William of Palerne: Lines 1-1066

þat it apertly was apayed for profite þat he feld,

and [wrouȝt] buxumly by þe bestes wille in wise as it couþe.

[1]

Hit bifel in þat forest, þere [fa]st byside,

þer woned a wel old cherl þat was a couherde,

þat fele winteres in þat forest fayre hade kepud

mennes ken of þe cuntre as a comen herde.

And þus it bitide þat time, as tellen oure bokes,

þis cowherd comes on a time to kepen is bestes

fast byside þe borwȝþere þe barn was inne.

Þe herd had wiþ him an hound his hert to liȝt,

forto bayte on his bestes wanne þai to brode went.

Þe herd sat þan wiþ hound aȝene þe hote sunne,

nouȝt fully a furlong fro þat fayre child,

clouȝtand kyndely his schon, as to here craft falles.

Þat while was þe werwolf went aboute his-praye, 1s

what behoved to þe barn to bring as he miȝt.

Þe child þan darked in his den dernly him one,

and was a big bold barn, and breme of his age,

for spakly speke it coupe þo and spedeliche towawe.

Lovely lay it along in his lovely denne,

and buskede him out of þe buschys þat were blowed grene

and leved ful lovely, þat lent grete schade;

and briddes ful bremely on þe bowes singe.

What for melodye þat þei made in þe Mey sesoun,

þat litel child listely lorked out of his cave,

faire floures forto fecche þat he bifore him seye,

and to gadere of þe grases þat grene were and fayre.

And whan it was out went, so wel hit him liked,

þe savor of þe swete sesoun and song of þe briddes,

þat ferde fast aboute floures to gadere,

and layked him long while to lesten þat merþe.

Þe couherdes hound þat time, as happe bytidde,

feld foute of þe child and fast þider fulwes;

and sone as he it seiȝ, soþe forto telle,

he gan to berke on þat barn and to baic it hold,

þat it wax neiȝof his witt, wod for fere,

and comsed þan to crye so kenly and schille,

and wepte so wonder fast, wite þou for soþe,

þat þe son of þe cry com to þe cowherde evene,

þat he wist witerly it was þe voys of a childe.

Þan ros he up radely and ran þider swiþe,

and drow him toward þe den bi his dogges noyce.

Bi þat time was þe barn, for bere of þat hounde,

drawe him into his den, and darked þer stille,

and wept evere as it wolde awede for fere;

and evere þe dogge at þe hole held it at abaye.

And whan þe kouherd com þid[er]e, he koured lowe

to bihold in at þe hole, whi his hound berkyd.

Þanne ofsaw he ful sone þat semliche child,

þat so loveliche lay and wep in þat lopli cave,

cloþed ful komly for ani kud kinges sone,

in gode cloþes of gold agreþed ful riche,

wiþ perrey and pellure pertelyche to þe riȝttes.

Þe cherl wondred of þat chaunce and chastised his dogge,

bad him blinne of his berking, and to þe barn talked,

acoyed it to come to him, and clepud hit oft,

and foded it wiþ floures and wiþ faire byhest,

and hiȝt it hastely to have what it wold ȝerne,

appeles and alle þinges þat childern after wilnen.

so for to seiȝal þe soþe, so faire þe cher! glosed,

þat þe child com of þe cave and his criynge stint.

Þe cherl ful cherli þat child tok in his armes

and kest hit and clipped and oft Crist þonkes,

þat hade him sent þe sonde swiche prey to finde.

Wiȝtliche wiþ þe child he went to his house,

and bitok it to his wif tiȝtly to kepe.

A gladere wommon under God no miȝt go on erþe

þan was þe wif wiþ þe child, witow for soþe.

Sche kolled it ful kindly and askes is name,

and it answered ful sone and seide, William y hiȝt.'

Þan was þe godwif glad and gan it faire kepe,

þat it wanted nouȝt þat it wold have,

þat þei ne fond him as faire as for here state longed,

and þe beter, be ye sure, for barn ne had þei none

brouȝt forþ of here bodies — here bale was þe more.

But soþly þai seide þe child schuld weld al here godis,

londes and ludes as eyer after here lif-dawes.

But from þe cherl and þe child nou chaunge we oure tale,

for I wol of þe werwolf a wile nou speke.

[2]

Whanne þis werwolf was come to his wolnk denne,

and hade brouȝt bilfoder for þe barnes mete,

þat he hade wonne wiþ wo wide-wher aboute,

þan fond he nest and no neiȝ, for nouȝt nas þer leved.

And whan þe best þe barn missed, so balfully he ginneþ,

þat alle men upon molde no miȝt telle his sorwe.

For reuliche gan he rore and rente al his hide,

and fret oft of þe erþe and fel doun on swowe,

and made þe most dool þat man miȝt divise.

And as þe best in his bale þer aboute wente,

he fond þe feute al fresh where forþ þe herde

hadde bore þa[t] barn beter it to ȝeme.

Wiȝtly pe werwolf pan went bi nose

evene to þe herdes house and hastely was þare.

Þere walked he aboute þe walles to winne insiȝt,

and at þe last lelly a litel hole he findes.

Þere pried he in prively, and pertiliche biholdes

hou hertily þe herdes wif hules þat child,

and hou fayre it fedde and fetisliche it baþede,

and wrouȝt wiþ it as wel as ȝif it were hire owne.

Þanne was þe best bliþe inou for þe barnes sake,

for he wist it schold be warded wel þanne at þe best.

And hertily for þat hap to heveneward he loked,

and þroliche þonked God mani pousand siþes,

and seþþen went on is way whider as him liked;

but whiderward wot I never, witow for soþe.

Ak nowþe, ȝe þat arn hende, haldes ow stille,

and how þat best þerwe bale was brouȝt out of kinde

I wol ȝou telle as wiþe trewly þe soþe.

[3]

Werwolf was he non wox of kinde,

ac komen was he of kun þat kud was ful nobul;

for þe kud king of Spayne was kindely his fader

He gat him, as God ȝaf grace, on his ferst wyve,

and at þe burþ of þat barn þe bold lady deyde.

Sipþen þat kud king so bi his conseyl wrout,

anoþer wif þat he wedded, a worchipful ladi,

pe princes douȝter of Portingale, to prove þe soþe.

But lelliche þat ladi in ȝouþe hadde lerned miche schame,

for al þe werk of wicchecraft wel ynouȝ che couȝþe;

nede nadde ȝhe namore of nigramauncy to lere.

Of coninge of wicchecraft wel ynouȝ che couȝþe;

and Braunde was þat bold quene of burnes yclepud.

Þe kinges furst child was fostered fayre as it ouȝt,

and had lordes and ladies it lovely to kepe;

and fast gan þat frely barn fayre for to wexe.

Þe quene his moder on a time as a mix þouȝt

how faire and how fetis it was and freliche schapen;

and þis þanne þouȝt sche þroly, þat it no schuld never

kuvere to be king þer as þe kinde eyre,

whille þe kinges ferst sone were þer alive.

Þan studied sche stifly, as Stepmoderes wol alle,

sand fled away þe faster into ferre londes,

so þat pertely into Poyle he passed þat time,

as þis fortune bifel þat I told of bifore.

