Now certes, frend, I drede of thyn unhappe,
Lest for thy gilt the wreche of Love procede
On alle hem that ben hore and rounde of shape,
That ben so lykly folk in love to spede.
Than shul we for our labour han no mede ;
But wel I wot, thou wilt answere and seye:
Lo! olde Grisel list to ryme and pleye!'
Nay, Scogan, sey not so, for I m'excuse,
God help me so! in no rym, doutelees,
Ne thinke I never of slepe wak my muse,
That rusteth in my shethe stille in pees.
Whyl I was yong, I putte hir forth in prees,
But al shal passe that men prose or ryme;
Take every man his turn, as for his tyme.
Scogan, that knelest at the stremes heed 1
Of grace, of alle honour and worthinesse,
In th'ende of which streme 2 I am dul as deed,
Forgete in solitarie wildernesse ;
Yet, Scogan, thenke on Tullius kindenesse,
Minne thy frend, ther it may fructifye!
Far-wel, and lok thou never eft Love defye !
XVII. LENVOY DE CHAUCER A BUKTON
THE COUNSEIL OF CHAUCER TOUCHING MARIAGE,
WHICH WAS SENT TO BUKTON
My maister Bukton, whan of Criste our kinge
Was axed, what is trouthe or sothfastnesse,
He nat a word answerde to that axinge,
As who saith: 'no man is al trewe,' I gesse.
And therfor, thogh I highte to expresse
The sorwe and wo that is in mariage,
I dar not wryte of hit no wikkednesse,
Lest I my-self falle eft in swich dotage.
I wol nat seyn, how that hit is the cheyne
Of Sathanas, on which he gnaweth ever,
But I dar seyn, were he out of his peyne,
As by his wille, he wolde be bounde never.
But thilke doted fool that eft hath lever
Y-cheyned be than out of prisoun crepe,
God lete him never fro his wo dissever,
Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.
But yit, lest thou do worse, tak a wyf;
Bet is to wedde, than brenne in worse wyse.
But thou shalt have sorwe on thy flesh, thy lyf,
And been thy wyves thral, as seyn these wyse;
And if that holy writ may nat suffyse,
Experience shal thee teche, so may happe,
That thee were lever to be take in Fryse
Than eft to falle of wedding in the trappe.
This litel writ, proverbes, or figure
I sende you, tak kepe of hit, I rede:
Unwys is he that can no wele endure.
If thou be siker, put thee nat in drede.
The Wyf of Bathe I pray you that ye rede
Of this matere that we have on honde.
God graunte you your lyf frely to lede
In fredom; for ful hard is to be boude.
XVIII. THE COMPLEYNT OF VENUS
I. (The Lover's worthiness.)
THER nis so hy comfort to my plesaunce,
Whan that I am in any hevinesse,
As for to have leyser of remembraunce
Upon the manhod and the worthinesse,
Upon the trouthe, and on the stedfastnesse
Of him whos I am al, whyl I may dure;
Ther oghte blame me no creature,
For every wight preiseth his gentilesse.
In him is bountee, wisdom, governaunce
Wel more than any mannes wit can gesse;
For grace hath wold so ferforth him avaunce
That of knighthode he is parfit richesse.
Honour honoureth him for his noblesse ;
Therto so wel hath formed him Nature,
That I am his for ever, I him assure,
For every wight preiseth his gentilesse.
And not-withstanding al his suffisaunce,
His gentil herte is of so greet humblesse
To me in worde, in werke, in contenaunce,
And me to serve is al his besinesse,
That I am set in verrey sikernesse.
Thus oghte I blesse wel myn aventure,
Sith that him list me serven and honoure;
For every wight preiseth his gentilesse.
II. (Disquietude caused by Jealousy.) Now certes, Love, hit is right covenable That men ful dere bye thy noble thing, As wake a-bedde, and fasten at the table, Weping to laughe, and singe in compleyning, And doun to caste visage and loking, Often to chaungen hewe and contenaunce, Pleyne in sleping, and dremen at the daunce, Al the revers of any glad feling.
Jalousye be hanged by a cable!
She wolde al knowe through hir espying;
Ther doth no wight no-thing so resonable,
That al nis harm in hir imagening.
Thus dere abought is love, in yeving,
Which ofte ye yiveth with-oute ordinaunce,
As sorow ynogh, and litel of plesaunce,
Al the revers of any glad feling.
A litel tyme his yift is agreable,
But ful encomberous is the using;
For sotel Jalousye, the deceyvable,
Ful often-tyme causeth destourbing.
Thus be we ever in drede and suffering,
In nouncerteyn we languisshe in penaunce,
And han ful often many an hard meschaunce,
Al the revers of any glad feling.
III. (Satisfaction in Constancy.)
But certes, Love, I sey nat in such wyse
That for t'escape out of your lace I mente;
For I so longe have been in your servyse
That for to lete of wol I never assente;
No force thogh Jalousye me tormente;
Suffyceth me to see him whan I may,
And therfore certes, to myn ending-day
love him best ne shal I never repente.
|