BALLAD

Ah, Death, Death, Death, to thee I make my prayer!

Come, rend me from this dolorous world apart!

Life lures no longer: since my lady fair

Would have me shun her, let my hapless heart

Be very prey to pain and sorrow's sword.

Gladness I leave and all delight for aye,

And thee alone, O Death, have I implored

Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Alas, alas, what doleful news is there!

Never to knight assailed with glaive or dart

Came heavier trouble than the woes I share,

I, who have gathered up in shame and smart

An evil greater than I may record:

Since now my love from all adventure high

Must needs withdraw, and death be my reward

Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Ah, lady of mine, can'st thou such hardness dare

And suffer me in anguish to depart

For love of thee? Yet Love must witness bear

Who knoweth no age can show, nor any art,

Servant more faithful both in deed and word

Among all lovers that he might espy:

But my mishaps a worser end afford

Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

Ah, God of love, why sufferest thou, fair lord,

That thus in sorrow undeserved I die?

All things I leave, of all to be abhorred,

Because my lady hath bidden me good-bye.

In such manner as I have told you did I write in answer to my Lady. And

when that she had opened my letter, and saw it so covered and defaced

and blurred with tears, certes it was told unto me that she was much

discomforted, and that as she read it, she wept so much, that the tears

ran down her face. And then, of her grace, she wrote back to me in great

haste, and charged the messenger that he lose no time in conveying the

letter duly. And he pledged him not to tarry by the way until he had

brought it to me. And the messenger hasted him all the night, and stayed

him not until that he was come at daybreak to the gate of the Castle.

Then he brought me the letter, the which calmed my grievous distress,

and banished my sorrow. And great need had I of this, for certes I was

like to die or to lose my reason. So listen now to the purport of the

letter which she sent, and of the which my heart had great joy.

_To the noblest and best of all_,

_My true and loyal friend_.

_My true, loyal, very kind and dear Friend_,--It is the fact

that, although I was fearful of losing mine honour, the which I

ought to dread above all things, as is counselled, as you have

been able to see, in the letter of the Lady of La Tour, to whom

I am much beholden for it (for certes I know that she has said

this for my well-being), it was against my wish that I wrote to

you, in my last letter, that which I made known to you therein,

for, my kind and gracious friend, I well perceive that Love

cannot suffer us to part from one another, and I repent me much

that I declared this unto you, for I know that you have had, and

still have, much sorrow because of this. Wherefore I pray you to

forgive me, and I beseech your pardon for it. And it much

grieves me that our good friend, your cousin, is not beside you

to cheer you. And I regret me that he is gone on so long a

journey. So by all the influence I may have over you, and by the

love you bear me, I entreat you in all things to possess your

mind in peace as aforetime, for greatly do I fear me that you

have become so sad, that I may not be in time to comfort you,

and that some sickness (from the which may God preserve you),

may overtake you. Therefore I shall have no ease until I have

news of you. So I write to you in great haste, beseeching you to

be cheerful and happy, for I have very good news to tell you,

and this is that our good friend, in whom we trust, will be here

within four days. So you shall come to see me, and I will keep

you advised concerning this, and we will welcome one another

heartily as heretofore. For, so help me God, even if it be my

ruin, I cannot part from you, and I have hope that, by God's

aid, our doings may be well hid, and also that you will alway

guard mine honour well, for on this I rely. My sweet and dear

Love, I pray God to give you perfect joy. Written in haste.

Your true and loyal friend.

And when I received this letter, I was wholly freed from my grief, and

no longer did I weep, but instead I praised God for this very good news.

And I answered the letter, and gave much thanks to my sweet lady, and I

further besought of her that I might see her right soon, so that I might

tell unto her the sorrow the which the letter I had received had caused

me. And I know not wherefore I should rehearse more of this matter, for

it is time for me to end. You have heard how that I had, without

dishonour, such joy of love as I desired, and I gainsay him who would

avouch that there was ever any wrong-doing or evil whatsoever in our

love, or that there was aught in it by the which honour was violated,

wherefore our love should be the more esteemed. Moreover I have told

unto you the pain and the grief which I endured aforetime, and how that

I persevered until my lady had pity on me. And now it is time this story

were ended, for if I rehearsed all the adventures, some pleasing, and

others painful, the which chanced to me in this love, and the evil and

the good which came to me of it, perchance I should become wearisome,

for I should have much to tell, and it would be a matter without end.

But, to sum up briefly, I tell you that I ofttimes afterward with great

delight saw the fair one in whom I put my trust, and joyously did I

receive from her, in large measure, loving comfort the which still

dwells in my memory. And for full two years did this dure, for she would

not let me depart from out her country, and right well did this please

me, for so ardent was I, that I cared for naught save to be near her.

