The Minor Poems of John Lydgate :: :: University of Virginia Library

Fresshe lusty beaute, ioyned with gentylesse,
Demure appert, glad chere with gouuernaunce,
Yche thing demenid by avysinesse,
Prudent of speeche, wisdam of dalyaunce,
Gentylesse, with wommanly plesaunce,
Hevenly eyeghen, aungellyk of vysage:
Al þis haþe nature sette in youre ymage.

2

Wyfly trouthe with Penolope,
And with Gresylde parfyt pacyence,
Lyche Polixcene fayrely on to se,
Of bounte, beaute, having þexcellence
Of qweene Alceste, and al þe diligence
Of fayre Dydo, pryncesse of Cartage:
Al þis haþe nature sett in youre ymage.

380

3

Of Nyobe þe sure perseueraunce,
Of Adryane þe gret stedfastnesse,
Assured trouthe, voyde of varyaunce,
With yonge Thesbe, exsaumple of kyndenesse,
Of Cleopatres abyding stabulnesse,
Meeknesse of Hester, voyde of al outrage:
Al þis haþe nature sette in your ymage.

4

Beaute surmounting with feyre Rosamounde,
And with Isawde for to beo secree,
And lych Iudith in vertu to habounde,
And seemlynesse with qwene Bersabee
Innocence, fredame, and hye bountee,
Fulfilled of vertu, voyde of al damage:
Al þis haþe nature sette in youre ymage.

5

What shoulde I more reherce of wommanhede?
Yee beon þe myrrour and verray exemplayre
Of whome þat worde and thought acorde in deed,
And in my sight fayrest of alle fayre,
Humble and meek, benyngne and debonayre,
Of oþer vertues with al þe surplusage
Which þat nature haþe sette in youre ymage.

6

I seo no lack, but oonly þat daunger
Haþe in you voyded mercy and pytee,
Þat yee list not with youre excellence
Vpon youre seruantes goodely for to see;
Wher-on ful soore I compleyne me,
Þat routh is voyde to my disavauntage,
Siþe alle þees vertues be sette in youre ymage.

Lenvoye.

Go, lytel balade, and recomaunde me
Vn-til hir pyte, hir mercy, and hir grace;
But first be ware aforne, þat þou weel see

381

Disdayne and daunger be voyde oute of þat place,
For ellys þou mayst haue leysier noon, ner space,
Truwly to hir to done my message,
Which haþe alle vertues sette in hir ymage.

2. A COMPLAINT, FOR LACK OF MERCY.

[_]

[MS. Univ. Lib. Cam. Ff. 1. 6, leaves 152, back, to 153.]

1

Grettere mater of dol an[d] heuynesse,
Noe more cause haith no man to complayne
Than y, alas! wich langwysche yn sekenesse,
And at myn herte abyde the dedely payne,
Whiche daye and nyght dothe me so constreyne;
Suche a cotydyan halt me so greuusly,
And, worse than deth, my leche dothe disdeyne
Me to recure, for lacke of mercy.

2

The salt teres that fro myn yen reyne,
Theyre tyme spente yn wepyng, & not els,
Which may be called the petows flodes tweyne;
And þe hede sprynge with his whofull welles
Of dedly constreynte my corage so compellys,
Lyke Nyobe and Myrra ffast by,
Wiche wepten euer, as theyre story tellys,
Withoute recure, for lacke of mercy.

3

Whate vayleth vertu wiche is not treteabill?
Recure of sykenesse is hasty medecyne.
Whate vayleth bewte which ys nat mercyabill?
Whate vayleth a sterre when hit do nat schyne,
Or grete poure that lyste nat to declyne
His heres downe, to here pytusly
Compleynt of nedy, whiche yn theyre payne
Crye for recur, and there is no mercy.

382

4

Achilles swerde the egge was keruy[n]g,
The plat therof was softe and recureabile;
Wownded of þe egge was mortall yn werkyng,
The fatall plate was medycynabill;
And thof so be of feith þat ye be stable,
Nere þat gode hope toke hede for my party,
I nere but dede, pleynely, þis is no fable,
Withoute recure, for lacke of mercy.

3. THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT.

[_]

[From MS. Bodley Fairfax 16, leaves 20, back, to 30.]

Complaynte of a Louers Lyfe.

1

In May, when Flora, the fressh[e] lusty quene,
The soyle hath clad in grene, rede, and white;
And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene
Amyd the Bole, wyth al the bemes bryght;
And Lucifer, to chace awey the nyght,

383

Ayen the morowe our orysont hath take,
To byd[de] lovers out of her slepe awake,

2

And hertys heuy for to reconforte
From dreryhed of heuy nyghtis sorowe:
Nature bad hem ryse and [hem] disporte,
Ageyn the goodly, glad[e], grey[e] morowe,
And Hope also, with Saint Iohn to borowe
Bad in dispite of Daunger and Dispeyre,
For to take the holsome lusty eyre.

3

And wyth a sygh [I] gan for to abreyde
Out of my slombre, and sodenly out stert
As he, alas, that nygh for sorowe deyde,
My sekenes sat ay so nygh myn hert.
But for to fynde socour of my smert,
Or attelest summe relesse of [my] peyn,
That me so sore halt in euery veyn,

4

I rose anon, and thoght I wol[de] goon
Vnto the wode, to her the briddes sing,
When that the mysty vapour was agoon,
And clere and feyre was the morownyng,
The dewe also lyk syluer in shynyng
Vpon the leves, as eny bavme suete,
Til firy Tytan with hys persaunt hete

384

5

Had dried vp the lusty lycour nyw
Vpon the herbes in [the] grene mede,
And that the floures of mony dyuers hywe
Vpon her stalkes gunne for to sprede,
And for to splay[en] out her leves on brede
Ageyn the sunne, golde-borned in hys spere,
That dovn to hem cast hys bemes clere.

6

And by a ryuer forth I gan costey,
Of water clere as berel or cristal,
Til at the last I founde a lytil wey
Tovarde a parke, enclosed with a wal
In compas rounde; and by a gate smal,
[W]ho-so that wolde, frely myght[e] goon
In-to this parke, walled with grene stoon.

7

And in I went to her the briddes songe,
Which on the braunches, bothe in pleyn [and] vale,
So loude songe that al the wode ronge,
Lyke as hyt sholde sheuer in pesis smale;
And as me thoght[e] that the nyghtyngale
Wyth so grete myght her voys gan out wrest,
Ryght as her hert for love wolde brest.

8

The soyle was pleyn, smothe, and wonder softe,
Al ouer-sprad wyth tapites that Nature
Had made her-selfe, celured eke a-lofte

385

With bowys grene, the flo[u]res for to cure,
That in her beaute they may not longe endure
Fro al assaute of Phebus feruent fere,
Which in his spere so hote shone, and clere.

9

The eyre atempre, and the smothe wynde
Of Zepherus, amonge the blosmes whyte,
So holsomme was, and so norysshing be kynde,
That smale buddes, and rounde blomes lyte,
In maner gan of her brethe delyte,
To yif vs hope [that] their frute shal take
Ayens autumpne, redy for to shake.

10

I sawe ther Daphene, closed vnder rynde,
Grene laurer, and the holsomme pyne,
The myrre also, that wepeth euer of kynde,
The cedres high, vpryght as a lyne,
The philbert eke, that lowe dothe enclyne
Her bowes grene to the erthe dovne
Vnto her knyght icalled Demophovne.

