and to prevent any suspicion that you are the cause of my death, I shall go beyond the seas to end my days, and nevermore shall I return from thence, and I pledge you my faith that you will find this to be so. Alas! where has this one, in order to compass my ruin, discovered that already there is rumour and talk of our love? Truly she must have imagined it. Saving her reverence, it is not possible, for naught was ever conducted more prudently or secretly than, up to this present, our sweet love has been, and alway will be if God wills. For God knows that I would rather suffer death than do aught that would cause you dishonour. Ah, my Lady, my Lady! Shall I never see you again? If this must be so, God grant that I may lose my sight, and that I may never again look on anything, for naught beside could delight me. How could my heart dure and remain alive when it no longer has the joy the which it receives when it is nigh unto yours? Ah, woe is me! This thought, alas, is a lance which pierces right through my sorrowful heart. It cannot be that I must thus lose, and without cause, the tender comfort, the amorous delights, the pleasing glances, and the winsome words, the which I receive from you, and of which the sweet remembrance, which remained in my thoughts with the hope of their renewal, made me more gladsome and contented than aught beside. And, my very sweet Lady, since I must needs die without deserving it, one favour only do I beg of you, for the sake of all the love your tender and noble heart erewhiles had for me, and do not be so cruel to your poor servant as to deny it to him, the which is that, ere I take leave of you for ever, I may for once have speech with you, so that I may bid you farewell, and say adieu to all the delights the which you have so lovingly bestowed on me, for never, on my soul, have I thought on that which is evil, or contrary to your desires. Alas, my Lady! Well do I know how you do wrong to those desires, and unjustly cause them to endure misfortune, for boldly do I declare that this farewell is in nowise in accordance with their assent or wish. May this favour be vouchsafed to me, dear Lady. And I know not what more to say to you, but be assured that I shall obey you unto death. May it please you to make known to me forthwith what you would have me to do, and whether you would that I go beyond the seas as I have said, or what is your pleasure. And be pleased to pardon me that this letter is blotted with my tears, for, on my soul, it has not been possible for me to restrain them whiles that I have been writing it. Honoured Lady, I commend me to you more than I know how to say, and I pray God to grant you all good things that are to be desired.--Written in great grief, with tears and weeping.
Your poor lover, the most unhappy of men.
And I sent this letter to my lady, and wept sorely whilst delivering it.
And I remained cast down, sad, and silent, making plaint unto myself.
And I said in my grief-- BALLAD Ah, Death, Death, Death, to thee I make my prayer!
Come, rend me from this dolorous world apart!
Life lures no longer: since my lady fair Would have me shun her, let my hapless heart Be very prey to pain and sorrow's sword.
Gladness I leave and all delight for aye, And thee alone, O Death, have I implored Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.
Alas, alas, what doleful news is there!
Never to knight assailed with glaive or dart Came heavier trouble than the woes I share, I, who have gathered up in shame and smart An evil greater than I may record: Since now my love from all adventure high Must needs withdraw, and death be my reward Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.
Ah, lady of mine, can'st thou such hardness dare And suffer me in anguish to depart For love of thee? Yet Love must witness bear Who knoweth no age can show, nor any art, Servant more faithful both in deed and word Among all lovers that he might espy: But my mishaps a worser end afford Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.
Ah, God of love, why sufferest thou, fair lord, That thus in sorrow undeserved I die?
All things I leave, of all to be abhorred, Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.
In such manner as I have told you did I write in answer to my Lady. And when that she had opened my letter, and saw it so covered and defaced and blurred with tears, certes it was told unto me that she was much discomforted, and that as she read it, she wept so much, that the tears ran down her face. And then, of her grace, she wrote back to me in great haste, and charged the messenger that he lose no time in conveying the letter duly. And he pledged him not to tarry by the way until he had brought it to me. And the messenger hasted him all the night, and stayed him not until that he was come at daybreak to the gate of the Castle.
Then he brought me the letter, the which calmed my grievous distress, and banished my sorrow. And great need had I of this, for certes I was like to die or to lose my reason. So listen now to the purport of the letter which she sent, and of the which my heart had great joy.
_To the noblest and best of all_, _My true and loyal friend_.
