| 380 | Aleyn wax wery in the dawenynge, |
| For he had swonken al the longe nyght, |
| And seyde, "Fare weel, Malyne, sweete wight! |
| The day is come, I may no lenger byde; |
| But everemo, wher so I go or ryde, |
| 385 | I is thyn awen clerk, swa have I seel!" |
| "Now, deere lemman," quod she, "go, far weel! |
| But er thow go, o thyng I wol thee telle: |
| Whan that thou wendest homward by the melle, |
| Right at the entre of the dore bihynde |
| 390 | Thou shalt a cake of half a busshel fynde |
| That was ymaked of thyn owene mele, |
| Which that I heelp my sire for to stele. |
| And, goode lemman, God thee save and kepe!" |
| And with that word almoost she gan to wepe. |
| 395 | Aleyn up rist, and thoughte, "Er that it dawe |
| I wol crepen in by my felawe," |
| And fond the cradel with his hand anon. |
| "By God," thoughte he, al wrang I have mysgon. |
| Myn heed is toty of my swynk to-nyght, |
| 400 | That makes me that I ga nat aright. |
| I woot wel by the cradel I have mysgo; |
| Heere lith the millere and his wyf also." |
| And forth he goth, a twenty devel way, |
| Unto the bed ther as the millere lay. |
| 405 | He wende have cropen by his felawe John, |
| And by the millere in the creep anon, |
| And caughte hym by the nekke, and softe he spak. |
| He seyde, "Thou John, thou swynes-heed, awak, |
| For Cristes saule, and heer a noble game. |
| 410 | For by that lord called is seint Jame, |
| As I have thries in this shorte nyght |
| Swyved the milleres doghter bolt upright, |
| Whil thow hast, as a coward, been agast." |
|
| 380 | Alain grew weary in the grey dawning, |
| For he had laboured hard through all the night; |
| And said: "Farewell, now, Melanie, sweet delight! |
| The day is come, I may no longer bide; |
| But evermore, whether I walk or ride, |
| 385 | I am your own clerk, so may I have weal." |
| "Now, sweetheart," said she, "go and fare you well! |
| But before you go, there's one thing I must tell. |
| When you go walking homeward past the mill, |
| Right at the entrance, just the door behind, |
| 390 | You shall a loaf of half a bushel find |
| That was baked up of your own flour, a deal |
| Of which I helped my father for to steal. |
| And, darling, may God save you now and keep!" |
| And with that word she almost had to weep. |
| 395 | Alain arose and thought: "Before it is dawn, |
| I will go creep in softly by friend John." |
| And found the cradle quickly thereupon. |
| "By God!" thought he, "all wrong I must have gone; |
| My head is dizzy from my work tonight, |
| 400 | And that's why I have failed to go aright. |
| I know well, by this cradle, I am wrong, |
| For here the miller and his wife belong." |
| And on he went, and on the devil's way, |
| Unto the bed wherein the miller lay. |
| 405 | He thought to have crept in by comrade John, |
| So, to the miller, in he got anon, |
| And caught him round the neck, and softly spake, |
| Saying: "You, John, you old swine's head, awake, |
| For Christ's own soul, and hear a noble work, |
| 410 | For by Saint James, and as I am a clerk, |
| I have, three times in this short night, no lack, |
| Screwed that old miller's daughter on her back, |
| While you, like any coward, were terrified." |
|
