Geoffrey Chaucer
Book III
1.
O
Blissful light, of which the beams clear
adorn all the third heaven fair!
O sun’s beloved, O Jove’s
daughter dear,
pleasure of love, O grace of
air,
in gentle hearts and ready
to live there!
O true cause of health and
gladness,
blessed be your power and
your goodness!
2.
In heaven and hell, in earth
and salt sea
your power is felt, if I
truly discern all,
since man, bird, beast,
fish, herb and green tree
feel at times your influence
eternal.
God loves, and from love
will never fall:
And in this world no living
creature
without
love, has worth, or may endure.
3.
You
Jove first to those effects so glad
(through which all things
live and be)
brought him, and amorous him
made
towards mortal things: and
as you wish, ye
gave him in love ease or
adversity:
and in a thousand forms down
him sent
to love on earth, and where
you wished he went.
4.
For you fierce Mars quenched
his ire:
and as you wish you make
hearts fine:
at least, those that you
wish to set on fire,
they fear shame, and vices
they resign.
You make them courteous,
fresh and benign,
and high or low, whatever a
man intends,
the joy he has, your power
to him sends.
5.
You hold kingdom and house
in unity:
you the true cause of
friendship are also:
you know all the secret
quality
of things, that folk wonder
about so,
when they cannot see why
time should show
that she loves him, or why
he loves her,
or why this fish, not that
one, comes to the weir.
6.
You have set a law for folk
in the universe,
and this I know from those
that lovers be,
that they who work against
you have the worse
of it: now, lady bright, of
your benignity,
in reverence to those who
serve thee,
whose clerk I am, now teach
me to write true
some of the joy folk feel in
serving you.
7.
Do you into my naked heart
sentiment
infuse, and show me of your
sweetness. –
Calliope, your voice now be present,
for now it is needed: see
you not my distress,
how I must tell right now of
the gladness
of Troilus, all for Venus’s
honouring?
To which gladness him who
has need God bring.
8.
All this time meanwhile lay
Troilus
rehearsing his lesson in
this manner:
‘My faith!’ thought he,
‘this I will say, and thus:
thus will I entreat my lady
dear:
that word is good, and this
shall be my cheer:
this I must not forget, any
wise.’
God grant it all works out
as he shall devise.
9.
And lord, how fast his heart
began to beat,
hearing her coming, and he
heaved a sigh!
And Pandarus, that led her,
by and by,
came near and began in at
the curtain to spy,
and said: ‘God give health
to those who die!
See, who is here coming to
visit you:
Lo, here is she that is your
death too.
10.
At that it seemed as if he
wept almost.
‘Ah,’ said Troilus, so
ruefully,
‘whether I am woeful, O
mighty God you know’st.
Who is there? I can see
nothing, truly.’
‘Sir,’ said Cressid, ‘it is
Pandar and I.’
‘You, sweet heart? Alas I
may not rise
to kneel and do you honour,
in any guise.’
11.
And he raised him upward,
and she right so
began her soft hands both on
him to lay:
‘Oh, for the love of God, do
you not so
for me,’ she said, ‘ah! what
do you say?
Sire, I come to you for two
causes today:
first to thank you, and from
your lordship seek
the continuing protection I
beseech.’
12.
At this, Troilus, who heard
his lady pray
for his support, was neither
quick nor dead,
nor, for shame, might to her
one word say,
even if men should strike
off his head.
But lord! he blushed so
suddenly red,
and sire, his lessons, that
he thought he knew
in how to speak to her, his
wits ran through.
13.
Cressid all this spied out
well enough,
for she was wise, and loved
him nonetheless
though he was not forward,
nor seemed tough,
nor bold enough to sing a
fool a mass.
But as his shame began
somewhat to pass,
his words, as long as my
rhymes hold,
I will tell you, as teach
the books of old.
14.
In altered voice, truly because
of dread,
which voice shook, and
therefore his manner
was greatly abased, and now
his colour red,
now pale, to Cressid, his
lady dear,
with look downcast and
humble cheer,
lo, the very first words
that from him start
are twice: ‘Mercy, mercy,
sweet heart.’
15.
And he was silent a while,
and when he could bring
himself to speak, said: God
knows, that I have
as faithfully as I have had
it in my enabling,
been yours (so God my soul
save)
and shall, till I, poor
wretch, am in my grave.
