| 175 |
This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day, |
| Till it fil ones, in a morwe of May, |
| That Emelye, that fairer was to sene |
| Than is the lylie upon his stalke grene, |
| And fressher than the May with floures newe- |
| 180 | For with the rose colour stroof hir hewe, |
| I noot which was the fairer of hem two- |
| Er it were day, as was hir wone to do, |
| She was arisen, and al redy dight- |
| For May wole have no slogardie a-nyght; |
| 185 | The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, |
| And maketh hym out of his slepe to sterte, |
| And seith, "Arys and do thyn observaunce." |
| This maked Emelye have remembraunce |
| To doon honour to May, and for to ryse. |
| 190 | Yclothed was she fressh, for to devyse, |
| Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse, |
| Bihynde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse, |
| And in the gardyn, at the sonne upriste, |
| She walketh up and doun, and as hir liste |
| 195 | She gadereth floures, party white and rede, |
| To make a subtil gerland for hir hede, |
| And as an aungel hevenysshly she soong. |
| The grete tour, that was so thikke and stroong, |
| Which of the castel was the chief dongeoun, |
| 200 | (Ther as the knyghtes weren in prisoun, |
| Of whiche I tolde yow, and tellen shal) |
| Was evene joynant to the gardyn wal |
| Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyynge. |
| Bright was the sonne, and cleer that morwenynge, |
| 205 | And Palamoun, this woful prisoner, |
| As was his wone, by leve of his gayler, |
| Was risen, and romed in a chambre on heigh, |
| In which he al the noble citee seigh, |
| And eek the gardyn, ful of braunches grene, |
| 210 | Ther as this fresshe Emelye the shene |
| Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun. |
| This sorweful prisoner, this Palamoun, |
| Goth in the chambre romynge to and fro, |
| And to hym-self compleynynge of his wo. |
| 215 | That he was born, ful ofte he seyde, "allas!" |
| And so bifel, by aventure or cas, |
| That thurgh a wyndow, thikke of many a barre |
| Of iren greet, and square as any sparre, |
| He cast his eye upon Emelya, |
| 220 | And therwithal he bleynte, and cryede "A!" |
| As though he stongen were unto the herte. |
| And with that cry Arcite anon up sterte |
| And seyde, "Cosyn myn, what eyleth thee, |
| That art so pale and deedly on to see? |
| 225 | Why cridestow? who hath thee doon offence? |
| For Goddess love, taak al in pacience |
| Oure prisoun, for it may noon oother be; |
| Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee. |
| Som wikke aspect or disposicioun |
| 230 | Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun |
| Hath yeven us this, al though we hadde it sworn; |
| So stood the hevene, whan that we were born. |
| We moste endure it, this the short and playn." |
|
| 175 |
Thus passed by year by year and day by day, |
| Till it fell out, upon a morn in May, |
| That Emily, far fairer to be seen |
| Than is the lily on its stalk of green, |
| And fresher than is May with flowers new |
| 180 | For with the rose's colour strove her hue, |
| I know not which was fairer of the two, |
| Before the dawn, as was her custom to do, |
| She rose and dressed her body for delight; |
| For May will have no sluggards of the night. |
| 185 | That season rouses every gentle heart |
| And forces it from winter's sleep to start, |
| Saying: "Arise and show thy reverence." |
| So Emily remembered to go thence |
| In honour of the May, and so she rose. |
| 190 | Clothed, she was sweeter than any flower that blows; |
| Her yellow hair was braided in one tress |
| Behind her back, a full yard long, I guess. |
| And in the garden, as the sun up-rose, |
| She sauntered back and forth and through each close, |
| 195 | Gathering many a flower, white and red, |
| To weave a delicate garland for her head; |
| And like a heavenly angel's was her song. |
| The tower tall, which was so thick and strong, |
| And of the castle was the great donjon, |
| 200 | (Wherein the two knights languished in prison, |
| Of whom I told and shall yet tell, withal), |
| Was joined, at base, unto the garden wall |
| Whereunder Emily went dallying. |
| Bright was the sun and clear that morn in spring, |
| 205 | And Palamon, the woeful prisoner, |
| As was his wont, by leave of his jailor, |
| Was up and pacing round that chamber high, |
| From which the noble city filled his eye, |
| And, too, the garden full of branches green, |
| 210 | Wherein bright Emily, fair and serene, |
| Went walking and went roving up and down. |
| This sorrowing prisoner, this Palamon, |
| Being in the chamber, pacing to and fro, |
| And to himself complaining of his woe, |
| 215 | Cursing his birth, he often cried "Alas!" |
| And so it was, by chance or other pass, |
| That through a window, closed by many a bar |
| Of iron, strong and square as any spar, |
| He cast his eyes upon Emilia, |
| 220 | And thereupon he blenched and cried out "Ah!" |
| As if he had been beaten to the heart. |
| And at that cry Arcita did up-start, |
| Asking: "My cousin, why what ails you now |
| That you've so deathly pallor on your brow? |
| 225 | Why did you cry out? Who's offended you? |
| For God's love, show some patience, as I do, |
| With prison, for it may not different be; |
| Fortune has given this adversity. |
| Some evil disposition or aspect |
| 230 | Of Saturn did our horoscopes affect |
| To bring us here, though differently 'twere sworn; |
| But so the stars stood when we two were born; |
| We must endure it; that, in brief, is plain." |
|
