but I am not willing to say more now concerning this matter save that he demean himself with prudence, and come not here as yet, but _you_ may come ofttimes provided you hold but little discourse with me before this spy. Let me know of your doings by one who is prudent, who shall go to you. This messenger is loyal, I give you my faith, and if you and he trust not one another, I shall be uneasy, for none other dare approach me. And now we have discoursed together long enough, and we know not whether we are being watched. So tell your friend that he may be joyous and happy, and that you have so prevailed with me that, if violence does not intervene, he will not fail in that which he asks for. Thus you will commend me to him, and cheer him, saying that ere a week is gone by he will be able to see much of me. And let us hold counsel together no longer now, and do you trouble yourself no more about the matter. We have indeed been fortunate in that we have not been disturbed whiles that we have so long time discoursed together at our ease. Await, however, my lord, who, as I well know, has not for long time had such pleasure as he will have when he knows of your coming. Meanwhiles, we will play at chess. We may amuse ourselves in this manner for a while."
And then, without more ado, they forthwith commenced to play at a side table. And at the end of the game the master and lord entered the chamber. Then my cousin went towards him, and when the latter met him, he gave him hearty welcome, and said that his coming was very pleasing, and that he was welcome. In a word, without detaining you longer, he treated him with great deference, and said that all that was his was at his command, and that whensoe'er he stayed in those parts, nowhere else must he lodge, but he must come there. This would give him happiness above all things, but otherwise he would be displeased. And the latter gave him much thanks for this. And on the morrow, after meat, he took his leave and departed thence, and he hasted his return, for he knew how I was longing for this and that it would bring me very great delight.
And when he was returned, he related unto me all that had happened to him on his journey, and that he believed that my affairs would prosper right well provided it were pursued yonder quickly and with skill, wherefore, as he had made promise to my lady, he would have all things, both great and small, under his ordering, since he had so agreed with her. Thus did he tell and recount all to me.
Then much joy had I in my heart, the which had erewhile been in sorrow which harassed it. But in order the sooner to advance my affair, he advised me that in the first place I should write a letter, in the which I should wholly set forth my condition, and how that love of her weighed heavily upon me, and that she should hearken to the plaint of her slave who besought her love and asked naught beside, and that I should put all suchlike things in a sealed letter, and he would be the bearer of it for to assuage my grief. And I trusted in him, and so I wrote a letter in the which I set forth how it fared with me by reason of love of her, and all that grieved me. And I enclosed two ballads with the letter, the which I sealed, to the rehearsal of which give heed all you who incline unto love.
_Sealed Letter_ _To her who surpasses all, and whom my heart fears and worships_ Lady, the flower of all of high degree, very renowned and revered princess, the desire of my heart, and the joy of my eyes, who art exalted above the consideration of the lowly, my much loved and coveted lady, deign, for pity's sake, to hearken unto and to accept the sad plaint of your servant, who, since he is under restraint, is like to one who is nigh unto death, and who takes perilous remedies in order that he may either end his days or live. To you, very sweet Lady, who, by your refusal, can slay me, or, by the tender solace of your consent, can give me life, I come to entreat either swift death, or a speedy cure.
