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ute,
 And of her wommen eek an huge route.
 Up-on a thikke palfrey, paper-whyt,
 With sadel rede, enbrouded with delyt,
 Of gold the barres up-enbossed hye, 1200
 Sit Dido, al in gold and perre wrye;
 And she is fair, as is the brighte morwe,
 That heleth seke folk of nightes sorwe. (280)
 Up-on a courser, startling as the fyr,
 Men mighte turne him with a litel wyr, 1205
 Sit Eneas, lyk Phebus to devyse;
 So was he fresshe arayed in his wyse.
 The fomy brydel with the bit of gold
 Governeth he, right as him-self hath wold.
 And forth this noble quene thus lat I ryde 1210
 An hunting, with this Troyan by her syde.
 The herd of hertes founden is anoon,
 With 'hey! go bet! prik thou! lat goon, lat goon! (290)
 Why nil the leoun comen or the bere,
 That I mighte ones mete him with this spere?' 1215
 Thus seyn thise yonge folk, and up they kille
 These hertes wilde, and han hem at hir wille.
 Among al this to-romblen gan the heven,
 The thunder rored with a grisly steven;
 Doun com the rain, with hail and sleet so faste, 1220
 With hevenes fyr, that hit so sore agaste
 This noble quene, and also her meynee,
 That ech of hem was glad a-wey to flee. (300)
 And shortly, fro the tempest her to save,
 She fledde her-self into a litel cave, 1225
 And with her wente this Eneas al-so;
 I noot, with hem if ther wente any mo;
 The autour maketh of hit no mencioun.
 And heer began the depe affeccioun
 Betwix hem two; this was the firste morwe 1230
 Of her gladnesse, and ginning of her sorwe.
 For ther hath Eneas y-kneled so,
 And told her al his herte, and al his wo, (310)
 And sworn so depe, to her to be trewe,
 For wele or wo, and chaunge for no newe, 1235
 And as a fals lover so wel can pleyne,
 That sely Dido rewed on his peyne,
 And took him for husband, [to been] his wyf
 For ever-mo, whyl that hem laste lyf.
 And after this, whan that the tempest stente, 1240
 With mirth out as they comen, hoom they wente.
 The wikked fame up roos, and that anon,
 How Eneas hath with the quene y-gon (320)
 In-to the cave; and demed as hem liste;
 And whan the king, that Yarbas hight, hit wiste, 1245
 As he that had her loved ever his lyf,
 And wowed her, to have her to his wyf,
 Swich sorwe as he hath maked, and swich chere,
 Hit is a routhe and pitee for to here.
 But, as in love, al-day hit happeth so, 1250
 That oon shal laughen at anothers wo;
 Now laugheth Eneas, and is in Ioye
 And more richesse than ever he was in Troye. (330)
 O sely womman, ful of innocence,
 Ful of pitee, of trouthe, and conscience, 1255
 What maked yow to men to trusten so?
 Have ye swich routhe upon hir feined wo,
 And han swich olde ensamples yow beforn?
 See ye nat alle, how they been for-sworn?
 Wher see ye oon, that he ne hath laft his leef, 1260
 Or been unkinde, or doon her som mischeef,
 Or pilled her, or bosted of his dede?
 Ye may as wel hit seen, as ye may rede; (340)
 Tak heed now of this grete gentil-man,
 This Troyan, that so wel her plesen can, 1265
 That feineth him so trewe and obeising,
 So gentil and so privy of his doing,
 And can so wel doon alle his obeisaunces,
 And waiten her at festes and at daunces,
 And when she goth to temple and hoom ageyn, 1270
 And fasten til he hath his lady seyn,
 And bere in his devyses, for her sake,
 Noot I nat what; and songes wolde he make, (350)
 Iusten, and doon of armes many thinges,
 Sende her lettres, tokens, broches, ringes-- 1275
 Now herkneth, how he shal his lady serve!
