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THE LEGEND OF LUCRETIA

Incipit Legenda Lucrecie Rome, martiris

1680  Now moot I seyn the exiling of kinges
     Of Rome, for hir horrible doinges,
     And of the laste king Tarquinius,
     As saith Ovyde and Titus Livius.
     But for that cause telle I nat this storie,
     But for to preise and drawen to memorie
     The verray wyf, the verray trewe Lucressel,
     That, for her wyfhood and her stedfastnesse,
     Nat only that thise payens her comende,
(10)  But he, that cleped is in our legende
1690  The grete Austin, hath greet compassioun
     Of this Lucresse, that starf at Rome toun;
     And it what wyse, I wol but shortly trete,
     And of this thing I touche but the grete.



     Whan Ardea beseged was aboute
     With Romains, that ful sterne were and stoute,
     Ful longe lay the sege, and litel wroghte,
     So that they were half ydel, as hem thoghte;
     And in his pley Tarquinius the yonge
(20)  Gan for to iape, for he was light of tonge,
1700  And seyde, that "it was an ydel lyf;
     No man did ther no more that his wyf;
     And lat us speke of wyves, that is best;
     Praise every man his owne, as him lest,
     And with our speche lat us ese our herte."



     A knight, that highte Colatyne, up sterte,
     And seyde thus, "nay, for hit is no nede
     To trowen on the word, but on the dede.
     I have a wyf," quod he, "that, as I trowe,
(30)  Is holden good of alle that ever her knowe;
1710  Go we to-night to Rome, and we shul see."



     Tarquinius answerde, "that lyketh me."
     To Rome be they come, and faste hem dighte
     To Colatynes hous, and doun they lighte,
     Tarquinius, and eek this Colatyne.
     The husbond knew the estres wel and fyne,
     And privly into the hous they goon;
     Nor at the gate porter was ther noon;
     And at the chambre-dore they abyde.
(40)  This noble wyf sat by her beddes syde
1720  Dischevele, for no malice she ne thoghte;
     And softe wolle our book seith that she wroghte
     To kepen her fro slouthe and ydelnesse;
     And bad her servants doon hir businesse,
     And axeth hem, "what tydings heren ye?
     How seith men of the sege, how shal hit be?
     God wolde the walles weren falle adoun;
     Myn husbond is so longe out of this toun,
     For which the dreed doth me so sore smerte,
(50)  Right as a swerd hit stingeth to myn herte
1730  What I think on the sege or of that place;
     God save my lord, I preye him for his grace:" --
     And ther-with-al ful tenderly she weep,
     And of her werk she took no more keep,
     But mekely she leet her eyen falle;
     And thilke semblant sat her wel with-alle.
     And eek her teres, ful of honestee,
     Embelisshed her wyfly chastitee;
     Her countenaunce is to her herte digne,
(60)  For they acordeden in dede and signe.
1740  And with that word her husbond Colatyn,
     Or she of him was war, com sterting in,
     And seide, "dreed thee noght, for I am here!"
     And she anoon up roos, with blisful chere,
     And kiste him, as of wyves is the wone.



     Tarquinius, this proude kinges sone,
     Conceived hath her beautee and her chere,
     Her yelow heer, her shap, and manere,
     Her hew, her wordes that she hath compleynded,
(70)  And by no crafte her beautee nas nat feyned;
1750  And caughte to this lady swich desyr,
     That in his herte brende as any fyr
     So woodly, that his wit was al forgeten.
     For wel, thoghte he, she sholde nat be geten
     And ay the more that he was in dispair,
     The more he coveteth and thoghte her fair.
     His blinde lust was al his covetinge.



     A-morwe, whan the brid bragan to singe,
     Unto the sege he comth ful privily,
(80)  And by himself he walketh sobrely,
1760  Thimage of her recording alwey newe;
     "Thus lay her heer, and thus fresh was her hewe;
     Thus sat, thus spak, thus span; this was her chere,
     Thus fair she was, and this was her manere."
     Al this conceit his herte hath now y-take.
     And, as the see, with tempest al to-shake,
     That, after whan the storm is al ago,
     Yet wol the water quappe a day or two,
     Right so, thogh that her forme wer absent,
(90)  The plesaunce of her forme was present;
1770  But natheles, nat plesaunce, but delyt,
     Or an unrightful talent with despyt;
     "For, maugre her, she shal my lemman be;
     Hap helpeth hardy man alday," quod he;
     "What ende that I make, hit shal be so;"
     And girt him with his swerde, and gan to go;
     And forth he rit til he to Rome is come,
     And al aloon his wey than hath he nome.
     Unto the house of Colatyn ful right.
(100) Doun was the sonne, and day hath lost his light;
1780  And in he com un-to privy halke,
     And in the night ful theefly gan he stalke,
     Whan every night was to his reste broght,
     Ne no wight had of tresoun swich a thoght.
     Were hit by window or by other gin,
     With swerde y-drawe, shortly he comth in
     Ther as she lay, this noble wyf Lucresse.
     And, as she wook, her bed she felte presse.
     "What beste is that," quod she, "that weyeth thus?"
(110) "I am the kinges sone, Tarquinius,"
1790  Quod he, "but and thou crye, or noise make,
     Or if thou any creature awake,
     By thilke god that formed man on lyve,
     This swerd through-out thyn herte shal I ryve."
     And ther-withal unto her throte he sterte,
     And sette the point al sharp upon her herte.
     No word she spak, she hath no might therto.
     What shal she sayn?  her wit is al ago.
     Right as a wolf that fynt a lomb aloon,
(120) To whom shal she compleyne, or make moon?
1800  What!  shal she fighte with an hardy knight?
     Wel wot men that a woman hath no might.
     What!  shal she crye, or how shal she asterte
     That hath her by the throte, with swerde at herte?
     She axeth grace, and seith al that she can.
     "Ne wolt thou nat," quod he, this cruel man,
     "As wisly Iupiter my soule save,
     As I shal in the stable slee thy knave,
     And leye him in thy bed, and loude crye,
(130) That I thee finde in suche avouterye;
1810  And thus thou shalt be deed, and also lese
     Thy name, for thou shalt non other chese."



     Thise Romain wyves loveden so hir name
     At thilke tyme, and dredden so the shame,
     That, what for fere of slaundre and drede of deeth,
     She loste bothe at-ones wit and breeth,
     And in a swough she lay and wex so deed,
     Men mighte smyten of her arm or heed;
     She feleth no-thing, neither foul ne fair.



(140) Tarquinas, that art a kinges eyr,
1820  And sholdest, as by linage and by right,
     Doon as a lord and as a verray knight,
     Why hastow doon dispyt to chivalrye?
     Why hastow doon this lady vilanye?
     Allas!  of thee this was a vileins dede!



     But now to purpos; in the story I rede,
     Whan he was goon, al this mischaunce is falle.
     This lady sente after her frendes alle,
     Fader, moder, husbond, al y-fere;
(150) And al dischevele, with her heres clere,
1830  In habit swich as women used tho
     Unto the burying of her frendes go,
     She sit in halle with a sorweful sighte.
     Her frendes axen what her aylen mighte,
     And who was deed?  And she sit ay wepinge,
     A word for shame ne may she forth out-bringe,
     Ne upon hem she dorste nat beholde.
     But atte laste of Tarquiny she hem tolde,
     This rewful cas, and al this thing horrible.
(160) The wo to tellen hit were impossible,
1840  That she and alle her frendes made atones.
     Al hadde folkes hertes been of stones,
     Hit mighte have maked hem upon her rewe,
     Her herte was so wyfly and so trewe.
     She seide, that, for her gilt ne for her blame,
     He husbond sholde nat have the foule name,
     That wolde she nat suffre, by no wey.
     And they answerden alle, upon hir fey,
     That they foryeve hit her, for hit was right;
(170) Hit was no gilt, hit lay nat in her might;
1850  And seiden her ensamples many oon.
     But al for noght; for thus she seide anoon,
     "Be as be may," quod she, "of forgiving,
     I wol nat have no forgift for no-thing."
     But prively she caughte forth a knyf,
     And therwith-al she rafte her-self her lyf;
     And as she fel adoun, she caste her look,
     And of her clothes yit she hede took;
     For in her falling yit she hadde care
(180) Lest that her feet or swiche thing lay bare;
1860  So wel she loved clennesse and eek trouthe.