11

Ther saw I eke [the] fressh[e] haw[e]thorne
In white motele, that so soote doth smelle,
Asshe, firre, and oke, with mony a yonge acorne,
And mony a tre mo then I can telle;
And me beforne I sawe a litel welle,

386

That had his course, as I gan be-holde,
Vnder an hille, with quyke stremes colde.

12

The grauel golde, the water pure as glas,
The bankys rounde the welle environyng,
And softe as veluet the yonge gras,
That ther vpon lustely gan s[pr]yng,
The sute of trees a-bout[e] compassyng
Her shadowe cast, closyng the wel[le] rounde,
And al the erbes grovyng on the grounde.

13

The water was so holsom, and so vertuous,
Throgh myghte of erbes grovynge [ther] beside;
Nat lyche the welle wher as Narci[ss]us
Islayn was th[o]ro vengeaunce of Cupide,
Wher so couertely he did[e] hide,
The greyn of deth vpon ech[e] brynk,
That deth mot folowe, who that euere drynk;

14

Ne lyche the pitte of the Pegace,
Vnder Parnaso, wher poetys slept;
Nor lyke the welle of [pure] chastite,
Whiche as Dyane with her nymphes kept,
When she naked in-to the water lept,
That slowe Acteon with his ho[u]ndes felle,
Oonly for he cam so nygh the welle.

387

15

But this welle, that I her reherse,
So holsom was, that hyt wolde aswage
Bollyn hertis, and the venym perce
Of pensifhede, with al the cruel rage,
And euermore refresh[e] the visage
Of hem that were in eny werynesse
Of gret labour, or fallen in distresse.

16

And I that [had] throgh daunger and disdeyn
So drye a thrust, thoght I wolde assay
To tast a draght of this welle or tweyn,
My bitter langour yf hyt myght alay;
And on the banke anon dovne I lay,
And with myn hede into the welle I raght,
And of the watir dranke I a good draght.

17

Wher-of me thoght I was refresshed wel
Of the brynnyng that sate so nyghe my hert,
That verely anon I gan to fele
An huge part relesed of my smert;
And therwith-alle anon vp I stert,
And thoght I wolde walke[n] and se more,
Forth in the parke and in the holtys hore.

18

And thorgh a launde as I yede apace,
I gan about[e] fast[e] to be-holde;
I fonde anon a delytable place,

388

That was beset with trees yong and olde,
Whos names her for me shal not be tolde,
A-myde of which stode an erber grene,
That benched was with colours nyw and clene.

19

This erber was ful of floures ynde,
Into the whiche, as I beholde gan,
Be-twex an hulfere and a wodebynde,
As I was war, I sawe ther lay a man
In blake and white colour, pale and wan,
And wonder dedely also of his hiwe,
Of hurtes greene, and fresh[e] woundes nyw;

20

And ouer-more destreyned with sekenesse,
Besyde al this he was [ful] greuosly,
For vpon him he had a hote accesse,
That day be day him shoke ful petously,
So that for constreynt of hys malady,
And hertly wo, thus lyinge al alone,
Hyt was a deth for to se him grone.

21

Wherof astonied my fote I gan with-drawe,
Gretly wondring what hit myght[e] be,
That he so lay and had[de] no felawe
Ne that I coude no wyght with him se,
Wherof I had routhe and eke pite;
I gan anon, so softly as I coude,
Amonge the busshes me priuely to shroude;

389

22

If that I myght in eny wise espye,
What was the cause of his dedely woo,
Or why that he so pitously gan crie
On hys ffortune, and on his eure also;
With al my myght I leyde an ere to,
Euery worde to marke what he sayed[e],
Out of his swogh among as he abreyde.

23

But first, yf I shal make mensyoun
Of hys persone, and pleynly him discrive,
He was in sothe, with-out excepcioun,
To speke of manhod oon the best on lyve—
Ther may no man ayein[es] trouthe stryve—,
For of hys tyme, and of his age also,
He proued was, ther men shuld haue ado.

24

For oon the best ther of brede and lengthe
So wel ymade by good proporsioun,
Yf he had be in his delyuer strengthe;
But thoght and sekenesse wer occasioun,
That he thus lay in lamentacioun,
Gruffe on the grounde, in place desolate,
Sole by him-self, aw[h]aped and amate.

25

And for me semeth that hit ys syttyng
His wordes al to put in remembraunce,
To me that herde al his compleynyng

390

And al the grounde of his woful chaunce,
Yf ther-with-al I may yow do plesaunce:
I wol to yow, so as I can anone,
Lych as he seyde, reherse[n] euerychone.

26

But who shal helpe me now to compleyn?
Or who shal now my stile guy or lede?
O Nyobe! let now thi teres reyn
Into my penne, and eke helpe in this nede
Thou woful Mirre, that felist my hert[e] blede
Of pitouse wo, and my honde eke quake,
When that I write for this mannys sake.

27

For vnto wo acordeth compleynyng,
And delful chere vnto heuynesse,
To sorow also sighing and wepyng,
And pitouse morenyng vnto drerynesse,
And who that shal write[n] of distresse,
In partye nedeth to know[e] felyngly
Cause and rote of al such malady.

28

But I, alas, that am of wytte but dulle
And haue no knowyng of suche mater,
For to discryve and wryte[n] at the fulle
The wofull compleynt, which that ye shul here;
But euen-like as doth a skryuener,
That can no more what that he shal write,
But as his maister beside dothe endyte:

391

29

Ryght so fare I, that of no sentement
Sey ryght noght as in conclusioun,
But as I herde, when I was present,
This man compleyn[e] wyth a pytouse soun;
For euen-lych, wythout addissyoun,
Or disencrese, outher mor or lesse,
For to reherse anon I wol me dresse.

30

And yf that eny now be in this place,
That fele in love brennyng or fervence,
Or hyndered were to his lady grace,
With false tonges, that with pestilence
Sle trwe men, that neuer did offence
In worde ne dede, ne in their entent—
Yf eny such be here now present,

31

Let hym of routhe ley to audyence
With deleful chere, and sobre contenaunce,
To here this man be ful high sentence,
His mortal wo, and his perturbaunce
Compleynyng, now lying in a traunce,
With loke vp-cast, and [with ful] reuful chere,
Theffect of which was as ye shal here.

Compleynt.

The thoght oppressed with inward sighes sore,
The peynful lyve, the body langwysshing,
The woful gost, the hert[e] rent and tore,

392

The petouse chere pale in compleynyng,
The dedely face lyke asshes in shynyng,
The salt[e] teres that fro myn yen falle,
Parcel declare grounde of my peynes alle.

33

Whos hert ys grounde to blede on heuynesse,
The thoght resseyt of woo and of compleynt,
The brest is chest of dule and drerynesse,
The body eke so feble and so feynt,
With hote and colde my acces ys so meynt,
That now I shyuer for defaute of hete,
And hote as glede now sodenly I suete.

34

Now hote as fire, now colde as asshes dede,
Now hote for colde, [now colde] for hete ageyn,
Now colde as ise, now as coles rede
For hete I bren, and thus betwyxe tweyn
I possed am, and al forcast in peyn,
So that my hete pleynly as I fele
Of greuouse colde ys cause euerydele.

35

This ys the colde of ynwarde high dysdeyn,
Colde of dyspite, and colde of cruel hate;
This is the colde that euere doth besy peyn,
Ayen[e]s trouthe to fight[en] and debate;
This ys the colde that wolde the fire abate

393

Of trwe menyng, alas, the harde while;
This ys the colde that will me begile.

