Lydgate's Fall of Princes Edited by Dr. Henry Bergen ... presented to The Early English Text Society by The Carnegie Institution of Washington |
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The lettre of compleynt of Canace to hir brothir Macharie. |
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 | Lydgate's Fall of Princes |  |
The lettre of compleynt of Canace to hir brothir Macharie.
Out off hir swouh[e] whan she dede abraide,
Knowyng no mene but deth in hir distresse,
To hir brother ful pitousli she saide:
“Cause off my sorwe, roote off myn heuynesse,
That whilom were cheeff sours off my gladnesse,
Whan bothe our ioies be will were so disposid,
Vnder o keie our hertis to be enclosid.
Knowyng no mene but deth in hir distresse,
To hir brother ful pitousli she saide:
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That whilom were cheeff sours off my gladnesse,
Whan bothe our ioies be will were so disposid,
Vnder o keie our hertis to be enclosid.
Whilom thou were support and sekirnesse,
Cheeff reioisshyng off my worldli plesaunce;
But now thou art the ground off my siknesse,
Welle off wanhope, off my dedli penaunce,
Which haue off sorwe grettest habundaunce
That euer yit hadde any creature,
Which mut for loue the deth alas endure!
Cheeff reioisshyng off my worldli plesaunce;
But now thou art the ground off my siknesse,
Welle off wanhope, off my dedli penaunce,
Which haue off sorwe grettest habundaunce
That euer yit hadde any creature,
Which mut for loue the deth alas endure!
Thou were whilom my blisse & al my trust,
Souereyn confort my sorwes to appese,
Spryng and well off al myn hertis lust;
And now, alas, cheeff roote off my disese.
But yiff my deth myht do the any ese,
O brother myn, in remembraunce off tweyne,
Deth shal to me be plesaunce & no peyne.
Souereyn confort my sorwes to appese,
Spryng and well off al myn hertis lust;
And now, alas, cheeff roote off my disese.
But yiff my deth myht do the any ese,
O brother myn, in remembraunce off tweyne,
Deth shal to me be plesaunce & no peyne.
Mi cruel fader, most onmerciable,
Ordeyned hath, it needis mut be soo,
In his rigour he is so ontretable,
Al merciles he will that it be doo,—
That we algate shal deie bothe too.
But I am glad, sithe it may been noon other,
Thou art escapid, my best beloued brother.
Ordeyned hath, it needis mut be soo,
In his rigour he is so ontretable,
Al merciles he will that it be doo,—
That we algate shal deie bothe too.
But I am glad, sithe it may been noon other,
Thou art escapid, my best beloued brother.
This is myn eende, I may it nat asterte,
O brother myn, there is no mor to seye,
Lowli besechyng with al myn hool[e] herte
For to remembre speciali I preie,
Yiff it befall my litil sone deie,
That thou maist afftir sum mynde vpon us haue,
Suffre us bothe be buried in o graue.
O brother myn, there is no mor to seye,
Lowli besechyng with al myn hool[e] herte
For to remembre speciali I preie,
Yiff it befall my litil sone deie,
That thou maist afftir sum mynde vpon us haue,
Suffre us bothe be buried in o graue.
I holde hym streihtli atwen myn armys tweyne,
Thou and Nature leide on me this charge;
He gilt[e]les with me mut suffre peyne.
And sithe thou art at fredam and at large,
Lat kynd[e]nesse our loue nat so discharge,
But haue a mynde, where-euer that thou be,
Onys a day vpon my child and me.
Thou and Nature leide on me this charge;
He gilt[e]les with me mut suffre peyne.
And sithe thou art at fredam and at large,
Lat kynd[e]nesse our loue nat so discharge,
But haue a mynde, where-euer that thou be,
Onys a day vpon my child and me.
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On the and me dependith the trespace
Touchyng our gilte and our gret offence;
But, wellaway, most angelik off face,
Our yonge child in his pur innocence
Shal ageyn riht suffre dethis violence,
Tendre off lymes, God wot, ful gilt[e]les,
The goodli faire that lith heere specheles.
Touchyng our gilte and our gret offence;
But, wellaway, most angelik off face,
Our yonge child in his pur innocence
Shal ageyn riht suffre dethis violence,
Tendre off lymes, God wot, ful gilt[e]les,
The goodli faire that lith heere specheles.
A mouth he hath, but woordis hath he noone,
Cannat compleyne, alas, for non outrage,
Nor gruchith nat, but lith heer al a-loone,
Stille as a lamb, most meek off his visage.
What herte off steel coude doon to hym damage,
Or suffre hym deie, beholdyng the maneer
And look benygne off his tweyne eyen cleer?
