University of Virginia Library

Glorye and honour, Virgil Mantoan,
Be to thy name! and I shal, as I can,
Folwe thy lanterne, as thow gost byforn,
How Eneas to Dido was forsworn.
In thyn Eneyde and Naso wol I take
The tenor, and the grete effectes make.
Whan Troye brought was to destruccioun
By Grekes sleyghte, and namely by Synoun,
Feynynge the hors offered unto Mynerve,
Thourgh which that many a Troyan moste sterve;
And Ector hadde, after his deth, apeered;
And fyr so wod it myghte nat been steered
In al the noble tour of Ylioun,
That of the cite was the chef dongeoun;
And al the contre was so lowe ybrought,
And Priamus the kyng fordon and nought;
And Enyas was charged by Venus
To fleen awey, he tok Ascanius,
That was his sone, in his ryght hand and fledde;
And on his bak he bar and with hym ledde
His olde fader cleped Anchises,
And by the weye his wif Creusa he les.
And moche sorwe hadde he in his mynde,
Or that he coude his felaweshipe fynde.
But at the laste, whan he hadde hem founde,
He made hym redy in a certeyn stounde,
And to the se ful faste he gan him hye,
And sayleth forth with al his companye
Toward Ytayle, as wolde his destinee.
But of his aventures in the se
Nis nat to purpos for to speke of here,
For it acordeth nat to my matere.
But, as I seyde, of hym and of Dido
Shal be my tale, til that I have do.

So longe he saylede in the salte se
Tyl in Libie unnethe aryvede he
With shipes sevene and with no more navye;
And glad was he to londe for to hye,
So was he with the tempest al toshake.
And whan that he the haven hadde ytake,
He hadde a knyght, was called Achates,
And hym of al his felawshipe he ches
To gon with hym, the cuntre for t'espie.
He tok with hym no more companye,
But forth they gon, and lafte his shipes ryde,
His fere and he, withouten any gyde.
So longe he walketh in this wildernesse,
Til at the laste he mette an hunteresse.
A bowe in hande and arwes hadde she;
Hire clothes cutted were unto the kne.
But she was yit the fayreste creature
That evere was yformed by Nature;
And Eneas and Achates she grette,
And thus she to hem spak whan she hem mette:
"Saw ye," quod she, "as ye han walked wyde,
Any of my sustren walke yow besyde
With any wilde bor or other best,
That they han hunted to, in this forest,
Ytukked up, with arwes in hire cas?"
"Nay, sothly, lady," quod this Eneas;
"But by thy beaute, as it thynketh me,
Thow myghtest nevere erthly woman be,
But Phebus syster art thow, as I gesse.
And if so be that thow be a goddesse,
Have mercy on oure labour and oure wo."
"I n"am no goddesse, sothly," quod she tho;
"For maydens walken in this contre here,
With arwes and with bowe, in this manere.
This is the reyne of Libie there ye ben,
Of which that Dido lady is and queen" —
And shortly tolde hym al the occasyoun
Why Dido cam into that regioun,
Of which as now me lesteth nat to ryme;
It nedeth nat, it were but los of tyme.
For this is al and som, it was Venus,
His owene moder, that spak with him thus,
And to Cartage she bad he sholde hym dighte,
And vanyshed anon out of his syghte.
I coude folwe, word for word, Virgile,
But it wolde lasten al to longe while.

This noble queen that cleped was Dido,
That whilom was the wif of Sytheo,
That fayrer was than is the bryghte sonne,
This noble toun of Cartage hath bigonne;
In which she regneth in so gret honour
That she was holden of alle queenes flour
Of gentillesse, of fredom, of beaute,
That wel was hym that myghte hire ones se;
Of kynges and of lordes so desyred
That al the world hire beaute hadde yfyred,
She stod so wel in every wightes grace.