36

For euere the better that in trouthe I ment,
With al my myght feythfully to serue,
With hert and al to be dilygent,
The lesse thanke, alas, I can deserue.
Thus for my trouthe Daunger doth me sterue;
For oon that shuld my deth of mercie let,
Hath made Dispite now his suerde to whet

37

Ayen[e]s me, and his arowes to file,
To take vengeaunce of wilful cruelte,
And tonges fals throgh her sleghtly wile
Han gonne a werre that wol not stynted be,
And fals Envye of wrathe, and Enemyte
Haue conspired ayens al ryght and lawe,
Of her malis, that Trouthe shal be slawe.

38

And Male-bouche gan first the tale telle,
To sclaundre Trouthe of Indignacioun,
And Fals-report so loude ronge the belle,
That Mys-beleve and Fals-suspecioun
Haue Trouthe brought to hys dannacioun,
So that alas wrongfully he dyeth,
And Falsnes now his place occupieth,

39

And entred ys in-to Trouthes londe,
And hath therof the ful possessyoun.
O ryghtful God! that first the trouthe fonde,

394

How may thou suffre such oppressyoun,
That Falshed shuld haue iurysdixioun
In Trouthes ryght, to sle him gilt[e]les?
In his fraunchise he may not lyve in pes.

40

Falsly accused, and of his foon for-iuged,
Without ansuer, while he was absent,
He damned was, and may not ben excused:
For Cruelte satte in iugement
Of Hastynesse with-out avisement,
And bad Disdeyn do execute anon
His iugement in presence of hys fon.

41

Atturney non ne may admytted ben
To excuse Trouthe, ne a worde to speke;
To Feyth or Othe the Iuge list not sen,
Ther ys no geyn but he wil be wreke.
O Lorde of Trouthe! to The I calle and clepe:
How may Thou se thus in Thy presence,
With-out[e] mercy mordred Innocence?

42

Now God! that art of Trouthe souereyn,
And seest how I lye for Trouthe bounde,
So sore knytte in loves firy cheyn,
Euen at the deth thro-girt wyth mony a wounde,
That lykly ar neuer for to sounde,
And for my trouthe am damned to the dethe,
And noght abide but drawe alonge the brethe:

395

43

Consider and se in thyn eternal sight,
How that myn hert professed whilom was,
For to be trwe with al my ful[le] myght
Oonly to oon the which[e] now, alas!
Of volunte, withoute more trespas,
Myn accusurs hath taken vnto grace,
And cherissheth hem my deth for to purchace.

44

What meneth this? what ys this wonder vre
Of purveance, yf I shal hit calle,
Of God of Love, that fals hem so assure,
And trew, alas! dovn of the whele be falle?
And yet in sothe this is the worst of alle,
That Falshed wrongfully of Trouth hath the name,
And Trouthe ayenwarde of Falshed bereth the blame.

45

This blynde chaunce, this stormy aventure
In love hath most his experience;
For who that doth with trouth[e] most his cure,
Shal for his mede fynde most offence,
That serueth love with al his diligence;
For who can feyne vnder loulyhede,
Ne fayleth not to fynde grace and spede.

46

For I loved oon ful longe sythe agoon
With al my hert[e], body and ful[le] myght,
And to be ded my hert[e] can not goon

396

From his hest, but hold that he hath hight;
Thogh I be banysshed out of her syght,
And by her mouthe damned that I shal deye,
Vnto my behest yet I wil euer obeye.

47

For euere sithe that the worlde began,
Who so lyste loke[n] and in storie rede,
He shal ay fynde that the trwe man
Was put abake, wher-as the falshede
I-furthered was; for Love taketh non hede
To sle the trwe, and hath of hem no charge,
Wher-as the fals goth frely at her large.

48

I take recorde of Palamides,
The trwe man, the noble worthy knyght,
That euer loved, and of hys peyne no relese,
Not-withstondyng his manhode and his myght;
Love vnto him did ful grete vnright,
For ay the bette he did in cheualrye,
The more he was hindred by Envye;

49

And ay the bette he dyd in euery place,
Throgh his knyghthode, and [his] besy peyn,
The ferther was he fro his ladys grace,
For to her mercie myght he neuer ateyn;
And to his deth he coude hyt not refreyn
For no daunger, but ay obey and serue,
As he best coude pleynly til he sterue.

397

50

What was the fyne also of Ercules,
For al his conquest and his worthynesse,
That was of strengthe alone pereles?
For lyke as bokes of him list expresse,
He set[te] pilers thro his high provesse,
Away at Cades, for to signifie,
That no man myght hym passe in cheualrie.

51

The whiche pilers ben ferre by-yonde Ynde
Be-set of golde, for a remembraunce;
And for al that was he sete behynde
With hem that Love list febly avaunce;
For [he] him set last vpon a daunce,
Ayen[e]s whom helpe may no strife,
For al his trouth[e] [ȝit] he lost his lyfe.

52

Phebus also for al his persaunt lyght,
When that he went her in erthe lowe,
Vnto the hert with [fresshe] Venus sight
Ywounded was, th[o]ro Cupides bowe,
And yet his lady list him not to knowe,
Thogh for her love his hert[e] did[e] blede,
She let him go, and toke of him non hede.

53

What shal I say of yong[e] Piramus?
Of trwe Tristram for al his high renovne?
Of Achilles or of Antonyus?

398

Of Arcite or of him Palamovne?
What was the ende of her passion
But after sorowe dethe and then her graue.
Lo her the guerdon that [thes] louers haue!

54

But false Iasoun with his doublenesse.
That was vntrwe at Colkos to Mede,
And Tereus, rote of vnkyndenesse,
And with these two eke the fals Ene:
Lo thus the fals, ay in oon degre,
Had in love her lust and al her wille,
And save falshed ther was non other skille.

55

Of Thebes eke [loo] the fals Arcite,
And Demophon eke for his slouthe,
They had her lust and al that myght delyte,
For al her falshede and [hir] grete vntrouthe.
Thus euer Love, alas, and that is routhe,
His fals[e] legys furthereth what he may,
And sleeth the trwe vngoo[d]ly day be day.

56

For trwe Adon was slayn with the bore
Amyde the forest in the grene shade,
For Venus love he felt al the sore.
But Vulcanus with her no mercy made,
The foule cherle had many nyghtis glade,
Wher Mars her [worthy] knyght, her [trewe] man,
To fynde mercy comfort noon he can.

399

57

Also the yonge fressh Ipomones,
So lusty fre as of his corage,
That for to serue with al his hert [he] ches
Athalans, so feire of her visage;
But Love, alas, quyte him so his wage
With cruel Daunger pleynly at the last,
That with the dethe guerdonlesse he past.

58

Lo her the fyne of lover[e]s seruise!
Lo how that Love can his seruantis quyte!
Lo how he can his feythful men dispise,
To sle the trwe men, and fals to respite!
Lo how he doth the suerde of sorowe byte
In hertis suche as must his lust obey,
To save the fals and do the trwe dey!

59

For feythe nor othe, worde ne assuraunce,
Trwe menyng, awayte, or besynesse,
Stil[le] port ne feythful attendaunce,
Manhode ne myght in armes worthinesse,
Pursute of wurschip, nor [no] high provesse
In straunge londe rydinge, ne trauayle,
Ful lyte or noght in love dothe avayle.

60

Peril of dethe, nother in se ne londe
Hungre ne thrust, sorowe ne sekenesse,
Ne grete emprises for to take on honde,

400

Shedyng of blode, ne manful hardynesse,
Nor ofte woundynge at sawtes by distresse,
Nor iupartyng of lyfe, nor dethe also:
Al ys for noghte, Love taketh non hede therto.

