of his dede? Ye may as wel hit seen, as ye may rede; Tak heed now of this grete gentil-man, This Troyan, that so wel her plesen can, That feineth him so trewe and obeising, So gentil and so privy of his doing, And can so wel doon alle his obeisaunces, And waiten her at festes and at daunces, 1270 And whan she goth to temple and hoom ageyn, And fasten til he hath his lady seyn, And bere in his devyses, for her sake, Noot I nat what; and songes wolde he make, Iusten, and doon of armes many thinges, Sende her lettres, tokens, broches, ringes -- Now herkneth, how he shal his lady serve! Ther-as he was in peril for to sterve For hunger, and for mischeef in the see, And desolat, and fled from his contree, 1280 And al his folk with tempest al to-driven, She hath her body and eek her reame yiven In-to his hond, ther-as she mighte have been Of other lond than of Cartage a queen, And lived in Ioye y-nogh; what wolde ye more? This Eneas, that hath so depe y-swore, Is wery of his craft with-in a throwe; The hote ernest is al over-blowe. And prively he doth his shippes dighte, And shapeth him to stele a-wey by nighte. 1290 This Dido hath suspecioun of this, And thoughte wel, that hit was al a-mis; For in his bedde he lyth a-night and syketh; She asketh him anoon, what him mislyketh -- "My dere herte, which that I love most?" "Certes," quod he, "this night my fadres gost Hath in my sleep so sore me tormented, And eek Mercurie his message hath presented, That nedes to the conquest of Itaile My destinee is sone for to saile; 1300 For which, me thinketh, brosten is myn herte!" Ther-with his false teres out they sterte; And taketh her with-in his armes two. "Is that in ernest," quod she; "wil ye so? Have ye nat sworn to wyve me to take, Alas! what womman wil ye of me make? I am a gentil-woman and a queen, Ye wil nat fro your wyf thus foule fleen? That I was born! allas! what shal I do?" To telle in short, this noble queen Dido, 1310 She seketh halwes, and doth sacrifyse; She kneleth, cryeth, that routhe is to devyse; Coniureth him, and profreth him to be His thral, his servant in the leste gree; She falleth him to fote, and swowneth there Dischevele, with her brighte gilte here, And seith, "have mercy! let me with yow ryde! Thise lordes, which that wonen me besyde Wil me destroyen only for your sake. And, so ye wil me now to wyve take, 1320 As ye han sworn, than wol I yive yow leve To sleen me with your swerd now sone at eve! For than yit shal I dyen as your wyf. I am with childe, and yive my child his lyf. Mercy, lord! have pite in your thoght!" But al this thing availeth her right noght; For on a night, slepinge, he let her lye, And stal a-wey un-to his companye, And, as a traitour, forth he gan to saile Toward the large contree of Itaile. 1330 Thus hath he laft Dido in wo and pyne; And wedded ther a lady hight Lavyne. A cloth he lafte, and eek his swerd stonding, Whan he fro Dido stal in her sleping, Right at her beddes heed, so gan he hye Whan that he stal a-wey to his navye; Which cloth, whan sely Dido gan awake, She hath hit kist ful ofte for his sake; And seide, "O cloth, whyl Iupiter hit leste, Tak now my soule, unbind me of this unreste! 1340 I have fulfild of fortune al the cours." And thus, allas! with-outen his socours, Twenty tyme y-swowned hath she thanne. And, whan that she un-to her suster Anne Compleyned had, of which I may nat wryte -- So greet a routhe I have hit for tendyte -- And bad her norice and her suster goon To fecchen fyr and other thing anoon, And seide, that she wolde sacrifye. And, whan she mighte her tyme wel espye, 1350 Up-on the fyr of sacrifys she sterte, And with his swerd she roof her to the herte. But, as myn autour seith, right thus she seyde; Or she was hurt, before that she deyde, She wroot a lettre anoon, that thus began: -- "Right so," quod she, "as that the whyte swan Ayeins his deeth beginneth for to singe, Right so to yow make I my compleyninge. Nat that I trowe to geten yow again, For wel I woot that it is al in vain, 1360 Sin that the goddes been contraire to me. But sin my name is lost through yow," quod she, "I may wel lese a word on yow, or letter, Al-be-it that I shal be never the better; For thilke wind that blew your ship a-wey, The same wind hath blowe a-wey your fey," -- But who wol al