University of Virginia Library

Of the sorowe that Kynge Menelay made when he herd that Parys had ravisshede his wyff; and of þe manly comforde and councele þat Agamenon gave hym for to revenge hym.

The vnhappy tyme & þe same while
Þat Fortune falsly gan to smyle
Vp-on Troyans & bad hem [to] be merye,
For whiche hiȝly þei gan her goddis herie,
Wenyng in Ioye to haue ben assured wele,
No þing aduerting þe turnyng of þe whele
Of hir þat lastiþ stable but a throwe—
Whan men most trust, sche can make a mowe,
Turne hir forhed, & hir face writhe,
(Suche Ioye sche haþe hir doubilnes to kiþe,
And to wrappe hir clernes vnder cloude),
Ageyn whos myȝt no man may hym schrowde—
Whan sche most flateriþ, þan sche is lest to trist:
For in her Ioye þe Troyans litel wist
What sche ment to her confusioun.
For while þat þei aboute in al þe toun
Wenden of Grekis haue geten ful recur
Of her damages, & euere to haue be sure
Þoruȝ þilke pray þat Parys had[de] wonne,
Þe wykke fame & rumor is y-ronne
With swyfte wynges, of al þat þei han wrouȝt.
To Menelay þe tydyngges wern [y-]brouȝt,
Whils he abood with Nestor at Pyra,
First of þe temple in Cyther[e]a,
How it was spoilled, & þe robberye
Of gold & tresour, & þe tyranye
Vp-on his men be Troyans execute,
Boþe of assaillyng & of al þe sute
Þat on Grekis þei made cruelly,
And how þat þei ne spared outterly
Man nor woman þat com in her weye,
Þat þei ne toke, & ladden as for praye
To her sch[i]ppes, and also of þe fyȝt
A-for þe castel, þat was on þe nyȝt.
And aldirlast he hereth of his wif,
Whom he louede as mykel as his lif—
More tendirly, God wot, a þousand folde.
For whom, astonyed, at hert he wexe as colde
As any ston, and paleth of his hewe.
His hertly wo so inly gan renewe,
Þat first whan he herde hir name sovne,
With-out[e] more anoon he fel a-swovne;
For he ne myȝt endure for to stonde,
Til duke Nestor toke hym by þe honde
And hym awoke of his dedly swowe.
“Allas,” quod he, “why haue I lost, & howe,
Mi lives lust, myn hertly suffisaunce!
A, com now deth and make of my greuance
Fully an ende with þi cruel dart,
Þat wounded am þoruȝ on euery parte—
Myn hert, also, korve in euery veyne
For ȝow, my wif, for ȝow, myn owne Eleyne,
Þat be deuorcid fro me, weillawey!
Far-wel my Ioye, farwel myn olde pley!
Now han strangeris of ȝou pocessioun,
Whiche wil to me be ful confusioun.
Allas, I not how þei ȝou cherische or trete,
My faire Eleyne, þat wer to me so mete!
Now ȝe ar gon, pensifhed me slethe—
I may nat waite now but after dethe.”
And aftir þis, amyd of al his wo,
Þis Menelay schope hym for to go
To his regne, but litel þer be-syde;
He axeth hors & seide he wolde ride
Sool to compleyne of þat he felt hym greue.
But al þis while Nestor wil nat leue
To go with hym for consolacioun,
Of frendly riȝt hauyng compassioun,
Hym to comforte with al his ful[le] myȝt,
Ledyng with hym many worþi knyȝt
In-to þe regne of þis Menelaus.
