It hath been seen and yet it shall be seen | |
That out of tender mouths God’s praise hath been | |
Made perfect, and with wood and simple string | |
He hath played music sweet as shawm-playing | |
To please himself with softness of all sound; | |
And no small thing but hath been sometime found | |
Full sweet of use, and no such humbleness | |
But God hath bruised withal the sentences | |
And evidence of wise men witnessing; | |
10 | No leaf that is so soft a hidden thing |
It never shall get sight of the great sun; | |
The strength of ten has been the strength of one, | |
And lowliness has waxed imperious. | |
There was in Rome a man Theophilus | |
Of right great blood and gracious ways, that had | |
All noble fashions to make people glad | |
And a soft life of pleasurable days; | |
He was a goodly man for one to praise, | |
Flawless and whole upward from foot to head; | |
20 | His arms were a red hawk that alway fed |
On a small bird with feathers gnawed upon, | |
Beaten and plucked about the bosom-bone | |
Whereby a small round fleck like fire there was: | |
They called it in their tongue lampadias; | |
This was the banner of the lordly man. | |
In many straits of sea and reaches wan | |
Full of quick wind, and many a shaken firth, | |
It had seen fighting days of either earth, | |
Westward or east of waters Gaditane | |
30 | (This was the place of sea-rocks under Spain |
Called after the great praise of Hercules) | |
And north beyond the washing Pontic seas, | |
Far windy Russian places fabulous, | |
And salt fierce tides of storm-swoln Bosphorus. | |
Now as this lord came straying in Rome town | |
He saw a little lattice open down | |
And after it a press of maidens’ heads | |
That sat upon their cold small quiet beds | |
Talking, and played upon short-stringèd lutes; | |
40 | And other some ground perfume out of roots |
Gathered by marvellous moons in Asia; | |
Saffron and aloes and wild cassia, | |
Coloured all through and smelling of the sun; | |
And over all these was a certain one | |
Clothed softly, with sweet herbs, about her hair | |
And bosom flowerful; her face more fair | |
Than sudden-singing April in soft lands: | |
Eyed like a gracious bird, and in both hands | |
She held a psalter painted green and red. | |
50 | This Theophile laughed at the heart, and said, |
Now God so help me hither and St. Paul, | |
As by the new time of their festival | |
I have good will to take this maid to wife. | |
And herewith fell to fancies of her life | |
And soft half-thoughts that ended suddenly. | |
This is man’s guise to please himself, when he | |
Shall not see one thing of his pleasant things, | |
Nor with outwatch of many travailings | |
Come to be eased of the least pain he hath | |
60 | For all his love and all his foolish wrath |
And all the heavy manner of his mind. | |
Thus is he like a fisher fallen blind | |
That casts his nets across the boat awry | |
To strike the sea, but lo, he striketh dry | |
And plucks them back all broken for his pain | |
And bites his beard and casts across again | |
And reaching wrong slips over in the sea. | |
So hath this man a strangled neck for fee, | |
For all his cost he chuckles in his throat. | |
70 | This Theophile that little hereof wote |
Laid wait to hear of her what she might be: | |
Men told him she had name of Dorothy, | |
And was a lady of a worthy house. | |
Thereat this knight grew inly glorious | |
That he should have a love so fair of place. | |
She was a maiden of most quiet face, | |
Tender of speech, and had no hardihood | |
But was nigh feeble of her fearful blood; | |
Her mercy in her was so marvellous | |
80 | From her least years, that seeing her school-fellows |
That read beside her stricken with a rod, | |
She would cry sore and say some word to God | |
That he would ease her fellow of his pain. | |
There is no touch of sun or fallen rain | |
That ever fell on a more gracious thing. | |
In middle Rome there was in stone-working | |
The church of Venus painted royally. | |
The chapels of it were some two or three, | |
In each of them her tabernacle was | |
90 | And a wide window of six feet in glass |
Coloured with all her works in red and gold. | |
The altars had bright cloths and cups to hold | |
The wine of Venus for the services, | |
Made out of honey and crushed wood-berries | |
That shed sweet yellow through the thick wet red, | |
That on high days was borne upon the head | |