_My true, loyal, very kind and dear Friend_,--It is the fact that, although I was fearful of losing mine honour, the which I ought to dread above all things, as is counselled, as you have been able to see, in the letter of the Lady of La Tour, to whom I am much beholden for it (for certes I know that she has said this for my well-being), it was against my wish that I wrote to you, in my last letter, that which I made known to you therein, for, my kind and gracious friend, I well perceive that Love cannot suffer us to part from one another, and I repent me much that I declared this unto you, for I know that you have had, and still have, much sorrow because of this. Wherefore I pray you to forgive me, and I beseech your pardon for it. And it much grieves me that our good friend, your cousin, is not beside you to cheer you. And I regret me that he is gone on so long a journey. So by all the influence I may have over you, and by the love you bear me, I entreat you in all things to possess your mind in peace as aforetime, for greatly do I fear me that you have become so sad, that I may not be in time to comfort you, and that some sickness (from the which may God preserve you), may overtake you. Therefore I shall have no ease until I have news of you. So I write to you in great haste, beseeching you to be cheerful and happy, for I have very good news to tell you, and this is that our good friend, in whom we trust, will be here within four days. So you shall come to see me, and I will keep you advised concerning this, and we will welcome one another heartily as heretofore. For, so help me God, even if it be my ruin, I cannot part from you, and I have hope that, by God's aid, our doings may be well hid, and also that you will alway guard mine honour well, for on this I rely. My sweet and dear Love, I pray God to give you perfect joy. Written in haste.
Your true and loyal friend.
And when I received this letter, I was wholly freed from my grief, and no longer did I weep, but instead I praised God for this very good news.
And I answered the letter, and gave much thanks to my sweet lady, and I further besought of her that I might see her right soon, so that I might tell unto her the sorrow the which the letter I had received had caused me. And I know not wherefore I should rehearse more of this matter, for it is time for me to end. You have heard how that I had, without dishonour, such joy of love as I desired, and I gainsay him who would avouch that there was ever any wrong-doing or evil whatsoever in our love, or that there was aught in it by the which honour was violated, wherefore our love should be the more esteemed. Moreover I have told unto you the pain and the grief which I endured aforetime, and how that I persevered until my lady had pity on me. And now it is time this story were ended, for if I rehearsed all the adventures, some pleasing, and others painful, the which chanced to me in this love, and the evil and the good which came to me of it, perchance I should become wearisome, for I should have much to tell, and it would be a matter without end.
But, to sum up briefly, I tell you that I ofttimes afterward with great delight saw the fair one in whom I put my trust, and joyously did I receive from her, in large measure, loving comfort the which still dwells in my memory. And for full two years did this dure, for she would not let me depart from out her country, and right well did this please me, for so ardent was I, that I cared for naught save to be near her.
Thus I bethink me that I resorted thither more than was fitting, so that anger, stirred up by evil speaking, burst forth on account of our doings, and because of this, I was troubled and ill-at-ease, for I could not stay it, and thus I was no longer able to see my lady as was my wont, the which grieved me sorely. Moreover I was blamed by friends, and called recreant, in that I remained so much in retirement, and only frequented jousts and tourneys and feasts which were held near by, and not those at a distance. This, indeed, did not become one of noble birth, and thus I should be quite the most despicable of my lineage if that I remained there longer, and pursued not arms in many lands for to win praise and renown. So spake my kinsfolk, and I felt assured that they descanted to me thus for my good, but I feared me that it might be displeasing to my lady to do this without her consent, and my heart was exceeding sad.
And I besought of her that she would so contrive, that I might have speech with her, since, chiefly for the sake of her good name, it was needful that I should depart thence for awhile, and assuredly might she believe that never for a single day should I forget her, and thus I would go into Spain, whatever might come of it, and it was better to do this before worse happened to her. And moreover she should have in remembrance that I had made promise unto her that, for love of her, I would achieve so much, that in the end I should be known as a brave man.
And so much did I talk, that she scarce uttered a word, and for very short whiles did she remain, for at great risk was she come to a place where I was.
And there was much weeping and great dole and sad countenance at our parting, and scarce would she consent that I should go to the wars. And wetting her face and neck with tears, and kissing her in haste, I very fervently commended her to God, and thus I commended me to her a thousand times, and submitted myself to her will. And I made promise unto her that wheresoe'er I went, I would send tidings unto her, and thus she could send back word to me how it fared with her.