     Of her had al the toun of Rome routhe,
     And Brutus by her chaste blode hath swore
     That Tarquin sholde y-banisht be ther-fore,
     And al his kin; and let the peple calle,
     And openly the tale he tolde hem alle,
     And openly let carie her on a bere
     Through al the toun, that men may see and here
     The horrible deed of her oppressioun.
(190) Ne never was ther king in Rome toun
1870  Sin thilke day; and she was holden there
     A seint, and ever her day y-halwed dere
     As in hir lawe: and thus endeth Lucresse,
     The noble wyf, as Titus bereth witnesse.



     I tell hit, for she was of love so trewe,
     Ne in her wille she chaunged for no newe.
     And for the stable herte, sad and kinde,
     That in these women men may alday finde;
     Ther as they caste hir herte, ther hit dwelleth.
(200) For wel I wot, that Crist him-selve telleth,
1880  That in Israel, as wyd as is the lond,
     That so gret feith in al the lond he ne fond
     As in a woman; and this is no lye.
     And as of men, loketh which tirannye
     They doon alday; assay hem who so liste,
     The trewest is ful brotel for to triste.

THE LEGEND OF HYPSIPYLE AND MEDEA

  PART I. THE LEGEND OF HYPSIPYLE.



     Thou rote of false lovers, duk Iasoun!
     Thou sly devourer and confusioun
1370  Of gentil-wommen, tender creatures,
     Thou madest thy reclaiming and thy lures
     To ladies of thy statly apparaunce,
     And of thy wordes, farced with plesaunce,
     And of thy feyned trouthe and thy manere,
     With thyn obeissaunce and thy humble chere,
     And with thy counterfeted peyne and wo.
(10)  Ther other falsen oon, thou falsest two!
     O!  ofte swore thou that thou woldest dye
     For love, whan thou ne feltest maladye
1380  Save foul delyt, which that thou callest love!
     If that I live, thy name shal be shove
     In English, that thy sleighte shal be knowe!
     Have at thee, Iasoun!  now thyn horn is blowe!
     But certes, hit is bothe routhe and wo
     That love with false loveres werketh so;
     For they shul have wel better love and chere
(20)  That he that hath aboght his love ful dere,
     Or had in armes many a blody box.
     For ever as tendre a capoun et the fox,
1390  Thogh he be fals and hath the foul betrayed,
     As shal the good-man that ther-for hath payed.
     Al have he to the capoun skille and right,
     The false fox wol have his part at night.
     On Iasoun this ensample is wel y-sene
     By Isiphile and Medea the quene.



     In Tessalye, as Guido telleth us,
(30)  Ther was a king that highte Pelleus,
     That had a brother, which that highte Eson;
     And, whan for age he mighte unnethes gon,
1400  He yaf to Pelleus the governing
     Of al his regne, and made him lord and king.
     Of which Eson this Iasoun geten was,
     That, in his tyme, in al that lond, ther nas
     Nat swich a famous knight of gentilesse,
     Of freedom, and of strengthe and lustinesse.
     After his fader deeth, he bar him so
(40)  That ther was noon that liste been his fo,
     Bud dide him al honour and companye;
     Of which this Pelleus hath greet envye,
1410  Imagining that Iasoun mighte be
     Enhaunsed so, and put in swich degree
     With love of lordes of his regioun,
     That from his regne he may be put adoun.
     And in his wit, a-night, compassed he
     How Iasoun mighte best destroyed be
     Withoute slaunder of his compasment.
(50)  And at the laste he took avisement
     To senden him in-to som fer contree
     Ther as this Iasoun may destroyed be.
1420  This was his wit; al made he to Iasoun
     Gret chere of love and of affeccioun,
     For drede lest his lordes hti espyde.
     So fil hit so, as fame renneth wyde,
     Ther was swich tyding over-al and swich los,
     That in an yle that called was Colcos,
     Beyonde Troye, estward in the see,
(60)  That ther-in was a ram, that men mighte see,
     That had a flees of gold, that shoon so brighte,
     That no-wher was ther swich an-other sighte;
1430  But hit was kept alway with a dragoun,
     And many othere merveils, up and doun,
     And with two boles, maked el of bras,
     That spitten fyr, and moche thing ther was.
     But this wsa eek the tale, nathelees,
     That who-so wolde winne thilke flees,
     He moste bothe, or he hit winne mighte,
(70)  With the boles and the dragoun fighte;
     And king Oetes lord was of that yle.



     This Pelleus bethoghte upon this wyle;
1440  That he his nevew Iasoun wolde enhorte
     To sailen to that lond, him to disporte,
     And seide, "nevew, if hit mighte be
     That swich a worship mighte fallen thee,
     That thou this famous tresor mightest winne,
     And bringen hit my regioun with-inne,
     Hit were to me gret plesaunce and honour;
(80)  Than were I holde to quyte thy labour.
     And al the cost I wol my-selven make;
     And chees what folk that thou wilt with thee take;
1450  Lat see now, darstow taken this viage?"
     Iasoun was yong, and lusty of corage,
     And under-took to doon this ilke empryse.



     Anoon Argus his shippes gan devyse;
     With Iasoun wente the stronge Ercules,
     And many an-other that he with him chees.
     But who-so axeth who is with him gon,
(90)  Lat him go reden Argonauticon,
     For he wol telle a tale long y-now.
     Philoctetes anoon the sail up-drow,
1460  What that the wind was good, and gan him hye
     Out of his contree called Tessalye.
     So long he sailed in the salte see
     Til in the yle Lemnoun aryved he --
     Al be this nat rehersed of Guido,
     Yet seith Ovyde in his Epistles so --
     And of this yle lady was and quene
(100) The faire yonge Isiphilee, the shene,
     That whylom Thoas daughter was, the king.



     Isipilee was goon in her playing;
1470  And, roming on the clyves by the see,
     Under a banke anoon espyed she
     Wher that the ship of Iasoun gan aryve.
     Of her goodnesse adoun she sendeth blyve
     To witen yif that any straunge wight
     With tempest thider were y-blowe a-night,
     To doon him socour; as was her usaunce
(110) To forthren every wight, and doon plesaunce
     Of veray bountee and of curtesye.



     This messagere adoun him gan to hye,
1480  And fond Iasoun, and Ercules also,
     That in a cogge to londe were y-go
     Hem to refresshen and to take the eyr.
     The morwening atempre was and fair;
     And in his wey the messagere hem mette.
     Ful cunningly thise lordes two he grette,
     And dide his message, axing hem anoon
(120) Yif they were broken, or oght wo begoon,
     Or hadde nede of lodesmen or vitaile;
     For of socour they shulde no-thing faile,
1490  For hit was utterly the quenes wille.



     Iasoun answerde, mekely and stille,
     "My lady," quod he, "thanke I hertely
     Of hir goodnesse; us nedeth, trewely,
     No-thing as now, but that we wery be,
     And come for to pleye, out of the see,
     Til that the wind be better in our weye."



(130) This lady rometh by the clif to pleye,
     With her meynee, endelong the stronde,
     And fynt this Iasoun and this other stonde,
1500  In spekinge of this thing, as I yow tolde.



