The Masque of Queen Bersabe



Knights mine, all that be in hall,

I have a counsel to you all,

Because of this thing God lets fall

Among us for a sign.

For some days hence as I did eat

From kingly dishes my good meat,

There flew a bird between my feet

As red as any wine.

This bird had a long bill of red


And a gold ring above his head;

Long time he sat and nothing said,

Put softly down his neck and fed

From the gilt patens fine:

And as I marvelled, at the last

He shut his two keen eyën fast

And suddenly woxe big and brast

Ere one should tell to nine.


Sir, note this that I will say;

That Lord who maketh corn with hay


And morrows each of yesterday,

He hath you in his hand.

SECUNDUS MILES(Paganus quidam)

By Satan I hold no such thing;

For if wine swell within a king

Whose ears for drink are hot and ring,

The same shall dream of wine-bibbing

Whilst he can lie or stand.


Peace now, lords, for Godis head,

Ye chirk as starlings that be fed

And gape as fishes newly dead;


The devil put your bones to bed,

Lo, this is all to say.


By Mahound, lords, I have good will

This devil’s bird to wring and spill;

For now meseems our game goes ill,

Ye have scant hearts to play.


Lo, sirs, this word is there said,

That Urias the knight is dead

Through some ill craft; by Poulis head,

I doubt his blood hath made so red


This bird that flew from the queen’s bed

Whereof ye have such fear.


Yea, my good knave, and is it said

That I can raise men from the dead?

By God I think to have his head

Who saith words of my lady’s bed

For any thief to hear.

Et percutiat eum in capite.


I wis men shall spit at me,

And say, it were but right for thee

That one should hang thee on a tree;


Ho! it were a fair thing to see

The big stones bruise her false body;

Fie! who shall see her dead?


I rede you have no fear of this,

For, as ye wot, the first good kiss

I had must be the last of his;

Now are ye queen of mine, I wis,

And lady of a house that is

Full rich of meat and bread.


I bid you make good cheer to be


So fair a queen as all men see.

And hold us for your lieges free;

By Peter’s soul that hath the key,

Ye have good hap of it.


I would that he were hanged and dead

Who hath no joy to see your head

With gold about it, barred on red;

I hold him as a sow of lead

That is so scant of wit.

Tunc dicat NATHAN propheta

O king, I have a word to thee;


The child that is in Bersabe

Shall wither without light to see;

This word is come of God by me

For sin that ye have done.

Because herein ye did not right,

To take the fair one lamb to smite

That was of Urias the knight;

Ye wist he had but one.

Full many sheep I wot ye had,

And many women, when ye bade,


To do your will and keep you glad,

And a good crown about your head

With gold to show thereon.

This Urias had one poor house

With low-barred latoun shot-windows

And scant of corn to fill a mouse;

And rusty basnets for his brows,

To wear them to the bone.

Yea the roofs also, as men sain,

Were thin to hold against the rain;


Therefore what rushes were there lain

Grew wet withouten foot of men;

The stancheons were all gone in twain

As sick man’s flesh is gone.

Nathless he had great joy to see

The long hair of this Bersabe

Fall round her lap and round her knee

Even to her small soft feet, that be

Shod now with crimson royally

And covered with clean gold.


Likewise great joy he had to kiss

Her throat, where now the scarlet is

Against her little chin, I wis,

That then was but cold.

No scarlet then her kirtle had

And little gold about it sprad;

But her red mouth was always glad

To kiss, albeit the eyes were sad

With love they had to hold.


How! old thief, thy wits are lame;


To clip such it is no shame;

I rede you in the devil’s name,

Ye come not here to make men game;

By Termagaunt that maketh grame,

I shall to-bete thine head.

Hìc Diabolus capiat eum.

This knave hath sharp fingers, perfay;

Mahound you thank and keep alway,

And give you good knees to pray;

What man hath no lust to play,

The devil wring his ears, I say;


There is no more but wellaway,

For now am I dead.


Certes his mouth is wried and black,

Full little pence be in his sack;

This devil hath him by the back,

It is no boot to lie.


Sitteth now still and learn of me;

A little while and ye shall see

The face of God’s strength presently.

All queens made as this Bersabe,


All that were fair and foul ye be,

Come hither; it am I.

Et hìc omnes cantabunt.


I am the queen Herodias.

This headband of my temples was

King Herod’s gold band woven me.

This broken dry staff in my hand

Was the queen’s staff of a great land

Betwixen Perse and Samarie.

For that one dancing of my feet,

The fire is come in my green wheat,


From one sea to the other sea.


I am the queen Aholibah.

My lips kissed dumb the word of Ah

Sighed on strange lips grown sick thereby.