this letter have in minde, Rede Ovide, and in him he shal hit finde. Explicit Legenda Didonis martiris, Cartaginis regine. The Legend of Hypsipyle and Medea PART I. THE LEGEND OF HYPSIPYLE. Thou rote of false lovers, duk Iasoun! Thou sly devourer and confusioun 1370 Of gentil-wommen, tender creatures, Thou madest thy reclaiming and thy lures To ladies of thy statly apparaunce, And of thy wordes, farced with plesaunce, And of thy feyned trouthe and thy manere, With thyn obeissaunce and thy humble chere, And with thy counterfeted peyne and wo. Ther other falsen oon, thou falsest two! O! ofte swore thou that thou woldest dye For love, whan thou ne feltest maladye 1380 Save foul delyt, which that thou callest love! If that I live, thy name shal be shove In English, that thy sleighte shal be knowe! Have at thee, Iasoun! now thyn horn is blowe! But certes, hit is bothe routhe and wo That love with false loveres werketh so; For they shul have wel better love and chere That he that hath aboght his love ful dere, Or had in armes many a blody box. For ever as tendre a capoun et the fox, 1390 Thogh he be fals and hath the foul betrayed, As shal the good-man that ther-for hath payed. Al have he to the capoun skille and right, The false fox wol have his part at night. On Iasoun this ensample is wel y-sene By Isiphile and Medea the quene. In Tessalye, as Guido telleth us, Ther was a king that highte Pelleus, That had a brother, which that highte Eson; And, whan for age he mighte unnethes gon, 1400 He yaf to Pelleus the governing Of al his regne, and made him lord and king. Of which Eson this Iasoun geten was, That, in his tyme, in al that lond, ther nas Nat swich a famous knight of gentilesse, Of freedom, and of strengthe and lustinesse. After his fader deeth, he bar him so That ther was noon that liste been his fo, Bud dide him al honour and companye; Of which this Pelleus hath greet envye, 1410 Imagining that Iasoun mighte be Enhaunsed so, and put in swich degree With love of lordes of his regioun, That from his regne he may be put adoun. And in his wit, a-night, compassed he How Iasoun mighte best destroyed be Withoute slaunder of his compasment. And at the laste he took avisement To senden him in-to som fer contree Ther as this Iasoun may destroyed be. 1420 This was his wit; al made he to Iasoun Gret chere of love and of affeccioun, For drede lest his lordes hti espyde. So fil hit so, as fame renneth wyde, Ther was swich tyding over-al and swich los, That in an yle that called was Colcos, Beyonde Troye, estward in the see, That ther-in was a ram, that men mighte see, That had a flees of gold, that shoon so brighte, That no-wher was ther swich an-other sighte; 1430 But hit was kept alway with a dragoun, And many othere merveils, up and doun, And with two boles, maked el of bras, That spitten fyr, and moche thing ther was. But this wsa eek the tale, nathelees, That who-so wolde winne thilke flees, He moste bothe, or he hit winne mighte, With the boles and the dragoun fighte; And king Oetes lord was of that yle. This Pelleus bethoghte upon this wyle; 1440 That he his nevew Iasoun wolde enhorte To sailen to that lond, him to disporte, And seide, "nevew, if hit mighte be That swich a worship mighte fallen thee, That thou this famous tresor mightest winne, And bringen hit my regioun with-inne, Hit were to me gret plesaunce and honour; Than were I holde to quyte thy labour. And al the cost I wol my-selven make; And chees what folk that thou wilt with thee take; 1450 Lat see now, darstow taken this viage?" Iasoun was yong, and lusty of corage, And under-took to doon this ilke empryse. Anoon Argus his shippes gan devyse; With Iasoun wente the stronge Ercules, And many an-other that he with him chees. But who-so axeth who is with him gon, Lat him go reden Argonauticon, For he wol telle a tale long y-now. Philoctetes anoon the sail up-drow, 1460 What that the wind was good, and gan him hye Out of his contree called Tessalye. So long he sailed in the salte see Til in the yle Lemnoun aryved he -- Al be this nat rehersed of Guido, Yet seith Ovyde in his Epistles so -- And of this yle lady was and quene The faire yonge Isiphilee, the shene, That whylom Thoas daughter was, the king. Isipilee was goon in her playing; 1470 And, roming on the clyves