     This Ercules and Iasoun gan beholde
     How that the quene hit was, and faire her grette
     Anon-right as they with this lady mette;
     And she took heed, and knew, by hir manere,
     By hir aray, by wordes and by chere,
     That hit were gentil-men, of greet degree.
(140) And to the castel with her ledeth she
     Thise straunge folk, and doth hem greet honour,
     And axeth him of travail and labour
1510  That they han suffred in the salte see;
     So that, within a day, or two, or three,
     She knew, by folk that in his shippes be,
     That hit was Iasoun, ful of renomee,
     And Ercules, that had the grete los,
     That soghten the aventures of Colcos;
     And dide hem honour more then before,
(150) And with hem deled ever lenger the more,
     For they ben worthy folk, with-outen lees.
     And namely, most she spak with Ercules;
1520  To him her herte bar, he sholde be
     Sad, wys, and trewe, of wordes avisee,
     With-outen any other affeccioun
     Of love, or evil imaginacioun.



     This Ercules hath so this Iasoun preysed,
     That to the sonne he hath him up areysed,
     That han so trewe a man ther nas of love
(160) Under the cope of heven that is above;
     And he was wys, hardy, secree, and riche. --
     Of thise three pointes ther nas noon him liche;
1530  Of freedom passed he, and lustihede,
     Alle tho that liven or ben dede;
     Ther-to so greet a gentil-man was he,
     And of Tessalie lykly king to be.
     Ther nas no lak, but that he was agast
     To love, and for to speke shamefast.
     He hadde lever him-self to mordre, and dye
(170) Than that men shulde a lover him espye: --
     "As wolde almighty god that I had yive
     My blood and flesh, so that I mighte live,
1540  With the nones that he hadde o-wher a wyf
     For his estat; for swich a lusty lyf
     She sholde lede with this lusty knight!"



     And al this was compassed on the night
     Betwixe him Iasoun and this Ercules.
     Of thise two heer was mad a shrewed lees
     To come to hous upon an innocent;
(180) For to be-dote this queen was hir assent.
     And Iasoun is as coy as is a maide,
     He loketh pitously, but noght he saide,
1550  But frely yaf he to her conseileres
     Yiftes grete, and to her officeres.
     As wolde god I leiser hadde, and tyme,
     By proces al his wowing for to ryme.
     But in this hous if any fals lover be,
     Right as him-self now doth, right so dide he,
     With feyning and with every sotil dede.
(190) Ye gete no more of me, but ye wil rede
     Thoriginal, that telleth al the cas.



     The somme is this, that Iasoun wedded was
1560  Unto this quene, and took of her substaunce
     What-so him liste, unto his purveyaunce;
     And upon her begat he children two,
     And drow his sail, and saw her never-mo.



     A lettre sente she to him certein,
     Which were to long to wryten and to sein,
     And him repreveth of his grete untrouthe,
(200) And preyeth him on her to have som routhe.
     And of his children two, she seide him this,
     That they be lyke, of alle thing, y-wis,
1570  To Iasoun, save they coude nat begyle;
     And preyed god, or hit were longe whyle,
     That she, that had his herte y-raft her fro,
     Moste finden him to her untrewe al-so,
     And that she moste bothe her children spille,
     And alle tho that suffreth him his wille.
     And trew to Iasoun was she al her lyf,
(210) And ever kepte her chast, as for his wyf;
     Ne never had she Ioye at her herte,
     But dyed, for his love, of sorwes smerte.






          PART II.  THE LEGEND OF MEDEA.



1580  To Colcos comen is this duk Iasoun,
     That is of love devourer and dragoun.
     As matere appetyteth forme al-wey,
     And from forme in-to forme hit passen may,
     Or as a welle that were botomlees,
     Right so can fals Iasoun have no pees.
     For, to desyren, through his appetyt,
(220) To doon with gentil wommen his delyt,
     This is his lust and his felicitee.



     Iasoun is romed forth to the citee,
1590  That whylom cleped was Iaconitos,
     That was the maister-toun of al Colcos,
     And hath y-told the cause of his coming
     Un-to Oetes, of that contre king,
     Preying him that he moste doon his assay
     To gete the flees of gold, if that he may;
     Of which the king assenteth to his bone,
(230) And doth him honour, as hit is to done,
     So ferforth, that his doghter and his eyr,
     Medea, which that was so wys and fair
1600  That fairer saw ther never man with ye,
     He made her doon to Iasoun companye
     At mete, and sitte by him in the halle.



     Now was Iasoun a semely man with-alle,
     And lyk a lord, and had a greet renoun,
     And of his loke as real as leoun,
     And goodly of his speche, and famulere,
(240) And coude of love al craft and art plenere
     With-oute boke, with everich observaunce.
     And, as fortune her oghte a foul meschaunce,
1610  She wex enamoured upon this man.



     "Iasoun," quod she, "for ought I see or can,
     As of this thing the which ye been aboute,
     Ye han your-self y-put in moche doute.
     For, who-so wol this aventure acheve,
     He may nat wel asterten, as I leve,
     With-outen deeth, but I his helpe be.
(250) But natheles, hit is my wille," quod she,
     "To forthren yow, so that ye shal nat dye,
     But turnen, sound, hoom to your Tessalye."



1620  "My righte lady," quod this Iasoun tho,
     "That ye han of my dethe or of my wo
     Any reward, and doon me this honour,
     I wot wel that my might ne my labour
     May nat deserve hit in my lyves day;
     God thanke yow, ther I ne can ne may.
     Your man am I, and lowly you beseche,
(260) To been my help, with-oute more speche;
     But certes, for my deeth shal I nat spare."



     Tho gan this Medea to him declare
1630  The peril of this cas, fro point to point,
     And of his batail, and in what disioint
     He mote stande, of which no creature,
     Save only she, ne mighte is lyf assure.
     And shortly, to the point right for to go,
     They been accorded ful, betwix hem two,
     That Iasoun shal her wedde, as trewe knight;
(270) And term y-set, to come sone at night
     Unto her chambre, and make ther his ooth,
     Upon the goddes, that he, for leef ne looth,
1640  Ne sholde her never falsen, night ne day,
     To been her husband, whyl he liven may,
     As she that from this deeth him saved here.
     And her-upon, at night they mette y-fere,
     And doth his ooth, and goth with her to bedde.
     And on the morwe, upward he him spedde;
     For she hath taught him how he shal nat faile
(280) The flees to winne, and stinten his bataile;
     And saved him his lyf and his honour;
     And gat him greet name as a conquerour
1650  Right through the sleight of her enchantment.



     Now hath Iasoun the flees, and hoom is went
     With Medea, and tresor ful gret woon.
     But unwist of her fader is she goon
     To Tessaly, with duk Iasoun her leef,
     That afterward hath broght her to mescheef.
     For as a traitour he is from her go,
(290) And with her lafte his yonge children two,
     And falsly hath betrayed her, allas!
     And ever in love a cheef traitour he was;
1660  And wedded yit the thridde wyf anon,
     That was the doghter of the kign Creon.



     This is the meed of loving and guerdon
     That Medea received of Iasoun
     Right for her trouthe and for her kindenesse,
     That loved him better than her-self, I gesse,
     And lafte her fader and her heritage.
(300) And of Iasoun this is the vassalage,
     That, in his dayes, nas ther noon y-founde
     So fals a lover going on the grounde.
1670  And therfor in her lettre thus she seyde
     First, whan she of his falsnesse him umbreyde,
     "Why lyked me thy yelow heer to see
     More then the boundes of myn honestee,
     Why lyked me thy youthe and thy fairnesse,
     And of thy tonge the infinit graciousnesse?
     O, haddest thou in thy conquest deed y-be,
(310) Ful mikel untrouthe had ther dyed with thee!"



     Wel can Ovyde her lettre in vers endyte,
     Which were as now to long for me to wryte.

THE LEGEND OF DIDO, QUEEN OF CARTHAGE.

