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T. 9903-9938.]
E. THE MARCHANTES TALE.
449
He made a gardin, walled al with stoon;
So fair a gardin woot I nowher noon. 2030
For out of doute, I verraily suppose,
That he that wroot the Romance of the Rose
Ne coude of it the beautee wel devyse;
Ne Priapus ne mighte nat suffyse, (790)
Though he be god of gardins, for to telle 2035
The beautee of the gardin and the welle,
That stood under a laurer alwey grene.
Ful ofte tyme he, Pluto, and his quene,
Proserpina, and al hir fayërye
Disporten hem and maken melodye
Aboute that welle, and daunced, as men tolde.
This noble knight, this Ianuarie the olde,
Swich deintee hath in it to walke and pleye,
That he wol no wight suffren bere the keye (800)
Save he him-self; for of the smale wiket 2045
He bar alwey of silver a smal cliket,
With which, whan that him leste, he it unshette.
And whan he wolde paye his wyf hir dette
In somer seson, thider wolde he go,
And May his wyf, and no wight but they two;
And thinges whiche that were nat doon a-bedde,
He in the gardin parfourned hem and spedde.
And in this wyse, many a mery day,
Lived this Ianuarie and fresshe May. (810)
But worldly Ioye may nat alwey dure 2055
To Ianuarie, ne to no creature.
O sodeyn hap, o thou fortune instable, Auctor.
Lyk to the scorpioun so deceivable,
That flaterest with thyn heed when thou wolt stinge;
Thy tayl is deeth, thurgh thyn enveniminge. 2060
O brotil Ioye! o swete venim queynte!
O monstre, that so subtilly canst peynte
Thy yiftes, under hewe of stedfastnesse,
That thou deceyvest bothe more and lesse! (820)
So fair a gardin woot I nowher noon. 2030
For out of doute, I verraily suppose,
That he that wroot the Romance of the Rose
Ne coude of it the beautee wel devyse;
Ne Priapus ne mighte nat suffyse, (790)
Though he be god of gardins, for to telle 2035
The beautee of the gardin and the welle,
That stood under a laurer alwey grene.
Ful ofte tyme he, Pluto, and his quene,
Proserpina, and al hir fayërye
Disporten hem and maken melodye
Aboute that welle, and daunced, as men tolde.
This noble knight, this Ianuarie the olde,
Swich deintee hath in it to walke and pleye,
That he wol no wight suffren bere the keye (800)
Save he him-self; for of the smale wiket 2045
He bar alwey of silver a smal cliket,
With which, whan that him leste, he it unshette.
And whan he wolde paye his wyf hir dette
In somer seson, thider wolde he go,
And May his wyf, and no wight but they two;
And thinges whiche that were nat doon a-bedde,
He in the gardin parfourned hem and spedde.
And in this wyse, many a mery day,
Lived this Ianuarie and fresshe May. (810)
But worldly Ioye may nat alwey dure 2055
To Ianuarie, ne to no creature.
O sodeyn hap, o thou fortune instable, Auctor.
Lyk to the scorpioun so deceivable,
That flaterest with thyn heed when thou wolt stinge;
Thy tayl is deeth, thurgh thyn enveniminge. 2060
O brotil Ioye! o swete venim queynte!
O monstre, that so subtilly canst peynte
Thy yiftes, under hewe of stedfastnesse,
That thou deceyvest bothe more and lesse! (820)