by the see, Under a banke anoon espyed she Wher that the ship of Iasoun gan aryve. Of her goodnesse adoun she sendeth blyve To witen yif that any straunge wight With tempest thider were y-blowe a-night, To doon him socour; as was her usaunce To forthren every wight, and doon plesaunce Of veray bountee and of curtesye. This messagere adoun him gan to hye, 1480 And fond Iasoun, and Ercules also, That in a cogge to londe were y-go Hem to refresshen and to take the eyr. The morwening atempre was and fair; And in his wey the messagere hem mette. Ful cunningly thise lordes two he grette, And dide his message, axing hem anoon Yif they were broken, or oght wo begoon, Or hadde nede of lodesmen or vitaile; For of socour they shulde no-thing faile, 1490 For hit was utterly the quenes wille. Iasoun answerde, mekely and stille, "My lady," quod he, "thanke I hertely Of hir goodnesse; us nedeth, trewely, No-thing as now, but that we wery be, And come for to pleye, out of the see, Til that the wind be better in our weye." This lady rometh by the clif to pleye, With her meynee, endelong the stronde, And fynt this Iasoun and this other stonde, 1500 In spekinge of this thing, as I yow tolde. This Ercules and Iasoun gan beholde How that the quene hit was, and faire her grette Anon-right as they with this lady mette; And she took heed, and knew, by hir manere, By hir aray, by wordes and by chere, That hit were gentil-men, of greet degree. And to the castel with her ledeth she Thise straunge folk, and doth hem greet honour, And axeth him of travail and labour 1510 That they han suffred in the salte see; So that, within a day, or two, or three, She knew, by folk that in his shippes be, That hit was Iasoun, ful of renomee, And Ercules, that had the grete los, That soghten the aventures of Colcos; And dide hem honour more then before, And with hem deled ever lenger the more, For they ben worthy folk, with-outen lees. And namely, most she spak with Ercules; 1520 To him her herte bar, he sholde be Sad, wys, and trewe, of wordes avisee, With-outen any other affeccioun Of love, or evil imaginacioun. This Ercules hath so this Iasoun preysed, That to the sonne he hath him up areysed, That han so trewe a man ther nas of love Under the cope of heven that is above; And he was wys, hardy, secree, and riche. -- Of thise three pointes ther nas noon him liche; 1530 Of freedom passed he, and lustihede, Alle tho that liven or ben dede; Ther-to so greet a gentil-man was he, And of Tessalie lykly king to be. Ther nas no lak, but that he was agast To love, and for to speke shamefast. He hadde lever him-self to mordre, and dye Than that men shulde a lover him espye: -- "As wolde almighty god that I had yive My blood and flesh, so that I mighte live, 1540 With the nones that he hadde o-wher a wyf For his estat; for swich a lusty lyf She sholde lede with this lusty knight!" And al this was compassed on the night Betwixe him Iasoun and this Ercules. Of thise two heer was mad a shrewed lees To come to hous upon an innocent; For to be-dote this queen was hir assent. And Iasoun is as coy as is a maide, He loketh pitously, but noght he saide, 1550 But frely yaf he to her conseileres Yiftes grete, and to her officeres. As wolde god I leiser hadde, and tyme, By proces al his wowing for to ryme. But in this hous if any fals lover be, Right as him-self now doth, right so dide he, With feyning and with every sotil dede. Ye gete no more of me, but ye wil rede Thoriginal, that telleth al the cas. The somme is this, that Iasoun wedded was 1560 Unto this quene, and took of her substaunce What-so him liste, unto his purveyaunce; And upon her begat he children two, And drow his sail, and saw her never-mo. A lettre sente she to him certein, Which were to long to wryten and to sein, And him repreveth of his grete untrouthe, And preyeth him on her to have som routhe. And of his children two, she seide him this, That they be lyke, of alle thing, y-wis, 1570 To Iasoun, save they coude nat begyle; And preyed god, or hit were longe whyle, That she, that had his herte y-raft her fro, Moste finden him to her untrewe al-so, And that she moste bothe her children spille, And alle tho that suffreth him his wille. And trew to Iasoun was she al her lyf, And ever kepte her chast, as for his wyf; Ne never had she Ioye at her herte, But dyed, for his love, of sorwes smerte. PART II. THE LEGEND OF MEDEA. 