Incipit Legenda Didonis Martiris, Cartaginis Regine.

 Glory and honour, Virgil Mantuan,
     Be to thy name! and I shal, as I can,
     Folow thy lantern, as thou gost biforn,
     How Eneas to Dido was forsworn.
     In thyn Eneid and Naso wol I take
     The tenour, and the grete effectes make.



930   Whan Troye broght was to destuccioun
     By Grekes sleighte, and namely of Sinoun,
     Feyning the hors y-offred to Minerve,
(10)  Through which that many a Troyan moste sterve;
     And Ector had, after his deeth, appered,
     And fyr so wood, it mighte nat be stered,
     In al the noble tour of Ilioun,
     That of the citee was the cheef dungeoun;
     And al the contree was so lowe y-broght,
     And Priamus the king fordoon and noght;
940   And Eneas was charged by Venus
     To fleen away, he took Ascanius,
     That was his sone, in his right hand, and fledde;
(20)  And on his bakke he bar and with him ledde
     His olde fader, cleped Anchises,
     And by the weye his wyf Creusa he lees.
     And mochel sorwe hadde he in his minde
     Er that he coude his felawshippe finde.
     But, at the laste, whan he had hem founde,
     He made him redy in a certein stounde,
950   And to the see ful faste he gan him hye,
     And saileth forth with al his companye
     Toward Itaile, as wolde destinee.
(30)  But of his aventures in the see
     Nis nat to purpos for to speke of here,
     For hit acordeth nat to my matere.
     But, as I seide, of him and of Dido
     Shal be my tale, til that I have do.



     So longe he sailed in the salte see
     Til in Libye unnethe aryved he,
960   With shippes seven and with no more navye;
     And glad was he to londe for to hye,
     So was he with the tempest al to-shake.
(40)  And whan that he the haven had y-take,
     He had a knight, was called Achates;
     And him of al his felawshippe he chees
     To goon with him, the contre for tespye;
     He took with him no more companye.
     But forth they goon, and lafte his shippes ryde,
     His fere and he, with-outen any gyde.
970   So longe he walketh in this wildernesse
     Til, at the laste, he mette an hunteresse.
     A bowe in honde and arwes hadde she,
(50)  Her clothes cutted were unto the knee;
     But she was yit the fairest creature
     That ever was y-formed by nature;
     And Eneas and Achates she grette,
     And thus she to hem spak, whan she hem mette.
     "Sawe ye," quod she, "as ye han walked wyde,
     And of my sustren walke yow besyde,
980   With any wilde boor or other beste
     That they han hunted to, in this foreste,
     Y-tukked up, with arwes in her cas?"



(60)  "Nay, soothly, lady," quod this Eneas;
     "But, by thy beaute, as hit thinketh me,
     Thou mightest never erthely womman be,
     But Phebus suster artow, as I gesse.
     And, if so be that thou be a goddesse,
     Have mercy on our labour and our wo."



     "I nam no goddes, soothly," quod she tho;
990   "For maidens walken in this contree here,
     With arwes and with bowe, I this manere.
     This is the regne of Libie, ther ye been,
(70)  Of which that Dido lady is and queen" --
     And shortly tolde him al the occasioun
     Why Dido com into that regioun,
     Of which as now me lusteth nat to ryme;
     Hit nedeth nat; hit nere but los of tyme.
     For this is al and som, it was Venus,
     His owne moder, that spak with him thus;
1000  And to Cartage she bad he sholde him dighte,
     And vanished anoon out o fhis sighte.
     I coude folwe, word for word, Virgyle,
(80)  But it wolde lasten al to longe a whyle.



     This noble queen, that cleped was Dido,
     That whylom was the wyf of Sitheo,
     That fairer was then is the brighte sonne,
     This noble toun of Cartage hath begonne;
     In which she regneth in so greet honour,
     That she was holde of alle quenes flour,
1010  Of gentilesse, of freedom, of beautee;
     That wel was him that mighte her ones see;
     Of kinges and of lordes so desyred,
(90)  That al the world her beaute hadde y-fyred;
     She stood so wel in every wightes grace.



     Whan Eneas was come un-to that place,
     Unto the maister-temple of al the toun
     Ther Dido was in her devocioun,
     Ful prively his wey than hath he nome.
     Whan he was in the large temple come,
1020  I can nat seyn if that hit be possible,
     But Venus hadde him maked invisible --
     Thus seith the book, with-outen any lees.
(100) And whan this Eneas and Achates
     Hadden in this temple been over-al,
     Than founde they, depeynted on a wal,
     How Troye and al the lond destroyed was.
     "Allas!  that I was born," quod Eneas,
     "Through-out the world our shame is kid so wyde,
     Now it is peynted upon every side!
1030  We, that weren in prosperitee,
     Be now disslaudred, and in swich degre,
     No lenger for to liven I ne kepe!"
(110) And, with that worde, he brast out for to wepe
     So tenderly, that routhe hit was to sene.
     This fresshe lady, of the citee quene,
     Stood in the temple, in her estat royal,
     So richely, and eek so fair with-al,
     So yong, so lusty, with her eyen glade,
     That, if that god, that heven and erthe made,
1040  Wolde han a love, for beaute and goodnesse,
     And womanhod, and trouthe, and seemlinesse,
     Whom sholde he loven but this lady swete?
(120) There nis no womman to him half so mete.



     Fortune, that hath the world in governaunce,
     Hath sodeinly broght in so newe a chaunce,
     That never was ther yit so fremd a cas.
     For al the companye of Eneas,
     Which that he wende han loren in the see,
     Aryved is, nat fer fro that citee;
1050  For which, the grettest of his lordes some
     By aventure ben to the citee come,
     Unto that same temple, for to seke
(130) The quene, and of her socour her beseke;
     Swich renoun was ther spronge of her goodnesse.
     And, whan they hadden told al hir distresse,
     And al hir tempest and hir harde cas,
     Unto the quene appered Eneas,
     And openly beknew that hit was he.
     Who hadde Ioye than but his meynee,
1060  That hadden founde hir lord, hir governour?



     The quene saw they dide him swich honour,
     And had herd ofte of Eneas, er tho,
(140) And in her herte she hadde routhe and wo
     That ever swich a noble man as he
     Shal been disherited in swich degree;
     And saw the man, that he was lyk a knight,
     And suffisaunt of persone and of might,
     And lyk to been a veray gentil man;
     And wel his wordes he besette can,
1070  And had a noble visage for the nones,
     And formed wel of braunes and of bones.
     For, after Venus, hadde he swich fairnesse,
(150) That no man might be half so fair, I gesse.
     And wel a lord he seemed for to be.
     And, for he was a straunger, somwhat she
     Lyked him the bet, as, god do bote,
     To som folk ofte newe thing is swote.
     Anoon her herte hath pitee of his wo,
     And, with that pitee, love com in also;
1080  And thus, for pitee and for gentilesse,
     Refressed moste he been of his distresse.
     She seide, certes, that she sory was
(160) That he hath had swich peril and swich cas;
     And, in her frendly speche, in this manere
     She to him spak, and seide as ye may here.



     "Be ye nat Venus sone and Anchises?
     In good feith, al the worship and encrees
     That I may goodly doon yow, ye shul have.
     Your shippes and your meynee shal I save;"
1090  And many a gentil word she spak him to;
     And comaunded her messageres go
     The same day, with-outen any faile,
(170) His shippes for to seke, and hem vitaile.
     She many a beste to the shippes sente,
     And with the wyn she gan hem to presente;
     And to her royal paleys she her spedde,
     And Eneas alwey with her she ledde.
     What nedeth yow the feste to descryve?
     He never beter at ese was his lyve.
1100  Ful was the feste of deyntees and richesse,
     Of instruments, of song, and of gladnesse,
     And many an amorous loking and devys.