Þus was þis witty best werwolf ferst maked.

But now wol I stint a stounde of þis sterne best,

and tale of þe tidy child þat y of told ere:

Þus passed is þe first pas of þis pris tale.

And ȝe þat loven and lyken to listen ani more,

alle wiȝth on hol hert to þe heiȝ King of hevene

preieth a þater noster prively þis time

for þe hend Erl of Herford, Sir Humfray de Bowne,

þe king Edwardes newe at Glouseter þat ligges.

For he of Frensche þis fayre tale ferst dede translate

in ese of Englysch men in Englysch speche.

And God graunt hem his blis þat godly o prayen!

[4]

Leve lordes, now listenes of þis litel barn,

þat þe kinde kowherde wif keped so fayre.

ȝhe wist it as wel or bet as ȝif it were hire owne,

til hit big was and bold to buschen on felde,

and couþe ful craftily kepe alle here bestes,

and bring hem in þe best lese whan hem bistode nede,

and wited hem so wisly þat wanted him never one.

A bowe also þat bold barn bigat him þat time,

and so to schote under þe schawes scharplyche he lerned,

þat briddes and smale bestes wiþ his bow he quelles

so plenteousliche in his play þat, pertly to telle,

whanne he went hom eche niȝt wiþ is drove of bestis,

he com himself ycharged wiþ conyng and hares,

wiþ fesauns and feldfares and oþer foules grete,

þat þe herde and his hende wif and al his hole meyne

þat bold barn wiþ his bowe by þat time fedde.

And ȝit hadde fele felawes in þe forest eche day,

ȝong bold barnes þat bestes also keped.

And bliþe was eche a barn ho best miȝt him plese

and folwe him for his fredom and for his faire pewes.

For what þing Willam wan aday wiþ his bowe,

were it feþered foul or foure-foted best,

ne wold þis William never on wiþhold to himselve

til alle his felawes were ferst feffed to here paie.

So kynde and so curteys comsed he þere

þat alle ledes him lovede þat loked on him ones,

and blesseden þat him bare and brouȝt into þis worlde,

so moche manhed and murþe schewed þat child evere.

[5]

Hit tidde after on a time, as tellus oure bokes,

As þis bold barn his bestes blyþeliche keped,

þe riche emperour of Rome rod out for to hunte

in þat faire forest, feiþely for to telle,

wiþ alle his menskful meyne, þat moche was and nobul.

Þan fel it hap þat þei founde ful sone a grete bor,

and, huntyng wiþ hound and horn, harde alle sewede.

Þe emperovr entred in a wey evene to attele

to have bruttenet þat bor [at] þe abaie seþþen.

But missely marked he is way, and so manly he rides

þat alle his wies were went ne wist he never whider;

so ferforþ fram his men, feþly for to telle,

þat of horn ne of hound ne miȝt he here sowne,

and boute eny living lud left was he one.

Þemperour on his stif stede a sty forþ þanne takes

to herken after his houndes oþer horn schille;

so komes þer a werwolf riȝt bi þat way þenne

grimly after a gret hert, as þat God wold,

and chased him þurth chaunce þere þe child pleide,

þat kept þe kowherdes bestes I carped of bifore.

Þemperour þanne hastely þat huge best folwed

as stiffuly as is stede miȝt strecche on to renne;

but by þan he com by þat barn, and aboute loked,

þe werwolf and þe wilde hert were aweye boþe,

þat he ne wist in þis world were þei were bicome,

ne whiderward he schuld seche to se of hem more.

But panne biheld he aboute and þat barn ofseye,

hou fair, how fetys it was and freliche schapen;

so fair a siȝt of eg ne sawe he never are,

of lere ne of Iykame lik him nas none,

ne of so sad a semblant þat ever he ay wiþ eiȝyen.

Þemperour wend witerly, for wonder of þat child,

þat feiȝþely it were of feyrye for fairenes þat it welt

and for þe curteys cuntenaunce þat it kudde þere.

[6]

Riȝtly þenne þemperour wendes him evene tille;

þe child comes him agayn and curtesliche him gretes.

In hast þemperour hendely his gretyng him ȝeldes,

and anon riȝttes after askes his name,

and of what kin he were kome komanded him telle.

Þe child þanne soberliche seide, 'Sir, at ȝoure wille

I wol ȝow telle as tyt trewely alle þe soþe.

William, sire, wel y wot, wiȝes me calles;

I was bore here fast bi, by þis wodes side.

A kowherde, sire, of þis kontrey is my kynde fader,

and my menskful moder is his meke wive.

Þei han me fostered and fed faire to þis time,

and here I kepe is kyn, as y kan, on dayes;

but, sire, by Crist, of my kin know I no more.’

Whan þemp[er]our hade herd holly his wordes,

he wondered of his wis speche, as he wel miȝt,

and seide, ‘Þow bold barn, bilive, I þe praye,

go calle to me þe cowherde þow clepus þi fadere,

for y wold talk [wiþ] him tiþinges to frayne.’

‘Nay, sire, bi God,’ quap þe barn, ‘be ȝe riȝt sure.’

‘Bi Crist þat is krowned heye King of heven,

for me non harm schal he have never in his live,

ac peraventure þurth Goddis [grace] to gode may it turne.

Forþi bring him hider, faire barn, y preye.’

‘I schal, sire,’ seide þe child, ‘for saufliche y hope

I may worche on ȝour word to wite him fro harm.'

‘ȝa, safliche,' seide þemperour, 'so God ȝif me joie!'

Þe child wiȝtly þanne wende wiþoute ani more,

comes to þe couherdes hows and clepud him sone,

for he feiȝliche wen þat he his fader where,

and seide þan, 'Swete sir, s[o] ȝou Criste help,

goþ yond to a gret lord þat gayly is tyred,

and on þe feirest frek, for soþe, þat I have seie,

and he wilnes wiȝtli wiþ ȝou to speke;

for Godis love, goþ til him swiþe, lest he agreved wex.'

'What, sone?' seide þe couherde, ‘seidestow I was here?

‘ȝa, sire, sertes,' seide þe child, ‘but he swor formest

þat ȝe schuld have no harm, but hendely for gode

he praide ȝou com speke wip him and passe aȝein sone.'

Þe cherl grocching forþ goþ wip þe gode child,

and evene to þemperour þei etteleden sone.

Þemperour, anon riȝt as he him ofseie,

clepud to him þe couherde and curteysly seide,

‘Now telle me, felawe, be þi feiȝþ, for no þing ne wonde,

sei þou ever þemperour, so þe Crist help?’

‘Nay, sire, bi Crist,' quaþ þe couherde, ‘þat King is of heven,

I nas never ȝet so hardi to neȝh him so hende

þere I schuld have him seie, so me wel tyme.'

'Sertes,’ þan seide þemperour, ‘þe soþe forto knowe,

þat y am þat ilk weiȝh I wol wel þou wite;

al þe regal of Rome to riȝtleche y weld.

