CAP. XIX. HOW LA BELL PUCELL GRAUNTED GRAUND AMOURE LOVE, AND OF HER DISPITEOUS DEPARTAGE.

Your wo and payne, and all your languishynge Continually ye shall not spende in vayne, Sythen I am cause of your great mornynge, Nothynge exyle you shall I by dysdayne; Youre hert and myne shall never parte in twayne: Though at the fyrste I wolde not condescende, It was for fere ye dyde some yll entende.

With thought of yll my mynde was never myxte, To you, madame, but alway clene and pure, Bothe daye and nyght upon you hole perfyxte. But I my mynde yet durst nothynge discure, How for your sake I dyd suche wo endure, Tyll now this houre with dredfull hert so faynt To you, swete herte, I have made my complaynt.

I demed ofte you loved me before, By your demenour I dyde it aspye, And in my mynde I juged evermore That at the laste ye wolde full secretly Tell me your mynde of love right gentilly; As ye have done, so my mercy to crave, In all worshyppe you shal my true love have.

O Lorde God than! how joyfull was I! She loked on me wyth lovely countenaunce; I kyst her ones or twise right swetely; Her depured vysage, replete with pleasaunce, Rejoyced my heart with amerous purveaunce. O lady clere! that perste me at the rote, O floure of comforte, all my hele and bote!

O gemme of vertue, and lady excellent! Above all other in beauteous goodlynesse! O eyen bright as sterre refulgent, O profounde cause of all my sekenesse, Now all my joye and all my gladnes, Wolde God that we were joyned in one, In maryage, before this day were gone.

A, a! sayd she, ye must take a payne a whyle; I must depart, by the compulcyon Of my frendes, I wyl not you begyle, Though they me led to a ferre nacion, My heart shall be without variacion Wyth you present, in perfite sykernes, As true and stable without doublenes.

To me to come is harde and daungerous, When I am there; for gyauntes ugly, Wyth two monstres also, blacke and tedyous, That by the waye awayte full cruelly For to distroye you yll and utterly, Whan you that way do take the passage, To attayne my love by hye advauntage.

All that, madame, was to me certyfyde By good dame Fame, at the begynnynge, Whan she to me of you well notyfide, As she came frome the toure of Lernynge, Of all such enemyes the myght excludynge. I promyse unto you here, full faythfully, Whan I departe frome dame Astronomy,

That I wyll to the toure of Chyvalry, And for your sake become adventurous To subdue all enemyes to me contrary; That I may after be ryght joyous Wyth you, my lady, most swete and precyous. Wo worth the cause of your departynge, Which all my sorowes is in renuynge!

Alas! what pleasure, and eke wythout disporte, Shall I now have, whan that ye be gone? Ha, ha! truly now wythout good conforte, My dolorous herte shall be left alone, Wythout your presence to me is none; For every houre I shall thynke a yere, Tyll fortune brynge me unto you more nere.

Yet after you I wyll not be ryght longe, But hast me after as faste as I maye; In the toure of Chyvalry I shall make me stronge, And after that passe shortly on my way, Wyth diligent laboure on my journay. Spyte of your enemyes, I shal me so spede, That in short tyme ye may rewarde my mede.

I thanke you, quod she, with my hert entere; But yet with me ye shall make covenaunt, As I to you am ryght lefe and dere, Unto no persone ye shall so advaunte That I to love you am so attendaunte, For any thynge your councell not bewraye, For that full soone might us bothe betraye.

And to tell me I pray you hertely; Yonder is Counseyle, how were ye acquaynted? He is bothe honest and true certaynly: Doth he not knowe how your hert is faynted, Wyth fervent love so surely attaynted? Yf ye so do, yet I nothyng repent, He is so secrete and true of entent.

Truely, madame, because ye are content I shall you tell how the matter was; Whan that your beaute, clerely splendent, Into my herte full wonderly dyd passe, Lyke as fayre Phebus dothe shyne in the glas, All alone, wyth inwarde care so rent, Into a temple forth on my way I went.

Where that I walked, plunged in the pytte Of great dispayre; and he than me mette. Alas! he sayde, me thinke ye lose your wytte; Tell me the trouth now, wythout any lete, Why ye demeane suche mortall sorow great. A voyde! quod I, you shall nothing it knowe, You can not helpe in the case I trow.

But he suche reason and fruytfull sentence Dyd for him laye, that I tolde hym all. Whan he it knewe with all my diligence, He dyd me conforte than in specyall: Unto my minde he bad me to call, Who spareth to speke he to spede doth spare; Go tell your lady the cause of your care.

By whose counseyle grounded in wysdome, To the entent I should spede the better, And ryght shortly I dyd than to you come, But drede alway made my sorowe greatter; After great payne the joyes is the sweter. For who that tasteth paynfull bytternes, The joye to him is double swetenes.

And, therwythall, I did unto her brynge Councell my frende, and full right meke Dyd him receive as he was comynge; And of all thynges she did hym beseke, After her departinge, the same weke, To hast me forwarde to my journeyes ende. Therto, quod I, I do well condyscende.

Fare well, quod she, I may no longer tary; My frendes wyll come; of that were I lothe: I shall retayne you in my memory, And they it knewe they wolde with me be wrothe. To love you best I promise you my trouthe! And than mine eyen great sorowe shewed, Wyth teres salte my chekes were endewed.

Her eyes graye began to loke right reed, Her gaye whyte coloure began for to pale, Upon her chekes so the droppes were sprede Whiche from her eyen began to advale; Frome her swete herte she dyd the syghes hale; Never before, as I trowe and wene, Was suche departyng true lovers betwene.

We wyped our chekes our sorowe to cloke, Outwardly faynyng us to be glad and mery, That the people should not perceyve the smoke Of our hote fyre to lyght the emyspery: Thoughe inwardly wyth a stormy pery The fyre was blowen, yet we dyd it cover, Bycause abrode it should nothyng perceyver.

Out of the garden to an haven syde Forth he went, where as a shyppe ryght large That taryed there after the floynge tyde, And so than dyd there many a bote and barge. The shyp was great, fyve c. tonne to charge. La Bell Pucell ryght anone me tolde: In yondre shyp, whyche that ye beholde,

Forthe must I sayle wythout longer delaye; It is full see; my frendes wyll come soone; Therfore I pray you to go hence your waye, It draweth fast now towarde the none. Madame, quod I, your pleasure shal be done. Wyth wofull herte and great syghes, ofte I kyssed her lyppes, that were swete and softe.

She unto me nor I unto her colde speke, And as of that it was no great wondre, Our hertes swelled as that they should breke; The fyre of love was so sore kept under. Whan I from her should depart asundre, Wyth her fayre head she dyd lowe enclyne, And in lykewyse so dyd I wyth myne.