Of Venus’ priest for any man to drink; | |
So that in drinking he should fall to think | |
On some fair face, and in the thought thereof | |
100 | Worship, and such should triumph in his love. |
For this soft wine that did such grace and good | |
Was new trans-shaped and mixed with Love’s own blood, | |
That in the fighting Trojan time was bled; | |
For which came such a woe to Diomed | |
That he was stifled after in hard sea. | |
And some said that this wine-shedding should be | |
Made of the falling of Adonis’ blood, | |
That curled upon the thorns and broken wood | |
And round the gold silk shoes on Venus’ feet; | |
110 | The taste thereof was as hot honey sweet |
And in the mouth ran soft and riotous. | |
This was the holiness of Venus’ house. | |
It was their worship, that in August days | |
Twelve maidens should go through those Roman ways | |
Naked, and having gold across their brows | |
And their hair twisted in short golden rows, | |
To minister to Venus in this wise: | |
And twelve men chosen in their companies | |
To match these maidens by the altar-stair, | |
120 | All in one habit, crowned upon the hair. |
Among these men was chosen Theophile. | |
This knight went out and prayed a little while, | |
Holding queen Venus by her hands and knees; | |
I will give thee twelve royal images | |
Cut in glad gold, with marvels of wrought stone | |
For thy sweet priests to lean and pray upon, | |
Jasper and hyacinth and chrysopras, | |
And the strange Asian thalamite that was | |
Hidden twelve ages under heavy sea | |
130 | Among the little sleepy pearls, to be |
A shrine lit over with soft candle-flame | |
Burning all night red as hot brows of shame, | |
So thou wilt be my lady without sin. | |
Goddess that art all gold outside and in, | |
Help me to serve thee in thy holy way. | |
Thou knowest, Love, that in my bearing day | |
There shone a laughter in the singing stars | |
Round the gold-ceilèd bride-bed wherein Mars | |
Touched thee and had thee in your kissing wise. | |
140 | Now therefore, sweet, kiss thou my maiden’s eyes |
That they may open graciously towards me; | |
And this new fashion of thy shrine shall be | |
As soft with gold as thine own happy head. | |
The goddess, that was painted with face red | |
Between two long green tumbled sides of sea, | |
Stooped her neck sideways, and spake pleasantly: | |
Thou shalt have grace as thou art thrall of mine. | |
And with this came a savour of shed wine | |
And plucked-out petals from a rose’s head: | |
150 | And softly with slow laughs of lip she said, |
Thou shalt have favour all thy days of me. | |
Then came Theophilus to Dorothy, | |
Saying: O sweet, if one should strive or speak | |
Against God’s ways, he gets a beaten cheek | |
For all his wage and shame above all men. | |
Therefore I have no will to turn again | |
When God saith ‘go,’ lest a worse thing fall out. | |
Then she, misdoubting lest he went about | |
To catch her wits, made answer somewhat thus: | |
160 | I have no will, my lord Theophilus, |
To speak against this worthy word of yours; | |
Knowing how God’s will in all speech endures, | |
That save by grace there may no thing be said. | |
Then Theophile waxed light from foot to head, | |
And softly fell upon this answering. | |
It is well seen you are a chosen thing | |
To do God service in his gracious way. | |
I will that you make haste and holiday | |
To go next year upon the Venus stair, | |
170 | Covered none else, but crowned upon your hair, |
And do the service that a maiden doth. | |
She said: but I that am Christ’s maid were loth | |
To do this thing that hath such bitter name. | |
Thereat his brows were beaten with sore shame | |
And he came off and said no other word. | |
Then his eyes chanced upon his banner-bird, | |
And he fell fingering at the staff of it | |
And laughed for wrath and stared between his feet, | |
And out of a chafed heart he spake as thus: | |
180 | Lo how she japes at me Theophilus, |
Feigning herself a fool and hard to love; | |
Yet in good time for all she boasteth of | |
She shall be like a little beaten bird. | |
And while his mouth was open in that word | |
He came upon the house Janiculum, | |
Where some went busily, and other some | |
Talked in the gate called the gate glorious. | |
The emperor, which was one Gabalus, | |
Sat over all and drank chill wine alone. | |
190 | To whom is come Theophilus anon, |
And said as thus: Beau sire, Dieu vous aide. | |