God wrought to me my royal bed;

The inner work thereof was red,

The outer work was ivory.

My mouth’s heat was the heat of flame

For lust towards the kings that came

With horsemen riding royally.



I am the queen of Ethiope.

Love bade my kissing eyelids ope

That men beholding might praise love.

My hair was wonderful and curled;

My lips held fast the mouth o’ the world

To spoil the strength and speech thereof.

The latter triumph in my breath

Bowed down the beaten brows of death,

Ashamed they had not wrath enough.


I am the queen of Tyrians.


My hair was glorious for twelve spans,

That dried to loose dust afterward.

My stature was a strong man’s length:

My neck was like a place of strength

Built with white walls, even and hard.

Like the first noise of rain leaves catch

One from another, snatch by snatch,

Is my praise, hissed against and marred.


I am the queen of Amorites.

My face was like a place of lights


With multitudes at festival.

The glory of my gracious brows

Was like God’s house made glorious

With colours upon either wall.

Between my brows and hair there was

A white space like a space of glass

With golden candles over all.


I am the queen of Amalek.

There was no tender touch or fleck

To spoil my body or bared feet.


My words were soft like dulcimers,

And the first sweet of grape-flowers

Made each side of my bosom sweet.

My raiment was as tender fruit

Whose rind smells sweet of spice-tree root,

Bruised balm-blossom and budded wheat.


I am the queen Ahinoam.

Like the throat of a soft slain lamb

Was my throat, softer veined than his:

My lips were as two grapes the sun


Lays his whole weight of heat upon

Like a mouth heavy with a kiss:

My hair’s pure purple a wrought fleece,

My temples therein as a piece

Of a pomegranate’s cleaving is.


I am the queen Sidonian.

My face made faint the face of man,

And strength was bound between my brows.

Spikenard was hidden in my ships,

Honey and wheat and myrrh in strips,


White wools that shine as colour does,

Soft linen dyed upon the fold,

Split spice and cores of scented gold,

Cedar and broken calamus.


I am the queen Semiramis.

The whole world and the sea that is

In fashion like a chrysopras,

The noise of all men labouring,

The priest’s mouth tired through thanksgiving,

The sound of love in the blood’s pause,


The strength of love in the blood’s beat,

All these were cast beneath my feet

And all found lesser than I was.


I am the queen Hesione.

The seasons that increased in me

Made my face fairer than all men’s.

I had the summer in my hair;

And all the pale gold autumn air

Was as the habit of my sense.

My body was as fire that shone;


God’s beauty that makes all things one

Was one among my handmaidens.


I am the queen of Samothrace.

God, making roses, made my face

As a rose filled up full with red.

My prows made sharp the straitened seas

From Pontus to that Chersonese

Whereon the ebbed Asian stream is shed.

My hair was as sweet scent that drips;

Love’s breath begun about my lips


Kindled the lips of people dead.


I am the queen of Scythians.

My strength was like no strength of man’s,

My face like day, my breast like spring.

My fame was felt in the extreme land

That hath sunshine on the one hand

And on the other star-shining.

Yea, and the wind there fails of breath;

Yea, and there life is waste like death;

Yea, and there death is a glad thing.



I am the queen of Anakim.

In the spent years whose speech is dim,

Whose raiment is the dust and death,

My stately body without stain

Shone as the shining race of rain

Whose hair a great wind scattereth.

Now hath God turned my lips to sighs,

Plucked off mine eyelids from mine eyes,

And sealed with seals my way of breath.


I am the queen Arabian.


The tears wherewith mine eyelids ran

Smelt like my perfumed eyelids’ smell.

A harsh thirst made my soft mouth hard,

That ached with kisses afterward;

My brain rang like a beaten bell.

As tears on eyes, as fire on wood,

Sin fed upon my breath and blood,

Sin made my breasts subside and swell.


I am the queen Pasiphae.

Not all the pure clean-coloured sea


Could cleanse or cool my yearning veins;

Nor any root nor herb that grew,

Flag-leaves that let green water through,

Nor washing of the dews and rains.

From shame’s pressed core I wrung the sweet

Fruit’s savour that was death to eat,

Whereof no seed but death remains.


I am the queen of Lesbians.

My love, that had no part in man’s,

Was sweeter than all shape of sweet.


The intolerable infinite desire

Made my face pale like faded fire

When the ashen pyre falls through with heat.

My blood was hot wan wine of love,

And my song’s sound the sound thereof,

The sound of the delight of it.


I am the queen of Italy.

These were the signs God set on me;

A barren beauty subtle and sleek,

Curled carven hair, and cheeks worn wan


With fierce false lips of many a man,

Large temples where the blood ran weak,

A mouth athirst and amorous

And hungering as the grave’s mouth does

That, being an-hungred, cannot speak.