61

But Lesynges with her fals flaterye,
Thro her falshed and with her doublenesse,
With tales new, and mony feyned lye,
By False-Semlaunce, and Contrefet-Humblesse,
Vnder colour depeynt with Stidfastnesse,
With Fraude cured vnder a pitouse face,
Accept ben now rathest vnto grace,

62

And can hem-self now best[e] magnifie
With feyned port and presumpsion.
They haunce her cause with fals Surquedrie,
Vnder menyng of Double-Entencion,
To thenken on in her opynyon
And sey another, to set hym-selfe alofte,
And hynder Tr[o]uthe, as hit ys seyn ful ofte.

63

The whiche thing I bye now al to dere,
Thanked be Venus and the god Cupide!
As hit is seen by myn oppressed chere,
And by his arowes that stiken in my syde,
That safe the dethe I no thing abide
Fro day to day, alas, the harde while,
When euere hys dart that hym list to fyle,

401

64

My woful hert[e] for to ryve atwo,
For faute of mercye, and lake of pite
Of her that causeth al my peyn and woo,
And list not ones of grace for to see
Vnto my trouthe throgh her cruelte.
And most of al [ȝit] I me compleyn
That she hath ioy to laughen at my peyn,

65

And wilfully hath my dethe [y] sworne,
Al gilt[e]les and wote no cause why,
Safe for the trouthe that I have hade aforne
To her allone to serue feythfully.
O God of Love! vnto the I crie,
And to thy blende double deyte
Of this grete wrong I compleyn[e] me,

66

And vnto thy stormy wilful variaunce,
I-meynt with chaunge and gret vnstabl[en]esse,
Now vp, now down, so rennyng is thy chaunce,
That the to trust may be no sikernesse;
I wite hit no-thinge but thi doublenesse.
And who that is an archer, and ys blynde,
Marketh nothing, but sheteth by wenynge;

67

And for that he hath no discrecion,
With-oute avise he let his arowe goo,
For lak of syght and also of resoun,

402

In his shetyng hit happeth oft[e] soo,
To hurt his frende rathir then his foo;
So doth this god with his sharpe flon,
The trwe sleeth and leteth the fals[e] gon.

68

And of his woundyng this is the worst of alle,
When he hurteth he dothe so cruel wreche,
And maketh the seke for to crie and calle
Wnto his foo for to ben his leche,
And hard hit ys for a man to seche,
Vpon the poynt of dethe in [iu]-pardie,
Vnto his foo to fynde remedye.

69

Thus fareth hit now euen[ly] by me,
That to my foo that yaf my hert a wounde,
Mot axe grace, mercie, and pite,
And namely ther wher noon may be founde;
For now my sore my leche wol confounde
And god of kynde so hath set myn vre,
My lyves foo to haue my wounde in cure.

70

Alas the while now that I was borne!
Or that I euer saugh the bright[e] sonne!
For now I see that ful longe aforne,
Er I was borne, my destanye was sponne
By Parcas sustren, to sle me if they conne,
For they my dethe shopen or my shert,
Oonly for trouthe I may hit not astert.

71

The myghty Goddesse also of Nature,
That vnder God hath the gouernaunce
Of worldly thinges commytted to her cure,

403

Disposed hath thro her wyse purveaunce,
To yive my lady so moche suffisaunce
Of al vertues, and therwith-al purvyde
To mordre Trouthe, hath taken Daunger to guyde.

72

For bounte, beaute, shappe, and semelyhed,
Prudence, wite, passyngly fairenesse,
Benigne port, glad chere with loulyhed,
Of womanhed ryght plentevous largesse,
Nature in her fully did empresse,
Whan she her wroght, and altherlast Dysdeyne,
To hinder Trouthe, she made her chambreleyne.

73

When Mystrust also, and Fals-suspecion,
With Mys-Beleve she made for to be
Chefe of counseyle to this conclusion,
For to exile Routhe and eke Pite,
Out of her court to make Mercie fle,
So that Dispite now haldeth forth her reyn,
Thro hasty beleve of tales that men feyn.

74

And thus I am for my trouthe, alas!
Mordred and slayn with wordis sharp and kene,
Gilt[e]les, God wote, of al trespas,
And lye and blede vpon this colde grene.
Now mercie, suete! mercye, my lyves quene!
And to youre grace of mercie yet I prey,
In your seruise that your man may dey.

404

75

But and so be that I shall deye algate,
And that I shal non other mercye haue,
Yet of my dethe let this be the date
That by youre wille I was broght to my graue,
Or hastely yf that ye list me saue
My sharpe woundes that ake so and blede,
Of mercie charme, and also of womanhede.

76

For other charme pleynly ys ther noon,
But only mercie, to helpe[n] in this case;
For thogh my wounde blede euere in oon,
My lyve, my deth stondeth in your grace;
And thogh my gilt be nothing, alace!
I axe mercie in al my best entent,
Redy to dye yf that ye assent.

77

For ther ayens shal I neuer strive
In worde ne werke, pleynly I ne may,
For leuer I haue then to be alyve
To dye sothely, and hit be her to pay;
Ye, thogh hit be this ech[e] same day,
Or when that euer her lust to deuyse,
Sufficeth me to dye in your seruise.

78

And God, that knowest the thoght of euery wyght
Ryght as hit is, in euery thing thou maist se,
Yet er I dye, with al my ful[le] myght,

405

Louly I prey to graunte[n] vnto me
That ye, goodly, feir[e], fressh, and fre,
Which sle me oonly for defaut of routhe,
Er then I die, [ye] may know my trouthe.

79

For that in sothe suffic[et]he [vnto] me,
And she hit knowe in euery circumstaunce;
And after I am wel[a]payed that she
Yf that her lyst of deth to do vengeaunce
Vnto me, that am vnder her legeaunce,
Hit sitte me not her doom to dysobey,
But at her lust wilfully to dey.

80

Wyth-out[e] gruching or rebellion,
In wil or worde, holy I [me] assent,
Or eny maner contradixion,
Fully to be at her commaundement;
And yf I dye, in my testament
My hert I send, and my spirit also,
What so-euer she list with hem to do.

81

And alderlast to her womanhede,
And to her mercy me I recommaunde,
That lye now here betwext hope and drede,
Abyding pleynly what she list commaunde
For vtterly—this nys no demaunde—
Welcome to me while me lasteth brethe,
Ryght at her cho[i]se, wher hit be lyf or dethe.

406

82

In this mater more what myght I seyn,
Sithe in her honde and in her wille ys alle,
Bothe lyf and dethe, my ioy, and al my peyn;
And fynally my hest[e] holde I shall
Til my spirit, be destanye fa[ta]l,
When that her list, fro my body wynde;
Haue her my trouthe and thus I make an ynde.

83

And with that worde he gan sike as sore,
Lyke as his hert[e] ryve wolde atweyne,
And holde his pese and spake a worde no more,
But for to se his woo and mortal peyn;
The teres gan[ne] fro myn eyen reyn
Ful piteusly for werry inwarde routhe,
That I hym sawe so languysshing for his trouthe.

84

And al this w[h]ile my-self I kep close
Amonge the bowes, and my-self gunne hide,
Til at the last the woful man arose,
And to a logge went[e] ther be-syde,
Wher al the May his custom was to abide,
Sole to compleyn of his peynes kene,
Fro yer to yer vnder the bowes grene.