Most beautiful one, I know well that you have such discernment that you have been able to perceive how that, because of you, love has longwhiles held me, and still holds me, in its toils, and how that the fear and dread with the which great love has filled my heart, has robbed me of the courage to tell you of it, sweet lady. And I know that you are so gracious, that if you had perceived and known all the pain and the torment which I have since suffered, and still endure, through desire for your tender love, then, albeit I have not yet performed enough deeds of valour, and have not enough of worth, to have deserved the love of even one of less noble birth than yourself, the gentle pity of your kindly heart would not have suffered me to endure such disquiet. Ah, Lady, if you have regard to your worth and your great renown for that, by reason of my youth, I have not yet been counted valiant, it will be my death! But, my honoured Lady, know that you can so strengthen me as to give me heart and courage to undertake and to achieve, according to my ability, all honourable things that the mind of a lover dare think on or do for love of lady. And, sweet Lady, and my goddess on earth, since you can, with much ease, greatly gladden him who loves and worships you as his most coveted possession, deign to recognise how that, by your tender solace, he may be saved from death, and life may be restored to him. And if you would ask or would know what has brought him to this, I tell you that it is your very sweet, pleasing, beautiful, laughing, and loving eyes. Ah, Lady, since it is by them that this cruel wound has been inflicted, it seems to me but just that it should be soothed and healed by the delight of your compassion. Therefore may it please you, very winsome and honoured Lady, to make me acquainted with your good pleasure, and whether you would that I die or recover. By no means would I weary you with a long letter, and be assured that I know not how to tell or to write fully how matters stand with me, but you will indeed come to know this, whether I win your love or not, for, if I fail in this, you will see me die, but if by good fortune I win it, the result will be seen in willing service. So I send you these two ballads here enclosed, the which may it please you to receive kindly. Very beautiful and fair one, whose praise I am not able duly to set forth, I pray God that He will vouchsafe to you as many favours and delights as the tears the which I have shed for love of you.--Written with a fervent and longing heart, Your very humble and obedient slave.
BALLAD Sweet Lady, fair and gentle without peer, Have mercy on me, who all thy words obey Body and soul do I abandon here Unto thy will, and humbly thus I pray: Come quickly nigh, Have pity, and cure my sickness when I cry: Oh, I beseech thee, graciously attend And so consent to take me for thy friend.
To thee I give myself, O flower most dear.
For mercy I beseech, and wilt thou slay?
I charge thee by that Lord whom we revere To lift this wrong that crushes me away.
No help have I From any other: leave me not to die!
See, faithfully I serve thee to the end, And so consent to take me for thy friend.
Seest thou not how I shed full many a tear: And if thy help for longer shall delay I am but shent, what need to speak more clear?
Ah, love me, Love so holds me in his sway!
Then hither hie, Be merciful, for near to death I lie: 'Tis truth, thou knowest, I have no hope to mend, And so consent to take me for thy friend.
Lady, I thank thee, and all my duty send, And so consent to take me for thy friend.
ANOTHER BALLAD In this sad world have pity, my lady dear, Dear to me more than any other there: Their pride you know not; let not gracious cheer Cheer me at so great cost, oh white and fair!
Fare I thus ill, yet canst thou bid me see Seasons of solace that may comfort me.
If for unfitness I be slighted here, Here am I dead, and arrows of despair Spare not to pierce my heart, and life grows drear, Drear as my brooding on the doom I bear.
Bear witness, Love withholds in obduracy Seasons of solace that might comfort me.
O loveliest one and sweetest, without peer, Peerless in honour, of all bounties heir, Ere I thy servant pine in sorry fear Fear not a kind and gentle guise to wear.
Where shall I find, 'mid this deep dolorous sea, Seasons of solace that may comfort me?
Dear Lady, grant in gracious courtesy Seasons of solace that may comfort me.
Thus as you have heard did I write to my lady, and by my letter I made known to her my trouble, for to gain her solace. And my cousin bare the letter. For awhile he remained on his guard, and carefully watched for the time when he could safely have speech of her. And then he told her of my letter, at the which she in nowise made complaint, but received it gladly. And, smiling, she read the letter and the ballads twice or thrice, and then the fair and gracious one said, "I will write in reply to your cousin, and more I will not say to you now, but I will set me about it. And whiles that I am so occupied, do you divert yourself with chess, and checkmate my kinswoman here."
Then she withdrew to an inner chamber with her secretary, who well knew how to keep her counsel, and than whom she had none other more confidential, and she commenced to express her thoughts in writing, and composed the letter the which is here set forth.
