From Fabliaux or Tales, abridged from French Manuscripts of the XIIth and XIIIth Centuries by M. Le Grand, selected and translated into English Verse, by the late G. L. Way, Esq., with A Preface, Notes and Appendix, by the late G. Ellis, Esq., A New Edition, corrected in Three Volumes, Volume I, Printed for J. Rodwell, London; 1815; pp. 71-84, 177-178.
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ONE night, as stretch’d upon my bed I lay,
(’Twas in the merry month of lusty May,)
My heart all joy, my spirits clear and bright,
And every sense inspir’d with love’s delight;
I dreamt a dream: — meseem’d, I wist not why,
Beneath a tall o’ershadowing pine to lie:
Round, far and wide, a pathless forest spread;
And birds, by thousands, caroll’d o’er my head:
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Various the notes, in emulation sung,
And love’s sweet musick trill’d from every tongue.
Thus as I mus’d, and listen’d at mine ease,
The joyous concert seem’d at once to cease;
Thereat I look’d, and saw a parrot stand
Who in their mid-song check’d that warbling band.
The favour’d bird great Venus’ courier came,
And bore this message from his royal dame,
That when the morrow’s dawn should first unfold,
High court of justice there the goddess-queen would hold:
And at these tidings joy brake forth aloud,
And a new burst of musick fill’d the wood:
And straight, while sweetly rose their echoing lays,
To love’s great queen a throne the songsters raise.
The sun scarce rising shed his orient flame,
Ere with her countless train the goddess came.
Earth, all around, with springing flowerets grac’d
And signified her footsteps as she pass’d;
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Each neighbouring tree with livelier foliage spread,
And stretch’d its shadowy mantle o’er her head;
And bubbling fountains rose, and gently roll’d
O’er beds of sparkling gravel, pure like gold:
So down she sat: and straight her vassal crowd,
The lovers of her train, in reverence bow’d;
Prone at her feet in adoration lay,
And sigh’d the homage of their hearts away.
And next to these, in meet succession, came
Those who of love endur’d some tortious shame;
At her throne’s footstool stood the suppliant throng,
And all for justice sued, and remedy of wrong.
A lovely Canoness came first in sight,
Whom many a gentle lad, and many a knight;
(Her intercourse, it seem’d, had swoln their pride;)
Some social sisters grac’d the fair-one’s side.
Her robe well told the order that she bore;
With many a seemly fold ’twas plaited o’er;
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And o’er the same there was a surplice spread,
All wrought of linen of the slenderest thread,
And white like snow; though on its surface sleek
Some rumples seem’d her journey’s toil to speak.
She thus began: — ‘Deign, mighty queen, to hear;
‘Yield to thy subjects’ plaints thy favouring ear;
‘Zeal for thy cause thy votaries here proclaim,
‘Here vow that zeal through countless time the same.
‘Long wont the best, the noblest, of the land,
‘Sue for our love, and joy in our command.
‘Light was all toil, and cheap was expence,
‘To win that palm of high pre-eminence;
‘And feasts, and tournaments, and tables-round,
‘Proclaim’d the wight thus bless’d and thus renown’d.
Now, changeful doom! the Nuns with amice gray
‘Lure from our court our paramours away:
‘Kind pliant guise that no long service draws
‘Hath won some base ones to desert our cause,
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‘And yield them preference: — Regard our cries,
‘Great queen! be just! these saucy foes chastize;
‘Nor let them henceforth claim with upstart tone
‘Wights form’d for us, as we for them, alone.’
So deas’d the dame; and Venus, heavenly fair,
With token of redress receive’d her prayer:
Yet stay’d she doom, as meet the adverse side
Should plead their cause with argument replied.
A lovely Bernardine of winning mien
Then forth advance’d, and thus address’d the queen.
‘Great queen! for loveliness and power renown’d!
‘To work whose will our votive lives are bound;
‘Sole bliss, sole solace of our hapless state!
‘I hear our rancorous foes’ reproachful hate:
‘What then? hath nature shap’d of homelier mould?
‘(Attest, great queen, if here the truth be told!)
‘Are we then fashion’d of some baser clay?
‘Less form’d to love, to be belov’d, than they?
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‘Are we less young, less dainty than our foes?
‘Or can our hearts less feel for lovers’ woes?
‘Their garb more trim, more sumptuous, I confess;
‘But boon demeanour sure excelleth dress?
‘Ours are the tender glance, the winning smile,
‘The sweet solicitudes that life beguile.
‘On us, on ours, this grievous charge they lay,
‘That we have borne their paramours away:
‘Come, let the truth be known! — ’tis scornful pride
‘Hath scar’d full oft their suitors from their side:
‘Our softness charms, our modesty invites,
‘And hence our train of gentles and of knights:
‘These are our arts, and these our forceful snares
‘To capture helpless lovers unawares.
‘Oft have we tried, but still have tried in vain,
‘To send them back to their high dames again:
‘Pleas’d with the cheer our simple sisters show,
‘Some soon return, and some refuse to go.
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‘Nay, might we yield belief to what they say,
‘Those dainty robes, that bravery of array,
‘(No slender cost,) has vail’d a love less clear,
‘More soil’d with interest than awaits them here.’
So spake the Bernardine; and anger stirr’d
Each Canoness to hear her closing word.
Through the whole band a general murmur rose;
Each reddening cheek with indignation glows;
And, ‘What?; their advocate in haste replied,
‘These slaves add insult to their saucy pride!
