"Moder," quod she, "and mayden bright Marie.
Soth is, that thurgh woman's eggement 1
Mankind was lorne 2 and damned ay to die,
For which thy child was on a crois yrent:
Thy blissful eyen saw al his torment;
Than is ther no comparison betweene
Thy wo and any wo man may sustene.
"Thou saw thy child yslain before thin eyen,
And yet now liveth my litel child, parfay! 3
Now, lady bright, to whom all woful crien,
Thou glory of womankind, thou faire may,
Thou haven of refute, bright sterre of day,
Rew on my child, that of thy gentillnesse
Rewest on every rewful in destresse.
"O litel child, alas! what is thy gilt,
That never wroughtest sinne as yet parde + ?
Why wolde thin harde father have thee spilt 5?
O mercy, dere constable," (quod she)
"As let my litel child dwell here with thee:
And if thou darst not saven him fro blame,
So kisse him ones in his fadres name."
Therewith she loketh backward to the lond,
And sayde; " Farewell, housebond routheles!"
And up she rist and walketh down the strond
Toward the ship, hire followeth all the prees 7.
And ever she praieth hire child to hold his pees,
And taketh hire leve, and with an holy entente,
She blesseth hire, and into the ship she wente.
Man of Lawes Tale. Canterbury Tales.
THE LAST VERSES OF CHAUCER.
(Written on his death-bed.)
FLY from the press, and dwell with sothfastness;
Suffice unto thy good though it be small;
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,
Press hath envy, and weal is blent o'er all;
Savour no more than thee behoven shall;
Rede well thyself, that other folk canst rede,
And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drede.
Pain thee not each crooked to redress
In trust of her that turneth as a ball;
Great rest standeth in little business;
Beware also to spurn against a nalle;
Strive not as doth a croche with a wall:
Deemeth thyself that deemest other's deed,
And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drede.
That thee is sent receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this world asketh a fall ;
Here is no home, here is but wilderness;
Forth, pilgrim, forth; O beast out of thy stall;
Look up on high, and thank thy God of all;
Waiveth thy lust and let thy ghost thee lead,
And truth thee shall deliver 't is no drede.
UNA AND THE RED CROSS KNIGHT.
A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plain,
Yclad in mighty arms and silver shield,
Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain,
The cruel marks of many a bloody field;
Yet arms till that time did he never wield :
His angry steed did chide his foaming bit,
As much disdaining to the curb to yield :
Full jolly knight he seemed, and fair did sit,
As one for knightly jousts and fierce encounters fit.
And on his breast a bloody cross he bore,
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead (as living) ever him adored :
Upon his shield the like was also scored,
For sovereign hope, which in his help he had :
Right faithful true he was in deed and word;
But of his cheer did seem too solemn sad :
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.
Upon a great adventure he was bound,
That glorious Gloriana to him gave,
(That greatest glorious queen of fairy lond,)
To win him worship, and her grace to have.
Which of all earthly things he most did crave ;
And ever as he rode his heart did yearn
To prove his puissance in battle brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learn ;
Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stern.
A lovely lady rode him fair beside,
Upon a lowly ass more white than snow;
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Under a veil that wimpled was full low,
And over all a black stole she did throw,
As one that inly mourned: so was she sad,
And heavy sat upon her palfrey slow;
Seemed in her heart some hidden care she had,
And by her in a line a milk-white lamb she lad.
So pure and innocent, as that same lamb,
She was in life, and every virtuous lore;
And by descent from royal lineage came`
Of ancient Kings and Queens, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from east to western shore,
And all the world in their subjection held ;
Till that infernal fiend with foul uproar
Forwasted all their land, and them expelled;
Whom to avenge she had this knight from far compelled.
Behind her far away a Dwarf did lag,
That lazy seemed, in being ever last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag,
Of needments at his back. Thus as they past,
The day with clouds was sudden overcast,
And angry Jove an hideous storm of rain
Did pour into his leman's lap so fast,
That every wight to shroud it did constrain;
And this fair couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.
Enforst to seek some cover nigh at hand,
A shady grove not far away they spied,
That promised aid the tempest to withstand ;
Whose lofty trees, yclad with summer's pride,
Did spread so broad, that heaven's light did hide
Not pierceable with power of any star :
And all within were paths and alleys wide,
With footing worn, and leading inward far.
Fair harbor that them seems, so in they entered are.
And forth they pass, with pleasure forward led,
Joying to hear the bird's sweet harmony,
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dread,
Seemed in their song to scorn the cruel sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,
The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The vine prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,
The builder Oak, sole king of forests all,
The Aspin good for staves, the Cypress funeral.
The Laurel, meed of mighty conquerors
And poets sage, the Fir that weepeth still,
The Willow worn of forlorn paramours,
The Yew obedient to the benders will,
The Birch for shafts, the Sallow for the mill,
The Myrrh sweet bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Plantain round,
The carver Holme, the Maple seldom inward sound.
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Until the blustering storm is overblown ;
When, weening to return, whence they did stray,
They cannot find that path which first was shown,
But wander to and fro in ways unknown.
Furthest from end then, when they nearest ween,
That makes them doubt their wits be not their own :
So many paths, so many turnings seen,
That which of them to take, in divers doubt they been.
The Faerie Queen, Book I.
AND is there care in heaven? And is there love
In heavenly spirits to these creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts. But O! th' exceeding grace
Of highest God that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed Angels he sends to and fro,
To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe!
How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us that succour want!
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
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