_Reply of the Lady to the Afore-Mentioned Letter_ To my Courteous Friend-- My fair and courteous knight, may it please you to know that I have received your tender and loving letter and ballads in the which you make known to me that, unless you have speedy succour, you will die. So I write you this letter in reply. If you feel assured that it is on account of me that you are so ill at ease, I am heartily sorry for it, for I would not be the cause of sorrow to any one, and it grieves me the more in your case than in that of any other, since so long time have I known you. But when, dear friend, you ask of me to give you solace, I understand not the meaning of your request, but so that you may know my determination, be well assured that if you asked of me, or I discovered that you meant, aught that would be dishonouring or shameful, never would you obtain your desire, and wholly would I banish you from me. Of this you can be certain, for rather would I die than that, for aught in the world, I should consent to soil mine honour. But if so it be that the love of a lady, given honourably and without evil intent, can suffice you, you may know that I am the one whom love has made disposed to hold you in esteem, both now and for aye. And once again I make confession unto you that, when I know of a surety that your desire is satisfied with that which I am willing to grant, I shall think on you as my one dearly loved friend, if I see your loving purpose and goodwill continue. And if it be, as you have declared in your aforesaid letter, that I can be the means of your advancement in valour, I would ask of God no greater favour. Therefore be pleased to write to me all your wishes in the matter, but have a care, ne'ertheless, that no desire make you false in aught which may hereafter prove to be anyways contrary to that which you avouch, or wholly shall I banish you from me. So I would that you put away from you all melancholy and sadness, and be merry and contented and cheerful, but above all I charge and enjoin you to be discreet, and, as far as in me lies, I forbid you to concern yourself with the habit common to many of your age, the which is, not to know how to keep aught secret, and to make boast of being even more favoured than others. And have a care that you reveal naught to friend or companion, however intimate you may be, save what, for your aid, it is needful that your best friend should know. And if you do thus, and hold to it, you may be sure that love will in nowise fail to bestow its favour on you in large measure. My dear and good friend, I pray God to give you all that you can wish for, for methinks not that this is beyond what is seemly.--Written in gladsome mood, Your friend.
When this letter was finished, my lady arose, and returned to my cousin.
And she gave it to him, and told him that, despite its contents, I must no longer be sad, and that she would take pains to heal me of my sickness, and ere long would appoint a day, hour, and place, when I could without fail have speech with her, and that she sent the letter to me with the message that she trusted herself in my hands, and charged me to be no longer ill at ease.
Then he gave her thanks, and departed, and on his return he related unto me how gracious and good he had found my lady to be. And I, who awaited him with the fierceness and fervour of a great longing, held out my hands with joy, saying, "I thank Thee, my God, for Thy mercy to me."
And he delivered the letter to me, and I, whom this filled with great joy, straightway took it. And as soon as I had read it, I kissed it, I think, an hundred times, and I read it, I assure you, not once only, but more than twenty times, for never did I tire of this when I understood its contents, the which cheered me. Wherefore I made merry, and ceased to grieve, for I would be joyous, since my sweet lady so ordained. Thus was hope wholly restored to me, and no longer had I fear of refusal as had been my wont, but I desired to make answer to her letter. So I took pen and paper, and pounce and ink, and withdrew me. Then gladly, and without hindrance, I wrote in suchwise as I here set forth.