Thus I bethink me that I resorted thither more than was fitting, so that

anger, stirred up by evil speaking, burst forth on account of our

doings, and because of this, I was troubled and ill-at-ease, for I could

not stay it, and thus I was no longer able to see my lady as was my

wont, the which grieved me sorely. Moreover I was blamed by friends, and

called recreant, in that I remained so much in retirement, and only

frequented jousts and tourneys and feasts which were held near by, and

not those at a distance. This, indeed, did not become one of noble

birth, and thus I should be quite the most despicable of my lineage if

that I remained there longer, and pursued not arms in many lands for to

win praise and renown. So spake my kinsfolk, and I felt assured that

they descanted to me thus for my good, but I feared me that it might be

displeasing to my lady to do this without her consent, and my heart was

exceeding sad.

And I besought of her that she would so contrive, that I might have

speech with her, since, chiefly for the sake of her good name, it was

needful that I should depart thence for awhile, and assuredly might she

believe that never for a single day should I forget her, and thus I

would go into Spain, whatever might come of it, and it was better to do

this before worse happened to her. And moreover she should have in

remembrance that I had made promise unto her that, for love of her, I

would achieve so much, that in the end I should be known as a brave man.

And so much did I talk, that she scarce uttered a word, and for very

short whiles did she remain, for at great risk was she come to a place

where I was.

And there was much weeping and great dole and sad countenance at our

parting, and scarce would she consent that I should go to the wars. And

wetting her face and neck with tears, and kissing her in haste, I very

fervently commended her to God, and thus I commended me to her a

thousand times, and submitted myself to her will. And I made promise

unto her that wheresoe'er I went, I would send tidings unto her, and

thus she could send back word to me how it fared with her.

And thus I departed, weeping and in sad case at leaving my beloved one.

And I joined a Spanish force, and was absent, and far from the fair one,

for the space of a year, and then I came back, being moved thereto by a

longing to see her. And when she heard of my return, she so contrived,

that I had speech with her without this being known of others. And

joyously was I received, and verily did we welcome one another heartily,

and rejoice over our reunion.

Thus from time to time I went to meet her, but there was risk in my

having speech with her, and so she came stealthily, in fear and

trembling, for fear of being observed, by reason of which she was quite

cast down. Therefore when I saw her so distraught, much of my joy was

taken away, because of the peril to the which I perceived that she, for

my sake, exposed her honour, and in the which she placed herself. And

because of this, I undertook many journeys, and sailed beyond the seas

for fear of evil-speaking. And in the manner did I spend ten years, and

ofttimes did I go to and fro. And at times, when it was opportune, it

chanced that I saw my dear lady.

And in suchwise did I explore many lands. And in a severe encounter I

was made a prisoner of war, at the which my lady was disquieted. Thus I

endured many misfortunes ere the ten years passed by. Even love brought

many upon me, and saved me not from them, for albeit I never, on my

soul, saw aught in my lady the which should have caused me to mistrust

her, jealousy, which is like unto madness, brewed for me such a potion,

that I became like unto one mad, for once, on my return from afar, I

bethought me, as soon as I saw her, that her heart was changed toward

me, and that, as it seemed to me, she had wholly cast me off, the which

filled my heart with such grief, that I was mad with rage. Thus all my

happiness was gone, and for longwhiles I could not calm or appease my

heart, the which was sorely troubled, and my lady was so displeased with

me on account of this, that for awhile I somewhat lost her favour.

Moreover, if I may venture to say so, I once saw her a little jealous,

the which distressed me much, for I knew not the reason of it, for God

knows that neither in thought nor in demeanour was I ever false to her,

nor did I so much as raise mine eyes to notice any other lady. But I

well perceived that he whose heart is wholly possessed of the passion of

love much needs become a prey to jealousy, for he who bears within him a

great and perfect love, can scarce restrain him from it.

And many songs were written touching our affair, some sad, and some

joyous; and for divers occasions I devised ballads, and lays, and

plaints, and other conceits, of the which there was one that was joyous

amongst ten which were sad, for such is the wont of the foolish heart

which dissembles love; and my lady sent some to me in her turn when that

she was able. And our ditties eased our troubles when that we were far

from one another, for in such manner did we divert us in the hope of

coming by something better, however long this might be in the coming.

And I have made known everything, from first to last, touching the love

from the which, for full ten years, I had very sad and painful thoughts,

but our love is in nowise ended, nor will it pass away until that our

bodies perish. But slanderers (whom may God confound, for there are too

many of them in the world) have forced me to abandon the fellowship of

her to whom I had made promise of my whole love. And in this she shall

not find me to fail. But I perceived that dishonour came to her because

of me; wherefore I hated my life which dured so long, for every one

gossiped about her. And in order to preserve her honour and her peace of

mind, I shrank from seeing her whom I loved above all, but ne'ertheless,

sorrowful and sad, I long made lament for that she was so blamed on my

account. But notwithstanding, my body, my goods, and all that I have to

bestow, are hers, and if it were needful, I would die for her, and this

is no fable. So I pray Almighty God to give her peace, and honour, and a

happy life, and perfect joy without end. And now my story is ended.

The Book called "The Duke of True Lovers" is set forth.

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