Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 70
LXX
The crone, desirous to console
Fair-Welcome’s grief and bitter dole,
The Lover’s story doth relate,
Who is for him disconsolate.
The chaplet
If only you are brave and wise;
For through my hands, by great surprise,
The noblest gallant known on earth,
Of fairest wit and greatest worth,
And who with grace saluteth you
Each time I see him passing through13280
The street, doth this fair chaplet send,
As token from a loving friend.
Most gladly, saith he, would he see
Your face, and die right willingly,
Nor care to know another day
Of health, if only he might pay
His court to you, and do your will,
All other good he counts but ill.
He swears by God and good saint Foy,
That unto him the greatest joy13290
On earth would be to gain one smile
Or word from you, therefor exile
He’d count as nought though he should be
To Pavia sent all nakedly.
Reckless is he of all beside,
If only he may near you bide.
The Author.
Whence comes it?
Fair-Welcome straight desires to know
What kindly hand would fain bestow
On him the chaplet, for no will
Hath he to take the gift, until13300
He knows the quarter whither sent
Hath been this graceful compliment.
Forthwith the harridan reveals
The tale at full, nor aught conceals.
The Duenna.
’Tis from that youth, you know right well,
Of whom you oft have heard me tell,
And surely ’twas for his dear sake
That Evil-Tongue foul war did make
Against you—ah! vile child of vice!
He’s gone—but not to paradise.13310
Full many a man hath he defamed,
But now the fiends his soul have claimed.
His death from fear of slander frees
All men, none care for him two peas.
And e’en should he again revive,
Lover’s And reappear on earth alive,
He could not injure you one whit,
For I know more than he of it.
The Lover’s merits
Believe me then, this chaplet take,
And wear it for the Lover’s sake.13320
He loves you well, oh doubt it not,
With love that hath nor stain nor blot.
And if he had an afterthought
Thereon, he dared to tell me nought.
Would he some thoughtless folly try,
That may you easily deny;
He who doth wrong must drink the brew,
But trust in him, I counsel you.
No fool is he, but staid and wise,
And would nought wrong or base devise,13330
Therefore he hath my earnest love.
Fear not that he so vile will prove,
As dare to make to you a prayer
But what the fiercest light will bear.
Most loyal of all men is he,
As all who keep his company
Would gladly witness and confess.
The very flower of gentleness
Is he, nay, woman never bare
A child of soul more passing fair,13340
And no man living ever heard
Against him harsh or cruel word
But from the lips of Evil-Tongue;
But what he said and what he sung
Are now by all true men forgot,
While he himself is left to rot.
More than the half of what he said
Have I forgotten, by my head,
And do but know ’twas false and bad,
It seemed as he an anvil had13350
For forging lies.
The Lover’s generosity
Had it but been
Known to the Lover, well I ween
That he had slain him, for none can
Compare with this most noble man
For knighthood. In his bounteous deeds
Of largess he by far exceeds
King Arthur, nay, his gifts are grander
Than those of far-famed Alexander.
Did he but own unbounded store
Of gold, like those famed men of yore,13360
His bounties far would overgo
Their gifts a hundred times I trow.
Yea, did he wealth of goods possess
To keep pace with his generousness,
Most bounteous were be of all men.
I pray you take this chaplet then,
Its flowers are sweet as dittany.
The Author.
I fear ’twould bring ill hap to me,
Fair-Welcome cried, whose very frame
Trembled with fear, while went and came13370
The colour to his cheeks.
She thrust
The gift on him, as needs he must
Accept it, though his hand away
He turned, and said: Forgive me, pray,
If I so fair a gift refuse,
And my ungracious act excuse.
Yet fain would he the garland take,
Whate’er might follow for its sake.
Fair- Welcome.
The chaplet refused
Right fair the chaplet is, quoth he,
But rather I, by far would see,13380
The clothes in which I stand afire
Than take that which misfortune dire
Most surely must bring down on me;
What shall we say to Jealousy?
I doubt me nowise that she’ll tear
The flowers in fragments off my hair,
And then, foul traitress, will outright
Destroy me, or in cruel spite,
Knowing from whom the prize I got,
Thrust me in closer gaol to rot,13390
With suffering more severe than e’er
Before hath been my lot to bear.
And if I flee her cruel face,
Where can I find safe hiding-place?
Alas! my foe would soon contrive
To take, and bury me alive,
For many a one with hue and cry
Would follow me persistently—
I’ll not receive it!
The Duenna.
Yes, you will,
Fair-Welcome.
But if she asks whence comes the prize?
The Duenna.
Oh! I can forge you twenty lies.
Fair-Welcome.
But if she question me amain.
How shall I answer her again?
If in her rage she cruelly
Rebuke me, how shall I reply?
I can but put her off, forsooth.
With some fair plausible untruth.
And I, if she thereof should know,
Pain worse than death must undergo.13410
The Duenna.
What shall you say? If you have not
A better tale, ’twere well I wot
To say you had it straight from me,
That would above suspicion be,
And nought of blame would you receive
For taking that I chose to give.