Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 29
XXIX
Queen Venus’ ardent torch doth fire
The Lover’s bosom with desire
So fervid, that he dares the Rose
To kiss, in faith 'twill heal his woes3100
Fair-welcome, when he felt the flame
Of Venus’ brand, forthwith became
Willing to grant my prayer, and nought
He hindered more the boon I sought.3630
The kiss attained
So towards the Rose I went amain,
attained And won the kiss, sweet cure of pain!
O moment blest! O heavenly joy!
O happiness without alloy!
My senses suddenly were drowned
In fragrant perfume, for I found
Love’s bitterness was overpast,
Which o’er my life of late had cast
A cloud of woe. What floods of bliss
Embalmed me, through a single kiss3640
Of that fair flower, so sweet of scent!
No longer will my life be spent
In sighs, its memory will suffice
To hold ray soul in paradise.
And yet what suffering have I tasted,
What days and nights in sorrow wasted,
Since first I kissed ray precious Rose!
But never yet did sea repose
From ruffling, free of storm and wind.
So is it with the lover’s mind,3650
Controlled by Love’s almighty power,
Wounded and healed from hour to hour.
But now, ’tis mine to tell how Shame,
To wear and waste my spirit, came,
And how that mighty tower was built,
Whereon was so much labour spilt,
Ere yielded it to Love’s attack.
Of all the history nought shall lack,
But fair be writ within this book,
In hope that she therein may look3660
Who hath my heart, God save and bless
Her everywise, whose tenderness
To me were far more rich reward
Than earth and heaven besides afford.
Evil-Tongue wakes Jealousy
Then Evil-Tongue, who loves to spoil
The joys for which fond lovers toil,
(For no more reason than that he
Delights in strife and enmity),
Beheld the kind and friendly deed
Fair-Welcome wrought.
A hateful weed3670
Is he, foul Scolding’s base-born son,
Than whom in all the world is none
Of speech more bitter and severe,
And who his mother was is clear
By his discourse.
He, enviously,
At once began to watch and spy
Fair-Welcome and myself, and said,
The eye he’d give from out his head,
If we betwixt us had not laid
Some cunning plot.
Such noise he made3680
’Gainst Courtesy’s fair son and me,
That lastly waked he Jealousy,
Who from her couch in wild alarm
Sprang up, foreboding grievous harm,
And like a maniac ran to seize
Fair-Welcome, who such sore misease
Felt, that he wished himself, I trow,
Far off as Etampes, Toul, or Meaux.