Þerfore, couherde, I þe conjure and comande att alle,

bi vertu of þing þat þou most in þis world lovest,

þatow telle me tiȝtly truly þe soþe,

wheþer þis bold barn be lelly þin owne

oþer comen of oþer kin, so þe Crist help!'

Þe couherd comsed to quake for kare and for drede,

whanne he wist witerly þat he was his lorde;

and bilive in his hert beþout, ȝif he him gun lye,

he wold prestely parceyve, pertiliche him þout.

Þerfore trewly as tyt he told him þe soþe,

how he him fond in þat forest þere ſast biside,

cloþed in comly cloþing for any kinges sone,

under an holw ok, þurth help of his dogge,

and how faire he hade him fed and fostered seven winter.

‘Bi Crist, scide þemperour, 'y con þe gret þonke

þat þou hast [seide] me þe soþe of þis semly childe;

and tine schalt þou nouȝt þi trawayle, y trow, at þe last.

Ac wend schal it wiþ me, witow for soþe;

min hert so harde wilnes to have þis barne

þat I wol in no wie þou wite it no lenger.'

Whan þemperour so sayde, soþe forto telle,

þe couherde was in care; I can him no þing white!

Ac witerly dorst he nouȝt werne þe wille of his lord,

but graunted him goddeli on Godis holy name

forto worchen his wille as lord wiþ his owne.

Whan William, þis worþi child, wist þe soþe,

and knew þat þe cowherde nas nouȝt his kinde fader,

he was wiȝtliche awondered and gan to wepe sore,

and seide saddely to himself sone þerafter,

'A! gracious gode God! Þouȝ grettest of alle!

moch is þi mercy and þi miȝt, þi menske and þi grace!

Now wot I never in þis world of wham y am come,

ne what destene me is diȝt; but God do his wille!

Ac wel y wot witerly wiþoute ani faile,

to þis man and his meke wif most y am holde,

for þei ful faire han me fostered and fed a long time;

þat God for his grete miȝt al here god hem ȝeld!

But not y never what to done, to wende pus hem fro,

þat han al kindenes me kyd, and y ne kan hem ȝelde!'

‘Bi stille, barn,' quaþ þemperour, blinne of þi sorwe,

for y hope þat hal þi kin hastely hereafter—

ȝif þou wolt ȝeve þe to gode, swiche grace may þe falle—

þat alle þi frendes fordedes faire schalstow quite.'

'ȝa, sire,' quaþ þe couherde, 'ȝif Crist wol, þat cas may tyde;

and God lene him grace to god man to worþe!'

And þan as tit to þe child he tauȝt þis lore

and seide, ‘Þou swete sone, seþþe þou schalt hennes wende,

whanne þou komest to kourt, among þe kete lordes,

and knowest alle þe kuþþes þat to kourt langes,

bere þe boxumly and bonure, þat ich burn þe love;

be meke and mesurabul, nouȝt of many wordes;

be no tellere of talis, but trewe to þi lord;

and prestely for pore men profer þe ever

for hem to rekene wiþ þe riche in riȝt and in skille.

Be feiȝtful and fre and ever of ſaire speche,

and servisabul to þe simple so as to þe riche,

and felawe in faire manere, as falles for þi state;

so schaltow gete Goddes love and alle gode mennes.

Leve sone, þis lessoun me lerde my fader,

þat knew of kourt þe þewes, for kourteour was he long;

and hald it in þi hert, now I þe have it kenned

þe bet may þe bifalle, þe worse bestow nevere.'

[7]

Þe child weped alway wonderliche ſast,

but þemperour had god game of þat gomes lore,

and comande þe couherde curteysli and fayre

to heve up þat hende child bihinde him on his stede;

and he so dede deliverly, þouȝh him del þougt,

and bikenned him to Crist, þat on croice was peyned.

Þanne þat barn as bilive bygan for to glade

þat he so realy schuld ride; and redeli as swiþe

ful curteisle of þe couherde he cacces his leve,

and seþþen seyde, 'Swete sire, I bes[e]che ȝou nowþe,

for Godes love gretes ofte my godelyche moder,

þat so faire haþ me fed and fostered til nowþe.

And lellyche, ȝif our Lord wol þat I liif have,

sche ne schal nouȝt tyne hire travayle, treuly for soþe.

And, gode sire, for Godes love, also greteþ wel oft

alle my freyliche felawes þat to þis forest longes,

han pertilyche in many places pleide wiþ [me] ofte:

Hugonet and Huet, þat hende litel dwerþ,

and Abelot and Martynet, Hugones gaie sone,

and þe Cristen Akarin, þat was mi kyn fere,

and þe trewe kinnesman, þe payenes sone,

and alle oper frely felawes þat þou faire knowes;

þat God mak hem gode men for his mochel grace!'

Of þe names þat he nemned þemperour nam hede,

and had gaynliche god game for he so grette alle

of his compers þat he knew so curteysliche and faire.

And þan bekenned he þe kouherde to Crist and to hal alwes,

and busked forþ wiþ þat barn blive on his gate.

Þe kouherde kayred to his house, karful in hert,

and neiȝ tobarst he for bale for þe barnes sake.

And whan his wiif wist, wittow for soþe,

how þat child from here warde was went for evermore,

þer nis man on þis mold þat miȝt half telle

þe wo and þe weping þat womman made;

sche wold have sleie hireself þere, soþly, as blive,

ne hade þe kind kouherde conforted here þe betere

and pult hire in hope to have gret help þerof after.

But trewely, of hem at þis time þe tale y lete,

of þemperour and þe bold barn to bigynne to speke.

[8]

Lordes, Iusteneþ herto, ȝif ȝou lef þinkes!

Þemperour, bliþe of þe barn, on his blonk rides

fast til þe forest, til he fond al his fre ferd,

þat hadde take þat time moche trye game,

boþe bores and beres, fele hors charge,

hertes and hindes and oþer bestes manye.

And whan þe loveli ludes seie here lord come,

þei were geinliche glad and gretten him faire;

but alle awondered þei were of þe barn him bihinde,

so faire and so fetyse it was and freliche schapen;

and freyned faire of þemperour whar he it founde hadde.

He gaf hem answere agayn þat God it him sent;

oþerwise wist non where he it founde.

Þan rod he forþ wiþ þat rowte into Rome evene,

and ever þat bold barn byhinde him sat stille.

So passed he to þe paleys and presteliche aliȝt,

and William, þat choys child, into his chaumber ledde.

A dere damisele to douȝter þis emperour hadde panne,

of alle fasoun þe fairest þat ever freke seiȝe;

and witerly William and ȝhe were of on held

as evene as ani wiȝt schuld attely bi siȝt;

and þat menskful mayde Melior was hoten.

A more curteyse creature, ne cunnyngere of hire age,

was nouȝt þanne in þis world þat ani wiȝt knewe.

bemperour to þat mayde mekliche wendeþ,

and William, þat worþi child, wiþ him he ladde,

and seide, ‘Dere douȝter, y do þe to wite,

I have a pris presant to plese wiþ þi hert.

Have here þis bold barn, and be til him meke,

and do him kepe clenly, for kome he his of gode;

I hent þis at hunting, swiche hap God me sent.'