85

And for be-cause that hit drowe to the nyght,
And that the sunne his arke divrnall
I-passed was, so that his persaunt lyght,

407

His bryght[e] bemes, and his stremes all
Were in the wawes of the water fall,
Vnder the bordure of our occean,
His chare of golde his course so swyftly ran;

86

And while the twilyght and the rowes rede
Of Phebus lyght wer deaurat a-lyte:
A penne I toke and gan me fast[e] spede,
The woful pleynt of this man to write,
Worde be worde, as he dyd endyte;
Lyke as I herde, and coude him tho reporte,
I haue here set, your hertis to dysporte.

87

Iff oght be mys, leyth the wite on me,
For I am worthy for to bere the blame;
Yf eny thing mys-reported be,
To make this dite for to seme lame
Thro myn vnkynnyng, but for to seme the same
Lyke as this man his compleynt did expresse:
I axe mercie and foryeuenesse.

88

And as I wrote me thoght I sawe aferre,
Fer in the west lustely appere
Esperus, the goodly bryght[e] sterre,
So glad, so feire, so persaunt eke of chere,
I mene Venus with her bemys clere,
That heuy hertis oonly to releve
Is wont of custom for to shew at eve.

89

And I as fast fel dovn on my kne,
And euen thus to her I gan to preie:
“O lady Venus! so feire vpon to se,

408

Let not this man for his trouthe dey,
For that ioy thou haddest when thou ley
With Mars thi knyght, whom Vulcanus founde
And with a cheyne vnvisible yow bounde,

90

“To-gedre both tweyne in the same while,
That al the court above celestial,
At youre shame gan [to] laughe and smyle.
O feire lady! wel-willy founde at al,
Comfort to carefull! O goddesse immortal!
Be helpyng now, and do thy diligence,
To let the stremes of thin influence

91

“Descende dovne, in furtheryng of the trouthe,
Namely of hem that lye in sorow bounde;
Shew now thy myght, and on her wo haue routhe
Er fals Daunger sle hem and confounde:
And specialy let thy myght be founde
For to socour, what so that thou may,
The trew[e] man, that in the erber lay;

92

“And al[le] trew[e] further for his sake,
O glad[e] sterre! O lady Venus myn!
And [cause] his lady him to grace take;
Her hert of stele to mercy so enclyne,
Er that thy bemes go vp to declyne,
And er that thou now go fro vs adovne,
For that love thou haddest to Adon.”

409

93

And when [that] she was goon [vn]to her rest
I rose anon, and home to bed[de] went
For werry wery, me thoght hit for the best;
Preyng thus in al my best entent,
That al[le] trew[e], that be with daunger shent,
With mercie may, in reles of her peyn,
Recured be, er May come eft aye[y]n.

94

Andfor that I ne may noo lenger wake,
Farewel, ye louers al[le] that be trewe!
Prayng to God, and thus my leve I take,
That er the sunne to morowe be ryse newe,
And er he haue ayen his rosen hewe,
That eche of yow may haue such a grace,
His ovne lady in armes to embrace.

95

I mene thus, that in al honeste,
With-oute more ye may to-gedre speke
What-so yow list at good liberte,
That eche may to other her hert[e] breke,
On Ielosie oonly to be wreke,
That hath so longe of his malice and envie
Werred Trouthe with his tiranye.

Lenvoye.

Princes, pleseth hit your benignite
This litil dite [for] to haue in mynde,
Of womanhede also for to se,

410

Your trew[e] man may summe mercie fynde
And pite eke, that longe hath [be] be-hynde,
Let [him] ayein be prouoked to grace;
For by my trouthe hit is ayen[e]s kynde,
Fals Daunger to occupie his place.

Lenvoye de quare.

Go, litel quayre, go vn-to my lyves quene,
And my verry hertis souereigne,
And be ryght glad for she shal the sene;
Such is thi grace, but I, alas, in peyne
Am left behinde, and not to whom to pleyn;
For Mercie, Routhe, Grace, and eke Pite
Exiled be, that I may not ateyne,
Recure to fynde of myn adversite.

4. THE FLOURE OF CURTESY.

[_]

[From Thynne's Chaucer, 1532, leaves 283–284, back.]

1

In Feuerier, whan the frosty moone,
Was horned ful of Phebus firy lyght,
And that she gan to reyse her streames sone,
Saynt Valentyne, vpon thy blisful nyght
Of dewetee, whan glad is euery wight,
And foules chese, to voyde her olde sorowe,
Eueryche his make, vpon the next[e] morowe;

411

2

The same tyme, I herde a larke synge
Ful lustely, agayne the morowe gray:
“Awake, ye louers, out of your slombringe,
This glad[e] morowe, in al the haste ye may;
Some obseruaunce dothe vnto this day,
Your choyse ayen of herte to renewe,
In confyrmyng for euer to be trewe.

3

“And ye that be, of chosyng, at your large
This lusty day, by custome of nature,
Take vpon you the blisful holy charge
To serue Loue, whyle your lyfe may dure,
With herte, body, and al your besy cure,
For euermore, as Venus and Cipride
For you disposeth, and the god Cupyde.

4

“For ioye owe we playnly to obey[e]
Vnto this lordes mighty ordynaunce,
And, mercylesse, rather for to d[e]ye
Than euer in you be founden varyaunce,
And, though your lyfe be medled with greuaunce,
And at your herte closed be your wounde,
Beth alway one, there as ye are bounde.”

5

That whan I had herde, and lysted longe,
With deuoute herte, the lusty melodye
Of this heuenly comfortable songe,
So agreable as by ermonye,
I rose anon, and faste gan me hye
Towarde a groue, and the way [to] take,
Foules to sene eueryche chose his make.

6

And yet I was ful thursty in languisshyng;
Myn ague was so feruent in his hete
Whan Aurora, for drery complaynyng,
Can distyl her chrystal teeres wete
Vpon the soyle, with syluer dewe so swete,
For she durste, for shame, not apere
Vnder the lyght of Phebus beames clere.

412

7

And so, for anguysshe of my paynes kene,
And for constraynte of my sighes sore,
I set me downe vnder a laurer grene
Ful pitously; and alway more and more,
As I behelde into the holtes hore,
I gan complayne myn inwarde deedly smerte,
That aye so sore craunpisshed myn herte.

8

And whyle that I, in my drery payne
Sate and behelde aboute on euery tre
The foules sytte, alway twayne and twayne,
Than thought I thus, “Alas, what may this be,
That euery foule hath his lyberte
Frely to chose after his desyre
Eueryche his make thus, fro yere to yere?

9

“The sely wrenne, the tytemose also,
The lytel redbrest, haue free election
To flyen yfere and togyther go
Where as hem lyst, aboute enuyron,
As they of kynde haue inclynacion,
And as Nature, emp[e]resse and gyde,
Of euery thyng lyst[e] to prouyde.

10

“But man alone, alas, the harde stounde,
Ful cruelly, by kyndes ordynaunce,
Constrayned is, and by statute bounde,
And debarred from al suche plesaunce
What meneth this? What is this purueyaunce
Of God aboue, agayne al right of kynde,
Without[e] cause, so narowe man to bynde?”

11

Thus may I se[y]ne, and playne[n] [eke], alas!
My woful houre and my disauenture,
That doulfully stonde in the same caas,
So ferre behynde, from al helth and cure.
My wounde abydeth lyke a sursanure,
For me Fortune so felly lyste dispose,
My harme is hyd, that I dare not disclose.

