| |
I. (In seven-line stanzas.)
THE LONGE night, whan every creature | |
| Shulde have hir rest in somwhat, as by kinde, | |
| Or elles ne may hir lyf nat long endure, | |
| Hit falleth most in-to my woful minde | |
| How I so fer have broght my-self behinde, | 5 |
| That, sauf the deeth, ther may no-thing me lisse, | |
| So desespaired I am from alle blisse. | |
| |
| This same thoght me lasteth til the morwe, | |
| And from the morwe forth til hit be eve; | |
| Ther nedeth me no care for to borwe, | 10 |
| For bothe I have good leyser and good leve; | |
| Ther is no wight that wol me wo bereve | |
| To wepe y-nogh, and wailen al my fille; | |
| The sore spark of peyne doth me spille. | |
| |
II. (In Terza Rima; imperfect.)
[The sore spark of peyne doth me spille;] | 15 |
| This Love hath [eek] me set in swich a place | |
| That my desyr [he] never wol fulfille; | |
| For neither pitee, mercy, neither grace | |
| Can I nat finde; and [fro] my sorwful herte, | |
| For to be deed, I can hit nat arace. | 20 |
| The more I love, the more she doth me smerte; | |
| Through which I see, with-oute remedye, | |
| That from the deeth I may no wyse asterte; | |
| [For this day in hir servise shal I dye]. | |
| |
III. (In Terza Rima; imperfect.)
[Thus am I slain, with sorwes ful dyverse; | 25 |
| Ful longe agoon I oghte have taken hede]. | |
| Now sothly, what she hight I wol reherse; | |
| Hir name is Bountee, set in womanhede, | |
| Sadnesse in youthe, and Beautee prydelees, | |
| And Plesaunce, under governaunce and drede; | 30 |
| Hir surname eek is Faire Rewthelees, | |
| The Wyse, y-knit un-to Good Aventure, | |
| That, for I love hir, sleeth me giltelees. | |
| Hir love I best, and shal, whyl I may dure, | |
| Bet than my-self an hundred thousand deel, | 35 |
| Than al this worldes richesse or creature. | |
| Now hath nat Lovë me bestowed weel | |
| To lovë, ther I never shal have part? | |
| Allas! right thus is turned me the wheel, | |
| Thus am I slayn with loves fyry dart. | 40 |
| I can but love hir best, my swete fo; | |
| Love hath me taught no more of his art | |
| But serve alwey, and stinte for no wo. | |
| |
IV. (In ten-line stanzas.)
[With]-in my trewe careful herte ther is | |
| So moche wo, and [eek] so litel blis, | 45 |
| That wo is me that ever I was bore; | |
| For al that thing which I desyre I mis, | |
| And al that ever I wolde nat, I-wis, | |
| That finde I redy to me evermore; | |
| And of al this I not to whom me pleyne. | 50 |
| For she that mighte me out of this bringe | |
| Ne reccheth nat whether I wepe or singe; | |
| So litel rewthe hath she upon my peyne. | |
| |
| Allas! whan sleping-time is, than I wake, | |
| Whan I shulde daunce, for fere than I quake; | 55 |
| [Yow rekketh never wher I flete or sinke;] | |
| This hevy lyf I lede for your sake, | |
| Thogh ye ther-of in no wyse hede take, | |
| [For on my wo yow deyneth not to thinke.] | |
| My hertes lady, and hool my lyves quene! | 60 |
| For trewly dorste I seye, as that I fele, | |
| Me semeth that your swete herte of stele | |
| Is whetted now ageynes me to kene. | |
| |
| My dere herte, and best beloved fo, | |
| Why lyketh yow to do me al this wo, | 65 |
| What have I doon that greveth yow, or sayd, | |
| But for I serve and love yow and no mo? | |
| And whylst I live, I wol do ever so; | |
| And therfor, swete, ne beth nat evil apayd. | |
| For so good and so fair as [that] ye be, | 70 |
| Hit were [a] right gret wonder but ye hadde | |
| Of alle servants, bothe goode and badde; | |
| And leest worthy of alle hem, I am he. | |
| |
| But never-the-les, my righte lady swete, | |
| Thogh that I be unconning and unmete | 75 |
| To serve as I best coude ay your hynesse. | |
| Yit is ther fayner noon, that wolde I hete, | |
| Than I, to do yow ese, or elles bete | |
| What-so I wiste were to [yow distresse]. | |
| And hadde I might as good as I have wille, | 80 |
| Than shulde ye fele wher it wer so or noon; | |
| For in this worlde living is ther noon | |
| That fayner wolde your hertes wil fulfille. | |
| |
| For bothe I love, and eek dreed yow so sore, | |
| And algates moot, and have doon yow, ful yore, | 85 |
| That bet loved is noon, ne never shal; | |
| And yit I wolde beseche yow of no more | |
| But leveth wel, and be nat wrooth ther-fore, | |
| And lat me serve yow forth; lo! this is al. | |
| For I am nat so hardy ne so wood | 90 |
| For to desire that ye shulde love me; | |
| For wel I wot, allas! that may nat be; | |
| I am so litel worthy, and ye so good. | |
| |
| For ye be oon the worthiest on-lyve, | |
| And I the most unlykly for to thryve; | 95 |
| Yit, for al this, [now] witeth ye right wele, | |
| That ye ne shul me from your service dryve | |
| That I nil ay, with alle my wittes fyve, | |
| Serve yow trewly, what wo so that I fele. | |
| For I am set on yow in swich manere | 100 |
| That, thogh ye never wil upon me rewe, | |
| I moste yow love, and ever been as trewe | |
| As any can or may on-lyve [here]. | |
| |
| The more that I love yow, goodly free, | |
| The lasse fynde I that ye loven me; | 105 |
| Allas! whan shal that harde wit amende? | |
| Wher is now al your wommanly pitee, | |
| Your gentilesse and your debonairtee, | |
| Wil ye no thing ther-of upon me spende? | |
| And so hool, swete, as I am youres al, | 110 |
| And so gret wil as I have yow to serve, | |
| Now, certes, and ye lete me thus sterve, | |
| Yit have ye wonne ther-on but a smal. | |
| |
| For, at my knowing, I do no-thing why, | |
| And this I wol beseche yow hertely, | 115 |
| That, ther ever ye finde, whyl ye live, | |
| A trewer servant to yow than am I, | |
| Leveth [me] thanne, and sleeth me hardely, | |
| And I my deeth to you wol al forgive. | |
| And if ye finde no trewer [man than me], | 120 |
| [Why] will ye suffre than that I thus spille, | |
| And for no maner gilt but my good wille? | |
| As good wer thanne untrewe as trewe to be. | |
| |
| But I, my lyf and deeth, to yow obeye, | |
| And with right buxom herte hoolly I preye, | 125 |
| As [is] your moste plesure, so doth by me; | |
| Wel lever is me lyken yow and deye | |
| Than for to any thing or thinke or seye | |
| That mighte yow offende in any tyme. | |
| And therfor, swete, rewe on my peynes smerte, | 130 |
| And of your grace granteth me som drope; | |
| For elles may me laste ne blis ne hope, | |
| Ne dwellen in my trouble careful herte. | |
| |