And told here þanne as tit treweli al þe soþe,

how he hade missed is mayne and malskrid aboute,

and how þe werwolf wan him bi wiþ a wilde hert,

and how sadly he him sewed to have slayn þat dere,

til þei hadde brouȝt him þere þat barn bestes kept,

and how sone of his seiȝt þe bestes seþþen ware;

and how þe couherde com him to and was aknowe þe soþe,

how he him fond in þat forest ferst, þat faire child,

and how komeliche ycloþed for ani kinges sone;

and how þe kouherde for kare cumsed to sorwe,

whanne he wold wiþ þe child wende him fromme;

and how boldely þat barn bad þe couherde þanne

to grete wel his gode wiif and gamely þerafter

alle his freliche felawes, biforn as I told.

'And þerfore, my dere douȝter, þemperour seide,

for mi lof loke him wel, for lelly me þinkes,

bi his menskful maneres and his manhede,

þat he is kome of god kin, to Crist y hope.'

…………………………………………….

and seþþe sike I and sing samen togedere,

and melt neiȝt for mournyng, and moche joie make.

Min hert hol I have now for al þat hard y fele,

save a fers feintise folwes me oft

and takes me so tenefully, to telle al þe soþe,

þat I mase al marred for mournyng neiȝh-hondes;

but redeliche in þat res þe recuverere þat me falles,

as whan I have any hap to here of þat barne

for wham myn hert is so hampered, and aldes so nobul,

þat flour is of alle frekes of fairnes and miȝt!

Prince is non his pere, ne in paradiȝs non aungel,

as he semes in mi siȝt, so faire is þat burne.

I have him portreide an paynted in mi hert wiþinne,

þat he sittus in mi siȝt, me þinkes, evermore;

and faire so his figure is festened in mi ȝout,

þat wiþ no coyntise ne craft ne can y it out scrape.

And be Marie, þouȝh I miȝt, to mengge al þe soþe,

I ne wold nouȝt for al þis world, so wel it me likes.

Þeiȝh I winne wiþ mi werk þe worse evermore,

so gret liking and love I have þat lud to bihold,

þat I have lever þat love þan lac al mi harmes.

Nou certes, seþpe it is so, to seie þe trewþe,

þann have y had gret wrong myn [hert] so to blame

for eni werk þat he wrouȝt, seþþe I wol it hold;

ne wold I it were non oþer, al þe world to have.

Whom schal I it wite but mi wicked eyiȝen,

þat lad myn hert þrouȝ loking þis langour to drye?

Nad þei [be, I miȝt] boute bale have schaped;

redeli bi resoun þerfore hem rette I mai mi sorwe.'

But þanne þouȝt che þat þrowe in þis selve wise,

'Min eiȝen sorly aren Sogettes to serve min hert,

and buxum ben to his bidding, as boie to his master;

eke wite I al þe wrong þe werk of mi eigen,

and þouȝh sertes, so may I nouȝt, by no soþe riȝt;

for seþþe I knowe þat mi siȝt is servant to mi hert,

and alle my noþer wolnk wittes, to wirchen his hest.

For þouȝh I sette my siȝt sadly on a þing,

be hit briȝtter oþer broun, beter oþer worse,

mi siȝt may in no maner more harme wirche,

but ȝif myn hauteyn hert þe harde asente.

Eke soþly my siȝt is soget to my hert,

and doþ nouȝt but his dever, as destine wol falle.

Þan has my hasty hert holly þe wrong;

him wol I blame and banne, but he my bales amende,

þat haþ him so strangly set in swiche straunge burne,

þat wot never in þis world whennes þat he come,

but as mi fader him fond in þe forest, an herde,

keping mennis kin of þe kuntre aboute.

What? fy! schold I a fundeling for his fairenesse tak?

Nay, my wille wol nouȝt asent to my wicked hert.

Wel kud kinges and kaysers kraven me inow!

I nel leie mi love so lowe now at þis time;

desparaged were I disgisili ȝif I dede in þis wise.

I wol breke out fram þat baret, and blame my hert.'

[9]

Sche turned here þan tiȝtly, to have slept a wile,

and seide sadly, of hire hert sche wold seche amendis,

for sche so wrongly had wrouȝt; but wiȝtly þerafter

sche seide sikinde to hereself in þis selve wise,

'Now witterly ich am unwis and wonderliche nyce

þus unhendly and hard mi herte to blame.

To whom miȝt I me mene amendis of him to have,

sepþe I am his soverayn miself in alle þing?

Nis he holly at my hest in hard and in nesche?

And now, bi Crist, I knowe wel, for al my care newe,

he wrouȝt never bot my worchepe, ne wol nouȝt, I leve.

I se wel he haþ set himself in so nobul a place,

þat perles of alle puple is preised over alle

of fairnesse of facioun and frely þeuwes;

for kurteysie under Krist is king ne kud duk.

And pouȝh he as fundeling where founde in þe forest wilde,

and kept wiþ þe kowherde kin, to karp þe soþe,

eche creature may know he was kome of gode.

For first whan þe fre was in þe forest founde in his denne,

in comely cloþes was he clad for any kinges sone;

whan he kom first to þis kourt, bi kynde þan he schewde,

his maners were so menskful, amende hem miȝt none.

And seþþe, forsoþe, til þis time non untecche he ne wrouȝt,

but haþ him bore so buxumly þat ich burn him preyseþ,

and uch a burn of þis world worchipeþ him one,

kinges and kud dukes, kene kniȝtes and oþer.

Þouȝh he were komen of no ken but of kende cherls

(as I wot witterly, so was he nevere!),

ȝut wiþ worchepe I wene I miȝt him wel love;

and seþþe he so perles is preised over princes and oþer,

and eche lord of þis lond is lef him to plece

for most sovereyn seg and semlyest of pewes,

þanne have I wited alle wrong þe werk of myn herte,

for he has don his devere dignely, as he out.

He het me most worþi of wommen holde in erþe

kindely þurth kinrade of Cristen lawe;

forþi myn herte hendely has wrouȝt in his dedes

to sette himself so sadly in þe soveraynest burne

þat levis in ani lond, of alle ludes preised.

I ne wot nevere in þis world what wise he miȝt betere

wirche for me in þis world my worschipe to save;

for ȝif eny man on mold more worþi were,

min hert is so hauteyn, þat herre he wold.

And for I so worngely have wrouȝt to wite him, me greves;

I give me holly in his grace, as gilty for þat ilk,

and to mende my misse I make myn avowe.

I wol hereafter witerly wipoute more strive

wirche holly mi hertes wille to harde and to nesche,

and leye my love on þat lud lelly for evere.

To God here I gif a gift, it gete schal never oþer;

wile him lasteþ þe liif my love I him grante.'

[10]

And whan sche so was asented, sche seide sone after,

Ava sikand and ore for sorwe atte here herte,

'Allas, I trowe þis bitter bale botlesse wol hende!

For I not in þis world how þat worþi child

schal ever wite of my wo wiþoute me selve.

Nay, sertes myselve schal him never telle;

for þat were swiche a woȝh þa never wolde be mended.

For he miȝt ful wel for a fol me hold,

and do him loþe mi love, ȝit have y lever deie!

