As for
to fpeke of knighthood of hir hond,
As fer as God hath meked fee and lond,
N'as of fo fewe fo noble a compagnie ;
For every wight that loved chevalrie,
And wold his thankes han a pafiant name,
Hath praied that he might ben of that game,
And wel was him that therto chofen was,
For if ther fell to-morwe fuch a cas,
Ye knowen wel that every lufty knight
That loveth par amour, and hath his might,
Were it in Englelond or ellefwher,
They wold hir thankes willen to be ther.
To fight for a lady, a benedicite!
It were a fufty fighte for to fe.

And right fo ferden they with Palamon.
With him ther wenten knightes many on;
Som wel ben armed in an habergeon,
And in a breft plate, and in a gipon;
And fom wol have a pair of plates large,
And fom wol have a Pruce fheld or a targe;
Som wol ben armed on his legges wele,
And have an axe, and fome a mace of ftele.
Ther n'is no newe guife that it n'as old.
Armed they weren as i have you told,
Everich after his opinion.

Ther maift thou fe coming with Palamon
Licurge himself, the grete King of Trace;
Blake was his berd, and manly was his face;
The cercles of his eyen in his hed
They gloweden betwixen yelwe and red,
And like a griffon loked he about,
With kemped heres on Lis browes flout;
His limmes gret, his braunes hard and ftronge,
His fhouldres brode, his armes round and longe;
And as the guife was in his contree,
Fai ghe upon a chiar of gold flood he.
With foure white bolles in the trais.
Iaftede of cote armure on his harnais,
With nayles yelwe, and bright as any gold,
He hadde a beres fkin, cole-blake for old.
His longe here was kempt behind his bak,
As any ravenes fether it fhone for blake.
A wreth of gold arm-grct, of huge weight,.
Upon his hed fate ful of floues bright,
Of fine rübins and of diamants.
About his char ther wenten white alauns,
Twenty and mo, as gret as any ftere,
To hunten at the leon or the dere,
And folwed him, with mofel faft ybound,
Colered with gold, and torettes filed round.
An hundred lordes had he in his route
Armed full wel, with hertes fterne and ftoute.

With Arcita, in ftories as men find, The gret Emetrius the King of Inde, Upon a ftede bay, trapped in ftele, Covered with cloth of gold diapred wele, Came tiding like the god of armes Mars; His cote armure was of a cloth of Tars, Couched with perles white, and round, and grete; His fadel was of brent gold new ybete; A mantelet upon his fhouldres hanging Bret-ful of rubies red, as fire fparkling; His crifpe here like ringes was yronne, And that was yefwe, and glitcred as the fonne;

His nose was high, his eyen bright citrin,
His lippes round, his colour was fanguin,
A fewe fraknes in his face yfpreint,
Betwixen yelwe and blake fomdel ymcint,
And as a leon he his loking cafte,
Of five-and-twenty yere his age I cafte;
His berd was wel begonuen for to fpring,
His vois was as a trompe thondering;
Upon his hede he wered of laurer grene,
A gerlond freshe and lufty for to fene;
Upon his hond he bare for his deduit
An egle tame, as any lily whit :
An hundred lordes had he with him there,
All armed fave hir hedes in all hir gere,
Ful richely in alle manere thinges;
For trufteth wel that erles, dukes, kinges,
Were gathered in this noble compagnie,
For love and for encrefe of chevairie.
About this king ther ran on every part
Ful many a tame leon and leopart.

And in this wife thefe lordes all and fome Ben on the Sonday to the citee come Abouten prine, and in the toun alight.

This Thefeus, this duk, this worthy knight,
Whan he had brought hem into his citee,
And inned hem everich at his degree,
He fetteth hem, and doth fo gret labour
To efen hem, and don hem all honour,
That yet men wenen that no mannes wit
Of non eftat ne coud amenden it.
The miuftralcie, the fervice at the fefte,
The grete yeftes to the most and lefte,
The riche array of Thefeus paleis,
Ne who fate firft ne laft upon the deis,
What ladies fayrest ben or beft dancing,
Or which of hem can carole beft or fing,
Ne who moft felingly fpekcth of love,
What haukes fitten on the perche above,
What houndes liggen on the floor adoun,
Of all this now make I no mentioun.
But of the effect, that thinketh me the beste;
Now cometh the point, and herkeneth if you lefte,