And afterward sat under him, and said | |
All this thing through as ye have wholly heard. | |
This Gabalus laughed thickly in his beard. | |
Yea, this is righteousness and maiden rule. | |
Truly, he said, a maid is but a fool. | |
And japed at them as one full villainous, | |
In a lewd wise, this heathen Gabalus, | |
And sent his men to bind her as he bade. | |
200 | Thus have they taken Dorothy the maid, |
And haled her forth as men hale pick-purses: | |
A little need God knows they had of this, | |
To hale her by her maiden gentle hair. | |
Thus went she lowly, making a soft prayer, | |
As one who stays the sweet wine in his mouth, | |
Murmuring with eased lips, and is most loth | |
To have done wholly with the sweet of it. | |
Christ king, fair Christ, that knowest all men’s wit | |
And all the feeble fashion of my ways, | |
210 | O perfect God, that from all yesterdays |
Abidest whole with morrows perfected, | |
I pray thee by thy mother’s holy head | |
Thou help me to do right, that I not slip: | |
I have no speech nor strength upon my lip, | |
Except thou help me who art wise and sweet. | |
Do this too for those nails that clove thy feet, | |
Let me die maiden after many pains. | |
Though I be least among thy handmaidens, | |
Doubtless I shall take death more sweetly thus. | |
220 | Now have they brought her to King Gabalus, |
Who laughed in all his throat some breathing-whiles: | |
By God, he said, if one should leap two miles, | |
He were not pained about the sides so much. | |
This were a soft thing for a man to touch. | |
Shall one so chafe that hath such little bones? | |
And shook his throat with thick and chuckled moans | |
For laughter that she had such holiness. | |
What aileth thee, wilt thou do services? | |
It were good fare to fare as Venus doth. | |
230 | Then said this lady with her maiden mouth, |
Shamefaced, and something paler in the cheek: | |
Now, sir, albeit my wit and will to speak | |
Give me no grace in sight of worthy men, | |
For all my shame yet know I this again, | |
I may not speak, nor after downlying | |
Rise up to take delight in lute-playing, | |
Nor sing nor sleep, nor sit and fold my hands, | |
But my soul in some measure understands | |
God’s grace laid like a garment over me. | |
240 | For this fair God that out of strong sharp sea |
Lifted the shapely and green-coloured land, | |
And hath the weight of heaven in his hand | |
As one might hold a bird, and under him | |
The heavy golden planets beam by beam | |
Building the feasting-chambers of his house, | |
And the large world he holdeth with his brows, | |
And with the light of them astonisheth | |
All place and time and face of life and death | |
And motion of the north wind and the south, | |
250 | And is the sound within his angel’s mouth |
Of singing words and words of thanksgiving, | |
And is the colour of the latter spring | |
And heat upon the summer and the sun, | |
And is beginning of all things begun | |
And gathers in him all things to their end, | |
And with the fingers of his hand doth bend | |
The stretched-out sides of heaven like a sail, | |
And with his breath he maketh the red pale | |
And fills with blood faint faces of men dead, | |
260 | And with the sound between his lips are fed |
Iron and fire and the white body of snow, | |
And blossom of all trees in places low, | |
And small bright herbs about the little hills, | |
And fruit pricked softly with birds’ tender bills, | |
And flight of foam about green fields of sea, | |
And fourfold strength of the great winds that be | |
Moved always outward from beneath his feet, | |
And growth of grass and growth of sheavèd wheat | |
And all green flower of goodly-growing lands; | |
270 | And all these things he gathers with his hands |
And covers all their beauty with his wings; | |
The same, even God that governs all these things, | |
Hath set my feet to be upon his ways. | |
Now therefore for no painfulness of days | |
I shall put off this service bound on me. | |
Also, fair sir, ye know this certainly, | |
How God was in his flesh full chaste and meek | |
And gave his face to shame, and either cheek | |
Gave up to smiting of men tyrannous. | |
280 | And here with a great voice this Gabalus |
Cried out and said: By God’s blood and his bones, | |
This were good game betwixen night and nones | |
For one to sit and hearken to such saws: | |
I were as lief fall in some big beast’s jaws | |
