Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Booknother. Ne I not who serveth leef, ne who the flour; Wel brouken they hir service or labour. For this thing is al of another tonne, Of olde story, er swich thing was begonne. *Whom that I serve as I have wit or might. *She is the clernesse and the verray light, *That in this derke worlde me wynt and ledeth, 85 *The herte in-with my sorowful brest yow dredeth, *And loveth so sore, that ye ben verrayly *The maistresse of my wit, and nothing I. *My word, my werk, is knit so in your bonde, *That, as an harpe obeyeth to the honde 90 *And maketh hit soune after his fingeringe, *Right so mowe ye out of myn herte bringe *Swich vois, right as yow list, to laughe or pleyne. *Be ye my gyde and lady sovereyne; *As to myn erthly god, to yow I calle, 95 *Bothe in this werke and in my sorwes alle. +But wherfor that I spak, to give credence To olde stories, and doon hem reverence, And that men mosten more thing beleve Then men may seen at eye or elles preve? 100 *That shal I seyn, whan that I see my tyme; *I may not al at ones speke in ryme. *My besy gost, that thrusteth alwey newe *To seen this flour so yong, so fresh of hewe, *Constreyned me with so gledy desyr, 105 *That in my herte I fele yit the fyr, *That made me to ryse er hit wer day-- And this was now the firste morwe of May-- *With dredful herte and glad devocioun, *For to ben at the resureccioun 110 *Of this flour, whan that it shuld unclose *Agayn the sonne, that roos as rede as rose, *That in the brest was of the beste that day, *That Agenores doghter ladde away. *And doun on knees anon-right I me sette, 115 *And, as I coude, this fresshe flour I grette; *Kneling alwey, til hit unclosed was, *Upon the smale softe swote gras, _From_ B. 180, 182. The longe day I shoop me for to abyde ... But for to loke upon the dayesye. _From_ B. 197-200. Whan that the sonne out of the south gan weste, And that this flour gan close and goon to reste For derknesse of the night, the which she dredde, +Hoom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde; _From_ B. 203-211. +And, in a litel herber that I have, That benched was on turves fresshe y-grave, +I bad men sholde me my couche make; +For deyntee of the newe someres sake, +I bad hem strawen floures on my bed. +Whan I was leyd, and had my eyen hed, I fel on slepe in-with an houre or two; Me mette how I lay in the medew tho, To seen this flour, that I so love and drede, That was with floures swote enbrouded al, *Of swich swetnesse and swich odour over-al, 120 That, for to speke of gomme, or herbe, or tree, +Comparisoun may noon y-maked be; For hit surmounteth pleynly alle odoures, +And eek of riche beautee alle floures. +Forgeten had the erthe his pore estat 125 +Of winter, that him naked made and mat, And with his swerd of cold so sore greved; Now hath the atempre sonne al that releved That naked was, and clad hit new agayn. +The smale foules, of the seson fayn, 130 +That from the panter and the net ben scaped, +Upon the fouler, that hem made a-whaped +In winter, and distroyed had hir brood, +In his despyt, hem thoughte hit did hem good +To singe of him, and in hir song despyse 135 +The foule cherl that, for his covetyse, +Had hem betrayed with his sophistrye. +This was hir song--'the fouler we defye, And al his craft!' And somme songen clere Layes of love, that Ioye hit was to here, 140 In worshipinge and preisinge of hir make. And, for the newe blisful somers sake, *Upon the braunches ful of blosmes softe, *In hir delyt, they turned hem ful ofte, And songen, 'blessed be seynt Valentyn! 145 For on his day I chees yow to be myn, +Withouten repenting, myn herte swete!' +And therwith-al hir bekes gonnen mete, Yelding honour and humble obeisaunces To love, and diden hir other observaunces 150 That longeth unto love and to nature; *Construeth that as yow list, I do no cure. *And tho that hadde doon unkindenesse-- *As dooth the tydif, for new-fangelnesse-- *Besoghte mercy of hir trespassinge, 155 *And humblely songen hir repentinge, *And sworen on the blosmes to be trewe, *So that hir makes wolde upon hem rewe, *And at the laste maden hir acord. *Al founde they Daunger for a tyme a lord, 160 *Yet Pitee, through his stronge gentil might, *Forgaf, and made Mercy passen Right, *Through innocence and ruled curtesye. *But I ne clepe nat innocence folye, *Ne fals pitee, for 'vertu is the mene,' 165 *As Etik saith, in swich maner I mene. *And thus thise foules, voide of al malyce, *Acordeden to love, and laften vyce *Of hate, and songen alle of oon acord, *'Welcome, somer, our governour and lord!' 170 *And Zephirus and Flora gentilly *Yaf to the floures, softe and tenderly, *Hir swote breth, and made hem for to sprede, *As god and goddesse of the floury mede; *In which me thoghte I mighte, day by day, 175 *Dwellen alwey, the Ioly month of May, *Withouten sleep, withouten mete or drinke. *A-doun ful softely I gan to sinke; *And, leninge on myn elbowe and my syde, The longe day I shoop me for to abyde 180 *For nothing elles, and I shal nat lye, But for to loke upon the dayesye, *That wel by reson men hit calle may *The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' *The emperice and flour of floures alle. 185 *I pray to god that faire mot she falle, *And alle that loven floures, for hir sake! But natheles, ne wene nat that I make In preysing of the flour agayn the leef, *No more than of the corn agayn the sheef: 190 For, as to me, nis lever noon ne lother; I nam with-holden yit with never nother. Ne I not who serveth leef, ne who the flour; Wel brouken they hir service or labour; For this thing is al of another tonne, 195 Of olde story, er swich thing was be-gonne. Whan that the sonne out of the south gan weste, And that this flour gan close and goon to reste For derknesse of the night, the which she dredde, +Hoom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde 200 *To goon to reste, and erly for to ryse, To seen this flour to sprede, as I devyse. +And, in a litel herber that I have, That benched was on turves fresshe y-grave, +I bad men sholde me my couche make; 205 +For deyntee of the newe someres sake, +I bad hem strawen floures on my bed. +Whan I was leyd, and had myn eyen hed, I fel on slepe in-with an houre or two; Me mette how I lay in the medew tho, 210 To seen this flour that I so love and drede. And from a-fer com walking in the mede The god of love, and in his hande a quene; And she was clad in real habit grene. +A fret of gold she hadde next hir heer, 215 +And upon that a whyt coroun she beer With florouns smale, and I shal nat lye; For al the world, ryght as a dayesye +Y-corouned is with whyte leves lyte, So were the florouns of hir coroun whyte; 220 For of o perle fyne, oriental, +Hir whyte coroun was y-maked al; +For which the whyte coroun, above the grene, +Made hir lyk a daysie for to sene, Considered eek hir fret of gold above. 225 +Y-clothed was t |