_To the Fairest of All_ My very Honoured Mistress-- Very fair and kind, and indeed I could, from the bottom of my heart, say, very loved, honoured, and coveted Lady, for whose sake love, through the charm of your beauteous eyes, has made me willingly become your true bondsman, and in whose sweet service I would, as far as I am able, even if not as far as I should do, unreservedly spend all my life, I give you thanks for your very gracious and pleasing letter, which, through the comfort of sweet hope, has imparted vigour and strength to my heavy-laden heart, the which was sorrowful and almost broken through despair of ever gaining your love. And, my much longed-for and honoured Lady, in answer to one of the matters you treat of in it, the which is that you understand not the meaning of my request, whilst on your part you would have me to know that you would rather die than that your honour were soiled, I tell you truly, very sweet Mistress, and give you assurance, that my wish is altogether and entirely like unto your own. Of a truth, if I could desire aught but your goodwill, in nowise could I hold you as the lady of my heart, nor myself as your liegeman. And touching your warning to me to take heed that I so demean me as not to make boast of aught which may afterward prove to be untrue, I verily make promise unto you, very gentle Lady, and I swear faithfully on my word of honour, that all my life long you shall find me such an one, and if in this I make default, I am willing, and bind myself, to be cut off from all joy, and to be counted as vile. And as to concealing my secret, and refraining from telling it to either companion or friend, save to the one from whom I may not hide it, be assured, sweet Lady, that of this I take good heed, and, as far as in me lies, neither in this, nor in aught beside, shall you find me wanting, and I give you thanks for your good counsel, kind Lady. And since I give you assurance on all matters which might embroil me, may it please you to perform that which you make promise of in your letter, the which is, that of your grace you will hold me as your one loved friend, and if in aught you find me disobedient, I am willing to be banished, and to accept great disgrace as my due, and may God never suffer me so much as to live if at any time I have desire to be false or untrue to you. And when, moreover, you say that it would give you pleasure to be the cause of my advancement, know, sweet Lady, that this could never come to pass save through you, for none but you can either save me, or be my undoing. Therefore, sweet Lady, may it please you to comfort me, and give me perfect happiness, by according to me your sweet love, and may you be willing to satisfy my famished heart and eyes by granting them opportunity to see your loved and much-desired self. And may you be minded to send me the very joyous news concerning this the which I long for. Sweet and winsome one, who art renowned above all others, I plead for your help more often than I can tell unto you, and I pray God to grant you a happy life, and the will to love me well.--Written right joyously, in the hope of better fortune, Your humble slave.
Thus did I finish my letter, and, at the end, I added a short ballad, so that she might not be wearied in the reading. Therefore listen to the device of it, for it is after a strange manner-- BALLAD Kind and fair Saint, My heart's repose, Whose sweet constraint Doth all enclose That the world knows Of graciousness, Vouchsafe me grace!
Fresh without taint As the new rose, This my heart's plaint That overflows, Ere my breath goes, Pity and bless.
Vouchsafe me grace!
Ah, sweet dove pent, Shy dove, for whose Dear grace I faint, So my heart glows It dares disclose Love, Love, nought less.
Vouchsafe me grace!
Save thy heart close To longing's throes, O Loveliness, Vouchsafe me grace!
And I despatched my letter by my cousin, and thus sent forth on his way him whom I loved, imploring him to entreat of my lady that it might please her that ere long I might have speech of her, else my wretched and weary life would soon be ended.
And he tarried not until he was come to her dwelling. And there he was in nowise denied, but was made very welcome. And he wisely restrained him until he saw the fitting time to report his errand. Then he spake well and wisely in my behalf, praying her that, for God's sake, she would no longer suffer me, who was dying of love, so to languish that such hurt would ensue to me that I could not recover. Then he gave her the letter, and she read it, and scanned it quite leisurely. To be brief, she made answer that she well believed that I spake from the bottom of my heart when I made request for her love, since dissimulation was not usual in one so young, and she thought it certain, and without doubt, that the jealous one would depart within three days, and would go far away. And it seemed that at the same time all danger would be at an end, and then we should be able to hold converse together without hindrance, and, when she perceived it to be the fitting time, she would that I should come secretly with my cousin in the evening, dressed as a varlet, although she would have me to be concealed when I was come there, so that neither stranger, nor kinsfolk, nor any save her secretary, should know of it. And touching this, she would not fail to make known by this one what she would that I should do, provided he failed not to warn me to demean me so modestly towards her as not to do aught to provoke her displeasure or reproach.
And he gave her full assurance of this, saying that she might be certain of it, for rather would I die than venture to do aught contrary to her will.
Thus he returned with this news, the which was so good and pleasing unto me, that I seemed to myself to be in a very happy dream.
And I thought on this without ceasing, but the delay seemed long to me.