Nay, best beþ it nouȝt so, ȝif better mit bifalle.

Ich mot worche oþerwise, ȝif I wol out spede.

What, I uppose þe selve, ȝif it so bitidde

þat I wrouȝt so wodly and wold to him spcke

þat were semlyest to seye to save my worchep;

ȝif I told him treuli my tene and myn anger,

what if for longyng of love I lede for his sake?

He wold wene I were wod, or witerly schorned,

or þat I dede for despit, to do him a schonde,

and þat were a schamly schenchip to schende me ever!

What ȝif I saide him sadly þat I sck were,

and told him al treuly þe entecches of myn evele?

He knowep nouȝt of þat kraft, bi Krist, as I trowe,

wherfore he ne schold in no wise wite what I mente;

but whanne I hade al me mened, no more nold he seie

but, 'Serteinly, swete damisele, þat me sore rewes.'

Þanne wold mi wo wex al newe;

and doubel is now mi duel for I ne dar hit schewe.

Allas! whi ne wist þat wiȝh what wo þat me eyles,

what sorwes and sikingges I suffer for his sake!

I sayle now in þe see as schip boute mast,

boute anker or ore or ani semlyche sayle;

but heiȝh hevene King to gode havene me sende,

oþer laske mi liif-daywes wiþinne a litel terme!'

Þus þat maiden Meliors in mornyng þa livede,

and hit held hire so harde, I hete þe for soþe,

and schorttily wiþin seveniȝt al hire slep sche leves,

here mete and al merthe sche missed in a while,

and seecleled in a seknesse, þe soþe for to telle,

þat þer nas leche in no ond þat liif hire bibiȝt;

ȝit coupe non by no craft knowen hire sore.

But duelfulli sche dwined awaie boþe dayes and niȝtes,

and al hire clere colour comsed for to fade.

[11]

Þanne hadde þis menskful Melior maydenes fele

asegned hire to serve and to seuwe hire aboute;

but among alle þe maidenes most sche loved one

þat was a digne damisele, to deme al þe soþe,

and komen of hire oune kin, h[er]e kosin ful nere,

of Lumbardie a dukes dougter, ful derworþ in wede;

and þat amiabul maide Alisaundrine ahiȝt.

And from þe time þat Melior gan morne so strong,

þat burde was ever hire bi, busy hire to plese,

more þan ani oþer damisele, so moche sche hire lovede.

And whan sche seiȝ here so sek, sche seide on a time,

‘Now for Marie, madame, þe milde quene of hevene,

and for þat love þat ȝe love leliest here in erþe,

seiȝth me al ȝour seknesse and what so sore ȝow grevis.

ȝe knowen icham ȝour kosyn, and, bi Krist of hevene,

ȝut bi cas of cunsail ful wel can ich hele

and be tristy and trew to ȝow for evermore,

and help ȝow hasteli at al ȝoure hele to gete,

ȝif ȝe saie me ȝoure sores and ich se what may gayne.’

Whan Melior, þat meke mayde, herd Alisaundrines wordes,

sche was gretly gladed of hire gode bihest,

and wiþ a sad sikyng seide to hire þanne,

‘A! curteyse cosyne, Crist mot þe it ȝelde

of þi kynde cumfort þat þow me kuþest nowþe;

þow hast warsched me wel wiþ þi mede wordes.

I ȝive me al in þi grace to gete me sum hele,

as þow me here has behiȝt, of mi harde peynes.

Now wol I telle þe my tene, wat so tide after.

Serteynly, þis seknesse, þat so sore me greves,

is feller an any frek þat ever ȝit hadde;

and ofter þan ix. times hit takeþ me adaye,

and ten times on þe niȝt, nouȝt ones lesse;

and al comes of a þroly þouȝt þat þirles min hert.

I wold meng al mi mater, ȝif I miȝt for schame.

Ac wond wol ich nouȝt to þe, witow for soþe.

Ay whan ich hent þe haches þat so hard aren,

it komses of a kene þouȝt þat ich have in hert

of William, þat bold barn, þat alle burnes praisen;

nis no man upon mold þat more worchip wines

Him so propirli have I peinted and portreide in herte,

þat me semes in mi siȝt he sittes ever meke.

What man so ich mete wiþ or mele wiþ speche,

me þinkes everich þrowe þat barn is þat oþer.

And fele times have ich fonded to flitte it fro þouȝt,

but witerly al in wast þan worche ich ever.

Þerfor, curteise cosynes, for love of Crist in hevene,

kiþe nouȝ þi kindenes and konseyle me þe best;

for but ich have bote of mi bale bi a schort time,

I am ded as dorenail; now do al þi wille.'

[12]

Þanne Alisaundrine anon after þat ilk

wax gretly awondered and wel hire biþouȝt

what were hire kuddest comfort hire care to lisse;

and scide þanne til hire softily sone þerafter,

'A! madame, for Marie love, mornes no lenger!

Nis it no sckenes bote þat so sore ȝouȝ eiles,

I schal þurth craft þat ich kan kever ȝou, I hope,

mow I geten a grece þat I gaynli knowe.

Have ȝe sleiliche it seie and asaide ones,

and feled þe savor and þe swetnesse þat sittes in þe rote,

hit schal veraly þurth vertue do vanisch ȝour soris.'

Oþerwise wold sche nouȝt wissen here ladi

bi what maner che ment, last sche were agreved.

Þan þat Melior ful mekeli þat mayden ganked,

and preide hire priveli, wiþ pitous wordes,

to gete hire þat gode gras as sone as sche miȝt.

And Alisaundrine anon answeres and aide,

'Madame, I wol do mi miȝt, wipoute more speche.'

Þanne þis maiden Melior gan menden here chere;

þus was ferst here sad sorwe sesed þat time.

Alisandrine algate þan after [þat] prowe

biþouȝt hire ful busily howe best were to werche

to do William to wite þe wille of hire lady

properly unparceyved for reprove after.

Ful conyng was sche and coynt, and coupe fele þinges

of charmes and of chantemens to schewe harde castis.

So þurȝh þe craft þat sche coupe, to carpp þe soþe,

as William, þat worþi child, on a niȝt slept,

boute burn in his bour but himself one,

a ful selcouþe swevene set sche him to mete,

þat Melior, þat menskful may, mekli alone,

com, ful comliche clad, and kneled him bifore,

al biweped for wo, wisly him þouȝt;

and sikand ful sadli seide þus him tille,

'A! loveliche lemman! loke on me nowþe!

I am Meliors, neiȝh marred, man, for þi sake.

I meke me in þi merci, for þow me miȝt save!

Leve lord, mi lemman, lacche me in þi narmes,

and wirche wiþ me þi wille, or witterli in hast

mi liif lelly is lorn, so love now me hampris.'

Þus William þouȝt witterly, and wiȝtly wiþ þat ilk,

as a gome ful glad for þat grace fallen,

he wend to have lauȝt þat Iadi loveli in armes;

and clipte to him a pulwere and propitly it gretes,

and welcomes hir worpli, for wisseli him pouȝt

þat it was þe menskful mayde Melior, his ladi.

