Troilus and Criseyde Part 28

For whan thyn hornes newe ginne springe, Than shal she come, that may my blisse bringe!'

The day is more, and lenger every night, Than they be wont to be, him thoughte tho; 660 And that the sonne wente his course unright By lenger wey than it was wont to go; And seyde, 'Y-wis, me dredeth ever-mo, The sonnes sone, Pheton, be on-lyve, And that his fadres cart amis he dryve.' 665

Upon the walles faste eek wolde he walke, And on the Grekes ost he wolde see, And to him-self right thus he wolde talke, 'Lo, yonder is myn owene lady free, Or elles yonder, ther tho tentes be! 670 And thennes comth this eyr, that is so sote, That in my soule I fele it doth me bote.

'And hardely this wind, that more and more Thus stoundemele encreseth in my face, Is of my ladyes depe sykes sore. 675 I preve it thus, for in non othere place Of al this toun, save onliche in this s.p.a.ce, Fele I no wind that souneth so lyk peyne; It seyth, "Allas! Why twinned be we tweyne?"'

This longe tyme he dryveth forth right thus, 680 Til fully pa.s.sed was the nynthe night; And ay bi-syde him was this Pandarus, That bisily dide alle his fulle might Him to comforte, and make his herte light; Yevinge him hope alwey, the tenthe morwe 685 That she shal come, and stinten al his sorwe.

Up-on that other syde eek was Criseyde, With wommen fewe, among the Grekes stronge; For which ful ofte a day 'Allas,' she seyde, 'That I was born! Wel may myn herte longe 690 After my deeth; for now live I to longe!

Allas! And I ne may it not amende; For now is wors than ever yet I wende.

'My fader nil for no-thing do me grace To goon ayein, for nought I can him queme; 695 And if so be that I my terme pa.s.se, My Troilus shal in his herte deme That I am fals, and so it may wel seme.

Thus shal I have unthank on every syde; That I was born, so weylaway the tyde! 700

'And if that I me putte in Iupartye, To stele awey by nighte, and it bifalle That I be caught, I shal be holde a spye; Or elles, lo, this drede I most of alle, If in the hondes of som wrecche I falle, 705 I am but lost, al be myn herte trewe; Now mighty G.o.d, thou on my sorwe rewe!'

Ful pale y-waxen was hir brighte face, Hir limes lene, as she that al the day Stood whan she dorste, and loked on the place 710 Ther she was born, and ther she dwelt hadde ay.

And al the night wepinge, allas! she lay.

And thus despeired, out of alle cure, She ladde hir lyf, this woful creature.

Ful ofte a day she sighte eek for destresse, 715 And in hir-self she wente ay portrayinge Of Troilus the grete worthinesse, And alle his goodly wordes recordinge Sin first that day hir love bigan to springe.

And thus she sette hir woful herte a-fyre 720 Through remembraunce of that she gan desyre.

In al this world ther nis so cruel herte That hir hadde herd compleynen in hir sorwe, That nolde han wopen for hir peynes smerte, So tendrely she weep, bothe eve and morwe. 725 Hir nedede no teres for to borwe.

And this was yet the worste of al hir peyne, Ther was no wight to whom she dorste hir pleyne.

Ful rewfully she loked up-on Troye, Biheld the toures heighe and eek the halles; 730 'Allas!' quod she, 'The plesaunce and the Ioye The whiche that now al torned in-to galle is, Have I had ofte with-inne yonder walles!

O Troilus, what dostow now,' she seyde; 'Lord! Whether yet thou thenke up-on Criseyde? 735

'Allas! I ne hadde trowed on your lore, And went with yow, as ye me radde er this!

Thanne hadde I now not syked half so sore.

Who mighte han seyd, that I had doon a-mis To stele awey with swich on as he is? 740 But al to late cometh the letuarie, Whan men the cors un-to the grave carie.

'To late is now to speke of this matere; Prudence, allas! Oon of thyn eyen three Me lakked alwey, er that I come here; 745 On tyme y-pa.s.sed, wel remembred me; And present tyme eek coude I wel y-see.

But futur tyme, er I was in the snare, Coude I not seen; that causeth now my care.

'But natheles, bityde what bityde, 750 I shal to-morwe at night, by est or weste, Out of this ost stele on som maner syde, And go with Troilus wher-as him leste.

This purpos wol I holde, and this is beste.

No fors of wikked tonges Ianglerye, 755 For ever on love han wrecches had envye.

'For who-so wole of every word take hede, Or rewlen him by every wightes wit, Ne shal he never thryven, out of drede.

For that that som men blamen ever yit, 760 Lo, other maner folk commenden it.

And as for me, for al swich variaunce, Felicitee clepe I my suffisaunce.

'For which, with-outen any wordes mo, To Troye I wol, as for conclusioun.' 765 But G.o.d it wot, er fully monthes two, She was ful fer fro that entencioun.

For bothe Troilus and Troye toun Shal knotteles through-out hir herte slyde; For she wol take a purpos for tabyde. 770

This Diomede, of whom yow telle I gan, Goth now, with-inne him-self ay arguinge With al the sleighte and al that ever he can, How he may best, with shortest taryinge, In-to his net Criseydes herte bringe. 775 To this entente he coude never fyne; To fisshen hir, he leyde out hook and lyne.