Whan Eneas was come unto that place,
Unto the mayster temple of al the toun
Ther Dido was in hire devocyoun,
Ful pryvyly his weye than hath he nome.
Whan he was in the large temple come,
I can nat seyn if that it be possible,
But Venus hadde hym maked invysible —
Thus seyth the bok, withouten any les.
And whan this Eneas and Achates
Hadden in this temple ben overal,
Thanne founde they, depeynted on a wal,
How Troye and al the lond destroyed was.
"Allas, that I was born!" quod Eneas;
"Thourghout the world oure shame is kid so wyde,
Now it is peynted upon every syde.
We, that weren in prosperite,
Been now desclandred, and in swich degre,
No lenger for to lyven I ne kepe."
And with that word he brast out for to wepe
So tenderly that routhe it was to sene.
This fresshe lady, of the cite queene,
Stod in the temple in hire estat real,
So rychely and ek so fayr withal,
So yong, so lusty, with hire eyen glade,
That, if that God, that hevene and erthe made,
Wolde han a love, for beaute and goodnesse,
And womanhod, and trouthe, and semelynesse,
Whom shulde he loven but this lady swete?
Ther nys no woman to hym half so mete.
Fortune, that hath the world in governaunce,
Hath sodeynly brought in so newe a chaunce
That nevere was ther yit so fremde a cas.
For al the companye of Eneas,
Which that he wende han loren in the se,
Aryved is nat fer from that cite;
For which the gretteste of his lordes some
By aventure ben to the cite come,
Unto that same temple, for to seke
The queene, and of hire socour to beseke,
Swich renoun was there sprongen of hire goodnesse.
And whan they hadden told al here distresse,
And al here tempest and here harde cas,
Unto the queen apeered Eneas,
And openly biknew that it was he.
Who hadde joye thanne but his meyne,
That hadde founde here lord, here governour?
The queen saugh that they dide hym swych honour,
And hadde herd ofte of Eneas er tho,
And in hire herte she hadde routhe and wo
That evere swich a noble man as he
Shal ben disherited in swich degre;
And saw the man, that he was lyk a knyght,
And suffisaunt of persone and of myght,
And lyk to been a verray gentil man;
And wel his wordes he besette can,
And hadde a noble visage for the nones,
And formed wel of braunes and of bones.
For after Venus hadde he swich fayrnesse
That no man myghte be half so fayr, I gesse;
And wel a lord he semede for to be.
And, for he was a straunger, somwhat she
Likede hym the bet, as, God do bote,
To som folk ofte newe thyng is sote.
Anon hire herte hath pite of his wo,
And with that pite love com in also;
And thus, for pite and for gentillesse,
Refreshed moste he been of his distresse.
She seyde, certes, that she sory was
That he hath had swych peryl and swich cas;
And, in hire frendly speche, in this manere
She to hym spak, and seyde as ye may here:

"Be ye nat Venus sone and Anchises?
In good feyth, al the worshipe and encres
That I may goodly don yow, ye shal have.
Youre shipes and youre meyne shal I save."
And many a gentil word she spak hym to,
And comaunded hire messageres to go
The same day, withouten any fayle,
His shippes for to seke, and hem vitayle.
Ful many a beste she to the shippes sente,
And with the wyn she gan hem to presente,
And to hire royal paleys she hire spedde,
And Eneas alwey with hire she ledde.
What nedeth yow the feste to descrive?
He nevere beter at ese was in his lyve.
Ful was the feste of deyntees and rychesse,
Of instruments, of song, and of gladnesse,
Of many an amorous lokyng and devys.
This Eneas is come to paradys
Out of the swolow of helle, and thus in joye
Remembreth hym of his estat in Troye.

To daunsynge chaumberes ful of paramentes,
Of riche beddes, and of ornementes,
This Eneas is led after the mete.
And with the quene, whan that he hadde sete,
And spices parted, and the wyn agon,
Unto his chambres was he led anon
To take his ese and for to have his reste,
With al his folk, to don what so hem leste.
There nas courser wel ybrydeled non,
Ne stede, for the justing wel to gon,
Ne large palfrey, esy for the nones,
Ne jewel, fretted ful of ryche stones,
Ne sakkes ful of gold, of large wyghte,
Ne ruby non, that shynede by nyghte,
Ne gentil hawtein faucoun heroner,
Ne hound for hert or wilde bor or der,
Ne coupe of gold, with floreyns newe ybete,
That in the land of Libie may he gete,
That Dido ne hath it Eneas ysent;
And al is payed, what that he hath spent.
Thus can this quene honurable hire gestes calle,
As she that can in fredom passen alle.
Eneas sothly ek, withouten les,
Hadde sent unto his ship by Achates
After his sone, and after riche thynges,
Bothe sceptre, clothes, broches, and ek rynges,
Some for to were, and some for to presente
To hire that alle thise noble thynges hym sente;
And bad his sone how that he shulde make
The presenting, and to the queen it take.
Repeyred is this Achates agayn,
And Eneas ful blysful is and fayn
To sen his yonge sone Ascanyus.
But natheles, oure autour telleth us,
That Cupido, that is the god of love,
At preyere of his moder hye above,
Hadde the liknesse of the child ytake,
This noble queen enamored to make
On Eneas; but, as of that scripture,
Be as be may, I take of it no cure.
But soth is this, the queen hath mad swich chere
Unto this child, that wonder is to here;
And of the present that his fader sente
She thanked hym ful ofte, in good entente.

