Upon this dance, amongë other men,
Danced a squiër before Dorigen,
That fresher was, and jollier of array,
As to my doom,3263 than is the month of May.
He sang and danced, passing any man
That is or was since that the world began;
Therewith he was, if men should him descrive,
One of the bestë faring3264 men alive,
Young, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise,
And well belov’d, and holden in great price.3265
And, shortly if the sooth I tellë shall,
Unweeting3266 of this Dorigen at all,
This lusty squiër, servant to Venús,
Which that y-called was Aurelius,
Had lov’d her best of any creatúre
Two year and more, as was his áventúre;3267
But never durst he tell her his grievánce;
Withoutë cup he drank all his penánce.
He was despaired, nothing durst he say,
Save in his songës somewhat would he wray3268
His woe, as in a general cómplainíng;
He said, he lov’d, and was belov’d nothing.
Of suchë matter made he many lays,
Songës, complaintës, roundels, virëlays;3269
How that he durstë not his sorrow tell,
But languished, as doth a Fury in hell;
And die he must, he said, as did Echo
For Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe.
In other manner than ye hear me say,
He durstë not to her his woe bewray,
Save that paráventure sometimes at dances,
Where youngë folkë keep their óbservánces,
It may well be he looked on her face
In such a wise, as man that asketh grace,
But nothing wistë she of his intent.
Nath’less it happen’d, ere they thennës3270 went,
Becausë that he was her neighëbour,
And was a man of worship and honoúr,
And she had knowen him of timë yore,3271
They fell in speech, and forth aye more and more
Unto his purpose drew Aurelius;
And when he saw his time, he saidë thus:
“Madam,” quoth he, “by God that this world made,
So that I wist it might your heartë glade,3272
I would, that day that your Arviragus
Went over sea, that I, Aurelius,
Had gone where I should never come again;
For well I wot my service is in vain.
My guerdon3273 is but bursting of mine heart.
Madamë, rue upon my painë’s smart,
For with a word ye may me slay or save.
Here at your feet God would that I were grave.3274
I havë now no leisure more to say:
Have mercy, sweet, or you will do me dey.”3275
She gan to look upon Aurelius;
“Is this your will,” quoth she, “and say ye thus?
Ne’er erst,”3276 quoth she, “I wistë what ye meant:
But now, Aurelius, I know your intent.
By thilkë3277 God that gave me soul and life,
Never shall I be an untruë wife
In word nor work, as far as I have wit;
I will be his to whom that I am knit;
Take this for final answer as of me.”
But after that in play3278 thus saidë she.
“Aurelius,” quoth she, “by high God above,
Yet will I grantë you to be your love
(Since I you see so piteously complain);
Lookë, what day that endëlong3279 Bretágne
Ye remove all the rockës, stone by stone,
That they not lettë3280 ship nor boat to gon,
I say, when ye have made this coast so clean
Of rockës, that there is no stonë seen,
Then will I love you best of any man;
Have here my troth, in all that ever I can;
For well I wot that it shall ne’er betide.
Let such follý out of your heartë glide.
What dainty3281 should a man have in his life
For to go love another mannë’s wife,
That hath her body when that ever him liketh?”
Aurelius full often sorë siketh;3282
“Is there none other grace in you?” quoth he,
“No, by that Lord,” quoth she, “that maked me.”
Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard,
And with a sorrowful heart he thus answér’d.
“Madame,” quoth he, “this were an impossíble.
Then must I die of sudden death horríble.”
And with that word he turned him anon.
Then came her other friends many a one,
And in the alleys roamed up and down,
And nothing wist of this conclusión,
But suddenly began to revel new,
Till that the brightë sun had lost his hue,
For th’ horizón had reft the sun his light
(This is as much to say as it was night);
And home they go in mirth and in solace;
Save only wretch’d Aurelius, alas!
He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.
He said, he may not from his death astart.3283
Him seemed, that he felt his heartë cold.
Up to the heav’n his handës gan he hold,
And on his kneës bare he set him down.
And in his raving said his orisoún.3284
For very woe out of his wit he braid;3285
He wist not what he spake, but thus he said;
With piteous heart his plaint hath he begun
Unto the gods, and first unto the Sun.
He said; “Apollo God and governoúr
Of every plantë, herbë, tree, and flow’r,
That giv’st, after thy declinatión,
To each of them his time and his seasón,
As thine herberow3286 changeth low and high;
Lord Phoebus! cast thy merciable3287 eye
On wretch’d Aurelius, which that am but lorn.3288
Lo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn,
Withoutë guilt, but3289 thy benignity
Upon my deadly heart have some pitý.
For well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest,3290
Ye may me helpë, save my lady, best.
Now vouchësafe, that I may you devise3291
How that I may be holp,3292 and in what wise.
Your blissful sister, Lucina the sheen,3293
That of the sea is chief goddéss and queen—
Though Neptunus have deity in the sea,
Yet emperess abovë him is she;—
Ye know well, lord, that, right as her desire
Is to be quick’d3294 and lighted of your fire,
For which she followeth you full busily,
Right so the sea desireth naturally
To follow her, as she that is goddéss
Both in the sea and rivers more and less.
Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request,
Do this mirácle, or do3295 mine
