(To live in easë) suff’rance her behight;3235
And she to him full wisly3236 gan to swear
That never should there be default in her.
Here may men see a humble wife accord;
Thus hath she ta’en her servant and her lord,
Servant in love, and lord in marriáge.
Then was he both in lordship and servage?
Servage? nay, but in lordship all above,
Since he had both his lady and his love:
His lady certes, and his wife also,
The which that law of love accordeth to.
And when he was in this prosperity,
Home with his wife he went to his country,
Not far from Penmark,3237 where his dwelling was,
And there he liv’d in bliss and in solace.3238
Who couldë tell, but3239 he had wedded be,
The joy, the ease, and the prosperity,
That is betwixt a husband and his wife?
A year and more lasted this blissful life,
Till that this knight, of whom I spakë thus,
That of Cairrud3240 was call’d Arviragus,
Shope3241 him to go and dwell a year or twain
In Engleland, that call’d was eke Britáin,
To seek in armës worship and honoúr
(For all his lust3242 he set in such laboúr);
And dwelled there two years; the book saith thus.
Now will I stint3243 of this Arviragus,
And speak I will of Dorigen his wife,
That lov’d her husband as her heartë’s life.
For his abséncë weepeth she and siketh,3244
As do these noble wivës when them liketh;
She mourneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, plaineth;
Desire of his presénce her so distraineth,
That all this widë world she set at nought.
Her friendës, which that knew her heavy thought,
Comfórtë her in all that ever they may;
They preachë her, they tell her night and day,
That causëless she slays herself, alas!
And every comfort possible in this case
They do to her, with all their business,3245
And all to make her leave her heaviness.
By process, as ye knowen every one,
Men may so longë graven in a stone,
Till some figúre therein imprinted be:
So long have they comfórted her, till she
Received hath, by hope and by reasón,
Th’ imprinting of their consolatión,
Through which her greatë sorrow gan assuage;
She may not always duren in such rage.
And eke Arviragus, in all this care,
Hath sent his letters home of his welfare,
And that he will come hastily again,
Or ellës had this sorrow her hearty-slain.
Her friendës saw her sorrow gin to slake,3246
And prayed her on knees for Goddë’s sake
To come and roamen in their company,
Away to drive her darkë fantasy;
And finally she granted that request,
For well she saw that it was for the best.
Now stood her castle fastë by the sea,
And often with her friendës walked she,
Her to disport upon the bank on high,
There as many a ship and bargë sigh,3247
Sailing their courses, where them list to go.
But then was that a parcel3248 of her woe,
For to herself full oft, “Alas!” said she,
“Is there no ship, of so many as I see,
Will bringë home my lord? then were my heart
All warish’d3249 of this bitter painë’s smart.”
Another timë would she sit and think,
And cast her eyen downward from the brink;
But when she saw the grisly rockës blake,3250
For very fear so would her heartë quake,
That on her feet she might her not sustene:
Then would she sit adown upon the green,
And piteously into the sea behold,3251
And say right thus, with careful sikës3252 cold:
“Eternal God! that through thy purveyánce
Leadest this world by certain governance,
In idle,3253 as men say, ye nothing make;
But, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockës blake,
That seem rather a foul confusión
Of work, than any fair creatión
Of such a perfect wisë God and stable,
Why have ye wrought this work unreasonáble?
For by this work, north, south, or west, or east,
There is not foster’d man, nor bird, nor beast:
It doth no good, to my wit, but annoyeth.3254
See ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth?
A hundred thousand bodies of mankind
Have rockës slain, all be they not in mind;3255
Which mankind is so fair part of thy work,
Thou madest it like to thine owen mark.3256
Then seemed it ye had a great cherté3257
Toward mankind; but how then may it be
That ye such meanës make it to destroy?
Which meanës do no good, but ever annoy.
I wot well, clerkës will say as them lest,3258
By arguments, that all is for the best,
Although I can the causes not y-know;
But thilkë3259 God that made the wind to blow,
As keep my lord, this is my conclusión:
To clerks leave I all disputatión:
But would to God that all these rockës blake
Were sunken into hellë for his sake!
These rockës slay mine heartë for the fear.”
Thus would she say, with many a piteous tear.
Her friendës saw that it was no disport
To roamë by the sea, but discomfórt,
And shope them for to playë somewhere else.
They leadë her by rivers and by wells,
And eke in other places delectábles;
They dancen, and they play at chess and tables.
So on a day, right in the morning-tide,
Unto a garden that was there beside,
In which that they had made their ordinance3260
Of victual, and of other purveyánce,
They go and play them all the longë day:
And this was on the sixth morrow of May,
Which May had painted with his softë show’rs
This garden full of leavës and of flow’rs:
And craft of mannë’s hand so curiously
Arrayed had this garden truëly,
That never was there garden of such price,3261
But if it were the very Paradise.
Th’ odoúr of flowers, and the freshë sight,
Would havë maked any heartë light
That e’er was born, but if3262 too great sicknéss
Or too great sorrow held it in distress;
So full it was of beauty and pleasánce.
And after dinner they began to dance
And sing also, save Dorigen alone,
Who made alway her cómplaint and her moan,
For she saw not him on the dancë go
That was her husband, and her love also;
But natheless she must a time abide,
And with