But natheles, wel in his herte he thoughte, That she nas nat with-oute a love in Troye, For never, sithen he hir thennes broughte, 780 Ne coude he seen her laughe or make Ioye.

He nist how best hir herte for tacoye.

'But for to a.s.saye,' he seyde, 'it nought ne greveth; For he that nought na.s.sayeth, nought nacheveth.'

Yet seide he to him-self upon a night, 785 'Now am I not a fool, that woot wel how Hir wo for love is of another wight, And here-up-on to goon a.s.saye hir now?

I may wel wite, it nil not been my prow.

For wyse folk in bokes it expresse, 790 "Men shal not wowe a wight in hevinesse."

'But who-so mighte winnen swich a flour From him, for whom she morneth night and day, He mighte seyn, he were a conquerour.'

And right anoon, as he that bold was ay, 795 Thoughte in his herte, 'Happe how happe may, Al sholde I deye, I wole hir herte seche; I shal no more lesen but my speche.'

This Diomede, as bokes us declare, Was in his nedes prest and corageous; 800 With sterne voys and mighty limes square, Hardy, testif, strong, and chevalrous Of dedes, lyk his fader Tideus.

And som men seyn, he was of tunge large; And heir he was of Calidoine and Arge. 805

Criseyde mene was of hir stature, Ther-to of shap, of face, and eek of chere, Ther mighte been no fairer creature.

And ofte tyme this was hir manere, To gon y-tressed with hir heres clere 810 Doun by hir coler at hir bak bihinde, Which with a threde of gold she wolde binde.

And, save hir browes ioyneden y-fere, Ther nas no lak, in ought I can espyen; But for to speken of hir eyen clere, 815 Lo, trewely, they writen that hir syen, That Paradys stood formed in hir yen.

And with hir riche beautee ever-more Strof love in hir, ay which of hem was more.

She sobre was, eek simple, and wys with-al, 820 The beste y-norisshed eek that mighte be, And goodly of hir speche in general, Charitable, estatliche, l.u.s.ty, and free; Ne never-mo ne lakkede hir pitee; Tendre-herted, slydinge of corage; 825 But trewely, I can not telle hir age.

And Troilus wel waxen was in highte, And complet formed by proporcioun So wel, that kinde it not amenden mighte; Yong, fresshe, strong, and hardy as lyoun; 830 Trewe as steel in ech condicioun; On of the beste enteched creature, That is, or shal, whyl that the world may dure.

And certainly in storie it is y-founde, That Troilus was never un-to no wight, 835 As in his tyme, in no degree secounde In durring don that longeth to a knight.

Al mighte a geaunt pa.s.sen him of might, His herte ay with the firste and with the beste Stood paregal, to durre don that him leste. 840

But for to tellen forth of Diomede: -- It fil that after, on the tenthe day, Sin that Criseyde out of the citee yede, This Diomede, as fresshe as braunche in May, Com to the tente ther-as Calkas lay, 845 And feyned him with Calkas han to done; But what he mente, I shal yow telle sone.

Criseyde, at shorte wordes for to telle, Welcomed him, and doun by hir him sette; And he was ethe y-nough to maken dwelle. 850 And after this, with-outen longe lette, The spyces and the wyn men forth hem fette; And forth they speke of this and that y-fere, As freendes doon, of which som shal ye here.

He gan first fallen of the werre in speche 855 Bitwixe hem and the folk of Troye toun; And of tha.s.sege he gan hir eek byseche, To telle him what was hir opinioun.

Fro that demaunde he so descendeth doun To asken hir, if that hir straunge thoughte 860 The Grekes gyse, and werkes that they wroughte?

And why hir fader tarieth so longe To wedden hir un-to som worthy wight?

Criseyde, that was in hir peynes stronge For love of Troilus, hir owene knight, 865 As fer-forth as she conning hadde or might, Answerde him tho; but, as of his entente, It semed not she wiste what he mente.

But natheles, this ilke Diomede Gan in him-self a.s.sure, and thus he seyde, 870 'If ich aright have taken of yow hede, Me thinketh thus, O lady myn, Criseyde, That sin I first hond on your brydel leyde, Whan ye out come of Troye by the morwe, Ne coude I never seen yow but in sorwe. 875

'Can I not seyn what may the cause be But-if for love of som Troyan it were, The which right sore wolde athinken me That ye, for any wight that dwelleth there, Sholden spille a quarter of a tere, 880 Or pitously your-selven so bigyle; For dredelees, it is nought worth the whyle.

'The folk of Troye, as who seyth, alle and some In preson been, as ye your-selven see; Nor thennes shal not oon on-lyve come 885 For al the gold bitwixen sonne and see.

Trusteth wel, and understondeth me.

Ther shal not oon to mercy goon on-lyve, Al were he lord of worldes twyes fyve!

'Swich wreche on hem, for fecching of Eleyne, 890 Ther shal be take, er that we hennes wende, That Manes, which that G.o.ddes ben of peyne, Shal been agast that Grekes wol hem shende.

And men shul drede, un-to the worldes ende, From hennes-forth to ravisshe any quene, 895 So cruel shal our wreche on hem be sene.

'And but-if Calkas lede us with ambages, That is to seyn, with double wordes slye, Swich as men clepe a "word with two visages,"