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And sih the lordes in astat,

And with himself wax in debat

Thenkende what he hadde lore,

And such a sorwe he tok therfore,

That he sat evere stille and thoghte,

As he which of no mete roghte.

The king behield his hevynesse,

And of his grete gentillesse 730

His doghter, which was fair and good

And ate bord before him stod,

As it was thilke time usage,

He bad to gon on his message

And fonde forto make him glad.

And sche dede as hire fader bad,

And goth to him the softe pas

And axeth whenne and what he was,

And preith he scholde his thoghtes leve.

He seith, "Ma Dame, be your leve 740

Mi name is hote Appolinus,

And of mi richesse it is thus,

Upon the See I have it lore.

The contre wher as I was bore,

Wher that my lond is and mi rente,

I lefte at Tyr, whan that I wente:

The worschipe of this worldes aghte,

Unto the god ther I betaghte."

And thus togedre as thei tuo speeke,

The teres runne be his cheeke. 750

The king, which therof tok good kepe,

Hath gret Pite to sen him wepe,

And for his doghter sende ayein,

And preide hir faire and gan to sein

That sche no lengere wolde drecche,

Bot that sche wolde anon forth fecche

Hire harpe and don al that sche can

To glade with that sory man.

And sche to don hir fader heste

Hir harpe fette, and in the feste 760

Upon a Chaier which thei fette

Hirself next to this man sche sette:

With harpe bothe and ek with mouthe

To him sche dede al that sche couthe

To make him chiere, and evere he siketh,

And sche him axeth hou him liketh.

"Ma dame, certes wel," he seide,

"Bot if ye the mesure pleide

Which, if you list, I schal you liere,

It were a glad thing forto hiere." 770

"Ha, lieve sire," tho quod sche,

"Now tak the harpe and let me se

Of what mesure that ye mene."

Tho preith the king, tho preith the queene,

Forth with the lordes alle arewe,

That he som merthe wolde schewe;

He takth the Harpe and in his wise

He tempreth, and of such assise

Singende he harpeth forth withal,

That as a vois celestial 780

Hem thoghte it souneth in here Ere,

As thogh that he an Angel were.

Thei gladen of his melodie,

Bot most of alle the compainie

The kinges doghter, which it herde,

And thoghte ek hou that he ansuerde,

Whan that he was of hire opposed,

Withinne hir herte hath wel supposed

That he is of gret gentilesse.

Hise dedes ben therof witnesse 790

Forth with the wisdom of his lore;

It nedeth noght to seche more,

He myhte noght have such manere,

Of gentil blod bot if he were.

Whanne he hath harped al his fille,

The kinges heste to fulfille,

Awey goth dissh, awey goth cuppe,

Doun goth the bord, the cloth was uppe,

Thei risen and gon out of halle.

The king his chamberlein let calle, 800

And bad that he be alle weie

A chambre for this man pourveie,

Which nyh his oghne chambre be.

"It schal be do, mi lord," quod he.

Appolinus of whom I mene

Tho tok his leve of king and queene

And of the worthi Maide also,

Which preide unto hir fader tho,

That sche myhte of that yonge man

Of tho sciences whiche he can 810

His lore have; and in this wise

The king hir granteth his aprise,

So that himself therto assente.

Thus was acorded er thei wente,

That he with al that evere he may

This yonge faire freisshe May

Of that he couthe scholde enforme;

And full assented in this forme

Thei token leve as for that nyht.

And whanne it was amorwe lyht, 820

Unto this yonge man of Tyr

Of clothes and of good atir

With gold and Selver to despende

This worthi yonge lady sende:

And thus sche made him wel at ese,

And he with al that he can plese

Hire serveth wel and faire ayein.

He tawhte hir til sche was certein

Of Harpe, of Citole and of Rote,

With many a tun and many a note 830

Upon Musique, upon mesure,

And of hire Harpe the temprure

He tawhte hire ek, as he wel couthe.

Bot as men sein that frele is youthe,

With leisir and continuance

This Mayde fell upon a chance,

That love hath mad him a querele

Ayein hire youthe freissh and frele,

That malgre wher sche wole or noght,

Sche mot with al hire hertes thoght 840

To love and to