Of which I tolde yow, and telle schal)

Was evene joynyng to the gardeyn wal,
Ther as this Emely hadde hire pleyyng.
Bright was the sonne, and cleer that morwenynge,
And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

As was his wone, by leve of his gayler
Was risen, and romed in a chambre on heigh,
In which he al the noble cité seigh,

And eek the gardeyn, ful of braunches grene,
Ther as the fresshe Emelye the scheene
Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.
This sorweful prisoner, this Palamon,
Gooth in the chambre romyng to and fro,
And to himself compleynyng of his woo:
That he was born, ful ofte he seyd, alas!
And so byfel, by aventure or cas,

That thurgh a wyndow thikke and many a barre
Of iren greet, and squar as eny sparre,
He cast his eyen upon Emelya,

And therwithal he bleynte and cryed, a!
As that he stongen were unto the herte.
And with that crye Arcite anon up sterte,
And seyde, "Cosyn myn, what eyleth the,
That art so pale and deedly for to see?
Why crydestow? who hath the doon offence?
For Goddes love, tak al in pacience
Oure prisoun, for it may non othir be.
Fortune hath geven us this adversité.
Som wikke aspect or disposicioun

1070

1080

Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun,

Hath geven us this, although we hadde it sworn;
So stood the heven whan that we were born,

1090

We moste endure it: this is the schort and pleyn." This Palamon answered, and seyde ageyn; "Cosyn, for sothe of this opynyoun

Thou hast a veyn ymaginacioun.

This prisoun caused me not for to crye.
But I was hurt right now thurgh myn yhe
Into myn herte, that wol my bane be.
The fairnesse of the lady that I see
Yonde in the gardyn rome to and fro,
Is cause of my cryyng and my wo.

I not whethur sche be womman or goddesse;
But Venus is it, sothly, as I gesse."

And therwithal on knees adoun he fil,
And seyde: "Venus, if it be youre wil
Yow in this gardyn thus to transfigure,
Biforn me sorwful wrecched creature,
Out of this prisoun help that we may scape.
And if so be oure destiné be schape
By eterne word to deyen in prisoun,
Of oure lynage haveth sum compassioun,
That is so lowe y-brought by tyrannye."
And with that word Arcite gan espye

1100

1110

1090.-Saturne. According to the old astrological system, this was a very unpropitious star to be born under. It may be observed, that in the present story there is a constant allusion to medieval astrology, which could not be fully illustrated without long notes.

Wher as this lady romed to and fro.

And with that sight hire beauté hurt him so,
That if that Palamon was wounded sore,
Arcite is hurt as moche as he, or more.
And with a sigh he seyde pitously:
"The freissche beauté sleeth me sodeynly

66

Of hir that rometh yonder in the place;
And but I have hir mercy and hir grace,
That I may see hir atte leste weye,

I nam but deed; ther nys no more to seye."
This Palamon, whan he tho wordes herde,
Dispitously he loked, and answerde :

Whether seistow in ernest or in pley?"

"Nay," quoth Arcite, "in ernest, in good fey. God helpe me so, me lust ful evele pleye." This Palamon gan knytte his browes tweye: "It nere," quod he, "to the no gret honour,

For to be fals, ne for to be traytour

To me, that am thy cosyn and thy brother
I-swore ful deepe, and ech of us to other,
That never for to deyen in the payne,
Til that deeth departe schal us twayne,

1120

1130

1134-I-swore. It was a common practice in the middle ages for persons to take formal oaths of fraternity and friendship, and a breach of the oath was considered something worse than perjury. This incident enters into the plots of some of the medieval romances. A curious example will be found in the Romance of Athelston, Reliq. Antiq. ii, p. 85.

1135.-deyen in the payne. This appears to have been a proverbial expression, taken from the French. In Froissart, as cited by Tyrwhitt, Edward III is made to declare, that he would bring the war to a successful issue, or il mourroit en la peine.

Neyther of us in love to hynder other,
Ne in non other cas, my leeve brother;
But that thou schuldest trewly forther me
In every caas, and I schal forther the.
This was thyn othe, and myn eek certayn;
I wot right wel, thou darst it nat withsayn.
Thus art thou of my counseil out of doute.
And now thou woldest falsly ben aboute
To love my lady, whom I love and serve,
And evere schal, unto myn herte sterve.
Now certes, fals Arcite, thou schal not so.
I loved hir first, and tolde the my woo
As to my counseil, and to brother sworn
To forther me, as I have told biforn.
For which thou art i-bounden as a knight
To helpe me, if it lay in thi might,
Or elles art thou fals, I dar wel sayn."
This Arcite ful proudly spak agayn.

"Thou schalt," quoth he, "be rather fals than I.
But thou art fals, I telle the uttirly.

For par amour I loved hir first then thow.

What wolt thou sayn? thou wost not yit now
Whether sche be a womman or goddesse.

Thyn is affeccioun of holynesse,

And

myn is love, as of a creature;

For which I tolde the myn aventure

As to my cosyn, and my brother sworn.

I

pose, that thou lovedest hire biforn:

1137.-love. The Harl. MS. has lande.

1140

1150

1160

E

Wost thou nat wel the olde clerkes sawe,
That who schal geve a lover eny lawe,
Love is a grettere lawe, by my pan,
Then may be geve to eny erthly man?
Therfore posityf lawe, and such decré,
Is broke alway for love in ech degree.

A man moot needes love maugré his heed.

1170

He may nought fle it, though he schulde be deed,
Al be sche mayde, or be sche widewe or wyf.
And that it is nat likly al thy lyf

To stonden in hire grace, no more schal I:
For wel thou wost thyselven verrily,

That thou and I been dampned to prisoun
Perpetuelly, us gayneth no raunsoun.

We stryve, as doth the houndes for the boon,

They foughte al day, and yit here part was noon. 1180

Ther com a kyte, whil that they were wrothe,

And bar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe.
And therfore at the kynges court, my brother,

Eche man for himself, ther is non other.
Love if the list; for I love and ay schal:

And sothly, leeve brother, this is al.
Eke in this prisoun moote we endure,
And every of us take his aventure."

1165.-the olde clerkes sawe.

Consolat. Philos. lib. iii, met. 12,

1179.-houndes.

Boethius, who says, in his treatise De

Quis legem det amantibus?

Major lex amor est sibi.

This is a medieval fable which I have not met with

elsewhere, though it may probably be found in some of the inedited collections.