The Canterbury Tales [371]
said he thus: "O palace desolate! O house of houses, *whilom beste hight!* *formerly called best* O palace empty and disconsolate! O thou lantern, of which quench'd is the light! O palace, whilom day, that now art night! Well oughtest thou to fall, and I to die, Since she is gone that wont was us to guy!* *guide, rule
"O palace, whilom crown of houses all, Illumined with sun of alle bliss! O ring, from which the ruby is out fall! O cause of woe, that cause hast been of bliss! Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss Thy colde doores, durst I for this rout; And farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!"
. . . . . . . . . . .
From thence forth he rideth up and down, And ev'ry thing came him to remembrance, As he rode by the places of the town, In which he whilom had all his pleasance; "Lo! yonder saw I mine own lady dance; And in that temple, with her eyen clear, Me caughte first my righte lady dear.
"And yonder have I heard full lustily My deare hearte laugh; and yonder play: Saw I her ones eke full blissfully; And yonder ones to me gan she say, 'Now, goode sweete! love me well, I pray;' And yond so gladly gan she me behold, That to the death my heart is to her hold.* *holden, bound
"And at that corner, in the yonder house, Heard I mine allerlevest* lady dear, *dearest of all So womanly, with voice melodious, Singe so well, so goodly and so clear, That in my soule yet me thinks I hear The blissful sound; and in that yonder place My lady first me took unto her grace."
Then he went to the gates, and gazed along the way by which he had attended Cressida at her departure; then he fancied that all the passers-by pitied him; and thus he drove forth a day or two more, singing a song, of few words, which he had made to lighten his heart:
"O star, of which I lost have all the light, With hearte sore well ought I to bewail, That ever dark in torment, night by night, Toward my death, with wind I steer and sail; For which, the tenthe night, if that I fail* *miss; be left without The guiding of thy beames bright an hour, My ship and me Charybdis will devour."
By night he prayed the moon to run fast about her sphere; by day he reproached the tardy sun -- dreading that Phaethon had come to life again, and was driving the chariot of Apollo out of its straight course. Meanwhile Cressida, among the Greeks, was bewailing the refusal of her father to let her return, the certainty that her lover would think her false, and the hopelessness of any attempt to steal away by night. Her bright face waxed pale, her limbs lean, as she stood all day looking toward Troy; thinking on her love and all her past delights, regretting that she had not followed the counsel of Troilus to steal away with him, and finally vowing that she would at all hazards return to the city. But she was fated, ere two months, to be full far from any such intention; for Diomede now brought all his skill into play, to entice Cressida into his net. On the tenth day, Diomede, "as fresh as branch in May," came to the tent of Cressida, feigning business with Calchas.
Cresside, at shorte wordes for to tell, Welcomed him, and down by her him set, And he was *eath enough to make dwell;* *easily persuaded to stay* And after this, withoute longe let,* *delay The spices and the wine men forth him fet,* *fetched And forth they speak of this and that y-fere,* *together As friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.
He gan first fallen of the war in speech Between them and the folk of Troye town, And of the siege he gan eke her beseech To tell him what was her opinioun; From that demand he so descended down To aske her, if that her strange thought The Greekes' guise,* and workes that they wrought. *fashion
And why her father tarried* so long *delayed To wedde her unto some worthy wight. Cressida, that was in her paines strong For love of Troilus, her owen knight,
"O palace, whilom crown of houses all, Illumined with sun of alle bliss! O ring, from which the ruby is out fall! O cause of woe, that cause hast been of bliss! Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss Thy colde doores, durst I for this rout; And farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!"
. . . . . . . . . . .
From thence forth he rideth up and down, And ev'ry thing came him to remembrance, As he rode by the places of the town, In which he whilom had all his pleasance; "Lo! yonder saw I mine own lady dance; And in that temple, with her eyen clear, Me caughte first my righte lady dear.
"And yonder have I heard full lustily My deare hearte laugh; and yonder play: Saw I her ones eke full blissfully; And yonder ones to me gan she say, 'Now, goode sweete! love me well, I pray;' And yond so gladly gan she me behold, That to the death my heart is to her hold.* *holden, bound
"And at that corner, in the yonder house, Heard I mine allerlevest* lady dear, *dearest of all So womanly, with voice melodious, Singe so well, so goodly and so clear, That in my soule yet me thinks I hear The blissful sound; and in that yonder place My lady first me took unto her grace."
Then he went to the gates, and gazed along the way by which he had attended Cressida at her departure; then he fancied that all the passers-by pitied him; and thus he drove forth a day or two more, singing a song, of few words, which he had made to lighten his heart:
"O star, of which I lost have all the light, With hearte sore well ought I to bewail, That ever dark in torment, night by night, Toward my death, with wind I steer and sail; For which, the tenthe night, if that I fail* *miss; be left without The guiding of thy beames bright an hour, My ship and me Charybdis will devour."
By night he prayed the moon to run fast about her sphere; by day he reproached the tardy sun -- dreading that Phaethon had come to life again, and was driving the chariot of Apollo out of its straight course. Meanwhile Cressida, among the Greeks, was bewailing the refusal of her father to let her return, the certainty that her lover would think her false, and the hopelessness of any attempt to steal away by night. Her bright face waxed pale, her limbs lean, as she stood all day looking toward Troy; thinking on her love and all her past delights, regretting that she had not followed the counsel of Troilus to steal away with him, and finally vowing that she would at all hazards return to the city. But she was fated, ere two months, to be full far from any such intention; for Diomede now brought all his skill into play, to entice Cressida into his net. On the tenth day, Diomede, "as fresh as branch in May," came to the tent of Cressida, feigning business with Calchas.
Cresside, at shorte wordes for to tell, Welcomed him, and down by her him set, And he was *eath enough to make dwell;* *easily persuaded to stay* And after this, withoute longe let,* *delay The spices and the wine men forth him fet,* *fetched And forth they speak of this and that y-fere,* *together As friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.
He gan first fallen of the war in speech Between them and the folk of Troye town, And of the siege he gan eke her beseech To tell him what was her opinioun; From that demand he so descended down To aske her, if that her strange thought The Greekes' guise,* and workes that they wrought. *fashion
And why her father tarried* so long *delayed To wedde her unto some worthy wight. Cressida, that was in her paines strong For love of Troilus, her owen knight,