Þan, first of al, þe story telleþ vs,
How þei sent for Agamenoun,
And for Castor to com to hym anoon,
And for Pollux, ȝif it myȝt[e] be;
And whan þei wer comen alle þre,
And saie her broþer in swiche meschef brouȝt,
Almost mordred wiþ his owne þouȝt,
With-oute abood þe wyse Agamenoun
To ȝif hym counforte & consolacioun
Dide his labour & diligence entere,
Seiyng to hym, riȝt as ȝe schal here:
“O broþer myn, what wo, what heuynes,
What dedly sorwe þus inly may oppres
Ȝour knyȝtly hert or trouble ȝoure manhede,
More furiously y-wis þan it is nede;
For þouȝ þat riȝt requered outerly
Ȝow for to sorwe and had cause why,
Ȝet, me semeth, by iuste prouidence,
Ȝe schulde sliȝly dissymble ȝoure offence—
Sith eche wiseman in his aduersite
Schulde feyne cher & kepen in secre
Þe inward wo þat bynt hym in distresse—
Be manly force rathest þer compesse
Þe sperit of Ire and malencolie,
Where þe peple it sonest myȝt espie.
It is a doctrine of hem þat be prudent,
Þat whan a man with furie is to-rent,
To feyne chere til tyme he se leyser
Þat [he] of vengaunce kyndle may þe fer;
For sorwe oute-schewid, ȝif I shal nat feine,
Who-so take hede, it doth þinges tweyne:
It causeth frendis for to siȝe sore,
And his enymyes to reioische more—
Þi frende in hert is sory of nature,
Þin enemy glad of þi mysaventure.
Wherfore, in hert, whan wo doth most abounde,
Feyne gladnes þin enmy to confounde,
And schewe in cher as þou rouȝtist nouȝt
Of þing þat is most greuous in þi þouȝt.
And wher þou hast most mater to compleyne,
Make þer good face & glad in port þe feine;
For in-to teris þouȝ þou al distille,
And rende þi silfe, as þou woldest þe spille,
It helpith nat to aleggen þi greuance:
For nouþer honour nor pursut of vengaunce,
With sorwe makyng mow ben execut—
Þouȝ it last ay, þer cometh þere-of no frut.
Men seyn how he þat can dissymble a wrong,
How he is sliȝe and of herte stronge;
And who can ben peisible in his smerte,
It is a tokene he hath a manly herte,
Nat to wepen as wommen in her rage,
Whiche is contrarie to an hiȝe corage.
With word & wepyng for to venge oure peyne,
Be no menys to worschip to attayne;
Lat vs with swerde & nat with wordis fiȝt,
Oure tonge apese, be manhod preve oure myȝt:
Word is but wynde, & water þat we wepe,
And þouȝ þe tempest and þe flodis depe
Of þis two encresen euere-mo,
Þei may nat do but augmente oure wo—
And to oure foon, þer-of whan þei here,
Boþe of oure dool & oure heuy chere,
Al is to hem but encres of Ioye.
Wherfore, broþir, a while doþe a-coye
Þe cruel torment þat byndeþ ȝow so sore;
For in prouerbe it haþ ben said ful ȝore,
Þat þe prowes of a manly knyȝt
Is preued most in meschef, and his myȝt:
To ben assured in aduersite,
Strongly sustene what wo þat it be,
Nat cowardly his corage to submitte
In euery pereil, nor his honour flitte
Þoruȝ no dispeire, but hopen al-wey wel,
And haue a trust, trewe as any stel,
Tacheven ay what he take on honde.
For finally I do ȝou vndirstonde,
Þat of hym silfe who haþ good fantasie
To sette vp-on and putte in Iupartie,
What þat be-falle, [or] hap what hap[pe] may,
Takyng what chaunce wil turnen on his play,
The fyn of whiche gladly is victorie,
Þei feile selde of þe palme of glorie.
And tyme is now, to speke in wordis fewe,
O broþir myn, manhod for to schewe,
To pluk vp herte & ȝou to make strong;
And to venge ȝour damages & ȝoure wronge,
We schal echon help & leye to honde—
Kynges, dukes, and lordis of þis londe—
And attonys done oure besynes,
I ȝou behete, ȝour harmys to redresse.
And in dispit of whom þat euere vs lette,
We schal vs loge & oure tentis sette
Euene in þe felde a-fore Troye toun,
And leyne a sege to her distruccioun,
Al-be her-of I sette as now no day.