And she who held my heart in bondage forgot me not on the day on which she had made promise to send to me. Therefore it behoved me to give hearty welcome to the very distinguished messenger who brought to me the pleasing news for the which I was longing, the which was that I should go at nightfall to her to whom my heart went out, and who made known to me by this one what she would have me do, and that I should speak of it to no one save only to him who knew of it, and that he, and I, and her secretary, should set out, and should take none other thither.
Then we set out quickly, and parted from our followers, discreetly telling them not to be uneasy about it, but to be of good cheer, for it was needful for us to arrange some business between us three, the which would occupy us the whole day, and that we should return on the morrow.
And right joyously did we ride without drawing rein, and exactly at the hour named, we arrived at the place where my dear lady sometimes sojourned. And we dismounted without a torch, and then I divested me of my tunic, and put on another one.
And my kind and prudent cousin went up undisguised, and I took charge of the horses, and was careful not to be recognised. And on the instant he invented the excuse that he was come there at that hour upon a pressing matter the which had just arisen, and upon which he must without fail speak unto the lord as soon as possible, for very great need made this urgent. And he was told that he was not there, and would not return for some months. And he said that great hurt would happen to him in consequence.
Then my very sweet lady made haste, and came on a sudden to a lattice window the which overlooked the courtyard. And she said, "What chance brings my cousin here? Go and let down the bridge quickly. Thus shall I learn what he wants. I know not but that some one sends me urgent news by him."
Then was my cousin escorted to her by two damsels. And when he was come, she asked of him, after that he had saluted her, "Is any one dead, or what brings you here so late? I have not seen you for a week. Tell me what you want."
Then he said that it was of no avail for him to remain since he had not met with the lord and master, the which grieved him. Thus it was meet that he return.
And she made answer that he must not do so, but must without fail make all his affair known unto her.
Then he said, "My varlet, who holds my horses at the gate, must bring me a letter the which I gave into his charge, and some one must tell him to come without delay."
And my lady, in a haughty manner, gave command to her secretary to do this, and he, with much haste, put the horses into a stable, and then escorted me up. And my cousin, who took great precautions, came to the door of the chamber, and he turned him to me, saying, "Give me that letter quickly." Then he said to the secretary, "Let him be gone at once, for there is naught beside for him to do here, and it is not convenient for a varlet to remain in the chamber at this present."
My cousin said all this for that a light was shining in the chamber, by the which I might be recognised, and thus I should be found out.
And he took a long letter the which I had placed in my bosom, and then he drew my lady aside, and, reading it, showed how weighty a matter was set forth in it. Meanwhiles the secretary, as my lady had commanded him, made me to withdraw without a light into the chamber, the which communicated with that of my sweet and fair lady, of a lady who was prudent, reserved, and without reproach, and who was acquainted with everything.
And as soon as the letter had been read in the presence of all, my cousin was bent on departing, and made semblance of great regret, but she forbade him to go, and said that without fail he must remain there, or she would make complaint of it to her lord, and thus she made him tarry.
And she held long converse with him, and at length, so that this might not create wonderment, she said that it was time to rest, and that there was no cause for any one to keep watch in her chamber. And to the end that there might be no suspicion or doubt wherefore he was come there at that hour, his bed was made ready in a distant chamber, to the which he was escorted to rest, and thither was he accompanied by the most trusted of the esquires who had the charge of her within the castle, since they no longer waited on her because of the hour.
Then without delay she disrobed her, and laid her down in the presence of her gentlewomen, but not long did she remain there, but arose and apparelled her, and made complaint that she suffered somewhat, and because of this she would that a fire were prepared in the chamber where I was. So I was hidden until that the serving-woman had made a fire in the chamber.
Then my lady came wrapped in a long mantle, and she brought not with her any of her waiting-women save one, the whom was the lady before mentioned, whom she had chosen above all, and on whose breast she leaned, and she dismissed the serving-woman to bed, for she said she would not that she remained up, so that she might not be wearied. And after she was gone, the door was bolted.