And though I dare not, and
cannot, complain
to you, it’s true that none
the less I suffer pain.
16.
This is as much, now, O
womanly one,
as I may say: and if this
does you displease,
I will avenge it on my own
life, right soon
I think, and set your heart
at ease,
if with my death your heart
I can appease.
But since you have heard me
have my say,
now I care not how soon I
pass away.’
17.
With that his manly sorrow
to behold,
might have left a heart of
stone in pain:
and Pandar wept as if he
might melt, all told,
and nudged his niece again
and again,
and said: ‘True hearts are
woebegone!
For love of God make of this
thing an end,
and slay us both at once
before you wend.’
18.
‘I? What?’ said she: ‘by God and by my truth,
I do not know what you would
have me say.’
‘I? What?’ said he: ‘that on
him you have ruth,
for God’s love, and let him
not fade away.’
‘Now then, thus,’ she said,
‘I will him pray
to tell me the object of his
intent:
I never knew yet quite what
he meant.’
19.
‘What I might mean, O sweet heart
dear?’
said Troilus, ‘O lovely,
fresh and free!
That with the streams of
your eyes clear
you might look some time
friendly on me,
and then agree that I may be
he,
without a trace of vice in
any way,
who might in truth serve you
every day.
20.
As towards my own lady and
chief resort,
with all my wit and all my
diligence,
and I to have, at your will,
comfort,
subject to your punishment,
equal to my offence,
even death, if I fail in
your defence:
and that you deign to show
me so much honour,
as to command me aught at
any hour.
21.
And I to be yours, very
humble, true,
secret, and in the pains I
take patient,
and ever more desire fresh
anew
to serve, and ever likewise
diligent,
and with good heart all
wholly bent
on obeying your wishes,
however they smart:
lo, I mean this, my own
sweet heart.’
22.
Said Pandarus: ‘Lo, here’s a
hard request,
and reasonable, for a lady
to spurn!
Now, my niece, by Jove’s
natal feast,
were I a god, your death you
would earn,
who hear clearly this man
will only burn
for your honour, and see him
almost die too,
and yet are so loth to
suffer him to serve you.’
23.
With that she began her eye
on him to cast
all pleasantly and all
graciously,
considering, and went not
too fast
with her words, but said to
him softly:
‘Mine honour excepted, I
will truly,
and in such form as he can
now devise,
accept him fully as servant,
in my eyes .
24.
Beseeching him, for God’s
love that he
will, in honour of truth and
nobleness,
as I mean well, so mean well
to me,
and my honour with wit and
finesse
always guard: and if I may
do him gladness,
from here on, then I will
not feign:
now all be whole, no longer
complain.
25.
But nevertheless, I warn
you,’ said she,
‘king’s son though you be,
in this
you shall no more have
sovereignty
over me in love than right
in such case is.
Nor will I forbear, if you
do amiss,
to be angry with you: but
while you me serve
cherish you truly as you
deserve.
26.
And in short, dear heart and
all my knight,
be glad, and regain your
lustiness,
and I shall truly, with all
my might,
your bitterness turn all to
sweetness.
If I be she that may bring
you gladness,
for every woe you shall
receive a bliss’:
And him in her arms took and
began to kiss.
27.
Pandarus fell on his knees,
and up his eyes
to heaven threw, and held
his hands high.
‘Immortal God,’ said he,
‘that never dies -
Cupid, I mean - this does you glorify:
and Venus, you may make your melody.
Without hand to them, it seems that in the
town,
at this marvel, I hear each bell sound.
28.
But ho! nor more now of this matter,
because these folk will come up soon,
who have the letter read: ‘lo, I them hear.
But I conjure you Cressid, for one
and two, you Troilus, when you are up and
gone,
that to my house you come at my inviting,
for I will full well arrange your coming.
29.
And ease your hearts there right enough,
and let’s see which of you can ring the bell
for speaking of love aright.’ With that he
laughed:
‘For there you will have a chance to tell!’
Said Troilus: ‘How long shall I dwell
before it’s done?’ Said he: ‘When you shall
rise
this thing shall be exactly as I advise.
30.
At that Helen and also Deiphebus
came upwards, right at the stair’s end:
and lord! so then began to groan Troilus
to his brother and his sister, to pretend.
Said Pandarus: ‘It’s time our way to wend.
Take, my niece, your leave of all three,
and let them talk, and come along with me.’
31.