‘Boast how they love, and insolently dare
‘In courtesies and charms with us compare.
‘Good sooth, him well it fits to blush for shame
‘Whose gross desire can feed so base a flame,
‘Admire those limbs with unctuous woollen warm,
‘And find gray gowns and rustick bubbling charm.
‘What knight, what noble, who of high degrees
‘Would deign to cast away a thought on these,
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‘But for their forward ways, their wanton wiles,
‘Looks void of shame, and loose lascivious smiles?
‘Los, this their secret spell men’s hearts to hold!
‘Since, to the grief of Love, it must be told;
‘Who sees those gifts he wills long time remain
‘Sought by true hears with aspiration vain,
‘With suppliant sighs, with looks deject and pale,
‘Here, prostitute to all, a general stale.
‘Hence, honest friends, and, at the last grown wise,
‘Let your lay-brothers and your monks suffice;
‘There love your fill, there dole of presents deal,
‘Make fat your mates from your own scented meal;
‘We yield you leave; — such wights as these ne’er dwell
‘At Mons, at Maubeuge, Moutier, and Nivelle:
‘But gentle blood — (I warn you once again —)
‘Canons and knights — to us alone pertain:
‘Aspire no more to pass these bounds decreed;
‘So part ye fair, and prosper in your deed.’
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Here the proud dame her scornful counsel clos’d:
No whit the adverse Nun seem’d discompos’d,
But gently thus replied; ‘Such furious mood
‘I mark nor need not, for my cause is good.
‘Rage such as thine is weakness, not support,
‘To a good cause; contemptuous of the court;
‘And a foul shock and insult, as I ween,
‘To the great presence of our goddess-queen.
‘Love heeds not wealth, nor nobleness of birth,
‘But joys to mingle opposites on earth:
‘An ermin’d dutchess oft less lov’d I read
‘Than a poor village lass in lowly weed.
‘Our gray Cistertian garb may nought compare
‘With their long robes and mantles lin’d with vair;
‘But not for these we boast our rival might,
‘But for our hears, sole source of love’s delight:
‘Love wooes the heart alone; and nought we fear
‘From the great goddess-queen of censure here
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‘But trust with suppliant suit her will to move
‘To grant us too the BENEFICE OF LOVE.’
Scarce ceas’d the Nun, when hollow murmuring loud
Buzz’d on all sides throughout the countless crowd;
For various ways discordant interest draws,
And various judgments scan the important cause.
Some choose ambition’s side, and best approve
The Canonesses’ claims to rule in love;
But the most part their mutter’d suffrage join
In favour of the modest Bernardine.
Thus all to all their different thoughts disclose,
Till from her throne imperial Venus rose;
Then ceas’d the din at once, and all was still,
While thus the goddess spake her sovereign will.
‘To you, meseems, who here for judgment stand,
‘Well known, o’er all that breathes, our high command:
‘Tis I, sole origin of love, inspire
‘Beast, fowl, and fish, all nature, with desire.
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‘Slaves to my law the mingling brutes embrace,
‘By instinct urg’d to propagate their race:
‘Man, nobler form’d, it fits at reason’s call
‘To make due choice; and I accept of all.
‘The monarch’s son, the youth of low degree,
‘Are both behold with equal eyes by me:
‘Let love, let loyal love man’s heart engage,
‘He wins my favour, be he prince or page.
‘Ye Canonesses! rob’d in surplice white,
‘Long have I mark’d your service with delight:
‘Your garb, your graces, and your birth, must gain
‘And fill with suppliant crowds your suitor train;
‘Keep these; yet drive not from my court away
‘These nuns, sequester’d from the blaze of day,
‘Whose hearts such constancy in secret prove,
‘Whom harsh constraint inspires with mightier love.
‘More elegance, I yield, more means to please
‘Ye own, than dignify the lot of these:
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‘Yet oft, for power of long-protracted course,
‘The knight’s gay steed mates not the ploughman’s horse.
‘The peacock’s plumage charms our dazzled eyes,
‘But ’tis his flesh the daintier treat supplies.
‘Within my court, alike to every kind,
‘I will free choice, as willing all should find.
‘On your wise governance alone depends
‘To keep your gallant train of suitor friends:
‘Take pattern from your rivals: learn from these
‘More gentleness, and more desire to please;
‘And, trust my prescience, henceforth you’ll deplore
‘Your paramours inconstant grown no more.’
IT appears in the course of the original Fabliau, that these gray nuns were Cistertians or Bernardines, a branch of the Benedictine order. The present dress of the Bernardines is white; but M. Le Grand observes that in the ages when the Fabliaux were written, they wore garments of the natural colour of the wool. These would appear grayish, at least when not quite clean.
Page 75, Line 12. ‘And all for justice sued, &c.’
M. Le Grand has here suppressed two descriptions very strongly marked with the taste of the age in which they were written: the one, of a full mass sung by birds, the nightingale officiating, with a sermon on love pronounced by the parrot, who afterwards gives absolution to all true lovers: the other of an allegorical repast which follows the mass, in which the first 178 dish is composed of tender glances, the second of smiles, the third of cares and complaints, &c. The liquor is jealousy, which turns all their heads: luckily the dinner ends by a dish of kisses, of which the guests being permitted to take as many as they think fit, depart tolerably well satisfied with their entertainment.
Page 76, Line 15. ‘. . . . . . ‘amice gray.’
See Milton’s Paradise Regained, Book IV. line 426:
. . . . . ‘morning fair
‘Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.’