Then the lady came to fetch me, and led me to my lady. And scarce did I salute her, for so perturbed did I feel, that I knew not where I was.
Ne'ertheless I said, "Sweet Lady, may God preserve you, both body and soul."
"Friend," made she answer, "you are very welcome."
Then she made me to sit down beside her, and as soon as I looked on her, I became like one beside himself. And well did my lady perceive this, and she received me with a kiss, for the which I many times humbly gave her thanks.
And my lady, revered of my fearful and doubting heart, commenced to speak after this manner. "Have I, who have caused you to come hither thus secretly, done your will, fair Sir? Is this the deed of a friend?
In nowise deceive me now, but I earnestly entreat of you to tell me, if you can, and whiles that you have opportunity, all your desire."
Then all trembling with joy, sighing, I said, "Ah, sweet Lady! by my troth I know not how to utter that which I would. Therefore, very dear Lady, take it in good part, and recognise how that I am wholly yours, both body and soul, and more I cannot say."
And she drew nearer, and put her arm around my neck, and, laughing, she spake thus. "It behoves me, then, to speak for us both, since you cannot call to mind aught to say, and yet I verily believe that love bestows on me so goodly a portion of his favours, that I trust I could in nowise utter a single word concerning that which I presume you speak of, beyond what it is meet for me to say."
Then the other lady who was there began to smile, and she said aloud, "Since I see you thus already in friendly accord in this matter, truly do I perceive and know that love makes fools of the wisest."
And my lady said to me, "My friend, since love has made us of one mind, no longer is it needful to enquire if we love one another, and I well believe that love claims us, or can claim us both, as his servants, the which grieves me not. Ne'ertheless, dear friend, however much I trust you in this matter, I would, notwithstanding, make known to you all my will without concealing aught, and I know not what is your purport, but I tell you that, whatever love you perceive in me, and whatever semblance I may make, in word or look, of being trusting, pleased, or mirthful, and although I may kiss or embrace you, never for a moment must you imagine that I have the mind or the desire to do aught that is dishonouring, or in the which I may not be in every way free from reproach. Dear friend, I give you this warning, since never would I have you to say that in the smallest degree I had surrendered myself to you, for I swear that never will I do aught the which may tarnish mine honour. And so, once for all, I swear to you, of a truth, that as soon as I perceive, either from your demeanour or your look, that you cherish other desires, never again shall you see me. I know not whether I err in this, but I seek not to refuse you any other pleasure by the which it is permitted to a lady to enslave her lover, and but that I should be acting foolishly, and doing wrong to myself, I would surrender my heart altogether to you, and would give up all that I possess for you to use as you will, but I make promise unto you of loyalty and true friendship, and am willing to prefer you above all others if that this will content you, and this do I say truly. So tell me what you desire whiles that you have time and the opportunity, for I would understand your purpose."
And when she whom I revered had ceased speaking, I made answer, "Ah, my Lady! Almost does it kill me to hear you speak thus. The love, the goodness, and the favour which you extend to me, should well content me, and I trust that you will never imagine that I am not willing to agree to all that you command. And believe me truly that, as I wrote in answer to your letter, I make promise unto you on my oath--and in this I perjure myself not--I would that I should never be had in honour, but should always be held disgraced, if that ever, for a single day, in deed, word, or thought, I should do or think aught, either in secret or openly, the which could displease you, and you may put me to the proof in such manner as you will, for never will aught that your heart desires be unwelcome to me, nor will it befall that aught which may be your wish can grieve me, and thus it behoves me not to distress me concerning this, for are you not my loved one? Is it not meet that I demean me according to your will? When I shall be moved to do otherwise, may I be destroyed, body and soul, and brought to ruin! Good God! how satisfied I ought to be since I perceive that you love me, and call me your dear friend! I possess that which I coveted, and naught beside do I strive after, and I think myself well recompensed. And as you are disposed alway to love me thus, I indeed perceive that there is no guile or malice in your heart, and I bethink me, moreover, that I shall do such service, that I shall be yet more loved by you. Therefore command me even now, for I am your liegeman, and my heart is wholly pledged to you, fair one. Declare now your pleasure, or send me whither you will, and I will go, and will obey in all things, without opposing your humour. Thus you can do as you will with me more than I know how to tell, and may God watch over you, and reward you abundantly for that you thus make promise wholly to love me. I ought not to speak ill of love, the which puts me in the way of attaining to such great joy. Therefore, fair and kind one, I give you humble thanks, for henceforth I shall wear the lover's crown, and I shall put away from me every evil habit, and take virtue into my service, the which I would seek above all things, in order to be like unto the valiant. Thus will you make me a wise and prudent man. In fine, sweet Lady, I could not be more happy, however much I might say concerning it."