Þat pulvere clept he curteisly and kust it ful ofte,

and made þerwiþ þe most merpe þat ani man schold;

but þan in his saddest solas softili he awaked.

Ak so liked him his layk wiþ þe ladi to pleie,

þat after he was awaked a ful long þrowe

he wende ful witerly sche were in is armes;

ac, Peter! it nas but is pulvere, to prove þe soþe.

But whan he witterly was awaked, he wayted aboute

to have bihold þat burde, his blis to encrese.

Þanne parceyved he þe pulvere pertely in his armes;

oper wiȝt was non wiþinne þat chanbur.

Þan brayde he up of his bed as burn neiȝh amased,

and loked after þat ladi, for lelli he wende

þat sche here had hed in sum hurne in þat ilk time

to greve him in hire game, as þeiȝh he gyled were.

But whan he wist it was wast al þat he souȝt,

he gan to Sike and sorwe, and seide in þis wise,

'A! Jhesu Crist, justise, now jugge þouȝ þe riȝt;

how falsly has fortune founde me nowþe!

Nas mi menskful ladi Meliors h[er]einne,

and lowed hire to be mi lemman, and lai in myn armes,

oþer elles soþli, sche seide þat sche dei schuld?

ȝis, iwisse was it sche! Y wot wel þe soþe;

metyn[g] miȝt it be non in no maner wise,

so lovely lay þat ladi and ich layking togaderes.

And soþly soþ, it is a selcouþe, me þinkes,

whider þat lady is went, and wold no lenger dwelle.'

Þanne lep he up liteli and loked al aboute,

but feȝtly al was fanteme and al was in wast.

Þanne seide he to himself, sikinde ful soft,

'For soþe, ich am a mad man, now wel ich may knowe,

forto wene in þis wise þis wrong metyng soþe.

Min hert is to hauteyn o hyeȝ to climbe,

so to leve þat ladi wold louwe hire so moche,

þat is an emperours eir and evene his pere,

to come to swiche a caytif! Nay! Crist it forbede

þat ich more of þat matere so misseliche þenke!

For þer nys lord jn no lond þat þe liif weldes,

emperour ne kud king, knowen so riche

þat soþli nere simple inouȝ þat semly to have.

Ek witterli am I wod to wene swiche a þing

þurth a mys-metyng, þat swiche a maide wold

leye hire love o lowe lemman me to weld.

Nay, ich have wrouȝt al in wast; ac I nel namore

leie mi love so heiȝe mi ladi for to wilne,

þouȝh it nere for nouȝ[t] elles but for non in erþe

no wot I never wisseli of whom I am come.

Miself knowe ich nouȝt mi ken ne mi kontre noiþer.

Forþi me hoves þe buxumlier me bere,

oþerwise þan a wiȝh þat were wiþ his frendes.

For ȝif ich wrout oþerwise, and it were parceyved,

and knowe were in þis kourt, mi kare were þe more;

for feiþli, frend have ich non þat [for] me wold speke,

ȝif þemperour were wiþ me wroþ, his wraþþe forto slake.

Þerfor mi hauteyn hert bihoves me to chast,

and bere me debonureli, til better mow bitide.'

[13]

Lo, in þis wise William wende to have schaped,

but certes, þat semly sat so in his hert,

for merþe of þat metyng of Melior þat schene,

þat heng hevi in his hert and so hard cleved

þat, to winne al þe world, awai wold it never.

But gan to studie stoundemele so stifly þeronne,

þat lelly be a litel while his langure gan wex,

so þat he morned neiȝt mad and his mete left,

and forwandreþ in wo, and wakeþ iwisse on niȝtes

Swiche listes of love hadde lapped his hert,

þat he nist what bote his bale best miȝt help.

But in his mochel morning on a morwe he rises

for kare þat kom to his hert, and cloped him sone;

and whan he geinliche was greiþed, he gript his mantel,

as a weiȝh woful he wrapped him perinne,

for no man þat he met his mornyng scluld knowe.

Þat unglad gom þan goþ into a gardin evene,

þat was a perles place for ani prince of erþe,

and wynli wiþ heie wal was closed al aboute.

Þat previ pleyng place, to prove þe soþe,

joyned wel justly to Meliors chamber.

Þider went William evene, wittow for soþe,

and under a tri appeltre tok him tid a sete,

þat was braunched ful brode and bar gret schadue,

and was even under a windowe of þat woreis chaumber

for þat William for wo was bounde so harde.

Þat tre so fayre was floured and so ful leved,

þat no wiȝth miȝt William se, but ȝif he were þe nere.

Ac Willam to þe window witterli miȝt sene

ȝif Meliors wiþ hire maydenes in meling pee sete

Whan William under þat trie tre hade taken his place,

he set his siȝt sadli to þat windowe evene,

boute flecchinge or feyntise, from morwe til eve.

But oft cumsed his care and his colour chaunge,

so sore longed him to se þa semly burde.

Swiche a sorwe he suffred a seveniȝt fulle,

þat never mannes mete ne miȝt in his bodi sinke,

but held him finliche ifed his fille to loke

on þe mayde Meliors chaumber, for wham he s[o] morned.

Ever whan it neiȝed niȝt, noyȝed was he sore;

þan wold he wend to his chanber and gret wo make;

but no seg þat him served miȝt þe soþe wite

whi him was þanne so wo, ne where he was on dayes;

non durst for drede him dernly aspie,

but lett him worche his wille as wel as him liked.

Ac deliverly was he diȝt uch day at morwe,

and feiþli boute felachipe fond wold he walke,

and go into þe gardyn his greves for to slake,

weytende to þe windowe, and his wo newene,

and sike ful mani siþe and sum-time quake;

swiche drede and dol drouȝ to his hert,

lest he ne schold never in world winne þat he ȝerned.

Þurth þe sorwes þat he sufred, soþ forto telle,

al his cler colour comsed forto fade;

febul wax he and faynt for waked aniȝtes,

ac no wiȝt of þis world miȝt wite of his care.

But þan tid on a time, as þis tale minges,

þat William went til þis gardin his wo fort slake,

and under his tri appeltre turned to sitte

as weiȝh al forwaked for wo upon niȝtes.

And as he aweited to þe windowe, wiȝtly þerafter

he slod sliȝli adoun, aslepe ful harde,

as a wo-wery weiȝh for waked tofore.

But menge we now of Meliors, þat morned þanne

as sadli in hire siȝt, or sorer, if sche miȝt;

þe love of loveli William lay hire so nere.

Þanne asked sche þis of Alisaundrine, as þe hap tidde,

riȝt as William woful so was wox aslepe,

wher sche hade gete hire gras þat schold hire greves hele.

'Nay, madame, nouȝt ȝut,' seide þe maide þanne;

'þouȝh have I fele times fonded to finde it, ȝif I miȝt,

but ever wrouȝt I in wast; þe wors haþ me liked.

Ac were it ȝour wille nowe to worche bi mi rede,

go we to þe gardyn; to gode may it turne,

for feire floures schal we finde, of foulen song here,

and [swiche] cumfort may cache, [þurth] happ mai falle,

to have þe better hele at ȝoure hom-kome.'