Cannat compleyne, alas, for non outrage,
Nor gruchith nat, but lith heer al a-loone,
Stille as a lamb, most meek off his visage.
What herte off steel coude doon to hym damage,
Or suffre hym deie, beholdyng the maneer
And look benygne off his tweyne eyen cleer?
O thou, my fader, to cruel is thi wreche,
Hardere off herte than tigre or leoun,
To slen a child that lith withoute speche,
Void off al mercy and remissioun.
And on his mooder hast no compassioun,
His youthe considred, with lippis softe as silk,
Which at my brest lith still & souketh mylk.
Hardere off herte than tigre or leoun,
To slen a child that lith withoute speche,
Void off al mercy and remissioun.
And on his mooder hast no compassioun,
His youthe considred, with lippis softe as silk,
Which at my brest lith still & souketh mylk.
Ys any sorwe remembrid be writyng,
Onto my sorweful sihhes comparable?
Or was ther euer creature lyuyng
That felte off dool a thyng mor lamentable?
For counfortles and onrecuperable
Ar thilke hepid sorwes, ful off rage,
Which han with wo oppressid my corage.
Onto my sorweful sihhes comparable?
Or was ther euer creature lyuyng
That felte off dool a thyng mor lamentable?
For counfortles and onrecuperable
Ar thilke hepid sorwes, ful off rage,
Which han with wo oppressid my corage.
Rekne all myscheuys in especiall,
And on my myscheeff remembre & ha[ue] good mynde:
Mi lord my fadir, is myn enmy mortall,
Experience inouh theroff I fynde;
For in his pursuit he hath lefft behynde,
In destruccioun off the, my child and me,
Routhe and al mercy and fadirli pite.
And on my myscheeff remembre & ha[ue] good mynde:
Mi lord my fadir, is myn enmy mortall,
Experience inouh theroff I fynde;
For in his pursuit he hath lefft behynde,
In destruccioun off the, my child and me,
Routhe and al mercy and fadirli pite.
And the, my brother, auoidid from his siht,
Which in no wise his grace maist atteyne,
Alas that rigour, vengaunce & cruel riht
Sholde a-boue merci be lord & souereyne!
But cruelte doth at me so disdeyne,
That thou, my brother, my child & also I
Shal deie alas exiled from al mercy.
Which in no wise his grace maist atteyne,
Alas that rigour, vengaunce & cruel riht
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But cruelte doth at me so disdeyne,
That thou, my brother, my child & also I
Shal deie alas exiled from al mercy.
Mi fader whilom, be many sundri signe,
Was my socour, my supportacioun,
To the and me most gracieux & benygne,
Our worldli gladnesse, our consolacioun.
But loue and Fortune ha[ue] turned up-so-doun
Our grace, alas, our welfare & our fame,
Hard to recure, so sclaundrid is our name.
Was my socour, my supportacioun,
To the and me most gracieux & benygne,
Our worldli gladnesse, our consolacioun.
But loue and Fortune ha[ue] turned up-so-doun
Our grace, alas, our welfare & our fame,
Hard to recure, so sclaundrid is our name.
Spot off diffamyng is hard to wasshe away,
Whan noise and rumour abrod do folk manace;
To hyndre a man ther may be no delay:
For hatful fame fleeth ferr in ful short space.
But off vs tweyne ther is non othir grace
Sauff onli deth, and afftir deth, alas,
Eternal sclaundre off vs; thus stant the cas.
Whan noise and rumour abrod do folk manace;
To hyndre a man ther may be no delay:
For hatful fame fleeth ferr in ful short space.
But off vs tweyne ther is non othir grace
Sauff onli deth, and afftir deth, alas,
Eternal sclaundre off vs; thus stant the cas.
Whom shal we blame, or whom shal we atwite
Our gret offence, sithe we may it nat hide?
For our excus reportis to respite
Mene is ther non, except the god Cupide.
And thouh that he wolde for vs prouide,
In this mateer to been our cheeff refuge,
Poetis seyn he is blynd to been a iuge.
Our gret offence, sithe we may it nat hide?
For our excus reportis to respite
Mene is ther non, except the god Cupide.
And thouh that he wolde for vs prouide,
In this mateer to been our cheeff refuge,
Poetis seyn he is blynd to been a iuge.
He is depeynt[e] lich a blynd archer,
To marke ariht failyng discrecioun,
Holdyng no meseur, nouther ferr nor neer;
But lik Fortunys disposicioun,
Al upon happ, void off al resoun,
As a blynd archer with arwes sharp[e] grounde
Off auenture yeueth many a mortal wounde.
To marke ariht failyng discrecioun,
Holdyng no meseur, nouther ferr nor neer;
But lik Fortunys disposicioun,
Al upon happ, void off al resoun,
As a blynd archer with arwes sharp[e] grounde
Off auenture yeueth many a mortal wounde.