And thus I departed, weeping and in sad case at leaving my beloved one.
And I joined a Spanish force, and was absent, and far from the fair one, for the space of a year, and then I came back, being moved thereto by a longing to see her. And when she heard of my return, she so contrived, that I had speech with her without this being known of others. And joyously was I received, and verily did we welcome one another heartily, and rejoice over our reunion.
Thus from time to time I went to meet her, but there was risk in my having speech with her, and so she came stealthily, in fear and trembling, for fear of being observed, by reason of which she was quite cast down. Therefore when I saw her so distraught, much of my joy was taken away, because of the peril to the which I perceived that she, for my sake, exposed her honour, and in the which she placed herself. And because of this, I undertook many journeys, and sailed beyond the seas for fear of evil-speaking. And in the manner did I spend ten years, and ofttimes did I go to and fro. And at times, when it was opportune, it chanced that I saw my dear lady.
And in suchwise did I explore many lands. And in a severe encounter I was made a prisoner of war, at the which my lady was disquieted. Thus I endured many misfortunes ere the ten years passed by. Even love brought many upon me, and saved me not from them, for albeit I never, on my soul, saw aught in my lady the which should have caused me to mistrust her, jealousy, which is like unto madness, brewed for me such a potion, that I became like unto one mad, for once, on my return from afar, I bethought me, as soon as I saw her, that her heart was changed toward me, and that, as it seemed to me, she had wholly cast me off, the which filled my heart with such grief, that I was mad with rage. Thus all my happiness was gone, and for longwhiles I could not calm or appease my heart, the which was sorely troubled, and my lady was so displeased with me on account of this, that for awhile I somewhat lost her favour.
Moreover, if I may venture to say so, I once saw her a little jealous, the which distressed me much, for I knew not the reason of it, for God knows that neither in thought nor in demeanour was I ever false to her, nor did I so much as raise mine eyes to notice any other lady. But I well perceived that he whose heart is wholly possessed of the passion of love much needs become a prey to jealousy, for he who bears within him a great and perfect love, can scarce restrain him from it.
And many songs were written touching our affair, some sad, and some joyous; and for divers occasions I devised ballads, and lays, and plaints, and other conceits, of the which there was one that was joyous amongst ten which were sad, for such is the wont of the foolish heart which dissembles love; and my lady sent some to me in her turn when that she was able. And our ditties eased our troubles when that we were far from one another, for in such manner did we divert us in the hope of coming by something better, however long this might be in the coming.
And I have made known everything, from first to last, touching the love from the which, for full ten years, I had very sad and painful thoughts, but our love is in nowise ended, nor will it pass away until that our bodies perish. But slanderers (whom may God confound, for there are too many of them in the world) have forced me to abandon the fellowship of her to whom I had made promise of my whole love. And in this she shall not find me to fail. But I perceived that dishonour came to her because of me; wherefore I hated my life which dured so long, for every one gossiped about her. And in order to preserve her honour and her peace of mind, I shrank from seeing her whom I loved above all, but ne'ertheless, sorrowful and sad, I long made lament for that she was so blamed on my account. But notwithstanding, my body, my goods, and all that I have to bestow, are hers, and if it were needful, I would die for her, and this is no fable. So I pray Almighty God to give her peace, and honour, and a happy life, and perfect joy without end. And now my story is ended.
The Book called "The Duke of True Lovers" is set forth.
---- Printed by _Ballantyne, Hanson & Co._ Edinburgh & London THE MEDIEVAL LIBRARY UNDER THE GENERAL EDITORSHIP OF SIR ISRAEL GOLLANCZ Litt.D., F.B.A.
Presenting a selection of the choicest literary productions of the Middle Ages in Europe--romances, religious works, poetry and manners--and including many masterpieces recently rescued from obscurity.
Post 8vo, Brown Boards, 5s. net, unless otherwise stated.
---- 1. THE BOOK OF THE DUKE OF TRUE LOVERS By _Christine de Pisan_; a French romance of the 15th century.