She took her leave of them as politely
as she could, and they did her reverence
as fully as they could and graciously,
and spoke wondrously in her absence,
of her, in praise of her excellence:
and her demeanour, wit, and her manner
commended so, it was a joy to hear.
32.
Now let her take her way to her own place,
and we will turn to Troilus again,
who began the letter lightly to trace
that Deiphebus had in the garden seen.
And of Helen and him he would fain
be free, and said that his request
was to sleep, and after talk have rest.
33.
Helen kissed him, and took her leave all
blithe,
Deiphebus also, and home went all who might.
And Pandarus, as fast as he could drive,
then came to Troilus: straight as a crow’s
flight:
and on a pallet all that glad night
he lay by Troilus with a merry face,
to talk, and it was well they were together a
space.
34.
When everyone had vanished but these two,
and all the doors were shut quite fast,
to tell in brief, without more ado,
Pandarus, at this, before time passed
rose, and on his bed’s side sat,
and began to speak in sober guise
to Troilus as I shall you advise.
35.
My dearest lord, and my brother dear,
God knows, and you, that it made me sore
to see you languishing so this year,
for love, from which your woe grew always
more,
so that I, with all my power and all my lore,
have ever done my utmost business
to bring you to joy out of distress:
36.
and I have brought it to the state you
know’st,
so that through me you now stand in the way
of faring well – I say it without boast –
and know you why? Shame it is to say,
for you I have begun a game to play
which I would never do for any other,
although he were a thousand times my brother.
37.
That is to say, for you I have become
between joke and earnest, such a go-between
as makes women to men come:
though I say naught, you know well what I
mean:
for you I have my niece (of vices clean)
made so fully trust your nobleness,
that everything shall be as you wish.
38.
But God, that knows all, I take to witness
that covetously I this never wrought,
but only to abridge your distress
from which you well nigh died, as I thought.
But, good brother, do now as you ought,
for God’s love, and keep her from blame,
since you are wise, and always guard her
name.
39.
For you know well, her name as yet here
among the people, as one might say, hallowed
is:
for that man is unborn, I truly swear
who ever knew her do a thing amiss.
But woe is me, that I, who cause all this,
have to consider she is my niece dear,
and I her uncle, yet a traitor clear.
40.
And were it known that I, through my own
cunning,
had in my niece created this fantasy,
to do your pleasure and come running,
why, all the world would upon it cry
and say that I the worst treachery,
did, in this case, that ever was begun,
and she’d be lost, and you have nothing won.
41.
Wherefore before I go another pace
one more I beseech you and now say
that privacy must go with us in this case,
that you must never reveal us, that’s to say,
and be not angry though I often pray
you to hold secret such a deep matter:
for reasonable, you know it, is my prayer.
42.
And think what woe has befallen before this
through boasting, as men can read:
and what mischance in this world yet there is
from day to day, through that wicked deed.
Because of which the ancients were agreed
and told us in wise proverbs when we were
young
that the first of virtues is to hold your
tongue.
43.
And were it not that I desire to abridge
diffuse discussion, I could almost
a thousand stories to you allege
of women lost through false and foolish
boast.
You have learnt enough yourself, and know’st,
proverbs against that vice of always
blabbing,
though men might speak the truth in their
gabbing.
44.
O tongue, alas! so often here before
have you made many a lady bright of hue
say: “Alas the day that I was born!”
And many a maid’s sorrow to renew,
and for the most part, all of it untrue
that men claim, if tested were what they
weave:
by his nature no boaster can be believed.
45.
A boaster and a liar all is one,
as thus: suppose a woman grant me
her love, and says that other will she none,
and I am sworn to keep to secrecy,
and after I go tell it two or three.
Then I am a boaster at the least,
and a liar, since my oath’s deceased.
46.
Now look then if they be not to blame,
that manner of folk: what shall I call them,
what,
who boast of women, and by name,
that never even promised this or that
nor knew them more than they did my old hat?
It is no wonder, so God my wounds heal,
that women dread with us men to deal.
47.
I say this not out of mistrust for you,
nor for wise men, but the foolish,
and because the harm that’s in the world now
as often comes through folly as through
malice.
For I know well, that in wise folk vice
no woman dreads, if she is well apprised,
for the wise by the fool’s fate are advised.
48.
But now to the purpose: beloved brother dear,
keep all these things that I have said in
mind,
and be close, and be now of good cheer,
for in your day of need you’ll me true find.
