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

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.