Thus is this queen in plesaunce and in joye,
With alle these 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, hire newe gest, to dele,
That she hath lost hire hewe and ek hire hele.

Now to th'effect, now to the fruyt of al,
Whi I have told this story, and telle shal.
Thus I begynne: it fil upon a nyght,
Whan that the mone up reysed hadde his lyght,
This noble queene unto hire reste wente.
She siketh sore, and gan hyreself turmente;
She waketh, walweth, maketh many a breyd,
As don these lovers, as I have herd seyd.
And at the laste, unto hire syster Anne
She made hire mone, and ryght thus spak she thanne:
"Now, dere sister myn, what may it be
That me agasteth in my drem?" quod she.
"This newe Troyan is so in my thought,
For that me thynketh he is so wel ywrought,
And ek so likly for to ben a man,
And therwithal so moche good he can,
That al my love and lyf lyth in his cure.
Have ye nat herd him telle his aventure?
Now certes, Anne, if that ye rede it me,
I wolde fayn to hym ywedded be;
This is th'effect; what sholde I more seye?
In hym lyth al, to do me live or deye."
Hyre syster Anne, as she that coude hire good,
Seyde as hire thoughte, and somdel it withstod.
But herof was so long a sermounynge
It were to long to make rehersynge.
But finaly, it may nat ben withstonde;
Love wol love, for nothing wol it wonde.

The dawenyng up-rist out of the se.
This amorous queene chargeth hire meyne
The nettes dresse, and speres brode and kene;
An huntyng wol this lusty freshe queene,
So priketh hire this newe joly wo.
To hors is al hir lusty folk ygo;
Into the court the houndes been ybrought;
And upon coursers swift as any thought
Hire yonge knyghtes hoven al aboute,
And of hire women ek an huge route.
Upon a thikke palfrey, paper-whit,
With sadel red, enbrouded with delyt,
Of gold the barres up enbosede hye,
Sit Dido, al in gold and perre wrye;
And she as fair as is the bryghte morwe,
That heleth syke folk of nyghtes sorwe.
Upon a courser stertlynge as the fyr
Men myghte turne hym with a litel wyr —
Sit Eneas, lik Phebus to devyse,
So was he fressh arayed in his wyse.
The fomy brydel with the bit of gold
Governeth he ryght as hymself hath wold.
And forth this noble queen thus lat I ride
On huntynge, with this Troyan by hyre side.

The herde of hertes founden is anon,
With "Hay! Go bet! Pryke thow! Lat gon, lat gon!
Why nyl the leoun comen, or the bere,
That I myghte ones mete hym with this spere?"
Thus seyn these yonge folk, and up they kylle
These bestes wilde, and han hem at here wille.
Among al this to rumbelen gan the hevene;
The thunder rored with a grisely stevene;
Doun cam the reyn with hayl and slet so faste,
With hevenes fyr, that it so sore agaste
This noble queen, and also hire meyne,
That ech of hem was glad awey to fle.
And shortly, from the tempest hire to save,
She fledde hireself into a litel cave,
And with hire wente this Eneas also.
I not, with hem if there wente any mo;
The autour maketh of it no mencioun.
And here began the depe affeccioun
Betwixe hem two; this was the firste morwe
Of hire gladnesse, and gynning of hire sorwe.
For there hath Eneas ykneled so,
And told hire al his herte and al his wo,
And swore so depe to hire to be trewe
For wel or wo and chaunge hire for no newe;
And as a fals lovere so wel can pleyne,
That sely Dido rewede on his peyne,
And tok hym for husbonde and becom his wyf
For everemo, whil that hem laste lyf.
And after this, whan that the tempest stente,
With myrthe out as they comen, hom they wente.

The wikke fame upros, and that anon,
How Eneas hath with the queen ygon
Into the cave; and demede as hem liste.
And whan the kyng that Yarbas highte it wiste,
As he that hadde hir loved evere his lyf,
And wowede hyre, to han hire to his wyf,
Swich sorwe as he hath maked, and swich cheere,
It is a routhe and pite for to here.
But as in love, alday it happeth so
That oon shal laughen at anothers wo.
Now laugheth Eneas and is in joye
And more richesse than evere he was in Troye.