(180) This Eneas is come to Paradys
     Out of the swolow of helle, and thus in Ioye
     Remembreth him of his estat in Troye.
     To dauncing-chambres ful of parements,
     Of riche beddes, and of ornaments,
     This Eneas is lad, after the mete.
     And with the quene whan that he had sete,
1110  And spyces parted, and the wyn agoon,
     Unto his chambres was he lad anoon
     To take his ese and for to have his reste,
(190) With al his folk, to doon what so hem leste.



     Ther nas coursere wel y-brydled noon,
     Ne stede, for the Iusting wel to goon,
     Ne large palfrey, esy for the nones,
     Ne Iuwel, fretted ful of riche stones,
     Ne sakkes ful of gold, of large wighte,
     Ne ruby noon, that shynede by nighte,
1120  Ne gentil hautein faucon heronere,
     Ne hound, for hert or wilde boor or dere,
     Ne coupe of gold, with florins newe y-bete,
(200) That in the lond of Libie may be gete,
     That Dido ne hath hit Eneas y-sent;
     And al is payed, what that he hath spent.
     Thus can this [noble] quene her gestes calle,
     As she that can in freedom passen alle.



     Eneas sothly eek, with-outen lees,
     Hath sent un-to his shippe, by Achates,
1130  After his sone, and after riche thinges,
     Both ceptre, clothes, broches, and eek ringes,
     Som for to were, and som for to presente
(210) To her, that all thise noble thinges him sente;
     And bad his sone, how that he sholde make
     The presenting, and to the quene hit take.



     Repaired is this Achates again,
     And Eneas ful blisful is and fain
     To seen his yonge sone Ascanius.
     But natheles, our autour telleth us,
1140  That Cupido, that is the god of love,
     At preyere of his moder, hye above,
     Hadde the lyknes of the child y-take,
(220) This noble quene enamoured to make
     On Eneas; but, as of that scripture,
     Be as be may, I make of hit no cure.
     But sooth is this, the quene hath mad swich chere
     Un-to this child, that wonder is to here;
     And of the present that his fader sente
     She thanked him ful ofte, in good entente.



1150  Thus is this quene in plesaunce and in Ioye,
     With al this newe lusty folk of Troye.
     And of the dedes hath she more enquered
(230) 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, her newe gest, to dele,
     That she hath lost her hewe, and eek her hele.
1160  Now to theffect, now to the fruit of al,
     Why I have told this story, and tellen shal.



     Thus I beginne; hit fil, upon a night,
(240) When that the mone up-reysed had her light,
     This noble quene un-to her reste wente;
     She syketh sore, and gan her-self turmente.
     She waketh, walweth, maketh many a brayd,
     As doon thise loveres, as I have herd sayd.
     And at the laste, unto her suster Anne
     She made her moon, and right thus spak she thanne.



1170  "Now, dere suster myn, what may hit be
     That me agasteth in my dreme?" quod she.
     "This ilke Troyan is so in my thoght,
(250) For that me thinketh he is so wel y-wroght,
     And eek so lykly for to be a man,
     And therwithal so mikel good he can,
     That al my love and lyf lyth in his cure.
     Have ye not herd him telle his aventure?
     Now certes, Anne, if that ye rede hit me,
     I wolde fain to him y-wedded be;
1180  This is theffect; what sholde I more seye?
     In him lyth al, to do me live or deye."



     Her suster Anne, as she that coude her good,
(260) Seide as her thoughte, and somdel hit with-stood.
     But her-of was so long a sermoning,
     Hit were to long to make rehersing;
     But fynally, hit may not been with-stonde;
     Love wol love -- for no wight wol hit wonde.



     The dawning up-rist out of the see;
     This amorous quene chargeth her meynee
1190  The nettes dresse, and speres brode and kene;
     An hunting wol this lusty fresshe quene;
     So priketh her this newe Ioly wo.
(270) To hors is al her lusty folk y-go;
     Un-to the court the houndes been y-broght,
     And up-on coursers, swift as any thoght,
     Her yonge knightes hoven al aboute,
     And of her wommen eek an huge route.
     Up-on a thikke palfrey, paper-whyt,
     With sadel rede, enbrouded with delyt,
1200  Of gold the barres up-enbossed hye,
     Sit Dido, al in gold and perre wrye;
     And she is fair, as is the brighte morwe,
(280) That heleth seke folk of nightes sorwe.



     Upon a courser, startling as the fyr,
     Men mighte turne him with a litel wyr,
     Sit Eneas, lyk Phebus to devyse;
     So was he fresshe arayed in his wyse.
     The fomy brydel with the bit of gold
     Governeth he, right as him-self hath wold.
1210  And forth this noble guene thus lat I ryde
     An hunting, with this Troyan by her syde.



     The herd of hertes founden is anoon,
(290) With "hey!  go bet!  prik thou!  lat goon, lat goon!
     Why nil the leoun comen of the bere,
     That I mighte ones mete him with this spere?"
     Thus seyn thise yonge folk, and up they kille
     These hertes wilde, and han hem at hir wille.



     Among al this to-romblen gan the heven,
     The thunder roret with a grisly steven;
1220  Doun com the rain, with hail and sleet so faste,
     With hevenes fyr, that hit so sore agaste
     This noble quene, and also her meynee,
(300) That ech of hem was glad a-wey to flee.
     And shortly, for the tempest her to save,
     She fledde her-self into a litel cave,
     And with her wente this Eneas al-so;
     I noot, with hem if ther wente any mo;
     The autour maketh of hit no mencioun.
     And heer began the depe affeccioun
1230  Betwix hem two; this was the firste morwe
     Of her gladnesse, and ginning of her sorwe.
     For ther hath Eneas y-kneled so,
(310) And told her al his herte, and al his wo,
     And sworn so depe, to her to be trewe,
     For wele or wo, and chaunge for no newe,
     And as a fals lover so wel can pleyne,
     That sely Dido rewed on his peyne,
     And took him for husband, [to been] his wyf
     For ever-mo, whyl that hem laste lyf,
1240  And after this, whan that the tempest stente,
     With mirth out as they comen, hoom they wente.



     The wikked fame up roos, and that anon,
(320) How Eneas hath with the queen y-gon
     In-to the cave; and demed as hem liste;
     And whan the king, that Yarbas hight, hit wiste,
     As he that had her loved ever his lyf,
     And wowed her, to have her to his wyf,
     Swich sorwe as he hath, maked, and swich chere,
     Hit is a routhe and pitee for to here.
1250  But, as in love, al-day hit happeth so,
     That oon shal laughen at anothers wo;
     Now laugheth Eneas, and is in Ioye
(330) And more richesse than ever he was in Troye.



     O sely womman, ful of innocence,
     Ful of pitee, of trouthe, and conscience,
     What maked yow to men to trusten so?
     Have ye swich routhe upon hir feined wo,
     And han swich olde ensamples yow beforn?
     See ye nat alle, how they been for-sworn?
1260  Wher see ye oon, that he ne hath laft his leef,
     Or been unkinde, or doon her som mischeef,
     Or pilled her, or bosted of his dede?
(340) Ye may as wel hit seen, as ye may rede;
     Tak heed now of this grete gentil-man,
     This Troyan, that so wel her plesen can,
     That feineth him so trewe and obeising,
     So gentil and so privy of his doing,
     And can so wel doon alle his obeisaunces,
     And waiten her at festes and at daunces,
1270  And whan she goth to temple and hoom ageyn,
     And fasten til he hath his lady seyn,
     And bere in his devyses, for her sake,
(350) Noot I nat what; and songes wolde he make,
     Iusten, and doon of armes many thinges,
     Sende her lettres, tokens, broches, ringes --
     Now herkneth, how he shal his lady serve!
     Ther-as he was in peril for to sterve
     For hunger, and for mischeef in the see,
     And desolat, and fled from his contree,
1280  And al his folk with tempest al to-driven,
     She hath her body and eek her reame yiven
     In-to his hond, ther-as she mighte have been
(360) Of other lond than of Cartage a queen,
     And lived in Ioye y-nogh; what wolde ye more?