Þarto þis menskful Meliors mekeliche hir graunted

forto worche al hire wille, as sche wold devise.

Þanne aros sche raddely, and romden riȝt infere,

and gan doun bi a grece into þe gardin evene,

boute burde or barn, but hemself tweyne.

For Alisaundrine anon atteled þat time

and knewe wel bi hire craft þat sche hade cast bifore

þat þei witterli þanne schold wiþ William mete.

And whan þe gaye gerles were into þe gardin come,

faire floures þei founde of fele maner hewes,

þat swet[e] were of savor and to þe siȝt gode;

and eche busch ful of briddes þat bliþeliche song,

boþe þe prusch and þe þrustele, bi xxxti of boþe.

meleden ful merye in maner of here kinde,

and alle freliche foules þat on þat friþ songe,

for merþe of þat May time þei made moche noyce

to glade wiþ uch gome þat here gle herde

Ac Meliors for al þat merþe mornede so stronge,

so harde hacches of love here hert hadde þirled,

þat þer nas gle under God þat hire glade miȝt;

but feiþli fo[r] ſebulnesse feynt wax sche one,

þat under a semli sikamour sche sett hire to reste,

and þat burde hire by þat al hir bale wiste.

Þan gan Meliors munge þe meschef þat hire eyled,

þat oþer comsede to carp of cumfort and joie,

and eþer munged of þe mater þat þai most lovede.

But Alisaundrine þerafter anon bi a wile

þederward as William was wayted wel ȝerne,

for sche wiste wel ynow where þat he laye.

And þanne seide sche as swiþe to þat semly mayde,

'Madame, Melior so dere, be Marie in hevene,

me þinkeþ ich se a seg aslepe here biside,

wheþer he be kniȝt or bachiler wot I never for soþe,

ac he semes bi semblant in sekenes ful harde;

þerfor, lady, go we loke wat sekenes him eyles,

and what barn þat he be þa in bale lenges.'

Þe menskful mayde [to] Meliors þan mekliche saide,

'A! madame Melior, now mendes ȝoure chere,

for ywisse, ȝond is William, þat ȝe so wel loveþ.

Sum hard hacche has he had, and hider com to pleiȝe

forto lissen his langour, and lyes here aslepe

for þe swete sawour of þise semly floures.'

[14]

Þanne was þat menskful Meliors muchel ygladed,

and gon þan to þat gome a god pas al boþe.

And as tit as þei come him to, þe soþe for to telle,

þei sett hem doun softly þat semly before.

And wanne þe mayde Meliors miȝt se his face,

sche þout þroly in herte at lever hire were

have welt him at wille þan of þe world be quene,

so fair of alle fetures þe frek was, hire þouȝt.

And fayn sche wold þan in feiþ have fold him in hire armes,

to have him clipped and kest kenely þat tide;

ac sche dred it to done for oþer derne aspyes.

Alysaundrine þan anon attlede here þouȝtes,

and wiȝtly wiþ here whiles dede William to mete

þat þat time him þouȝt þat Melior þe hende

and Alysaundrine alone com him þo tille,

and þe mayde Melior ful mekly him brouȝt

a ful real rose, and redly it him takes;

and whanne he in hond hit hade, hastely hit semede

þat he was al sauf and sound of alle his sor greves.

And for his langor was so lissed, swich likyng he hadde,

and so gretly was gladed, þat he gan awake.

And whan he seiȝ þat semly sitte him bifore,

he was al awondred, and wiȝtly he uprises,

and kurteyslyche kneling, þat komli he grett,

and afterward Alysaundrine, as he wel out

And þe mayde Melior ful mekly þan saide,

'Mi loveli swete lemman, oure Lord ȝif þe joye!'

And William þan understod þe word þat sche saide;

þat sche him called ‘leve lemman', it liked so his hert,

þat witerly he couþe no word long þerafter spek,

but stared on here tifly, astoneyd for joye,

þat he cast al his colour and bicom pale

and eft red as rose in a litel while.

So witerly was þat word wounde to hert,

þat he ferd as a mased man an marred neiȝhonde,

so lovely Love þat time lent him an arewe

hetterly þurth his hert; for þat hende mayde

cald him ‘leve lemman', he les as his miȝt.

[15]

Bot Alysaundrine wiste wel what þat him eyled,

and seide to him soberly þise elve wordes:

'Swete William, seie me now, what seknes þe greves?

Þi faire hewe is al fade for þi moche sore,

And ȝif ich miȝt in ani maner þe amende, y wold'

Þan William wiȝtly in þis wise answered,

sikende ful sadly for or at his hert,

'Mi dere gode damisele, my deþ is al ȝare;

so a botteles bale me byndeþ so harde,

nas never feller fever þat ever frek hadde.

For merthe and alle metes it makes me to leve;

slepe, sertes, may [y] nouȝt, so sore it me greves.

And al þis mochel meschef a meting I wite,

þat me com on a niȝt — acursed be þat time!

For so hard hacches have hold me seþþe,

þa I not in þe world what is me to rede.'

‘Now, swete,' seide Alisaundrine, 'seie me in what wise

þat þat hache þe haldes, and how it þe takes.'

‘Iwisse,' seide William, ‘I wol it nouȝt layne.

Sum-time it hentis me wiþ hete as hot as ani fure,

but quicliche so kene a cold comes þerafter;

sum-time I siȝh and singe samen togeder,

and þan so þroli þouȝtes purlen myn herte,

þat I ne wot in þe world where it bicomse,

for feiþli in myself y fele it nouȝt þanne.'

Þanne Alisaundrine anon þerafter seide,

‘William, I wold þe pray þatow me woldest telle

bi what cas al þi care comsed bi a swevene.'

'Nai, sertes, sweting,' he seide, 'þat schal I never,

for no meschef on molde þat me may falle!

I have lever it layne and þis langour þole;

þeȝh I for dreȝing of þis duel deie at þe last,

þer schal [no] wiȝth of þe world wite whi it comsed!'

Þanne seide Alisandrine, 'Auntrose is þin evel,

ful wonderliche it þe weves, wel I wot þe soþe.'

‘ȝa, iwisse,' seide William, ‘wonderli me greves,

for my seknes wiþ my siȝtes sumtime slakes,

and mani times doþ me mourne mor þan tofore.'

Melior, þat milde mayde, in þe mene tyme þouȝt

and seide softily to hireself þise selve wordes:

'A! gracious God, grettest of us alle!

tak hede to þin hondwerk, and help now us tweyne!

For sertes, þis same sekenes miself it holdes

in alle wise as it doþ William, and wors, as ich wene.

And þouh ich se þat is sekenes sore hit him haldes,

for pitously he is apeyred, þat perles was to siȝt

of fairnesse and of fasoun þat ani frek schold have.

But weilawey! þat he ne wist what wo y drye,

and have do lelly for is love a wel long while!

And but he wiȝtly wite, ywisse y am done,

for y dar nouȝt for schame schewe him mi wille,

but ȝif he wold in ani wise himself schewe formest.'

While Meliors in here maner mened to hireselve,

Alysaundrine anon attlede alle here þouȝtes;

sche knewe wel bi kuntenaunce of kastyng of lokes.