O sely wemen, ful of innocence,
Ful of pite, of trouthe and conscience,
What maketh yow to men to truste so?
Have ye swych routhe upon hyre feyned wo,
And han swich olde ensaumples yow beforn?
Se ye nat alle how they ben forsworn?
Where sen ye oon that he ne hath laft his leef,
Or ben unkynde, or don hire som myscheef,
Or piled hire, or bosted of his dede?
Ye may as wel it sen as ye may rede.
Tak hede now of this grete gentil-man,
This Troyan, that so wel hire plesen can,
That feyneth hym so trewe and obeysynge,
So gentil, and so privy of his doinge,
And can so wel don alle his obeysaunces,
And wayten hire at festes and at daunces,
And whan she goth to temple and hom ageyn,
And fasten til he hath his lady seyn,
And heren in bis devyses, for hire sake,
Not I not what; and songes wolde he make,
Justen, and don of armes many thynges,
Sende hire lettres, tokens, broches, rynges —
Now herkneth how he shal his lady serve!
There as he was in peril for to sterve
For hunger, and for myschef in the se,
And desolat, and fled from his cuntre,
And al his folk with tempest al todryven,
She hath hire body and ek hire reame yiven
Into his hand, there as she myghte have been
Of othere land than of Cartage a queen,
And lyved in joye ynogh; what wole ye more?
This Eneas, that hath so depe yswore,
Is wery of his craft withinne a throwe;
The hote ernest is al overblowe.
And pryvyly he doth his shipes dyghte,
And shapeth hym to stele awey by nyghte.
This Dido hath suspecioun of this,
And thoughte wel that it was al amys.
For in hir bed he lyth a-nyght and syketh;
She axeth hym anon what hym myslyketh —
"My dere herte, which that I love most?"
"Certes," quod he, "this nyght my faderes gost
Hath in my slep so sore me tormented,
And ek Mercurye his message hath presented,
That nedes to the conquest of Ytayle
My destine is sone for to sayle;
For which, me thynketh, brosten is myn herte!"
Therwith his false teres out they sterte,
And taketh hire withinne his armes two.
"Is that in ernest?" quod she; "Wole ye so?
Have ye nat sworn to wyve me to take?
Allas, what woman wole ye of me make?
I am a gentil woman and a queen.
Ye wole nat from youre wif thus foule fleen?
That I was born, allas! What shal I do?"
To telle in short, this noble quen Dydo,
She seketh halwes and doth sacryfise;
She kneleth, cryeth, that routhe is to devyse;
Conjureth hym, and profereth hym to be
His thral, his servant in the leste degre;
She falleth hym to fote and swouneth ther,
Dischevele, with hire bryghte gilte her,
And seyth, "Have mercy; let me with yow ryde!
These lordes, which that wonen me besyde,
Wole me distroyen only for youre sake.
And, so ye wole me now to wive take,
As ye han sworn, thanne wol I yeve yow leve
To slen me with youre swerd now sone at eve!
For thanne yit shal I deyen as youre wif.
I am with childe, and yeve my child his lyf!
Mercy, lord! Have pite in youre thought!"

But al this thing avayleth hire ryght nought,
For on a nyght, slepynge he let hire lye,
And stal awey unto his companye,
And as a traytour forth he gan to sayle
Toward the large contre of Ytayle.
Thus he hath laft Dido in wo and pyne,
And wedded ther a lady hyghte Lavyne.

A cloth he lafte, and ek his swerd stondynge,
Whan he from Dido stal in hire slepynge,
Ryght at hire beddes hed, so gan he hie,
Whan that he stal awey to his navye;
Which cloth, whan sely Dido gan awake,
She hath it kyst ful ofte for his sake,
And seyde, "O swete cloth, whil Juppiter it leste,
Tak now my soule, unbynd me of this unreste!
I have fulfild of fortune al the cours."
And thus, allas, withouten his socours,
Twenty tyme yswouned hath she thanne.
And whanne that she unto hire syster Anne
Compleyned hadde — of which I may nat wryte,
So gret a routhe I have it for t'endite —
And bad hire norice and hire sister gon
To fechen fyr and other thyng anon,
And seyde that she wolde sacryfye —
And whan she myghte hire tyme wel espie,
Upon the fir of sacryfice she sterte,
And with his swerd she rof hyre to the herte.

But, as myn auctour seith, yit thus she seyde;
Or she was hurt, byforen or she deyde,
She wrot a lettre anon that thus began:
"Ryght so," quod she, "as that the white swan
Ayens his deth begynnyth for to synge,
Right so to yow make I my compleynynge.
Not that I trowe to geten yow ageyn,
For wel I wot that it is al in veyn,
Syn that the goddes been contraire to me.
But syn my name is lost thourgh yow," quod she,
"I may wel lese on yow a word or letter,
Al be it that I shal ben nevere the better;
For thilke wynd that blew youre ship awey,
The same wynd hath blowe awey youre fey."
But who wol al this letter have in mynde,
Rede Ovyde, and in hym he shal it fynde.