The Sonday nighte or day began to fpring,
Whan Palamon the larke herde fing,
Although it n'ere not day by houres two,
Yet fang the larke, and Palamon right tho
With holy herte, and with an high corage
He rofe, to wenden on his pilgrimage
Unto the blissful Citherea benigne,

I mene Venus, honourable and digne.
And in hire houre he walketh forth a pas
Unto the liftes, ther hire temple was,
And doun he kneleth, and with humble chere
And herte fore he fayde as ye fhul here:
Fayreft of fayre, o łady min Venus,
Daughter to Jove, and fpoufe of Vulcanus,
Thou glader of the Mount of Citheron !
For thilke love thou haddeft to Adon,
Have pitee on my bitter teres fmert,
And take myn humble prair at thin herte.
Alas! I ne have no langage to tell
The effecte ne the torment of min hell;
Min herte may min harmes not bewrey;
I am fo confule that I cannot fay:

But mercy, lady bright! that knoweft wele
My thought, and seeft what harmes that I fele :
Confider all this, and rue upon my fore,
As wifly as I fhral for evermore
Emforth my might thy trewe fervant be,
And holden werre alway with chastite;
That make I min avow fo ye me helpe,
I kepe nought of armes for to yelpe,
Ne axe I nat to-morwe to have victorie,
Ne renoun in this cas, ne vaine glorie
Of pris of armes, blowen up and doun,
But I wold have fully poffeflioun

Of Emelie, and die in her fervife;

Find thou the manere how, and in what wife.

I rekke not but it may better be

To have victorie of hem, or they of me
So that I have my lady in min armes;
For though fo be that Mars is god of Armes,
Your vertue is fo grete in heven above,
That if you lifte I fbal wel have my love.
Thy temple wol I worship evermo,
And on thin auter, wher I ride or go,
I wol don facrifice, and fires bete.
And if ye wol not fo, my lady swete!
Than pray I you to-morwe with a fpere
That Arcita me thurgh the herte bere ;
Than rekke I not when I have loft my lif
Though that Arcita win hire to his wif.
This is the effecte and ende of my praiere,
Yeve me my love thou blifsful lady dere!
When the orifon was don of Palamon
His facrifice he did, and that anon,
Ful pitously, with alle circumftances,
All tell I not as now his obfervances.
But at the laft the ftatue of Venus fhoke,
And made a figne whereby that he toke
That his praiere accepted was that day;
For though the figne fhewed a delay,
Yet wist he wel that granted was his bone,
And with glad herte he went him home ful fone.
The thridde hour inequal that Palamon
Began to Venus temple for to gon.
Up rofe the fonne, and up rose Emelie,
And to the temple of Diane gan hie.
Hire maydens that the thider with hire ladde
Ful redily with hem the fire they hadde,
Th' encenfe, the clothes, and the remenant all,
That to the facrifice longen fhall,
The hornes ful of mede, as was the gife;
Ther lakked nought to don hire facrifife.
Smoking the temple, ful of clothes fayre,
This Emelie with herte debonaire
Hire body westhe with water of a well,
But how fhe did hire rite I dare not tell,
But it be any thing in general,

And yet it were a game to heren all;
To him that meneth wel it n'ere no charge;
But it is good a man to ben at large.
Hire bright here kembed was, antreffed all;
A coroune of a grene oke cerial

Upon hire hed was fet ful fayre and mete :
Two fires on the auter gan she bete,
And did hire thinges as men may behold
In Stace of Thebes, and thefe bekes old.

Whan kindled was the fire, with pitous chere Unto Diane she spoke as ye may here:

O chafte goddefle of the wodes grene,
To whom both heven, and erthe, and fee,is fene,
Quene of the regne of Pluto derke and lowe,
Goddeffe of maydens, that min herte hast knowe
Ful many a yere, and woft what I defire,
As kepe me fro thy vengeance and thin ire,
That Atteon aboughte cruelly!