413

12

For I my herte haue set in suche a place
Wher I am neuer lykely for to spede,
So ferre I am hyndred from her grace
That saue Daunger I haue none other mede;
And thus, alas! I not who shal me rede
Ne for myne helpe shape remedye,
For Male-bouche, and for false Enuye;

13

The whiche twayne aye stondeth in my wey
Malyciously, and false Suspection
Is very cause also that I dey,
Gynnyng and rote of my distruction,
So that I fele, in conclusyon,
With her traynes that they wol me shende,
Of my labour that dethe mote make an ende.

14

Yet, or I dye, with herte, wyl, and thought
To God of Loue this auowe I make:
As I best can, howe dere that it be bought,
Where so it be that I slepe or wake,
Whyle Boreas dothe the leaues shake,
As I haue heyght, plainly, tyl I sterue,
For wel or wo, that I shal her serue.

15

And for her sake nowe this holy tyme,
Saynt Valentyne! somwhat shal I write,
Al-though so be that I can not ryme,
Nor curyously by no crafte endyte,
Yet leuer I haue that she put the wyte
In vnconnyng than in neglygence,
Whateuer I saye of her excellence.

16

Whateuer I say, it is of du[we]te,
In sothfastnesse, and no presumpcion;
This I ensure to you that shal it se,
That it is al vnder correction,
What I reherce in commendacion
Of her, that I shal to you, as blyue,
So, as I can, her vertues here discryue.

414

17

Ryght by example as the somer sonne
Passeth the sterre with his beames shene,
And Lucyfer amonge the skyes donne
A-morowe sheweth, to voyde nyghtes tene,
So, verily, withouten any wene,
My lady passeth, who-so taketh hede,
Al tho alyue to speke of womanhede.

18

And as the ruby hath the soueraynte
Of ryche stones and the regalye,
And the rose of swetenesse and beaute,
Of fresshe floures, without[en] any lye,
Ryght so, in sothe, with her goodly eye,
She passeth al in bountie and fayrenesse,
Of maner eke, and of gentylnesse.

19

For she is bothe the fayrest and the beste,
To reken al in very sothfastnesse;
For euery vertue is in her at reste,
And furthermore, to speke of stedfastnesse,
She is the rote, and of semelynesse
The very myrrour, and of gouernaunce
To al example, withouten varyaunce.

20

Of porte benygne, and wonder glad of chere,
Hauyng euermore her trewe aduertence
Alway to reason; so that her desyre
Is brideled aye by wytte and prouydence.
Thereto of wytte and of hye prudence
She is the welle, aye deuoyde of pride,
That vnto vertue her-seluen is the gyde.

21

And ouer this in her dalyaunce
Lowly she is, discrete and wyse [and fre],
And goodly glad by attemperaunce,
That euery wight of hygh and lowe degre
Are glad in herte with her for to be;
So that, shortly, if I shal not lye,
She named is “The Floure of Curtesye.”

415

22

And there to speke of femynyte,
The leste mannysshe in comparyson,
Goodly abasshed, hauyng aye pyte
Of hem that ben in trybulacion,
For she alone is consolacion
To al that arne in mischefe and in nede,
To comforte hem of her womanhede.

23

And aye in vertue is her besy charge,
Sadde and demure, and but of wordes fewe,
Dredeful also of tonges that ben large,
Eschewyng aye hem that lyste to hewe
Aboue her heed, her wordes for to shewe,
Dishonestly to speke of any wight;
She deedly hateth of hem to haue a syght.

24

The herte of whom so honest is and clene,
And her entent so faythful and entere
That she ne may, for al the worlde, sustene
To suffre her eeres any worde to here
Of frende nor foe neyther ferre ne nere
Amysse resowning, þat hynder shulde his name,
And if she do, she wexeth reed for shame.

25

So trewly in menyng she is in-sette,
Without chaungyng or any doublenesse;
For bountie and beautie are togyther knette
On her persone vnder faythfulnesse;
For voyde she is of newfanglenesse,
In herte aye one, for euer to perseuer
There she is sette, and neuer to disseuer.

26

I am to rude her vertues euerychone
Cunnyngly to discryue and write,
For, wel ye wot, colour haue I none
Lyke her discrecion craftely to endyte,
For what I say, al it is to lyte;
Wherfore to you thus I me excuse,
That I aqueynted am not with no muse.

416

27

By rethorike my style to gouerne
In her preise and commendacion,
I am to blynde so hylye to discerne
Of her goodnesse to make discrypcion,
Saue thus I say, in conclusyon,
If that I shal shortly [her] commende,
In her is naught that Nature can amende.

28

For good she is, lyke to Polycene,
And in fayrenesse to the quene Helayne,
Stedfast of herte as was Dorigene
And wyfely trouthe, if I shal not fayne,
In constaunce eke and faythe, she may attayne
To Cleopatre, and therto as secree
As was of Troye the whyte Antygone.

29

As Hester meke, lyke Judith of prudence
Kynde as Alcest or Marcia Catoun,
And to Grisylde lyke in pacience,
And Ariadne of discrecioun,
And to Lucrece, that was of Rome toun,
She may be lykened, as for honeste,
And for her faythe, vnto Penelope.

30

To fayre Phyllis and to Hipsyphilee
For innocence and for womanhede,
For semelynesse vnto Canace;
And ouer this, to speke of goodlyhede,
She passeth al that I can of rede,
For worde and dede, that she naught ne fal,
Acorde in vertue, and her werkes al.

31

For though that Dydo with wytte sage
Was in her tyme stedfast to Enee,
Of hastynesse yet she dyd outrage,
And so for Iason dyd also Medee;
But my lady is so auysee
That, bountie and beautie bothe in her demeyne,
She maketh bountie alway souerayne.

417

32

This is to meane, bountie gothe afore,
Lad by prudence, and hath the soueraynte,
And beautie foloweth, ruled by her lore,
That she ne fende her in no degre;
So that, in one, this goodly fresshe fre
Surmountyng al, withouten any were,
Is good and fayre in one persone yfere.

33

And though that I, for very ignoraunce,
Ne may discryue her vertues by and by,
Yet on this day, for a remembraunce,
Onely supported vnder her mercy,
With quakyng honde, I shal ful humbly
To her hynesse, my rudenesse for to quyte,
A lytel balade here byneth endyte.

34

Euer as I can supprise in myn herte,
Alway with feare, betwyxt drede and shame,
Leste out of lose any worde asterte
In this metre to make it seme lame;
Chaucer is deed, that had suche a name
Of fayre makyng, that, without[en] wene,
Fayrest in our tonge, as the laurer grene.

35

We may assay for to countrefete
His gay[e] style, but it wyl not be;
The welle is drie, with the lycoure swete,
Bothe of Clye and of Caliope;
And, first of al, I wol excuse me
To her that is grounde of goodlyhede,
And thus I say vntyl her womanhede:—

Balade Symple

36

“With al my might and [in] my best entent,
With al the faythe that mighty God of kynde
Me yaue, syth he me soule and knowyng sent,
I chese, and to this bonde euer I me bynde,
To loue you best, whyle I haue lyfe and mynde.”
Thus herde I foules, in the dawenyng,
Vpon the day of Saynte Valentyne synge.

418

37

“Yet chese I, at the begynnyng, in this entent,
To loue you, though I no mercy fynde,
And if you lyste I dyed, I wolde assent,
As euer twynne I quicke out of this lyn[d]e.
Suffyseth me to sene your fethers ynde.”
Thus herde I foules in the mor[we]nynge
Vpon the daye of Saynte Valentyne synge.

38

“And ouer this, myne hertes luste to bente,
In honour onely of the wodde-bynde,
Holy I yeue, neuer to repente
In ioye or wo, where-so that I wynde
To fore Cupyde, with his eyen blynde.”
The foules al, whan Tytan dyd springe,
With deuoute hert, me thought I herde synge.

