[79] This lay has been translated into English metre, under the
title of "the _Nythingale_." Bibl. Cotton. Calig. A. 11.
[80] Perhaps Milwr, a _warrior_.
* * * * *
No. X.--CHAITIVEL.
There lived formerly, at Nantes in Bretagne, a lady of such exquisite
beauty that no one could behold her with impunity. All the young men of
the town were rivals for her smiles; but four, nearly of the same age,
and of equal birth and accomplishments, soon eclipsed all the rest of
the competitors. Each of these four deserved, and obtained, a place in
her affections; but their merits were so equal that she was unable to
make a choice. At tournaments she sent to all some mark of distinction;
a ring, a scarf, a pennant, or other ornament; and all ascribed to her,
as mistress of their actions, the exploits they had the good fortune to
perform. It happened once, that Nantes was appointed for the celebration
of a tournament at the Easter festival. The four knights set out to meet
the foreign ones, and proposed to joust with an equal number: the offer
was accepted, and the contest ended to the advantage of the town. On the
following day the four young lovers still further distinguished
themselves; but the spectacle at length degenerated, as was frequently
the case, into a real combat, in which three out of the four were
accidentally slain, and the fourth dangerously wounded. They were
brought back to the lady, who caused the three to be magnificently
interred, and summoned the best physicians of the town to assist her
attendance on the survivor. Their joint efforts were at length
successful. He became convalescent; and, finding his passion revive with
his returning health, daily importuned the lady for her hand, to which
there now remained no other equal claimant. But she gave him to
understand, that feeling herself singular in misfortune, by having lost
in one day three admirers of superior merit, she would not consent to
bear to the bridal ceremony a heart consumed by eternal regret; and
that, as a monument of her grief, she intended to compose a lay, the
title of which should be "Les quatre Dols," (the four griefs). The
lover, instead of attempting to argue her out of this resolution, only
employs his eloquence in convincing her that the title of the new lay
ought to be "Le Chaitivel," (the wretch), because his rivals had found
in death the end of their disappointments, while he was doomed to a life
of sorrow and privation. The lady having assented to this change, the
story is abruptly brought to a conclusion.
* * * * *
No. XI.--_Translation of the Lai DEE CHEVREFOIL_:
_(From Notes to Sir Tristrem, edited by Walter Scott, Esq.)_
I am much pleased with the lay which is called Chevrefoil. Let me relate
to you truly on what occasion it was made, and by whom. Many persons
have narrated the story to me; and I have also found it in writing, in
the work which treats of Tristrem, and of the Queen; and of their
constant love, from which they suffered a thousand sorrows; and expired
on the same day.[81]
King Markes had been much offended with his nephew, Tristrem; and had
banished him on account of his attachment to the queen. The knight
retired into the country where he was born; spent there a whole year of
affliction; and, being still forbidden to return, became careless of
life. Do not wonder at this; for a true lover, where his wishes are
crossed by insuperable obstacles, can set no bounds to his grief.
Tristrem, therefore, thus driven to despair, left his home; passed into
Cornwall, the abode of the queen, and concealed himself in the thickest
part of the forest; from which he issued only at the close of the day,
at which time he took up his lodgings among the peasants and the poorest
of mankind. After frequent questions to these his hosts, concerning the
public news of the court, he at length learned the king had convoked his
barons, and summoned them to attend him at Pentecost, at the castle of
Tintagel. Tristrem was rejoiced at this news; because it was impossible
the queen could arrive at the meeting without giving him an opportunity
of getting sight of her during the journey. On the appointed day,
therefore, be took his station, in that part of the wood through which
the road passed, cut down a branch of _codre_ (hazel), smoothed it,
wrote his name on it with the point of his knife, together with other
characters, which the queen would well know how to decypher. He
perceives her approaching; he sees her examine with attention every
object on her road. In former times they had recognized each other by
means of a similar device; and he trusts, that, should she cast her eyes
on the stick, she will suspect it to belong to her lover. This was the
purport of the characters traced on it: "That he had long been waiting
at a distance, in hopes of being favoured with some expedient which
might procure him a meeting, without which he could no longer exist. It
was with these two, as with the _chevrefoil_ and the _codre._ When the
honey-suckle has caught hold of the _codre_, and encircled it by its
embraces, the two will live together and flourish; but if any one
resolves to sever them, the _codre_ suddenly dies, and the honey-suckle
with it. Sweet friend, so it is with us; I cannot live without you, nor
you without me."
The queen slowly riding on, perceives the stick, and recognizes the
well-known characters. She orders the knights who accompany her to stop.
She is tired; she will get off her horse for a short time, and take some
repose. She calls to her only her maid, her faithful Brenguein; quits
the road, plunges into the thickest part of the forest, and finds him
whom she loved more than all the world. Both were delighted beyond
measure at this meeting, which gives them full leisure to concert their
future projects. She tells him, that he may now be easily reconciled to
his uncle. That the king has often regretted his absence, and
attributes to the malicious accusations of their common enemies, the
severe measure of his banishment. After a long conversation, the queen
tears herself from him; and they separate with mutual grief. Tristrem
returned to South-Wales, from whence he was soon recalled by his uncle;
but, in the mean time, he had repeated to himself, over and over again,
every word of his mistress's late conversation; and, while full of the
joy he felt at having seen her, he composed (being a perfect master of
the lays) a new lay, describing his stratagem, its success, his delight,
and the very words uttered by the queen. I will tell you the name of
this lay it is called _Goat-leaf_ in English, and _Chevre-foil_ in
French. I have now told you the whole truth.[82]