I shall your business do in such a kind,
and with God’s help, that it will satisfy.
For it shall be just as you’d hope it might.
49.
For I know well that you mean well, too:
therefore I dare this fully to undertake.
You know also, what the lady granted you,
and the day is set the contract to make.
Now good night, I cannot keep awake:
and pray for me, since you are now in bliss,
that God soon send me death or joy like
this.’
50.
Who could tell of half the joy, or guess
what the soul of Troilus then felt,
hearing the assurance in Pandar’s request?
His old woe, that made his heart swell
began for joy to waste away and melt.
And all the wealth of his sighs so sore
fled at once: he felt them no more.
51.
But just as these coppices and hedges,
that have in winter been dead and grey,
re-clothe themselves in green when May is,
when every lusty lad likes best to play:
just in that same wise, truth to say,
his heart was suddenly filled with joy,
till there was never gladder man in Troy.
52.
And he began his look on Pandar to cast
both soberly and friendly, to see,
and said: ‘Friend, in April last
as well you know, if it remembered be,
how near death from woe it was you found me,
and how you went about this business
to know from me the cause of my distress.
53.
You know how long I refused to tell
you, who are the man that I best trust:
and yet there was no risk as it befell,
I know that truly, but tell me, just,
since I was loth to tell you though I must,
how dare I speak to others of this matter,
who tremble now, where no one can us hear?
54.
But nevertheless, to you by that God I swear
all,
who as He wishes may this whole world govern,
and if I lie, may Achilles with his spear
cleave my heart, though my life were eternal,
as I am mortal, if soon or late it fall
that I would betray it, or dare, or can,
for all the good God made under the sun,
55.
then I would rather die and fate be mine
I think, now chained up in a prison,
in wretchedness, with filth and vermin,
a captive of cruel King Agamemnon:
and this in all the temples of this town,
and by all the gods, I will to you swear
tomorrow morning, if you wish to hear.
56.
And that you have done so much for me,
that I may never more it repay,
this I know well, though I might now for thee
die a thousand times in a day:
I will serve you, what more can I say,
as your true servant, wherever you may wend,
for evermore until my life’s end.
57.
But here with all my heart I you beseech,
never to imagine in me such folly
as I now say: for me to think by your speech,
that this, which you do for me, so friendly,
might be taken by me as if it were bawdry.
I am not mad, though stupid I may be:
it is not so, I know that well, indeed.
58.
But he that goes for gold or for riches,
on such an errand, call him what you wish:
and this that you do call it nobleness,
compassion, and fellowship, and trust.
Distinguish it so, for far and wide we must
know that the differences must be discerned
between similar things, as I have learned.
59.
And so that you know I think not, nor dream
that this service is a shame or a joke,
I have a fair sister Polyxene,
Cassandra, Helen, or any of the pack:
be she ever so fair, and nothing lack,
tell me which you will have of anyone
for yours, and leave all to me alone.
60.
But since you have done me this service,
to save my life and not out of greed,
so, for the love of God, this enterprise
carry it through, for now there is most need:
for high and low, without a doubt indeed,
I will always all your rules keep.
Now good night, and let us both sleep.
61.
Thus each held him with the other well
blessed,
that all the world could not better it amend:
and on the morrow, when they were both
dressed,
each to his own needs began to attend.
But Troilus, though like a fire he burned,
from fierce desire of hope and of pleasure,
did not forget self-control and measure.
62.
But in himself with manhood he restrained
each wayward deed, and unbridled glare,
so that all who lived, truth to say,
should have no sign, by word or manner,
what he might think concerning this matter.
From everyone he was as far as is the cloud,
over his thoughts so well he drew a shroud.
63.
And all the while, which I to you describe,
this was his way of life, with all his might
by day he was in Mars’s high service,
that is to say, in arms, as a knight.
And for the greater part, in the long night
he lay and thought how that he might serve
his lady best, her thanks for to deserve.
64.
I will not swear, although he lay full soft,
that in his thought he was all at ease,
nor that he did not turn his pillows oft
and wish that what he lacked he might seize.
But that in such cases men are hard to
please,
for aught I know, no less than was he,
I consider that a possibility.
65.
But certain it is, back to the point to go,
that all this while, as is written in the
history,
he saw his lady sometimes, and also
she spoke with him, when she dared, and he
and she by agreement, as best could be,