But, broþir, first, in al þe haste we may,
Lete make lettris, with-oute more sermoun,
To alle þe lordis of þis regioun,
Of þis mater touching ȝoure villenye,
To come to-gidre & schape remedie—
Þis is theffect of al þat I can seyn.”
And þus relessid somwhat of his peyne
Is Menelaus þoruȝ comfort of his broþer;
For whan he sawe it myȝt[e] ben noon oþer,
And of his tale þe kyng made an ende,
Þoruȝ-oute þe londe he dide his letteris sende,
First to his kyn and to his allye
To come to helpe hym of her curtesye.
And first of alle to Menelaus
Cam Achilles, and with hym Patroclus,
And alder-nexte stronge Diomede
And many an oþer to helpen in þis nede.
And alle echon, in open parlement,
Þei wer acordid ful by on assent
To be gouerned as Agamenoun
List to ordeyne in his discrecioun—
Of þis viage þei made hym gouernour,
And of her ost chefteyn and emperour.
Among hem alle þer was ful vnite
Vp-on Troyans avengid for to be,
And from þis purpos neuer to remewe.
But first, I fynde, Paris for to swe,
Þe viage toke þe worþi breþer tweyne,
Pollux and Castor, to recure Eleyne.
Ȝet neuer-þe-les, as somme bokis telle,
Þat þese kynges no lenger wolde dwelle,
But as fast as Paris was a-goon
Þei toke a schip and folweden a-noon,
With many worþi in her companye;
And dout[e]les, but ȝif bokis lye,
Þat or þei hadde sailed daies þre
To-Troye-ward in þe large se,
Þe tempest roos & wyndes dide awake,
Þe heuene dirke with þe cloudis blake,
Þat han þe day turned in-to nyȝt,
And briȝt[e] Phebus was myrked of his liȝt—
Þe fery leuene and stroke of þe þondre
Smote in þe mast & schiverid it a-sondre.
It was so dirke no liȝt myȝt adawe;
Þe see gan swelle with many sturdy wawe
Þat ryse on hiȝte, large as any mount,
And fille doun & swappid in þe frount
Evene of þe schip, & ploungid it ful lowe—
Now vp, now doun, for-cast & ouer-þrowe
Her schippes werne with tempest to & fro:
Þe fomy water grene, white, and blo
Of feruent boilyng, & as piche eke blak
With storme & wynde, þat al goth to wrake;
So hidously þe blastis at hem dryve,
Þat euery bord gan from oþer ryve,
And al is perschid, þer skapeþ nat a man,
But al attonys, as I reherse can,
Be dede & dreynt with tempest sodeynly—
Þer skaped noon, I sey ȝou certeynly,
Excepte þe breþre, whiche, as bokis telle,
Þe ton in heuene, þe toþer lowe in helle
Wer lordis made to abide eternaly.
And some feynyn in her poysy,
How þe goddis han hem deified
Hiȝe in heuene and y-stellyfied—
After her schippes wern y-go to wrake—
Þei were made sterris in þe ȝodyak,
And to þe signe transformed outterly,
Whiche of clerkis is callid Gemyny.
Þe whiche signe and constellacioun
Is to Mercurie hous and mansioun,
And is of kynde mene & masculyn,
In whiche þe Egle and also þe Dolphyn
Han her arisyng be reuolucioun;
þe tail also aboue of þe Dragoun
Is exaltat in þe þridde gre
Of Gemyny, whiche signe haþ most pouste
In hond & armys of man—out of doute—
Liche as Lucyna halt hir course aboute.
And in þis wyse wer þe breþre tweyne
To heuene rapt, as poetis feyne,
After þe tempest—ȝe gete no more of me—
For in þis wyse þe Grekis in þe see
An ende made, and þat ful rewfully:
Þis ernest first cam vnhappily
To hem echon, as gynnyng of her wo
And final chaunce to þe breþer two.