yond the sonne, the candel of
Ielosye!
Chaucer - Romuant of the Rose
sweuyn;
F. sweuene. 1334. Tn. sweuyn; F. sweuene. COLOPHON; _so in_ F. B.
* * * * *
IV. THE COMPLEYNT OF MARS.
_The Proem. _
Gladeth, ye foules, of the morow gray,
Lo! Venus risen among yon rowes rede!
And floures fresshe, honoureth ye this day;
For when the sonne uprist, then wol ye sprede.
But ye lovers, that lye in any drede, 5
Fleeth, lest wikked tonges yow espye;
Lo!
yond the sonne, the candel of Ielosye!
With teres blewe, and with a wounded herte
Taketh your leve; and, with seynt Iohn to borow,
Apeseth somwhat of your sorowes smerte, 10
Tyme cometh eft, that cese shal your sorow;
The glade night is worth an hevy morow! '--
(Seynte Valentyne! a foul thus herde I singe
Upon thy day, er sonne gan up-springe). --
Yet sang this foul--'I rede yow al a-wake, 15
And ye, that han not chosen in humble wyse,
Without repenting cheseth yow your make.
And ye, that han ful chosen as I devyse,
Yet at the leste renoveleth your servyse;
Confermeth it perpetuely to dure, 20
And paciently taketh your aventure.
And for the worship of this hye feste,
Yet wol I, in my briddes wyse, singe
The sentence of the compleynt, at the leste,
That woful Mars made atte departinge 35
Fro fresshe Venus in a morweninge,
Whan Phebus, with his fyry torches rede,
Ransaked every lover in his drede.
_The Story. _
? Whylom the thridde hevenes lord above,
As wel by hevenish revolucioun 30
As by desert, hath wonne Venus his love,
And she hath take him in subieccioun,
And as a maistresse taught him his lessoun,
Comaunding him that never, in hir servyse,
He nere so bold no lover to despyse. 35
For she forbad him Ielosye at alle,
And cruelte, and bost, and tirannye;
She made him at hir lust so humble and talle,
That when hir deyned caste on him her ye,
He took in pacience to live or dye; 40
And thus she brydeleth him in hir manere,
With no-thing but with scourging of hir chere.
Who regneth now in blisse but Venus,
That hath this worthy knight in governaunce?
Who singeth now but Mars, that serveth thus 45
The faire Venus, causer of plesaunce?
He bynt him to perpetual obeisaunce,
And she bynt hir to loven him for ever,
But so be that his trespas hit dissever.
Thus be they knit, and regnen as in heven 50
By loking most; til hit fil, on a tyde,
That by hir bothe assent was set a steven,
That Mars shal entre, as faste as he may glyde,
Into hir nexte paleys, to abyde,
Walking his cours til she had him a-take, 55
And he preyde hir to haste hir for his sake.
Then seyde he thus--"myn hertes lady swete,
Ye knowe wel my mischef in that place;
For sikerly, til that I with yow mete,
My lyf stant ther in aventure and grace; 60
But when I see the beaute of your face,
Ther is no dreed of deth may do me smerte,
For al your lust is ese to myn herte.
F. sweuene. 1334. Tn. sweuyn; F. sweuene. COLOPHON; _so in_ F. B.
* * * * *
IV. THE COMPLEYNT OF MARS.
_The Proem. _
Gladeth, ye foules, of the morow gray,
Lo! Venus risen among yon rowes rede!
And floures fresshe, honoureth ye this day;
For when the sonne uprist, then wol ye sprede.
But ye lovers, that lye in any drede, 5
Fleeth, lest wikked tonges yow espye;
Lo!
yond the sonne, the candel of Ielosye!
With teres blewe, and with a wounded herte
Taketh your leve; and, with seynt Iohn to borow,
Apeseth somwhat of your sorowes smerte, 10
Tyme cometh eft, that cese shal your sorow;
The glade night is worth an hevy morow! '--
(Seynte Valentyne! a foul thus herde I singe
Upon thy day, er sonne gan up-springe). --
Yet sang this foul--'I rede yow al a-wake, 15
And ye, that han not chosen in humble wyse,
Without repenting cheseth yow your make.
And ye, that han ful chosen as I devyse,
Yet at the leste renoveleth your servyse;
Confermeth it perpetuely to dure, 20
And paciently taketh your aventure.
And for the worship of this hye feste,
Yet wol I, in my briddes wyse, singe
The sentence of the compleynt, at the leste,
That woful Mars made atte departinge 35
Fro fresshe Venus in a morweninge,
Whan Phebus, with his fyry torches rede,
Ransaked every lover in his drede.
_The Story. _
? Whylom the thridde hevenes lord above,
As wel by hevenish revolucioun 30
As by desert, hath wonne Venus his love,
And she hath take him in subieccioun,
And as a maistresse taught him his lessoun,
Comaunding him that never, in hir servyse,
He nere so bold no lover to despyse. 35
For she forbad him Ielosye at alle,
And cruelte, and bost, and tirannye;
She made him at hir lust so humble and talle,
That when hir deyned caste on him her ye,
He took in pacience to live or dye; 40
And thus she brydeleth him in hir manere,
With no-thing but with scourging of hir chere.
Who regneth now in blisse but Venus,
That hath this worthy knight in governaunce?
Who singeth now but Mars, that serveth thus 45
The faire Venus, causer of plesaunce?
He bynt him to perpetual obeisaunce,
And she bynt hir to loven him for ever,
But so be that his trespas hit dissever.
Thus be they knit, and regnen as in heven 50
By loking most; til hit fil, on a tyde,
That by hir bothe assent was set a steven,
That Mars shal entre, as faste as he may glyde,
Into hir nexte paleys, to abyde,
Walking his cours til she had him a-take, 55
And he preyde hir to haste hir for his sake.
Then seyde he thus--"myn hertes lady swete,
Ye knowe wel my mischef in that place;
For sikerly, til that I with yow mete,
My lyf stant ther in aventure and grace; 60
But when I see the beaute of your face,
Ther is no dreed of deth may do me smerte,
For al your lust is ese to myn herte.
