The moder of the sowdan, welle of vyces,
Espyëd hath hir sones pleyn entente,
How he wol lete his olde sacrifyces, 325
And right anon she for hir conseil sente;
And they ben come, to knowe what she mente.
And when assembled was this folk in-fere, (230)
She sette hir doun, and sayde as ye shal here.
‘Lordes,’ quod she, ‘ye knowen everichon, 330
How that my sone in point is for to lete
The holy lawes of our Alkaron,
Yeven by goddes message Makomete.
But oon avow to grete god I hete,
The lyf shal rather out of my body sterte 335
Than Makometes lawe out of myn herte!
330. E. she seyde; _rest_ quod she. 333. Cp. Pt. Ln. messager; Hl.
messanger; _see note._
[140: T. 4757-4791.]
What shulde us tyden of this newe lawe
But thraldom to our bodies and penance? (240)
And afterward in helle to be drawe
For we reneyed Mahoun our creance? 340
But, lordes, wol ye maken assurance,
As I shal seyn, assenting to my lore,
And I shall make us sauf for evermore?’
They sworen and assenten, every man,
To live with hir and dye, and by hir stonde; 345
And everich, in the beste wyse he can,
To strengthen hir shal alle his freendes fonde;
And she hath this empryse y-take on honde, (250)
Which ye shal heren that I shal devyse,
And to hem alle she spak right in this wyse. 350
‘We shul first feyne us cristendom to take,
Cold water shal not greve us but a lyte;
And I shal swich a feste and revel make,
That, as I trowe, I shal the sowdan quyte.
For though his wyf be cristned never so whyte, 355
She shal have nede to wasshe awey the rede,
Thogh she a font-ful water with hir lede.’
O sowdanesse, rote of iniquitee, (260)
Virago, thou Semyram the secounde,
O serpent under femininitee, 360
Lyk to the serpent depe in helle y-bounde,
O feyned womman, al that may confounde
Vertu and innocence, thurgh thy malyce,
Is bred in thee, as nest of every vyce!
O Satan, envious sin thilke day 365
That thou were chased from our heritage,
Wel knowestow to wommen the olde way!
Thou madest Eva bringe us in servage. (270)
Thou wolt fordoon this cristen mariage.
Thyn instrument so, weylawey the whyle! 370
Makestow of wommen, whan thou wolt begyle.
[141: T. 4792-4824.]
This sowdanesse, whom I thus blame and warie,
Leet prively hir conseil goon hir way.
What sholde I in this tale lenger tarie?
She rydeth to the sowdan on a day, 375
And seyde him, that she wolde reneye hir lay,
And cristendom of preestes handes fonge,
Repenting hir she hethen was so longe, (280)
Biseching him to doon hir that honour,
That she moste han the cristen men to feste; 380
‘To plesen hem I wol do my labour.’
The sowdan seith, ‘I wol don at your heste,’
And kneling thanketh hir of that requeste.
So glad he was, he niste what to seye;
She kiste hir sone, and hoom she gooth hir weye. 385