Lenuoye

Princesse of beautie, to you I represent
This symple dyte, rude as in makynge,
Of herte and wyl faythful in myn entent,
Lyke as this day foules herde I synge.

Here endeth the Floure of Curtesy

5. A GENTLEWOMAN'S LAMENT.

[_]

[MS. Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 3. 20, pp. 152–154.]

And here begynneþe a balade sayde by a gentilwomman whiche loued a man of gret estate.

1

Allas! I wooful creature,
Lyving betweene hope and dreed,
Howe might I þe woo endure,
In tendrenesse of wommanhede,
In langoure ay my lyff to leede,
And sette myn hert in suche a place,
Wher as I, be liklyhede,
Am euer vnlyke to stonde in grace!

419

2

Þer is so gret a difference
Tweene his manheed and my symplesse,
Þat Daunger by gret vyolence
Haþe me brought in gret distresse;
And yit in verray sikurnesse,
Þoughe my desyre I neuer atteyne,
Yit withoute doublenesse
To love him best I shal not feyne.

3

For whane we were ful tendre of yeeris,
Flouring booþe in oure chyldheed,
Wee sette to nothing oure desyres,
Sauf vn-to playe, and tooke noon heede,
And gaderd flowres in þe meede,
Of youþe þis was oure moost plesaunce,
And Love þoo gaf me for my meede
A knotte in hert of remembraunce,

4

Which þat neuer may beo vnbounde,
Hit is so stedfast and so truwe,
For alwey oone I wol beo founde
His womman, and chaunge for no nuwe!
Wolde God þe sooþe þat he knewe,
Howe offt I sighe for his saake,
And he me list not onys ruwe,
Ne yyveþe no force, what yvell I make.

5

His poorte, his cheere, and his fygure
Beon euer present in my sight,
In whos absence eeke I ensure,
I cane neuer be gladde ne light:
Fore he is my chosen knyght,
Þaughe hit to him ne beo not kouþe,
And so haþe he beon boþe day and night,
Truly fro my tendre youþe.

6

Emprynted in myn inwarde thought,
And alwey shal til þat I deye,

420

Out of myn hert he parteþe nought,
Ne neuer shal, I dare weel seye.
His loue so soore me dooþe werreye,
God graunt hit tourne for þe best!
For I shal neuer, I dare wel sey,
Withoute his love lyve in rest.

7

A trouthe in tendre aage gonne,
Of loue with longe perseueraunce,
In my persone so sore is ronne,
Þat þer may beo no varyaunce;
For al myn hertes souffysaunce
Is, wheþer þat I waake or wynk,
To haue hooly my remembraunce
On his persone, so mychil I thynk!

6. MY LADY DERE.

[_]

[MS. B.M. Adds. 16165, leaves 249, back, to 251, back.]

Amerous balade by Lydegate made at departyng of Thomas Chauciers on þe kynges ambassade into Fraunce.

1

Euery maner creature
Disposed vn-to gentylesse,
Boþe of kynde and of nature,
Haþe in hert[e] moost gladnesse
Fo[r] tabyde in sothfastnesse
Wher his ioye is moost entier,
And I lyve euer in hevynesse
But whenne I se my lady dere.

421

2

Eke euery wight of verray kynde
Is glad and mury for to abyde
Wher þat [h]is wille, þought, and mynde
Beo fully sett on euery syde,
And wher-so þat I go or ryde,
I ne can be glad in no maner,
As God and Fortune list provyde,
But whanne I seo my lady der.

3

Who parteþe out of Paradys,
Frome þat place so ful of glorye,
Wher as Mirthe is moste [of] prys,
And Ioye haþe souerain victorye,
What wonder whane he haþe memorye,
Of al, þoughe he beo dul of chere,
For I am euer in Purgatorye
But whanne I seo my lady dere.

4

Þe sterres of þe heghe heven
Feyrest shyne vn-to oure sight,
And þe planetis alle seven
Moost fulsomly yif þer hir light;
And Phebus with his bemis bright
Gladdest shyneþ in his speere,
But I am neuer glad ner light
Save whanne I seo my lady dere.

5

Eke Phebus in oure emyspirye,
Affter derknesse of þe night,
At his vpryst [yolowe as golde clere]
Erly on morowe, of kyndely right,
Whanne cloudis blake haue no might
To chace awey his bemys clere;
Right so frome sorowe I stonde vpright
Whane þat I se my lady der.

422

6

Þe fooles þat flyeþe in þe eyre,
And freshly singe and mirthes make,
In May þe sesoun is so feyre,
With all þe right oþe hem awake,
Reioyesseþe eueryche with his make,
With hure heuenly notes cleer;
Right þus al sorowe in me doþe slake
Whanne þat I se my lady der.

7

Þe hert, þe hynde in þe forest
Moost luste beo of þeyre corage,
And euery maner oþer beest,
Boþe þe tame and eke sauvage,
Stonden most at avauntage
In laundis whanne þey renne efeer;
Þus euer glad is my visage
Whanne þat I se my lady dere.

8

I dare eke seyne þat buck and do
Amonge þe holtis hore and gay,
Þe reynder and þe wylde roo,
In mersshes haue þeyre moste pley,
Wher þey beo voyde frome al affraye;
And even-lyke, with-oute were,
Myn hert is glad, boþe night and day,
Whane þat I seo my lady dere.

9

What is a fisshe out of the see,
For alle his scales siluer sheene,
But ded anoon, as man may se?
Or in ryuers crystal clene,
Pyke, baþe, or tenche with ffynnes grene,
Out of þe water whane þey appere?
Þus deethe darteþe myn hert[e] kene
Þer I seo naught my lady dere.

423

10

Þe ruby standeþ best in þe ryng
Of gold whanne hit is polisshed newe,
Þemeraude eke is ay lasting
Whil hit abydeþe with his hert truwe,
Þe saphyre with his hevenly hewe
Makeþe gounded eyen clere;
Þus my ioye doþe ay renewe
Whanne þat I se my lady dere.

11

Þe floures on þeyre stalkis vncloose,
Springyng in þe bavmy med,
Þe lylyes and þe swoote roos,
Þe dayesyes, who takeþe hede,
Whanne Phebus doþe his bemys spred
In somer, lyke as men may lere;
So glad am I in thought and ded,
Whanne þat I seo my lady der.

12

In somer whanne þe sheene sunne
Haþe shewed bright a gret space,
And towardes night þe skyes dunne
His clernesse doþe awey enchace;
Right so dedly and pale of face,
Mortal of look and eke of chere,
I wexe, suche wo me did enbrace
At partyng fro my lady der.

13

Summe folk in signe of hardynesse
Takeþe hem to colour þat is red,
And summe in token of clennesse,
Weren whyte, takeþe heed,
And summe grene for lustynesse;
But I allas in blak appere,
And alwey shal, in sorowe and dred,
Til I seo nexst my lady dere.

424

14

Now God, þe which art eternal,
And hast eche thing in gouernance,
And art also inmortal,
Stabled with-oute variaunce,
Fortune and guyde so my chaunce,
Of Þy power moste entier,
In abreggyng of my penaunce
Soone to seo my lady dere.

Lenuoye.

Go, lytel bille, in lowly wyse,
Vn-to myn hertes souereyne,
And prey to hir for to devyse
Summe relees of my mortel peyne,
And wher þou er, rest not, ne feyne
Oonly of pitee to requerre
Þat she of mercy not disdeyne
To be my soueraine lady dere.