Chaft geddeffe! wel woteft thou that I
Defire to ben a mayden all my lif,
Ne never wol I be no love ne wif:
I am (thou woft) yet of thy compagnie,
A mayde, and love hunting and venerie,
And for to walken in the wodes wilde,
And not to ben a wif and be with childe;
Nought wol I knowen compagnie of man;
Now helpe me, Lady, fith you may and can,
For though three formes that thou haft in thee f
And Palamon that hath fwiche love to me,
And eke Arcite, that loveth me fo fore,
This grace I praie thee withouten more,
As fende love and pees betwix em two,
And fro me torne away hir hertes fo,
That all hir hote love and hir defire,
And all hir befy torment and hir fire
Be queinte, or torned in another place.
And if fo be thou wolt not do me grace,
Or if my deftinee be shapen fo

That I fhal nedes have on of hem two,
As fende me him that most defireth me.

Beholde, goddeffe of ciene Chastite,
The bitter teres that on my chekes fall:
Sin thou art mayde, and keper of us all,
My maydenhede thou kepe and well conferve
And while I live a mayde I wol thee ferve.

The fires brenne upon the auter clere
While Emelie was thus in hire praierc,
But fodenly the faw a fighte queinte;
For right anon on of the fires quiente
And quiked again, and after that anon
That other fire was queinte and all agon,
And as it queinte it made a whifteling
As don these brondes wet in hir brenning;
And at the brondes ende outran anon
As it were blody dropes many on;
For which fo fore agaft was Emelie,

That she was wel neigh mad, and gan to crię,
For the ne wifte what it fignified,
But only for the fere thus fhe cried
And wept, that it was pitee for to here.

And there withall Diane gan appere
With bowe in hond, right as an hunteresse,
And fayde, Doughter, ftint thin hevineffe.
Among the goddes highe it is affermed,
And by eterne word written and confermed,
Thou shalt be wedded unto on of tho
That han for thee fo mochel care and wo,
But unto which of hem I may not tell.
Farewel, for here I may no longer dwell;
The fires which that on min auter brenne
Shal thee declaren er that thou go henne
Thin aventure of love as in this cas.

And with that word the arwes in the cas

Of the goddeffe clatteren fast and ring,
And forth the went and made a vanishing,
For which this Emelie aftonied was,
And fayde, What amounteth this, alas!
I putte me in thy protection
Diane, and in thy difpofition.

And home the goth anon the nexte way.
This is the effecte; ther n'is no more to fay.
The nexte houre of Mars folwing this
Arcite unto the temple walked is
Of fierce Mars, to don his facrifife
With all the rites of his payen wife.
With pitous herte and high devotion
Right thus to Mars he fayde his orifon :

O ftronge God, that in the regnes cold
Of Trace honoured art, and lord yhold,
And haft in every regne and every lond
Of armes all the bridel in thin hond,
And hem fortuneft as thee lift devife,
Accept of me my pitous facrifife

If fo be that my youthe may deserve,
And that my might be worthy for to ferve
Thy godhed, that I may ben on of thine,
Than praie I thee to rewe upon my pine,
For thilke peine and thilke hote fire
In which thou whilom brendeft for defirs
Whanne that thou ufedeft the beautee
Of fayre yonge Venus freshe and free,
And haddeft hire in armes at thy wille;
Although the ones on a time misfille,
When Vulcanus had caught thee in his las
And fond thee ligging by his wif, alas!
For thilke forwe that was tho in thin herte
Have reuthe as wel upon my peines fierte.
I am yonge and unkonning as thou woft,
And, as I trow, with love offended most
That ever was ony lives creature ;
For the that doth me all this wo endure
Ne recceth never whether I finke or flete;
And wel I wot, or the me mercy hete
Imofte with ftrengthe win hire in the place;
And wel I wot withouten helpe or grace
Of thee ne may my ftrengthe not availle;
Than helpe me, Lord, to-morwe in my bataille,
For thilke fire that whilom brenned thee,
As wel as that this fire now brenneth me,
And do, that I to-morwe may han victorie:
Min be the travaille and thin be the glorie.
Thy foveraine temple wol I moft honouren
Of ony place, and alway most labouren
In thy plefance and in thy craftes strong;
And in thy temple I wol my baner hong,
And all the armes of my compagnie,
And evermore until that day I die
Eterne fire I wol beforne thee find;
And eke to this avow I wol be bind.
My berd, my here that hangeth long adoun,
That never yet felt non offenfioun
Of rafour ne of there I wol thee yeve,
And ben thy trewe fervant while I live.
Now, Lord, have reuthe upon my forwes fore;
Yeve me the victorie; I axe thee no more.