     This Eneas, that hath so depe y-swore,
     Is wery of his craft with-in a throwe;
     The hote ernest is al over-blowe.
     And prively he doth his shippes dighte,
     And shapeth him to stele a-wey by nighte.



1290  This Dido hath suspecioun of this,
     And thoughte wel, that hit was al a-mis;
     For in his bedde he lyth a-night and syketh;
(370) She asketh him anoon, what him mislyketh --
     "My dere herte, which that I love most?"



     "Certes," quod he, "this night my fadres gost
     Hath in my sleep so sore me tormented,
     And eek Mercurie his message hath presented,
     That nedes to the conquest of Itaile
     My destinee is sone for to saile;
1300  For which, me thinketh, brosten is myn herte!"
     Ther-with his false teres out they sterte;
     And taketh her with-in his armes two.



(380) "Is that in ernest," quod she; "wil ye so?
     Have ye nat sworn to wyve me to take,
     Alas!  what womman wil ye of me make?
     I am a gentil-woman and a queen,
     Ye wil nat fro your wyf thus foule fleen?
     That I was born!  allas!  what shal I do?"



     To telle in short, this noble queen Dido,
1310  She seketh halwes, and doth sacrifyse;
     She kneleth, cryeth, that routhe is to devyse;
     Coniureth him, and profreth him to be
(390) His thral, his servant in the leste gree;
     She falleth him to fote, and swowneth there
     Dischevele, with her brighte gilte here,
     And seith, "have mercy!  let me with yow ryde!
     Thise lordes, which that wonen me besyde
     Wil me destroyen only for your sake.
     And, so ye wil me now to wyve take,
1320  As ye han sworn, than wol I yive yow leve
     To sleen me with your swerd now sone at eve!
     For than yit shal I dyen as your wyf.
(400) I am with childe, and yive my child his lyf.
     Mercy, lord!  have pite in your thoght!"
     But al this thing availeth her right noght;
     For on a night, slepinge, he let her lye,
     And stal a-wey un-to his companye,
     And, as a traitour, forth he gan to saile
     Toward the large contree of Itaile.
1330  Thus hath he laft Dido in wo and pyne;
     And wedded ther a lady hight Lavyne.



     A cloth he lafte, and eek his swerd stonding,
(410) Whan he fro Dido stal in her sleping,
     Right at her beddes heed, so gan he hye
     Whan that he stal a-wey to his navye;
     Which cloth, whan sely Dido gan awake,
     She hath hit kist ful ofte for his sake;
     And seide, "O cloth, whyl Iupiter hit leste,
     Tak now my soule, unbind me of this unreste!
1340  I have fulfild of fortune al the cours."
     And thus, allas!  with-outen his socours,
     Twenty tyme y-swowned hath she thanne.
(420) And, whan that she un-to her suster Anne
     Compleyned had, of which I may nat wryte --
     So greet a routhe I have hit for tendyte --
     And bad her norice and her suster goon
     To fecchen fyr and other thing anoon,
     And seide, that she wolde sacrifye.
     And, whan she mighte her tyme wel espye,
1350  Up-on the fyr of sacrifys she sterte,
     And with his swerd she roof her to the herte.



     But, as myn autour seith, right thus she seyde;
(430) Or she was hurt, before that she deyde,
     She wroot a lettre anoon, that thus began: --
     "Right so," quod she, "as that the whyte swan
     Ayeins his deeth beginneth for to singe,
     Right so to yow make I my compleyninge.
     Nat that I trowe to geten yow again,
     For wel I woot that it is al in vain,
1360  Sin that the goddes been contraire to me.
     But sin my name is lost through yow," quod she,
     "I may wel lese a word on yow, or letter,
(440) Al-be-it that I shal be never the better;
     For thilke wind that blew your ship a-wey,
     The same wind hath blowe a-wey your fey," --



     But who wol al this letter have in minde,
     Rede Ovide, and in him he shal hit finde.

THE LEGEND OF THISBE OF BABYLON.

    At Babiloine whylom fil it thus,
     The whiche toun the queen Semiramus
     Leet dichen al about, and walles make
     Ful hye, of harde tyles wel y-bake.
710   Ther weren dwellinge in this noble toun
     Two lordes, which that were of greet renoun,
     And woneden so nigh, upon a grene,
     That ther nas but a stoon-wal hem bitwene,
     As ofte in grete tounes is the wone.
(10)  And sooth to seyn, that o man hadde a sone,
     Of al that londe oon of the lustieste.
     That other hadde a doghter, the faireste,
     That estward in the world was tho dwellinge.
     The name of everich gan to other springe
720   By wommen, that were neighebores aboute.
     For in that contree yit, withouten doute,
     Maidens been y-kept, for Ielosye,
     Ful streite, lest they diden som folye.



     This yonge man was cleped Piramus,
(20)  And Tisbe hight the maid, Naso seith thus;
     And thus by report was hir name y-shove
     That, as they wexe in age, wex hir love;
     And certein, as by reson of hir age,
     Ther mighte have been bitwix hem mariage,
730   But that hir fadres nolde hit nat assente;
     And bothe in love y-lyke sore they brente,
     That noon of alle hir frendes mighte hit lette
     But prively somtyme yit they mette
     By sleighte, and speken som of hir desyr;
(30)  As, wry the gleed, and hotter is the fyr;
     Forbede a love, and it is ten so wood.



     This wal, which that bitwix hem bothe stood,
     Was cloven a-two, right fro the toppe adoun.
     Of olde tyme of his fundacioun;
740   But yit this clifte was so narwe and lyte,
     It as nat sene, dere y-nogh a myte.
     But what is that, that love can nat espye?
     Ye lovers two, if that I shal nat lye,
     Ye founden first this litel narwe clifte;
(40)  And, with a soun as softe as any shrifte,
     They lete hir wordes through the clifte pace,
     And tolden, whyl that they stode in the place,
     Al hir compleynt of love, and al hir wo,
     At every tyme whan they dorste so.



750   Upon that o syde of the wal stood he,
     And on that other syde stood Tisbe,
     The swote soun of other receyve,
     And thus hir wardeins wolde they deceyve.
     And every day this wal they wolde threte,
(50)  And wisshe to god, that it were doun y-bete.
     Thus wolde they seyn -- "allas!  Thou wikked wal,
     Through thyn envye thou us lettest al!
     Why nilt thou cleve, or fallen al a-two?
     Or, at the leste, but thou woldest so,
760   Yit woldestow but ones lete us mete,
     Or ones that we mighte kissen swete,
     Than were we covered of our cares colde.
     But natheles, yit be we to thee holde
     In as muche as thou suffrest for to goon
(60)  Our wordes through thy lyme and eek thy stoon.
     Yit oghte we with thee ben wel apayd."



     And whan thise ydel wordes weren sayd,
     The colde wal they wolden kisse of stoon,
     And take hir leve, and forth they wolden goon.
770   And this was gladly in the even-tyde
     Or wonder erly, lest men hit espyde;
     And longe tyme they wroghte in this manere
     Til on a day, whan Phebus gan to clere,
     Aurora with the stremes of hir hete
(70)  Had dryed up the dew of herbes were;
     Unto this clifte, as it was wont to be,
     Com Pyramus, and after com Tisbe,
     And plighten trouthe fully in hir fey
     That ilke same night to stele awey,
780   And to begyle hir wardiens everichoon,
     And forth out of the citee for to goon;
     And, for the feldes been so brode and wyde,
     For to mete in o place at o tyde,
     They sette mark hir meting sholde be
(80)  Ther king Ninus was graven, under a tree;
     For olde payens that ydoles heried
     Useden tho in feldes to ben beried.
     And faste by this grave was a welle.
     And, shortly of this tale for to telle,
790   This covenant was affermed wonder faste;
     And longe hem thoughte that the sonne laste,
     That hit nere goon under the see adoun.