Devynayle par Pycard.

Take þe seventeþ in ordre sette
Lyneal of þe ABC,
First and last to-geder knette
Middes e-ioyned with an E,
And þer ye may beholde and se
Hooly to-gidre al entiere
Hir þat is, wher-so she be,
Myn owen souerayne lady dere.

7. A LOVER'S NEW YEAR'S GIFT

Amerous balade by Lydegate þat haþe loste his thanke of wymmen.

[_]

[MS. B. M. Adds. 16165: leaves 253, back, to 254, back.]

1

In honnour of þis heghe fest, of custume yere by yere,
Is first for to remembre me vpon my lady dere.

425

For nowe vpon þis first day I wil my choys renuwe,
All þe whyles þat I lyve to hir to be truwe,
Boþe to serue and love hir best with al myn hert entier.

2

For I haue maked myn avowe, in verray sothefastnesse,
To beo hir faythful truwe man, withoute doublenesse,
Wher so euer þat I be ouþer fer or ner.

3

Hit voydeþe al myn hevynesse, boþe in thought and ded,
Whane þat I remembre me vpon hir goodelyhed,
Because she is so wommanly, boþe of port and chere.

4

And as I stoode myself alloone, vpon þe Nuwe Yere night,
I prayed vnto þe frosty moone, with hir pale light,
To go and recomaunde me vnto my lady dere.

5

And erly on þe nexst morowe, kneling in my cloos,
I prayed eke þe shene sonne, þe houre whane he aroos,
To gon also and sey þe same in his bemys clere.

6

But þo þer came a clowdy thought, and gan myn hert assayle,
And sayde me, howe my servyce þer me shoulde not avayle,
Til my lady mercylesse me hade brought on beer.

7

Hit is ful hard to grave in steel and in a flynt al-so,
And yit men may smyte fyre of hem boþe two,
But I may of hir hert of steel mercye noon requere.

8

Þo came gode hope ageyne and gan myn hert adawe,
And of myn hevy stormy thought apeese wel þe wawe,
And so þe skyes of dispeyre began to wexen clere.

9

And yit ageyne for hevynesse I gane me to compleyne,
Þat she was so fer away, myn hertes soueraine,
Which to spek of wommanhed haþe in þis world no peer.

426

10

And whanne I thenke verrayly vpon hir wommanhed,
And þer withal recorde also hir hevenly godelyhed,
I seo sheo is so fer fro me, allas, and I am here.

11

For sheo passeþe of beaute Isaude and Eleyne,
I sey in soþe as thenkeþe me, for me list not feyne,
And yonge fresshe Polixene with hir eyen cler.

12

She passeþe eke of desport Dydo of Cartage,
Adrean and Medea by fauour of vysage,
And eke alle þoo þat euer I sawe in any coost appere.

13

Penalapee was in hir tyme moost famous of fayrnesse,
And Ester was ecalled eke myrour of gentylesse,
But yit noon of hem euerychoon is lyke my lady dere.

14

Iff I shal reherce also Gresyldes pacyence,
My lady haþe, I dare wel sey, more passing eloquence
To reherse by and by hir vertus alle efeere.

15

I hade leuer a looke alloone withoute[n] any more
Of hir goodely eyen twoo myn haromes to restore,
Þanne haue alle oþer at my wille I rechche not who hit here.

16

I haue no thing to gyven hir at þis gladde tyme,
But myn hert vndeparted, nowe þis first[e] pryme,
Þe which þis day I sende hir al hooly and entier.

17

And þis lytel symple gifft I prey hir nought refuse,
Þe whiche þoughe hit but symple beo, but God wil me excuse,
For yif she toke hit not aright, I shulde hit bye to dere.

18

Who gyvethe his hert he graunteþe al his good[es] in substance,
And vn-to hir I gif hit al withoute repentaunce,
And þat I am hir truwest man þer by she may hit lere.

427

19

Now go forthe, hert, and be right glad with hir to abyde,
And wayt vpon hir day or night, wher þat she go or ryde,
And looke þow part not away, I charge, in no maner.

20

And þoughe þou soiourne euer þer hit shal not cost[e] gret
For constreynt of þe wyntur colde ner sunne with his het,
For despense of þe vitayle shal nought beo to deer.

21

Go nowe forþe, þou lytel songe, vpon my message,
And sey howe þat I gyve hir hole with þe surplusage,
Hert, body, and al my good, and my servyce in fere.

22

Lat no wawes ner no wynde lettyn þy passage,
Ne stormes of þe salt[e] see, ne no rokkes rage;
Þe streemes of hir hevenly looke shul alle þy sorowes steer.

23

Go forthe in hast, þou lytel songe, and no lenger tarye,
Now vpon þe first day of þis Ianuarye,
And conferme fully vp my choyse ay frome yere to yere.

Explicit.

8. THE SERVANT OF CUPYDE FORSAKEN.

“Complaynt Lydegate.”

[_]

[MS. B.M. Adds. 16165, leaves 255–256.]

1

Ful longe I haue a seruant be
Vn-to mighty god Cupyde;
Thorughe his gret[e] crueltee
Euer I haue be set a-syde.
For cruwel Daunger was my guyde
Withoute mercy oþer grace,
And so for me can ay provyde,
I was forsake in euery place.

2

And wher I put me most in prees,
Þer was I firþest esett abacke.
Disdeyne enseled my releesse,

428

And wrot þe quytaunce al with black,
So þat vpon me fel al þe wrack
Of hem þat list at loue chace;
Þer was of mercy so gret lacke
I was forsake in euery place.

3

I koude neuer go to-forne
In no servyce my-self tavaunce;
I blewe alwey þe bukkes horne,
So vnhappy was my chaunce;
And ay þe fyne of my plesaunce,
And cheef also of my pourchace,
Was to begynne a newe daunce
To be forsake in euery place.

4

Yif I loued in hye estate,
Þer fonde I nought but disdeyne;
And lower dovne I fonde debate,
And þus I served euer in veyne;
Of hope þer was no dewe ne reyne
In no degre me to solace;
For which I may of trouthe seyne
I am forsake in euery place.

5

I loued some þat wer right feyre,
Þat tooke of me no maner heed;
And some right fresshe and debonayre,
Þat gaf me daunger for my mede;
And some eke for hir wommanhed,
And some for hir goodely face;
Þat my fortune doþe me lede
To be forsaken in euery place.

6

And þer as I loued for richchesse
Pouert plonged me a-dovne;
And wher I did moost bisynesse
Skorne was my conclusyoun
And for my truwe affeccioun
A deynous looke gan me manace;
Þat I may wryte for my resoun
I am forsake in euery place.

429

7

I loued some fer ronne in age,
Al þoughe hit wer ful truwe chaffare;
And yonge eke ful wylde and rage,
And list not for no coste to spare;
And þus I pleyde Iacke þe Haare,
And gane to hoppe a newe trace,
And sange “Go, farewell feldfare,”
As man forsake in euery place.

8

Þer fonde I moost confusyoun
Þer as I did moost my cure;
And moost hade indignacioun
Wher as lengest I did endure;
And my woful aventure
Disdayne and Daunger did enbrace;
Þat I may singe þe Chaunteplure
As man forsake in euery place.

LENVOYE.

To alle wymmen þis compleynt
With cursed hert I nowe direct,
Whos corage is euer emeynt
With doubulnesse, suche is þe sect,
Which soþely no man may correct,
Youre nature haþe so double a face,
Whos galle ay newe doþe infect
Þe sugre of men in euery place.