The praier ftint of Arcita the ftronge,
The ringes on the temple dore that honge,
And eke the dores, clatterden ful faft,
Of which Arcita fomwhat him agaft,

The fires brent upon the auter bright
That it gan all the temple for to light;
A fwete fmell anon the ground up yaf,
And Arcita anon his hond up haf,
And more enfçenfe into the fire he caft,
With other rites mo, and at the laft
The ftatue of Mars began his hauberke ring,
And with that foun he herd a murmuring
Ful low and dim, that faid thus, Victorie;
For which he yaf to Mars honour and glorie.
And thus with joye and hope wel to fare
Arcite anon unto his inne is fare
As fayn as foul is of the brighte fonne.

And right anon fwiche ftrif ther is begonne
For thilke granting in the heven above
Betwixen Venus the goddeffe of Love,
And Mars the fterne god Armipotent,
That Jupiter was befy it to ftent,
Til that the pale Saturnus the Colde,
That knew fo many of aventures olde,
Fond in his olde experience and art
That he ful fone hath plefed every part.
As footh is fayd, elde hath gret avantage;
In cide is both wifdom and ufage:
Men may the old out-renne but not out-rede.
Saturne anon, to tenten ftrif and drede,
Albeit that it is again his kind,

Of all this ftrif he gan a remedy: find.

My dere doughtere Venus! quod Saturne,
My cours that hath fo wide for to turne
Hath more power than wot any man.
Min is the drenching in the fee fo wan,
Min is the prifon in the derke cote,
Min is the strangel and hanging by the throte,
The murmure, and the cherles rebelling,
The groyning, and the prive empoyfoning.
I do vengeance and pleine correction *
While I dwell in the figne of the Leon.
Min is the ruine of the highe halies,

1 he falling of the toures and of the walles
Upon the minour or the carpenter;
I flew Samfon in thaking the piler.
Min ben alfo the maladies colde,
The derke trefons and the caftes olde :
My loking is the fader of Peftilence.
Now wepe no more, I fhal do diligence
That Palamon, that is thin owen knight,
Shal have his lady, as thou haft him hight.
Thegh Mars fhal help his knight yet natheles
Betwixen you ther mot fometime be pees?
All be ye not of o complexion
That caufeth all day fwiche divifion.
I am thin ayel, redy at thy will;
Wepe now no more, I fhall thy luft fulfill.

Now woll flenten of the goddes above,
Of Mars and of Venus goddeffe of Love,
And tellen you as plainly as I can
The gret effect for which that I began.

Gret was the fefte in Athenes thilke day,
And eke the lufty fefon of that May
Made every wight to ben in swiche plesance,
That all that Monday justen they and dance
And spenden it in Venus highe fervise;
But by the caufe that they shulden rifęs
Bij

Erly a-morwe for to feen the fight,
Unto hir refte wenten they at night.
And on the morwe whan the day gan fpring
Of hors and harneis noife and clattering
Ther was in the hoftelries all aboute,
And to the paleis rode ther many a route
Of lordes upon stedes and palfreis.

Ther mayeft thou fee devifing of harneis
So uncouth and fo riche, and wrought fo wele
Of goldfinithry, of brouding and of stele;
The fheides brighte, tefteres, and trappures,
Gold-hewen helmes, hauberkes, cote armures;
Lordes in parementes on hir courseres,
Knightes of retenue, and eke fquieres,
Nailing the fperes, and helmes bokeling,
Guiding of fheldes, with lainers lacing;
Ther as nede is they weren nething idel:
The fomy ftedes on the golden bridel
Gnawing, and faft the armures alfo
With file and hammer priking to and fro;
Yemen on foot, and communes many on
With fhorte ftaves, thicke as they may gon;
Pipes, trompes, nakeres, and clariounes,
That in the battaille blowen blody founes;
The paleis ful of peple up and doun,
Here three, ther ten, holding hir questioun,
Devining of these Theban knightes two,
Som fayden thus, fom fayde it fhall be fo;
Som helden with him with the blacke berd,
Som with the bailed, fom with the thick herd;
Son. faide he loked grim, and wolde fighte;
He hath a fparth of twenty pound of wighte.
Thus was the halle full of devining
Long after that the fonne gan up fpring.
The gret Thefeus that of his flepe is waked
With mintralcie and noife that was maked,
Held yet the chambre of his paleis riche,
Til that the Theban knightes bothe yliche.
Honoured were, and to the paleis fette.