     This Tisbe hath so greet affeccioun
     And so greet lyking Piramus to see,
(90)  That, whan she seigh her tyme mighte be,
     At night she stal awey ful prively
     With her face y-wimpled subtiny;
     For alle her frendes -- for to save her trouthe --
     She hath for-sake; allas! and that is routhe
800   That ever woman wolde be so trewe
     To trusten man, but she the bet him knewe!
     And to the tree she goth a ful good pas,
     For love made her so hardy in this cas;
     And by the welle adoun she gan her dresse.
(100) Allas! than comth a wilde leonesse
     Out of the wode, withouten more areste,
     With blody mouthe, of strangling of a beste,
     To drinken of the welle, ther as she sat;
     And, whan that Tisbe had espyed that,
810   She rist her up, with a ful drery herte,
     And in a cave with dredful foot she sterte,
     For by the mone she seigh hit wel with-alle.
     And, as she ran, her wimpel leet she falle,
     And took noon heed, so sore she was a-whaped.
(110) And eek so glad of that she was escaped;
     And thus she sit, and darketh wonder stille.
     Whan that this leonesse hath dronke her fille,
     Aboute the welle gan she for to winde,
     And right anoon the wimpel gan she finde,
820   And with her blody mouth hit al to-rente.
     Whan this was doon, no lenger she ne stente,
     But to the wode her wey than hath she nome.



     And, at the laste, this Piramus is come,
     But al to longe, allas! at hoom was he.
(120) The mone shoon, men mighte wel y-see,
     And in his weye, as that he com ful faste,
     His eyen to the grounde adoun he caste,
     And in the sonde, as he beheld adoun,
     He seigh the steppes brode of a leoun,
830   And in his herte he sodeinly agroos,
     And pale he wex, therwith his heer aroos,
     And neer he com, and fond the wimpel torn.
     "Allas!" quode he, "the day that I was born!
     This o night wol us lovers bothe slee!
(130) How sholde I axen mercy of Tisbe
     Whan I am he that have yow slain, allas!
     My bidding hath yow slain, as in this cas.
     Allas! to bidde a woman goon by nighte
     In place ther as peril fallen mighte,
840   And I so slow! allas, I ne hadde be
     Here in this place a furlong-wey or ye!
     Now what leoun that be in this foreste,
     My body mote he renden, or what beste
     That wilde is, gnawen mote he now myn herte!"
(140) And with that worde he to the wimpel sterte,
     And kiste hit ofte, and weep on hit ful sore,
     And seide, "wimpel, allas!  ther nis no more
     But thou shalt fele as wel the blood of me
     As thou hast felt the bleding of Tisbe!"
850   And with that worde he smoot him to the herte.
     The blood out of the wounde as brode sterte
     As water, whan the conduit broken is.



     Now Tisbe, which that wiste nat of this,
     But sitting in her drede, she thoghte thus,
(150) "If hit so falle that my Piramus
     Be comen hider, and may me nat y-finde,
     He may me holden fals and eek unkinde."
     And out she comth, and after him gan espyen
     Bothe with her herte and with her yen,
860   And thoghte, "I wol him tellen of my drede
     Bothe of the leonesse and al my dede."
     And at the laste her love than hath she founde
     Beting with his heles on the grounde,
     Al blody, and therwith-al a-bak she sterte,
(160) And lyke the wawes quappe gan her herte,
     And pale as box she wex, and in a throwe
     Avysed her, and gan him wel to knowe,
     That hit was Piramus, her herte dere.
     Who coude wryte whiche a deedly chere
870   Hath Tisbe now, and how her heer she rente,
     And how she gan her-selve to turmente,
     And how she lyth and swowneth on the grounde,
     And how she weep of teres ful his wounde,
     How medeleth she his blood with her compleynte,
(170) And with his blood her-selven gan she peynte;
     How clippeth she the dede cors, allas?
     How doth this woful Tisbe in this cas!
     How kisseth she his frosty mouth so cold!
     "Who hath doon this, and who hath been so bold
880   To sleen my leef?  O spek, my Piramus!
     I am thy Tisbe, that thee calleth thus!"
     And therwith-al she lifteth up his heed.



     This woful man, that was nat fully deed,
     Whan that he herde the name of Tisbe cryen,
(180) On her he caste his hevy deedly yen
     And doun again, and yeldeth up the gost.



     Tisbe rist up, withouten noise or bost,
     And seigh her wimpel and his empty shethe,
     And eek his swerd, that him hath doon to dethe;
890   Than spak she thus: "my woful hand," quod she,
     "Is strong y-nogh in swiche a werk to me;
     For love shal yive me strengthe and hardinesse
     To make my wounde large y-nogh, I gesse.
     I wol thee folwen deed, and I wol be
(190) Felawe and cause eek of thy deeth," quod she.
     "And thogh that nothing save the deeth only
     Mighte thee fro me departe trewely,
     Thou shalt no more departe now fro me
     Than fro the deeth, for I wol go with thee!



900   "And now, ye wrecched Ielous fadres oure,
     We, that weren whylom children youre,
     We prayen yow, withouten more envye,
     That in o grave y-fere we moten lye,
     Sin love hath brought us to this pitous ende!
(200) And rightwis god to every lover sende,
     That loveth trewely, more prosperitee
     Than ever hadde Piramus and Tisbe!
     And lat no gentil woman her assure
     To putten her in swiche an aventure.
910   But god forbede but a woman can
     Been as trewe and loving as a man!
     And, for my part, I shal anoon it kythe!"
     And, with that worde, his swerd she took as swythe,
     That warm was of her loves blood and hoot,
(210) And to the herte she her-selven smoot.



     And thus ar Tisbe and Piramus ago.
     Of trewe men I finde but fewe mo
     In alle my bokes, save this Piramus,
     And therfor have I spoken of him thus.
920   For hit is deyntee to us men to finde
     A man that can in love be trewe and kinde.
     Heer may ye seen, what lover so he be,
     A woman dar and can as wel as he.



          Explicit Legenda Tisbe.

I. THE LEGEND OF CLEOPATRA

580   After the deeth of Tholomee the king,
     That al Egipte hadde in his governing,
     Regned his quene Cleopataras;
     Til on a tyme befel ther swiche a cas,
     That out of Rome was sent a senatour,
     For to conqueren regnes and honour
     Unto the toun of Rome, as was usaunce,
     To have the world unto her obeisaunce;
     And, sooth to seye, Antonius was his name.
(10)  So fil hit, as Fortune him oghte a shame
590   Whan he was fallen in prosperitee,
     Rebel unto the toun of Rome is he.
     And over al this, the suster of Cesar,
     He lafte hir falsly, er that she was war,
     And wolde algates han another wyf;
     For whiche he took with Rome and Cesar stryf.



     Natheles, for-sooth, this ilke senatour
     Was a ful worthy gentil werreyour,
     And of his deeth hit was ful greet damage.
(20)  But love had broght this man in swiche a rage,
600   And him so narwe bounden in his las,
     Al for the love of Cleopataras,
     That al the world he sette at no value.
     Him thoughte, nas to him no thing so due
     As Cleopatras for to love and serve;
     Him roghte nat in armes for to sterve
     In the defence of hir, and of hir right.



     This noble quene eek lovede so this knight,
     Through his desert, and for his chivalrye;
(30)  As certeinly, but-if that bokes lye,
610   He was, of persone and of gentilesse,
     And of discrecioun and hardinesse,
     Worthy to any wight that liven may.
     And she was fair as is the rose in May.
     And, for to maken shortly is the beste,
     She wex his wyf, and hadde him as hir leste.