1580 To Colcos comen is this duk Iasoun, That is of love devourer and dragoun. As matere appetyteth forme al-wey, And from forme in-to forme hit passen may, Or as a welle that were botomlees, Right so can fals Iasoun have no pees. For, to desyren, through his appetyt, To doon with gentil wommen his delyt, This is his lust and his felicitee. Iasoun is romed forth to the citee, 1590 That whylom cleped was Iaconitos, That was the maister-toun of al Colcos, And hath y-told the cause of his coming Un-to Oetes, of that contre king, Preying him that he moste doon his assay To gete the flees of gold, if that he may; Of which the king assenteth to his bone, And doth him honour, as hit is to done, So ferforth, that his doghter and his eyr, Medea, which that was so wys and fair 1600 That fairer saw ther never man with ye, He made her doon to Iasoun companye At mete, and sitte by him in the halle. Now was Iasoun a semely man with-alle, And lyk a lord, and had a greet renoun, And of his loke as real as leoun, And goodly of his speche, and famulere, And coude of love al craft and art plenere With-oute boke, with everich observaunce. And, as fortune her oghte a foul meschaunce, 1610 She wex enamoured upon this man. "Iasoun," quod she, "for ought I see or can, As of this thing the which ye been aboute, Ye han your-self y-put in moche doute. For, who-so wol this aventure acheve, He may nat wel asterten, as I leve, With-outen deeth, but I his helpe be. But natheles, hit is my wille," quod she, "To forthren yow, so that ye shal nat dye, But turnen, sound, hoom to your Tessalye." 1620 "My righte lady," quod this Iasoun tho, "That ye han of my dethe or of my wo Any reward, and doon me this honour, I wot wel that my might ne my labour May nat deserve hit in my lyves day; God thanke yow, ther I ne can ne may. Your man am I, and lowly you beseche, To been my help, with-oute more speche; But certes, for my deeth shal I nat spare." Tho gan this Medea to him declare 1630 The peril of this cas, fro point to point, And of his batail, and in what disioint He mote stande, of which no creature, Save only she, ne mighte is lyf assure. And shortly, to the point right for to go, They been accorded ful, betwix hem two, That Iasoun shal her wedde, as trewe knight; And term y-set, to come sone at night Unto her chambre, and make ther his ooth, Upon the goddes, that he, for leef ne looth, 1640 Ne sholde her never falsen, night ne day, To been her husband, whyl he liven may, As she that from this deeth him saved here. And her-upon, at night they mette y-fere, And doth his ooth, and goth with her to bedde. And on the morwe, upward he him spedde; For she hath taught him how he shal nat faile The flees to winne, and stinten his bataile; And saved him his lyf and his honour; And gat him greet name as a conquerour 1650 Right through the sleight of her enchantment. Now hath Iasoun the flees, and hoom is went With Medea, and tresor ful gret woon. But unwist of her fader is she goon To Tessaly, with duk Iasoun her leef, That afterward hath broght her to mescheef. For as a traitour he is from her go, And with her lafte his yonge children two, And falsly hath betrayed her, allas! And ever in love a cheef traitour he was; 1660 And wedded yit the thridde wyf anon, That was the doghter of the kign Creon. This is the meed of loving and guerdon That Medea received of Iasoun Right for her trouthe and for her kindenesse, That loved him better than her-self, I gesse, And lafte her fader and her heritage. And of Iasoun this is the vassalage, That, in his dayes, nas ther noon y-founde So fals a lover going on the grounde. 1670 And therfor in her lettre thus she seyde First, whan she of his falsnesse him umbreyde, "Why lyked me thy yelow heer to see More then the boundes of myn honestee, Why lyked me thy youthe and thy fairnesse, And of thy tonge the infinit graciousnesse? O, haddest thou in thy conquest deed y-be, Ful mikel untrouthe had ther dyed with thee!" Wel can Ovyde her lettre in vers endyte, Which were as now to long for me to wryte. Explicit Legenda Ysiphile et Medee, Martirum.
Posted on: Wed, 25 Sep 2013 13:12:42 +0000
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