Part 82

“I say not this by me for that I can Do no service that may my lady please; But I dare say, I am her truest man,* *liegeman, servant *As to my doom,* and fainest would her please; *in my judgement *At shorte words,* until that death me seize, *in one word* I will be hers, whether I wake or wink. And true in all that hearte may bethink.”

Of all my life, since that day I was born, *So gentle plea,* in love or other thing, *such noble pleading* Ye hearde never no man me beforn; Whoso that hadde leisure and cunning* *skill For to rehearse their cheer and their speaking: And from the morrow gan these speeches last, Till downward went the Sunne wonder fast.

The noise of fowles for to be deliver’d* *set free to depart So loude rang, “Have done and let us wend,”* *go That well ween’d I the wood had all to-shiver’d:* *been shaken to “Come off!” they cried; “alas! ye will us shend!* pieces* *ruin When will your cursed pleading have an end? How should a judge either party believe, For yea or nay, withouten any preve?”* *proof

The goose, the duck, and the cuckoo also, So cried “keke, keke,” “cuckoo,” “queke queke,” high, That through mine ears the noise wente tho.* *then The goose said then, “All this n’is worth a fly! But I can shape hereof a remedy; And I will say my verdict, fair and swith,* *speedily For water-fowl, whoso be wroth or blith.”* *glad

“And I for worm-fowl,” said the fool cuckow; For I will, of mine own authority, For common speed,* take on me the charge now; *advantage For to deliver us is great charity.” “Ye may abide a while yet, pardie,”* *by God Quoth then the turtle; “if it be your will A wight may speak, it were as good be still.

“I am a seed-fowl, one th’unworthiest, That know I well, and the least of cunning; But better is, that a wight’s tongue rest, Than *entremette him of* such doing *meddle with* <41> Of which he neither rede* can nor sing; *counsel And who it doth, full foul himself accloyeth,* *embarrasseth For office uncommanded oft annoyeth.”

Nature, which that alway had an ear To murmur of the lewedness behind, With facond* voice said, “Hold your tongues there, *eloquent, fluent And I shall soon, I hope, a counsel find, You to deliver, and from this noise unbind; I charge of ev’ry flock* ye shall one call, *class of fowl To say the verdict of you fowles all.”

The tercelet* said then in this mannere; *male hawk “Full hard it were to prove it by reason, Who loveth best this gentle formel here; For ev’reach hath such replication,* *reply That by skilles* may none be brought adown; *arguments I cannot see that arguments avail; Then seemeth it that there must be battaile.”

“All ready!” quoth those eagle tercels tho;* *then “Nay, Sirs!” quoth he; “if that I durst it say, Ye do me wrong, my tale is not y-do,* *done For, Sirs, — and *take it not agrief,* I pray, — *be not offended* It may not be as ye would, in this way: Ours is the voice that have the charge in hand, And *to the judges’ doom ye muste stand.* *ye must abide by the judges’ decision* “And therefore ‘Peace!’ I say; as to my wit, Me woulde think, how that the worthiest Of knighthood, and had longest used it, Most of estate, of blood the gentilest, Were fitting most for her, *if that her lest;* *if she pleased* And, of these three she knows herself, I trow,* *am sure Which that he be; for it is light* to know.” *easy

The water-fowles have their heades laid Together, and *of short advisement,* *after brief deliberation* When evereach his verdict had y-said They saide soothly all by one assent, How that “The goose with the *facond gent,* *refined eloquence* That so desired to pronounce our need,* business Shall tell our tale;” and prayed God her speed.

And for those water-fowles then began The goose to speak. and in her cackeling She saide, “Peace, now! take keep* ev’ry man, *heed And hearken what reason I shall forth bring; My wit is sharp, I love no tarrying; I say I rede him, though he were my brother, But* she will love him, let him love another!” *unless

“Lo! here a perfect reason of a goose!” Quoth the sperhawke. “Never may she the!* *thrive Lo such a thing ’tis t’have a tongue loose! Now, pardie: fool, yet were it bet* for thee *better Have held thy peace, than show’d thy nicety;* *foolishness It lies not in his wit, nor in his will, But sooth is said, a fool cannot be still.”

The laughter rose of gentle fowles all; And right anon the seed-fowls chosen had The turtle true, and gan her to them call, And prayed her to say the *soothe sad* *serious truth* Of this mattere, and asked what she rad;* *counselled And she answer’d, that plainly her intent She woulde show, and soothly what she meant.

“Nay! God forbid a lover shoulde change!” The turtle said, and wax’d for shame all red: “Though that his lady evermore be strange,* *disdainful Yet let him serve her ay, till he be dead; For, sooth, I praise not the goose’s rede* *counsel For, though she died, I would none other make;* *mate I will be hers till that the death me take.”