Dek Thefeus is at a window fette.
Araied right as he were a god in trone:
The peple prefet' thiderward ful fone,
Him for to feen and don high reverence,
And eke to herken his hefte and his fentence.
An heraud on a fcaffold made an O,
Til that the noife of the peple was ydo,
And whan he faw the peple of noife al still
Thus fhewed he the mighty dukes will.

The lord hath of his high difcretion
Confidered that it were deftruction
Te gentil blood to fighten in the gife
Of mortal bataille now in this emprise ;
Wherefore to fhapen that they fhul not die,
He wol his firfte purpos modifie.

No man therefore, up peine of losse of lif,
No maner fhot ne pollax ne fhort knif
Into the liftes fend or thider bring,

Ne fhort fwerd for to flike with point biting,
No man ne draw ne bere it by his fide;
Ne no mian hal unto his felaw ride.
But o cours, with a fharpe ygrounden fpere;
Foin if him lift on foot, himfelf to were:
And he that is at mefchief fhal be take,
And not flaine, but be brought unto the fake.

That fhal ben ordeined on eyther fide;
Thider he fhal by force, and ther abide :
And if fo fall the chevetain be take

On eyther fide, or elles fleth his make,
No longer fhal the tourneying ylast.
God fpede you; goth forth and lay on fast:
With longe fwerd and with mafe fighteth your fill,
Goth now your way; this is the lordes will.

The vois of the peple touched to the heven,
Se loude crieden they with mery steven,
God fave fwiche a lord that is fo good,
He wilneth no deftruction of blood.

Up gon the trompes and the melodie,
And to the liftes rit the compagnie
By ordinance, thurghout the cite large,
Hanged with cloth of gold and not with farge.
Ful like a lord this noble duk gan ride,
And these two Thebans upon cyther fide,
And after rode the quene and Emelie,
And after that another compagnie
Of on and other after hir degree;
And thus they paffen thurghout the citee,
And to the liftes comen they be time:
It n'as not of the day yet fully prime.

Whan fet was Thefeus ful riche and hie,
Ipolita the quene, and Emelie,
And other ladies in degrees aboute,
Unto the fetes prefeth all the route.

And weftward thurgh the gates under Mart
Arcite, and cké the hundred of his part,
With baner red, is entred right anon;
And in the felve moment Palamen
Is, under Venus, ef.ward in the place,
With baner white, and hardy chere and face.
In all the world to feken up and doun,
So even without variatioun
Ther n'ere fwiche compagnies never twey;
For ther was non fo wife that coude fey
That any hadde of other avantage
Of worthineffe, ne of eftat ne age,
So even were they chofen for to geffe:
And in two renges fayre they hem dreffe.
Whan that hir names red were everich on,
That in her nombre gile were ther non,
Tho were the gates thette, and cried was loude,
Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude

The heraudes left hir priking up and doun.
Now ringin trompes loud and clarioun.
Ther is no more to fay, but eft and weft
In gon the fperes fadly in the rest;
In goth the harpe fpore into the fide:
Ther fee men who can jufte and who can ride :"
Ther fhiveren fhaftes upon fheldes thicke;
He feleth thurgh the herte fpone the pricke:
Up fpringen fperes twenty foot on highte;
Out gon the fwerdes as the filver brighte:
The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede;
Out breft the blod with fterne ftremes rede:
With mighty maces the bones they to-brefte;
He thurgh the thickeft of the throng gan threfte:
Ther ftomblen ftedes ftrong, and doun goth all;
He rolleth under foot as doth a ball:
He foineth on his foo with a tronchoun,
And he him hurtleth with his hors adoyn;