Translated into prose and verse with an introduction by _Alice photogravure plates after illuminations in the original MS.
2. THE TUMBLER OF OUR LADY & OTHER MIRACLES Mainly from a collection made by _Gautier de Coinci_, a monk of St. Medard near Soissons; French, 13th century. Translated in prose with an introduction by _Alice Kemp-Welch_. With 7 photogravure plates after contemporary MSS.
3. THE CHATELAINE OF VERGI _Anonymous_; a French love-poem of the 13th century. Translated into prose by _Alice Kemp-Welch_. With an introduction by Prof.
_L. Brandin_ and the original text in an Appendix. With 5 photogravure plates after an ivory casket of the 14th century now in the British Museum.
4. THE BABEES' BOOK: MEDIEVAL MANNERS for the YOUNG.
From the Old English texts of Dr. Furnivall; 14th and 15th centuries. Done into modern prose and verse with an introduction and notes by _Edith Rickert_. With 6 photogravure plates after illuminations in contemporary MSS.
5. THE DIVINE CONSOLATION of the BLESSED ANGELA da FOLIGNO.
By the _Same_; Italian, 14th century. Translated in prose by _M.
G. Steegman_ and with an introduction by _Algar Thorold_. With photo. front, after Pierantonio Mezzastris and 4 woodcuts after the original edition of 1536.
6. THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY FINA, VIRGIN of S. GEMIGNANO.
By _Fra Giovanni di Coppo_; Italian, 14th century. Translated in prose with an introduction and notes by _M. Mansfield_. With the original text and 5 photogravures after Benozzo Gozzoli, Ghirlandaio, etc.
7. EARLY ENGLISH ROMANCES OF LOVE _Anonymous_; 13th, 14th and 15th centuries. Containing: 'Floris and Blancheflour,' 'Sir Degrevant,' 'The Squire of Low Degree,' etc. Done into modern prose with introduction and notes by _Edith Rickert_. With 5 photogravures after contemporary MSS.
8. EARLY ENGLISH ROMANCES OF FRIENDSHIP _Anonymous_; 13th, 14th and 15th centuries. Containing: 'Amis and Amiloun,' 'Sir Amadis,' 'The Tale of Gamelyn,' etc. Done into modern prose with introduction and notes by _Edith Rickert_. With 6 photogravure plates after contemporary MSS.
9. THE CELL OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE etc.; 7 English mystical treatises of the 14th cent. Edited with introduction and notes by _Edmund G. Gardner_, M.A. With coloured collotype frontispiece.
10. ANCIENT ENGLISH CHRISTMAS CAROLS _Traditional_; 1400-1700. Collected and arranged by _Edith Rickert_ with intro., notes and glossary. With 8 photogravure plates after missals of the 15th and 16th cents. _Price_ 7_s._ 6_d._ net.
11. EIGHT TROBADOR POETS centuries. Selected and translated in prose with intros. and notes by _Barbara Smythe_. With a coloured frontispiece and decorative initials.
12. CLIGES By _Chretien de Troyes_; a French romance of the 13th century.
Translated in prose by _L. J. Gardiner, M.A._ With photo. front.
13. PEARL An English poem of the 14th century. Translated and edited by _Sir Israel Gollancz_, Litt.D., F.B.A. With textual and explanatory notes, glossary, photogravure frontispiece after _Holman Hunt_ and 6 illustrations after the original MS. With the _Olympia_ of _Boccaccio_ in an Appendix. _Price_ 7_s._ 6_d._ net.
14. EARLY LIVES OF CHARLEMAGNE By _Eginhard_ and _The Monk of St. Gall._; German, 9th century.
Translated from the Latin and edited with introduction and notes by Prof. _A. J. Grant_. With photogravure frontispiece.
15. THE CHRONICLE OF JOCELIN OF BRAKELOND By the _Same_; a picture of English social and monastic life in the 12th century. Translated from the Latin and edited with notes by _L. C. Jane_, M.A. With an introduction by _Cardinal Gasquet_ and a photogravure frontispiece.
16. THE VISION OF PIERS THE PLOWMAN By _William Langland_; English, 14th century. Done into modern metrical English with introduction and notes by Prof. _W. W.
Skeat_. With frontispiece after contemporary MS.