     The wedding and the feste to devyse,
     To me, that have y-take swiche empryse
     Of so many a storie for to make,
(40)  Hit were to long, lest that I sholde slake
620   Of thing that bereth more effect and charge;
     For men may overlade a ship or barge;
     And forthy to theffect than wol I skippe,
     And al the remenant, I wol lete hit slippe.



     Octovian, that wood was of this dede,
     Shoop him an ost on Antony to lede
     Al-outerly for his destruccioun,
     With stoute Romains, cruel as leoun;
     To ship they wente, and thus I let hem saile.



(50)  Antonius was war, and wol nat faile
630   To meten with thise Romains, if he may;
     Took eek his reed, and bothe, upon a day,
     His wyf and he, and al his ost, forth wente
     To shippe anoon, no lenger they ne stente;
     And in the see hit happed hem to mete --
     Up goth the trompe -- and for to shoute and shete,
     And peynen hem to sette on with the sonne.
     With grisly soun out goth the grete gonne,
     And heterly they hurtlen al at ones,
(60)  And fro the top doun cometh the grete stones.
640   In goth the grapnel so ful of crokes
     Among the ropes, and the shering-hokes.
     In with the polax presseth he and he;
     Behind the mast beginneth he to flee,
     And out agayn, and dryveth him over-borde;
     He stingeth him upon his speres orde;
     He rent the sail with hokes lyke a sythe;
     He bringeth the cuppe, and biddeth hem be blythe;
     He poureth pesen upon the hacches slider;
(70)  With pottes ful of lym they goon to-gider;
650   And thus the longe day in fight they spende
     Til, at the laste, as every thing hath ende,
     Anthony is shent, and put him to the flighte,
     And al his folk to-go, that best go mighte.



     Fleeth eek the queen, with al her purpre sail,
     For strokes, which that wente as thikke as hail;
     No wonder was, she mighte hit nat endure.
     And what that Anthony saw that aventure,
     "Allas!" quod he, "the day that I was born!
(80)  My worshipe in this day thus have I lorn!"
660   And for dispeyr out of his witte he sterte,
     And roof him-self anoon through-out the herte
     Er that he ferther wente out of the place.
     His wyf, that coude of Cesar have no grace,
     To Egipte is fled, for drede and for distresse;
     But herkneth, ye that speke of kindenesse.



     Ye men, that falsly sweren many an ooth
     That ye wol dye, if that your love be wrooth,
     Heer may ye seen of women whiche a trouthe!
(90)  This woful Cleopatre hath mad swich routhe
670   That ther nis tonge noon that may hit telle.
     But on the morwe she wol no lenger dwelle,
     But made hir subtil werkmen make a shryne
     Of alle the rubies and the stones fyne
     In al Egipte that she coude espye;
     And putte ful the shryne of spycerye,
     And leet the cors embaume; and forth she fette
     This dede cors, and in the shryne hit shette.
     And next the shryne a pit than doth she grave;
(100) And alle the serpents that she mighte have,
680   She putte hem in that grave, and thus she seyde:
     "Now, love, to whom my sorweful herte obeyde
     So ferforthly that, fro that blisful houre
     That I yow swor to been al frely youre,
     I mene yow, Antonius my knight!
     That never waking, in the day or night,
     Ye nere out of myn hertes remembraunce
     For wele or wo, for carole or for daunce;
     And in my-self this covenant made I tho,
(110) That, right swich as ye felten, wele or wo,
690   As ferforth as hit in my power lay,
     Unreprovable unto my wyfhood ay,
     The same wolde I felen, lyf or deeth.
     And thilke covenant, whyl me lasteth breeth,
     I wol fulfille, and that shal wel be sene;
     Was never unto hir love a trewer quene."
     And with that word, naked, with ful good herte,
     Among the serpents in the pit she sterte,
     And ther she chees to han hir buryinge.
(120) Anoon the neddres gonne hir for to stinge,
700   And she hir deeth receyveth, with good chere,
     For love of Antony, that was hir so dere: --
     And this is storial sooth, hit is no fable.



     Now, er I finde a man thus trewe and stable,
     And wol for love his deeth so freely take,
     I pray god lat our hedes never ake!



          Explicit Legenda Cleopatrie, Martiris.

Feature out Of Southern Ocean/Klanktoon Uit Zuideroceaan

Ik heb de "duistere elementen" heel dichtbij gevoeld en letterlijk gezien...
...niet in spoken, geesten of demonen... nee, die kon ik ontwaren in de Mens zèlf!
Ik ben op zoek gegaan naar geschreven materiaal, "wetenschappelijke" bevindingen, en populaire berichten. Eenmaal vertaald, en diep onder de indruk geraakt, ben ik begonnen het "blameless blast", het "onberispelijke vervloekte" te gaan beschrijven, te vertellen en tenslotte te schilderen! Op mijn eigen manier, onder leiding van de meesterhand van de alom bekende Haags-Indische oud-metarealist uit de jaren '70 Frans Erkelens, heb ik het "Vrouwelijke Goddelijke Aspect" vorm gegeven, zoals deze zich in mijn geest manifesteerde... vanuit het schoonheids-vak als visagist!.
Click op het 2e schilderij en maak een cybertrip naar de privé WebSite over de Javaanse Zuidzee-Godin... U zult niet teleurgesteld worden... én het schilderij is bewerkt met speciaal 22 karaat goud!
***

I had the opportunity to feel the emotions and vibrations...
It was Her? I don't know.
I have heard the sound, the music and the stories along the Southcoast.
I have looked out for Her and sought out the tellings.
I have meditated in the shadow of the trees.
I have met the guardians called juru-kunci.
I have touched the thundering waves.
I have embraced the rocks and stones.
I have smelled the burning incense.
I have got through the dark elements.
I have found the written material.
I have translated some science-learnings.
I have told the untold story in the blameless blast.
I have described all this and...
I have painted the Female Goddess Aspect,
... in the way I discovered Her...

The Legend of Sangkuriang

According to local folklore, the formation of the Tangkuban Parahu volcano began with a young man SANGKURIANG who fell in love with his own mother, DAYANG SUMBI.

One day, when he was hunting, Sangkuriang accidentally killed his beautiful black dog (Si TUMANG). This dog is actually Sangkuriang's father who had been condemned to live the life of a dog by his GURU. However, Sangkuriang never knew it.

Sangkuriang had been separated by his mother since childhood. Yet, he was destined to meet his mother again. When on his way home, he stopped at a small village and met and fell in love with a beautiful girl. He didn't realised that the village was his homeland nor that the beautiful girl was his own sacred mother (remain young & pretty).

Their love grew naturally and one day, when they were discussing their wedding plans, Dayang Sumbi suddenly realised that the profile of Sangkuriang's head matched that of her only son's who had left twenty years earlier. How could shee marry her own son? But she did not wish to dissapoint him by cancelling the wedding. So, although she agreed to marry Sangkuriang, she would do so only on the condition that he provide her with a lake and a boat with which they could sail on the dawn of their wedding day.

Sangkuriang accepted this condition and built a lake by damming the Citarum river. Wiath a dawn just moment away and the boat almost complete, Dayang Sumbi realised that Sangkuriang would fulfill the condition she had set. With a wave of her supernatural shawl, she lit up the eastern horizon with flashes of light. Deceived by false dawn, the cock crowed and farmers rose for the new day.

With his work not yet complete, Sangkurinag realised that his endeavour were lost. With all his anger, he kicked the boat that he himself had built. The boat fell over and, in so doing become the mountain TANGKUBAN PARAHU (in Sundanese, TANGKUBAN means upturned or upside down, and PARAHU means boat). With the dam torn assunder, the water drained from the lake becoming a wide plain and nowaday became a city called BANDUNG (from the word BENDUNG, which means Dam).