Then my lady, in whom dwells every grace, very tenderly embraced me, and kissed me more than an hundred times. And I remained thus happy all the night, and be assured, you lovers who hear this, that I was very contented. Many tender words full of delight were spoken that night, and she, in whom is all goodness, showed me how and where, in spite of every one, I might see her very often. Thus I asked for naught beside, for I had all that I desired. Ne'ertheless she earnestly charged me to be very mindful of her honour, even if at any time I had to defer seeing her, although the delay might cause annoyance, for I should put her in peril if that I took not careful heed beforehand of the proper time to come, and to depart when she admonished me.
Thus we passed the time, but shortwhile dured the night for me. And when the day was come, the which grieved me, embracing and kissing me an hundred times, and giving me sweet loving glances, she said, "Farewell, dear love." And she bolted me in there all alone, and retired to her room. And, later, dressed as a page, I was released by the astute secretary, who was in the secret, and albeit I was not versed in the business, I resumed my former office, for, as he well said, it was meet for one who received so sweet a recompense, to take charge of the horses at the gate, and doubtless I would not wish to busy myself in any other office, and ofttimes did I take upon myself this pleasing service. Thus you see how it is sometimes needful for a master to turn varlet, and perchance in this manner he ofttimes comes by that which he desires.
And my cousin no longer remained dreaming, but arose betimes noiselessly, for he would not that any who slept should be awakened, and he had taken his leave of my lady yesternight. And he went out. And I awaited him, and led the horses to and fro like a good and trained varlet, and he said, "Come hither, fellow. How an-angered I could be with you when you lean on the saddle-bow!" Thus did he speak before those present, for some knights and men-at-arms would fain escort him to his dwelling, and they blamed him in that he had not more of his own men with him, but he assured them that, for a certain reason, he had done it quite designedly. He had thought to find the lord there, for never in his life had he had greater need or desire to speak with him. And then he desired that none should accompany him. And he set out on his way.
And so we departed, and as we rode, we held much friendly and gracious converse together, for the pleasing remembrance which I had on my return of the sweet joy which had comforted me, gave me so great solace, that no one could have had greater joy of aught. And we were quickly come to our journey's end, so much did we spur our horses, but I had put on my tunic again. Then, as soon as they perceived us, my retainers, who loved me and held me in esteem, received us with great delight, and we also were glad, and with great joy sang, in cheerful refrain, this quite new virelay:-- VIRELAY Sweet, in whom my joy must be, Now my heart is full of glee For thy love: and loosed from care All my song is, "Lady fair, Living I consume for thee."
But thy gentle love hath sent The fair comfort that I need: I therewith am well content.
Gladness doth my spirit lead.
Rightly am I glad, pardie!
For of old my jollity Drowned in woes I had to bear: Of thy help when I was ware Gone was all my misery, Sweet, in whom my joy must be.
Since the day that thou hast lent Thy dear heart, my life is freed From the sorrows I lament: Peace and gladness are my meed.
Lady, love despatcheth me Succour sweet, who thus am free From my sickness: pale despair Rules no longer when I share Hope that I thy face may see,