 Ther-as he was in peril for to sterve
 For hunger, and for mischeef in the see,
 And desolat, and fled from his contree,
 And al his folk with tempest al to-driven, 1280
 She hath her body and eek her reame yiven
 In-to his hond, ther-as she mighte have been
 Of other lond than of Cartage a queen, (360)
 And lived in Ioye y-nogh; what wolde ye more?
 This Eneas, that hath so depe y-swore, 1285
 Is wery of his craft with-in a throwe;
 The hote ernest is al over-blowe.
 And prively he doth his shippes dighte,
 And shapeth him to stele a-wey by nighte.
 This Dido hath suspecioun of this, 1290
 And thoughte wel, that hit was al a-mis;
 For in his bedde he lyth a-night and syketh;
 She asketh him anoon, what him mislyketh-- (370)
 'My dere herte, which that I love most?'
 'Certes,' quod he, 'this night my fadres gost 1295
 Hath in my sleep so sore me tormented,
 And eek Mercurie his message hath presented,
 That nedes to the conquest of Itaile
 My destinee is sone for to saile;
 For which, me thinketh, brosten is myn herte!' 1300
 Ther-with his false teres out they sterte;
 And taketh her with-in his armes two.
 'Is that in ernest,' quod she; 'wil ye so? (380)
 Have ye nat sworn to wyve me to take,
 Alas! what womman wil ye of me make? 1305
 I am a gentil-woman and a queen,
 Ye wil nat fro your wyf thus foule fleen?
 That I was born! allas! what shal I do?'
 To telle in short, this noble queen Dido,
 She seketh halwes, and doth sacrifyse; 1310
 She kneleth, cryeth, that routhe is to devyse;
 Coniureth him, and profreth him to be
 His thral, his servant in the leste gree; (390)
 She falleth him to fote, and swowneth there
 Dischevele, with her brighte gilte here, 1315
 And seith, 'have mercy! let me with yow ryde!
 Thise lordes, which that wonen me besyde
 Wil me destroyen only for your sake.
 And, so ye wil me now to wyve take,
 As ye han sworn, than wol I yive yow leve 1320
 To sleen me with your swerd now sone at eve!
 For than yit shal I dyen as your wyf.
 I am with childe, and yive my child his lyf. (400)
 Mercy, lord! have pite in your thoght!'
 But al this thing availeth her right noght; 1325
 For on a night, slepinge, he let her lye,
 And stal a-wey un-to his companye,
 And, as a traitour, forth he gan to saile
 Toward the large contree of Itaile.
 Thus hath he laft Dido in wo and pyne; 1330
 And wedded ther a lady hight Lavyne.
 A cloth he lafte, and eek his swerd stonding,
 Whan he fro Dido stal in her sleping, (410)
 Right at her beddes heed, so gan he hye
 Whan that he stal a-wey to his navye; 1335
 Which cloth, whan sely Dido gan awake,
 She hath hit kist ful ofte for his sake;
 And seide, 'O cloth, whyl Iupiter hit leste,
 Tak now my soule, unbind me of this unreste!
 I have fulfild of fortune al the cours.' 1340
 And thus, allas! with-outen his socours,
 Twenty tyme y-swowned hath she thanne.
 And, whan that she un-to her suster Anne (420)
 Compleyned had, of which I may nat wryte--
 So greet a routhe I have hit for tendyte-- 1345
 And bad her norice and her suster goon
 To fecchen fyr and other thing anoon,
 And seide, that she wolde sacrifye.
 And, whan she mighte her tyme wel espye,
 Up-on the fyr of sacrifys she sterte, 1350
 And with his swerd she roof her to the herte.
 But, as myn autour seith, right thus she seyde;
 Or she was hurt, before that she deyde, (430)
 She wroot a lettre anoon, that thus began:--
 'Right so,' quod she, 'as that the whyte swan 1355
 Ayeins his deeth beginneth for to singe,
 Right so to yow make I my compleyninge.
 Nat that I trowe to geten yow
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