Þan wiȝtly to William þise wordes sche sede,

‘I se wel be þi semblant what seknesse þe eyles:

hele þou it never [so] hard, al holliche y knowe

þat it ben lestes of love þat þe so hard helden.

Þou waltres al in a weih, and wel y understande

whider þe belaunce bremliest bouwes algate.

And seþþe y se it is so, soþli y þe warne,

I wol a litel and litel laskit in hast.'

Þan William wel understod sche wist what him eilede,

and knew al is koveyne for ouȝt he kouþe hide;

he was adrad to þe dep last sche him dere wold,

Þan sette he him on knes and soft seyde hire tille,

'Mercy, menskful mayde, for Marie love of hevene!

I gif me al in þi grace, my greves to help,

for þou miȝt lengþe mi liif, ȝif þe likes, sone.'

Þan Alysaundrine anon answered and saide,

'How miȝt I þe help? What have I to þi bote?

'Iwisse,' þan seyde William, ‘I wol no lenger hele.

My liif, my langor, and my deþ lenges in þi warde.

But I þe sunner have socour of þat swete mayde,

þe comliche creature þat in þi keþing dwelles,

alle þe surgens of Salerne ne schul save mi live.

perfor, loveliche ladi, in þe lis al min hope;

þou miȝt me spakly [save] oþer spille, ȝif þiself likes,'

[16]

Alysaundrine anon þanne answered and sayde,

‘Now, iwisse, William, witow for soþe,

seþþe þou sadli hast me aid þe soþe of þi cunsaile,

and tellest me treuly þou trestes to my help,

ȝif I miȝt in ani maner mende þi sorwe,

but I were busi þeraboute, to blame I were.

Þerfor, certes, be þou sur, seþ it may be no oþer,

holliche al min help pou schalt have sone.'

Þan William was gretliche glad, and loveliche hire þonked.

Þan Alisaundrine anon, as sche wel coupe,

clepud þat mayde Meliors mekeliche hir tille,

and seide, 'A mercy, madame, on þis man here,

þat neȝh is drive to þe deþ al for youre sake!'

'How so for my sake?' seide Melior þanne,

‘I wraþed him never þat I wot, in word ne in dede.'

‘No, sertes, madame, þat is soþ,' saide þat oþer,

‘ac he has langured for ȝour love a ful long while;

and but ȝe graunt him our grace, him greiþli to help,

and late him be ȝour lemman lelly for ever,

his liif nel nouȝt for langour last til tomorwe.

Þerfor, comeliche creature, for Crist þat þe made,

les nouȝt is liif ȝut for a litel wille;

seþþe he so lelly þe loves, to lemman him þou take!'

Þan Meliors ful mekliche to þat mayde carped,

and seide ful soburli, smyland a litel,

‘Nou, bi God þat me gaf þe gost and þe saule,

I kepe ȝut for no creature manquellere be clepud;

ac lever me were lelly a manes lif to save!

Seþþe he for me is so marred, and has misfare long,

ful prestely for þi praire, and for þe perile als

þat I se him set inne, and to save his live,

h[er]e I graunt him greþli on Godis holi name

lelliche mi love for ever, al my lif-time,

and gif a gift here to God and to his gode moder,

þat oþer lud, whil I live, chal I love never!'

Whan William herd þise wordes, I hete þe forsoþe,

he kneled quikli on knes, and oft God þonked,

and seide, God, þat madest man and al middelerþe,

a miȝti miracle for me hastow wrouȝt noþe!'

Þan meked he him to Meliors on alle maner wise,

as þe gladdest gom þat ever God wrouȝt.

And sche sertes bi hire side þe same him graunted

to worche wiþ hire al his wille, as he wel liked.

Þan eiþer hent oþer hastely in armes,

and wiþ kene kosses kuþþed hem togidere,

so þat no murþe upon mold no miȝt hem bet have lyked.

And tit þanne told eche til oþer here tenes and here sorwe

þat sadly for eiþers sake haden suffred long.

Þanne Alisaundrine anon attlede þe soþe,

þat hire maistres and þat man no schuld hire nouȝt misse,

þeȝh sche walked a while wide from here siȝt;

for sche trowed trewly, to talke þe soþe,

were sche out of þe weye, þat William wold fonde

for to pleie in þat place þe prive love game,

and to hete here þan to layke here likyng þat time.

Sche goþ aboute into þe gardyn for to gader floures,

and to wayte þat no weigh walked þerinne,

for drede of descuveryng of þat was do þere

William wel wiþ Meliors his wille þan dede,

and layked þere at lyking al þe long daye,

til þe sunne was neiȝt set, soþli, to reste.

Þanne Alisaundrine at arst þan antresse hem tille,

and mekly to Meliors, Madame,' þan sche seide,

have ȝe geten þe gras þat I ȝou geynliche hiȝt?

I trowe trewh be þis time ȝour sorwe be passed.

Eiþer of ȝou, as y leve, is god leche til oþer;

alle þe surgyens of Salerne so sone ne couþen

have ȝour langoures alegget, I leve for soþe!'

Þan William wax wiȝtly wonderli aschamed,

and he and Meliors mercy mekly hire criede

to kuvere wel here cunseile for cas in þis erþe,

and þroli hire þonked mani þousand siþes,

for sche hade brouȝt hem of bale boþe, þei seide,

and ilengþed here lif mani long ȝere.

[17]

Alisaundrine anon after þat ilke

bad Meliors manly here merþe þan stinte

and seide, ‘It is s neigh niȝt þat nedes mote ye parte;

I drede me of descuvering, for ȝe have dwelled long!”

‘Allas, þis mochel meschef!’ saide Melior þanne,

‘þis day is schorter to siȝt þan it semed evere!*

And William seide þe same soþli þat time.

But Alisaundrine anon answerede and seide,

‘Make ȝe no mourning, for ȝe may mete eft

dernli hennesforþ eche day, whan ȝou dere likes;

forþi hasteli bope heiȝe ȝou asunder.’

Þanne seiȝ þei no socour but under þanne þei moste;

wiþ clipping and kessing þei kauȝt here leve,

and eiþer tok tit is way to his owne chaumber,

blisful for þei were botned of here bales strong,

Seþþen hastely were þei hol and haden alle here wille.

Wiþ alle listes of love alle longe ȝeres,

priveli unparceyved þei pleyed togedere,

þat no seg under sunne souched no gile.

So wel was William biloved wiþ riche and wiþ pore,

so fre to feffe alle frekes wiþ ful faire ȝiftes,

þat þemperour soþli himself soveraynli him loved,

and seppe alle oþer seges þat seiȝen him wiþ eigen,

And algate Alisaundrine at alle poyntes hem served

so sliȝliche pat no seg souched non evele,

but alle gaven god word to gomes þat hem plesede.

Notes:

Original text dates c. 1336-61, by an unknown medieval author. Source language text is public domain.

Copyright Credit: William of Palerne: An Alliterative Romance, edited by G. H. V. Bunt. Groningen: Bouma’s Boekhuis, 1985.

Alliterative Verse / Avant-Garde