*“Well bourded!”* quoth the ducke, “by my hat! *a pretty joke!* That men should loven alway causeless, Who can a reason find, or wit, in that? Danceth he merry, that is mirtheless? Who shoulde *reck of that is reckeless?* *care for one who has Yea! queke yet,” quoth the duck, “full well and fair! no care for him* There be more starres, God wot, than a pair!” <42>

“Now fy, churl!” quoth the gentle tercelet, “Out of the dunghill came that word aright; Thou canst not see which thing is well beset; Thou far’st by love, as owles do by light,— The day them blinds, full well they see by night; Thy kind is of so low a wretchedness, That what love is, thou caust not see nor guess.”

Then gan the cuckoo put him forth in press,* *in the crowd For fowl that eateth worm, and said belive:* *quickly “So I,” quoth he, “may have my mate in peace, I recke not how longe that they strive. Let each of them be solain* all their life; *single <43> This is my rede,* since they may not accord; *counsel This shorte lesson needeth not record.”

“Yea, have the glutton fill’d enough his paunch, Then are we well!” saide the emerlon;* *merlin “Thou murd’rer of the heggsugg,* on the branch *hedge-sparrow That brought thee forth, thou most rueful glutton, <44> Live thou solain, worme’s corruption! *For no force is to lack of thy nature;* *the loss of a bird of your Go! lewed be thou, while the world may dare!” depraved nature is no matter of regret.* “Now peace,” quoth Nature, “I commande here; For I have heard all your opinion, And in effect yet be we ne’er the nere.* *nearer But, finally, this is my conclusion, — That she herself shall have her election Of whom her list, whoso be *wroth or blith;* *angry or glad* Him that she chooseth, he shall her have as swith.* *quickly

“For since it may not here discussed be Who loves her best, as said the tercelet, Then will I do this favour t’ her, that she Shall have right him on whom her heart is set, And he her, that his heart hath on her knit: This judge I, Nature, for* I may not lie *because To none estate; I *have none other eye.* *can see the matter in no other light* “But as for counsel for to choose a make, If I were Reason, [certes] then would I Counsaile you the royal tercel take, As saith the tercelet full skilfully,* *reasonably As for the gentilest, and most worthy, Which I have wrought so well to my pleasance, That to you it ought be *a suffisance.”* *to your satisfaction*

With dreadful* voice the formel her answer’d: *frightened “My rightful lady, goddess of Nature, Sooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,* *rod, or government As is every other creature, And must be yours, while that my life may dure; And therefore grante me my firste boon,* *favour And mine intent you will I say right soon.”

“I grant it you,” said she; and right anon This formel eagle spake in this degree:* *manner “Almighty queen, until this year be done I aske respite to advise me; And after that to have my choice all free; This is all and some that I would speak and say; Ye get no more, although ye *do me dey.* *slay me*

“I will not serve Venus, nor Cupide, For sooth as yet, by no manner way.” “Now since it may none other ways betide,”* *happen Quoth Dame Nature, “there is no more to say; Then would I that these fowles were away, Each with his mate, for longer tarrying here.” And said them thus, as ye shall after hear.

“To you speak I, ye tercels,” quoth Nature; “Be of good heart, and serve her alle three; A year is not so longe to endure; And each of you *pain him* in his degree *strive* For to do well, for, God wot, quit is she From you this year, what after so befall; This *entremess is dressed* for you all.” *dish is prepared*

And when this work y-brought was to an end, To ev’ry fowle Nature gave his make, By *even accord,* and on their way they wend: *fair agreement* And, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make! For each of them gan other in his wings take, And with their neckes each gan other wind,* *enfold, caress Thanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.

But first were chosen fowles for to sing,— As year by year was alway their usance,* — *custom To sing a roundel at their departing, To do to Nature honour and pleasance; The note, I trowe, maked was in France; The wordes were such as ye may here find The nexte verse, as I have now in mind:

Qui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>

“Now welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft, That hast these winter weathers overshake * *dispersed, overcome Saint Valentine, thou art full high on loft, Which driv’st away the longe nightes blake;* *black Thus singe smalle fowles for thy sake: Well have they cause for to gladden* oft, *be glad, make mirth Since each of them recover’d hath his make;* *mate Full blissful may they sing when they awake.”

And with the shouting, when their song was do,* *done That the fowls maden at their flight away, I woke, and other bookes took me to, To read upon; and yet I read alway. I hope, y-wis, to reade so some day, That I shall meete something for to fare The bet;* and thus to read I will not spare. *better