Venquisshed
me hath my cruel adversaire.
Chaucer - Romuant of the Rose
Th.
abode.
COLOPHON.
G.
Explicit, _following_ And longe
haue red (_see note to_ 7694); Th. Finis. Here endeth the Romaunt of the
Rose.
* * * * *
THE MINOR POEMS.
I. AN A. B. C.
_Incipit carmen secundum ordinem literarum Alphabeti. _
<<
Almighty and al merciable quene,
To whom that al this world fleeth for socour,
To have relees of sinne, sorwe and tene,
Glorious virgine, of alle floures flour,
To thee I flee, confounded in erreur! 5
Help and releve, thou mighty debonaire,
Have mercy on my perilous langour!
Venquisshed me hath my cruel adversaire.
>>
A toy du monde le refui,
Vierge glorieuse, m'en fui
Tout confus, ne puis miex faire;
A toy me tien, a toy m'apuy.
Relieve moy, abatu suy:
Vaincu m'a mon aversaire.
Puis qu'en toy ont tous repaire
Bien me doy vers toy retraire
Avant que j'aie plus d'annuy.
N'est pas luite necessaire 10
A moy, se tu, debonnayre,
Ne me sequeurs comme a autrui.
<<
Bountee so fix hath in thyn herte his tente,
That wel I wot thou wolt my socour be, 10
Thou canst not warne him that, with good entente,
Axeth thyn help. Thyn herte is ay so free,
Thou art largesse of pleyn felicitee,
Haven of refut, of quiete and of reste.
Lo, how that theves seven chasen me! 15
Help, lady bright, er that my ship to-breste!
Comfort is noon, but in yow, lady dere,
For lo, my sinne and my confusioun,
Which oughten not in thy presence appere,
Han take on me a grevous accioun 20
Of verrey right and desperacioun;
And, as by right, they mighten wel sustene
That I were worthy my dampnacioun,
Nere mercy of you, blisful hevene quene.
Doute is ther noon, thou queen of misericorde, 25
That thou nart cause of grace and mercy here;
God vouched sauf thurgh thee with us tacorde.
For certes, Cristes blisful moder dere,
>>
Bien voy que par toy confortes
Sera mes cuers desconfortes,
Quer tu es de salu porte.
Se je me suis mal tresportez
Par . vij. larrons, pechies mortez,
Et erre par voie torte,
Esperance me conforte
Qui a toy hui me raporte 20
A ce que soie deportez.
Ma povre arme je t'aporte:
Sauve la: ne vaut que morte;
En li sont tous biens avortez.
haue red (_see note to_ 7694); Th. Finis. Here endeth the Romaunt of the
Rose.
* * * * *
THE MINOR POEMS.
I. AN A. B. C.
_Incipit carmen secundum ordinem literarum Alphabeti. _
<<
Almighty and al merciable quene,
To whom that al this world fleeth for socour,
To have relees of sinne, sorwe and tene,
Glorious virgine, of alle floures flour,
To thee I flee, confounded in erreur! 5
Help and releve, thou mighty debonaire,
Have mercy on my perilous langour!
Venquisshed me hath my cruel adversaire.
>>
A toy du monde le refui,
Vierge glorieuse, m'en fui
Tout confus, ne puis miex faire;
A toy me tien, a toy m'apuy.
Relieve moy, abatu suy:
Vaincu m'a mon aversaire.
Puis qu'en toy ont tous repaire
Bien me doy vers toy retraire
Avant que j'aie plus d'annuy.
N'est pas luite necessaire 10
A moy, se tu, debonnayre,
Ne me sequeurs comme a autrui.
<<
Bountee so fix hath in thyn herte his tente,
That wel I wot thou wolt my socour be, 10
Thou canst not warne him that, with good entente,
Axeth thyn help. Thyn herte is ay so free,
Thou art largesse of pleyn felicitee,
Haven of refut, of quiete and of reste.
Lo, how that theves seven chasen me! 15
Help, lady bright, er that my ship to-breste!
Comfort is noon, but in yow, lady dere,
For lo, my sinne and my confusioun,
Which oughten not in thy presence appere,
Han take on me a grevous accioun 20
Of verrey right and desperacioun;
And, as by right, they mighten wel sustene
That I were worthy my dampnacioun,
Nere mercy of you, blisful hevene quene.
Doute is ther noon, thou queen of misericorde, 25
That thou nart cause of grace and mercy here;
God vouched sauf thurgh thee with us tacorde.
For certes, Cristes blisful moder dere,
>>
Bien voy que par toy confortes
Sera mes cuers desconfortes,
Quer tu es de salu porte.
Se je me suis mal tresportez
Par . vij. larrons, pechies mortez,
Et erre par voie torte,
Esperance me conforte
Qui a toy hui me raporte 20
A ce que soie deportez.
Ma povre arme je t'aporte:
Sauve la: ne vaut que morte;
En li sont tous biens avortez.