At the and me he wrongli dede marke,
Felli to hyndre our fatal auentures,
As ferr as Phebus shynyth in his arke,
To make us refus to alle creatures,
Callid us tweyne onto the woful lures
Off diffame, which will departe neuere,
Be newe report the noise encresyng euere.
Felli to hyndre our fatal auentures,
As ferr as Phebus shynyth in his arke,
To make us refus to alle creatures,
Callid us tweyne onto the woful lures
Off diffame, which will departe neuere,
Be newe report the noise encresyng euere.
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Odious fame with swifft wengis fleeth,
But al good fame envie doth restreyne;
Ech man off other the diffautis seeth,
Yit on his owne no man will compleyne.
But al the world out crieth on vs tweyne,
Whos hatful ire bi us may nat be queemyd;
For I mut deie, my fader hath so deemyd.
But al good fame envie doth restreyne;
Ech man off other the diffautis seeth,
Yit on his owne no man will compleyne.
But al the world out crieth on vs tweyne,
Whos hatful ire bi us may nat be queemyd;
For I mut deie, my fader hath so deemyd.
Now farweel, brother, to me it doth suffise
To deie allone for our bothe sake.
And in my moste feithful humble wise,
Onto my dethward thouh I tremble & quake,
Off the for euere now my leue I take.
And onys a yeer, forget nat, but take heed,
Mi fatal day this lettre for to reed.
To deie allone for our bothe sake.
And in my moste feithful humble wise,
Onto my dethward thouh I tremble & quake,
Off the for euere now my leue I take.
And onys a yeer, forget nat, but take heed,
Mi fatal day this lettre for to reed.
So shaltow han on me sum remembraunce,
Mi name enprentid in thi kalender,
Bi rehersaile off my dedli greuaunce;
Were blak that day, & mak a doolful cheer.
And whan thou comest & shalt approche neer
Mi sepulture, I pray the nat disdeyne
Vpon my graue summe teris for to reyne.”
Mi name enprentid in thi kalender,
Bi rehersaile off my dedli greuaunce;
Were blak that day, & mak a doolful cheer.
And whan thou comest & shalt approche neer
Mi sepulture, I pray the nat disdeyne
Vpon my graue summe teris for to reyne.”
Writyng hir lettir, awappid al in dreede,
In hir riht hand hir penne gan to quake;
And a sharp suerd to make hir herte bleede
In his lefft hand, hir fader hath hir take.
And most hir sorwe was for hir childes sake,
Vpon whos face in hir barm slepyng
Ful many a teer she wepte in compleynyng.
In hir riht hand hir penne gan to quake;
And a sharp suerd to make hir herte bleede
In his lefft hand, hir fader hath hir take.
And most hir sorwe was for hir childes sake,
Vpon whos face in hir barm slepyng
Ful many a teer she wepte in compleynyng.
Afftir al this, so as she stood and quook,
Hir child beholdyng, myd off hir peynes smerte,
Withoute abood the sharp[e] suerd she took
And rooff hirselff euene to the herte.
Hir child fill doun, which myht[e] nat asterte,
Hauyng non helpe to socoure hym nor saue,
But in hir blood the silff began to bathe.
Hir child beholdyng, myd off hir peynes smerte,
Withoute abood the sharp[e] suerd she took
And rooff hirselff euene to the herte.
Hir child fill doun, which myht[e] nat asterte,
Hauyng non helpe to socoure hym nor saue,
But in hir blood the silff began to bathe.
And thanne hir fader, most cruel off entent,
Bad that the child sholde anon be take,
Off cruel houndis in haste for to be rent
And be deuoured for his mooder sake.
Off this tragedie thus an eende I make,
Processe off which, men may reede and see,
Concludith on myscheeff & furious cruelte.
Bad that the child sholde anon be take,
Off cruel houndis in haste for to be rent
And be deuoured for his mooder sake.
Off this tragedie thus an eende I make,
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Concludith on myscheeff & furious cruelte.
Remembryng first, as maad is mencioun,
How that Pirrus delited hym in deede,
Whan Troie was brouht to destruccioun,
With cruel suerd[e] Troian blood to sheede,
But of such slauhtre, seeth heer the cruel meede,
As riht requereth, bi vnwar violence,
Blood shad for blood is fynal recompence.
How that Pirrus delited hym in deede,
Whan Troie was brouht to destruccioun,
With cruel suerd[e] Troian blood to sheede,
But of such slauhtre, seeth heer the cruel meede,
As riht requereth, bi vnwar violence,
Blood shad for blood is fynal recompence.
| Lydgate's Fall of Princes | |