I am the queen of Persians.

My breasts were lordlier than bright swans,

My body as amber fair and thin.

Strange flesh was given my lips for bread,

With poisonous hours my days were fed,


And my feet shod with adder-skin.

In Shushan toward Ecbatane

I wrought my joys with tears and pain,

My loves with blood and bitter sin.


I am the queen of Rephaim.

God, that some while refraineth him,

Made in the end a spoil of me.

My rumour was upon the world

As strong sound of swoln water hurled

Through porches of the straining sea.


My hair was like the flag-flower,

And my breasts carven goodlier

Than beryl with chalcedony.


I am the queen of Cypriotes.

Mine oarsmen, labouring with brown throats,

Sang of me many a tender thing.

My maidens, girdled loose and braced

With gold from bosom to white waist,

Praised me between their wool-combing.

All that praise Venus all night long


With lips like speech and lids like song

Praised me till song lost heart to sing.


I am the queen Alaciel.

My mouth was like that moist gold cell

Whereout the thickest honey drips.

Mine eyes were as a grey-green sea;

The amorous blood that smote on me

Smote to my feet and finger-tips.

My throat was whiter than the dove,

Mine eyelids as the seals of love,


And as the doors of love my lips.


I am the queen Erigone.

The wild wine shed as blood on me

Made my face brighter than a bride’s.

My large lips had the old thirst of earth,

Mine arms the might of the old sea’s girth

Bound round the whole world’s iron sides.

Within mine eyes and in mine ears

Were music and the wine of tears,

And light, and thunder of the tides.

Et hìc exeant, et dicat Bersabe regina;


Alas, God, for thy great pity

And for the might that is in thee,

Behold, I woful Bersabe

Cry out with stoopings of my knee

And thy wrath laid and bound on me

Till I may see thy love.

Behold, Lord, this child is grown

Within me between bone and bone

To make me mother of a son,

Made of my body with strong moan;


There shall not be another one

That shall be made hereof.


Lord God, alas, what shall I sain?

Lo, thou art as an hundred men

Both to break and build again:

The wild ways thou makest plain,

Thine hands hold the hail and rain,

And thy fingers both grape and grain;

Of their largess we be all well fain,

And of their great pity:


The sun thou madest of good gold,

Of clean silver the moon cold,

All the great stars thou hast told

As thy cattle in thy fold

Every one by his name of old;

Wind and water thou hast in hold,

Both the land and the long sea;

Both the green sea and the land,

Lord God, thou hast in hand,

Both white water and grey sand;


Upon thy right or thy left hand

There is no man that may stand;

Lord, thou rue on me.

O wise Lord, if thou be keen

To note things amiss that been,

I am not worth a shell of bean

More than an old mare meagre and lean;

For all my wrong-doing with my queen,

It grew not of our heartès clean,

But it began of her body.


For it fell in the hot May

I stood within a paven way

Built of fair bright stone, perfay,

That is as fire of night and day

And lighteth all my house.

Therein be neither stones nor sticks,

Neither red nor white bricks,

But for cubits five or six

There is most goodly sardonyx

And amber laid in rows.


It goes round about my roofs,

(If ye list ye shall have proofs)

There is good space for horse and hoofs,

Plain and nothing perilous.

For the fair green weather’s heat,

And for the smell of leavès sweet,

It is no marvel, well ye weet,

A man to waxen amorous.

This I say now by my case

That spied forth of that royal place,


There I saw in no great space

Mine own sweet, both body and face,

Under the fresh boughs.

In a water that was there

She wesshe her goodly body bare

And dried it with her owen hair:

Both her arms and her knees fair,

Both bosom and brows;

Both shoulders and eke thighs

Tho she wesshe upon this wise;


Ever she sighed with little sighs,

And ever she gave God thank.

Yea, God wot I can well see yet

Both her breast and her sides all wet

And her long hair withouten let

Spread sideways like a drawing net;

Full dear bought and full far fet

Was that sweet thing there y-set;

It were a hard thing to forget

How both lips and eyen met,


Breast and breath sank.

So goodly a sight as there she was,

Lying looking on her glass

By wan water in green grass,

Yet saw never man.

So soft and great she was and bright

With all her body waxen white,

I woxe nigh blind to see the light

Shed out of it to left and right;

This bitter sin from that sweet sight


Between us twain began.


Now, sir, be merry anon,

For ye shall have a full wise son,

Goodly and great of flesh and bone;

There shall no king be such an one,

I swear by Godis rood.

Therefore, lord, be merry here,

And go to meat withouten fear,

And hear a mass with goodly cheer;

For to all folk ye shall be dear,

And all folk of your blood.

Et tunc dicant Laudamus.