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Whilom the thridde hevenes lord above,
As wel by hevenysh revolucioun
As by desert, hath wonne Venus his love,
And she hath take him in subjeccioun,
And as a maistresse taught him his lessoun,
Commaundynge him that nevere, in her servise,
He nere so bold no lover to dispise.

For she forbad him jelosye at al,
And cruelte, and bost, and tyrannye.
She made him at her lust so humble and tal,
That when her deyned to cast on hym her ye,
He tok in pacience to lyve or dye.
And thus she brydeleth him in her manere,
With nothing but with scourging of her chere.

Who regneth now in blysse but Venus,
That hath thys worthy knyght in governaunce?
Who syngeth now but Mars, that serveth thus
The faire Venus, causer of plesaunce?
He bynt him to perpetuall obeisaunce,
And she bynt her to loven him for evere,
But so be that his trespas hyt desevere.

Thus be they knyt and regnen as in hevene
Be lokyng moost; til hyt fil on a tyde
That by her bothe assent was set a stevene
That Mars shal entre, as fast as he may glyde,
Into hir nexte paleys, and ther abyde,
Walkynge hys cours, til she had him atake,
And he preide her to haste her for his sake.

Then seyde he thus, "Myn hertes lady swete,
Ye knowe wel my myschef in that place,
For sikerly, til that I with yow mete,
My lyf stant ther in aventure and grace;
But when I se the beaute of your face,
Ther ys no drede of deth may do me smerte,
For al your lust is ese to myn herte.'

She hath so gret compassioun of her knyght,
That dwelleth in solitude til she come—
For hyt stod so that thilke tyme no wight
Counseyled hym ther, ne seyde to hym welcome—
That nygh her wit for wo was overcome;
Wherfore she sped her as faste in her weye
Almost in oo day as he dyde in tweye.

The grete joye that was betwix hem two
When they be mette ther may no tunge telle.
Ther is no more but unto bed thei go,
And thus in joy and blysse I lete hem duelle.
This worthi Mars, that is of knyghthod welle,
The flour of feyrnesse lappeth in his armes,
And Venus kysseth Mars, the god of armes.

Sojourned hath this Mars of which I rede
In chambre amyd the paleys prively
A certeyn tyme, til him fel a drede
Throgh Phebus, that was comen hastely
Within the paleys yates sturdely,

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With torche in honde, of which the stremes bryghte
On Venus chambre knokkeden ful lyghte.

The chambre ther as ley this fresshe quene
Depeynted was with white holes grete,
And by the lyght she knew, that shon so shene,
That Phebus cam to brenne hem with his hete.
This sely Venus nygh dreynt in teres wete
Enbraceth Mars and seyde, "Alas, I dye!
The torche is come that al this world wol wrie.'

Up sterte Mars; hym liste not to slepe
When he his lady herde so compleyne,
But, for his nature was not for to wepe,
In stede of teres, from his eyen tweyne
The firi sparkes brosten out for peyne,
And hente his hauberk that ley hym besyde.
Fle wolde he not, ne myghte himselven hide.

He throweth on his helm of huge wyghte,
And girt him with his swerd, and in his hond
His myghty spere, as he was wont to fyghte,
He shaketh so that almost hit towond.
Ful hevy was he to walken over lond;
He may not holde with Venus companye
But bad her fleen lest Phebus her espye.

O woful Mars— alas— what maist thou seyn,
That in the paleys of thy disturbaunce
Art left byhynde in peril to be sleyn?
And yet therto ys double thy penaunce,
For she that hath thyn herte in governaunce
Is passed half the stremes of thin yën;
That thou nere swift, wel maist thou wepe and crien.

Now fleeth Venus unto Cilenios tour
With voide cours for fere of Phebus lyght—
Alas— and ther ne hath she no socour,
For she ne found ne saugh no maner wyght,
And eke as ther she hath but litil myght,
Wherfor, herselven for to hyde and save,
Within the gate she fledde into a cave.

Derk was this cave and smokyng as the helle;
Not but two pas within the yate hit stod.
A naturel day in derk I lete her duelle.
Now wol I speke of Mars, furious and wod.
For sorow he wolde have sen his herte blod;
Sith that he myghte don her no companye,
He ne roghte not a myte for to dye.

So feble he wex for hete and for his wo
That nygh he swelte, he myghte unnethe endure;
He passeth but o steyre in dayes two.
But nathelesse, for al his hevy armure,
He foloweth her that is his lyves cure,
For whos departyng he tok gretter ire
Then for al his brennyng in the fire.

After he walketh softely a paas,
Compleynyng, that hyt pite was to here,
He seyde, "O lady bryght, Venus, alas,
That evere so wyd a compas ys my spere!
Alas, when shal I mete yow, herte dere?
This twelfte daye of April I endure
Throgh jelous Phebus this mysaventure.'

Now God helpe sely Venus allone.
But as God wolde, hyt happed for to be
That, while that Venus weping made her mone,
Cilenius, rydinge in his chevache,
Fro Venus valaunse myghte his paleys se,
And Venus he salueth and doth chere,
And her receyveth as his frend ful dere.

Mars dwelleth forth in his adversyte,
Compleynyng ever on her departynge,
And what his compleynt was, remembreth me;
And therfore, in this lusty morwenynge
As I best can, I wol hit seyn and synge;
And after that I wol my leve take,
And God yeve every wyght joy of his make!