As hear these women’s jaw-teeth clattering; | |
By God a woman is the harder thing, | |
One may not put a hook into her mouth. | |
Now by St. Luke I am so sore adrouth | |
For all these saws I must needs drink again. | |
290 | But I pray God deliver all us men |
From all such noise of women and their heat. | |
That is a noble scripture, well I weet, | |
That likens women to an empty can; | |
When God said that he was a full wise man. | |
I trow no man may blame him as for that. | |
And herewithal he drank a draught, and spat, | |
And said: Now shall I make an end hereof. | |
Come near all men and hearken for God’s love, | |
And ye shall hear a jest or twain, God wot. | |
300 | And spake as thus with mouth full thick and hot; |
But thou do this thou shalt be shortly slain. | |
Lo, sir, she said, this death and all his pain | |
I take in penance of my bitter sins. | |
Yea now, quoth Gabalus, this game begins. | |
Lo, without sin one shall not live a span. | |
Lo, this is she that would not look on man | |
Between her fingers folded in thwart wise. | |
See how her shame hath smitten in her eyes | |
That was so clean she had not heard of shame. | |
310 | Certes, he said, by Gabalus my name, |
This two years back I was not so well pleased. | |
This were good mirth for sick men to be eased | |
And rise up whole and laugh at hearing of. | |
I pray thee show us something of thy love, | |
Since thou wast maid thy gown is waxen wide. | |
Yea, maid I am, she said, and somewhat sighed, | |
As one who thought upon the low fair house | |
Where she sat working, with soft bended brows | |
Watching her threads, among the school-maidens. | |
320 | And she thought well now God had brought her thence |
She should not come to sew her gold again. | |
Then cried King Gabalus upon his men | |
To have her forth and draw her with steel gins. | |
And as a man hag-ridden beats and grins | |
And bends his body sidelong in his bed, | |
So wagged he with his body and knave’s head, | |
Gaping at her, and blowing with his breath. | |
And in good time he gat an evil death | |
Out of his lewdness with his cursèd wives: | |
330 | His bones were hewn asunder as with knives |
For his misliving, certes it is said. | |
But all the evil wrought upon this maid, | |
It were full hard for one to handle it. | |
For her soft blood was shed upon her feet, | |
And all her body’s colour bruised and faint. | |
But she, as one abiding God’s great saint, | |
Spake not nor wept for all this travail hard. | |
Wherefore the king commanded afterward | |
To slay her presently in all men’s sight. | |
340 | And it was now an hour upon the night |
And winter-time, and a few stars began. | |
The weather was yet feeble and all wan | |
For beating of a weighty wind and snow. | |
And she came walking in soft wise and slow, | |
And many men with faces piteous. | |
Then came this heavy cursing Gabalus, | |
That swore full hard into his drunken beard; | |
And faintly after without any word | |
Came Theophile some paces off the king. | |
350 | And in the middle of this wayfaring |
Full tenderly beholding her he said: | |
There is no word of comfort with men dead | |
Nor any face and colour of things sweet; | |
But always with lean cheeks and lifted feet | |
These dead men lie all aching to the blood | |
With bitter cold, their brows withouten hood | |
Beating for chill, their bodies swathed full thin: | |
Alas, what hire shall any have herein | |
To give his life and get such bitterness? | |
360 | Also the soul going forth bodiless |
Is hurt with naked cold, and no man saith | |
If there be house or covering for death | |
To hide the soul that is discomforted. | |
Then she beholding him a little said: | |
Alas, fair lord, ye have no wit of this; | |
For on one side death is full poor of bliss | |
And as ye say full sharp of bone and lean: | |
But on the other side is good and green | |
And hath soft flower of tender-coloured hair | |
370 | Grown on his head, and a red mouth as fair |
As may be kissed with lips; thereto his face | |
Is as God’s face, and in a perfect place | |
Full of all sun and colour of straight boughs | |
And waterheads about a painted house | |
That hath a mile of flowers either way | |
Outward from it, and blossom-grass of May | |
Thickening on many a side for length of heat, | |
Hath God set death upon a noble seat | |
Covered with green and flowered in the fold, | |
380 | In likeness of a great king grown full old |
And gentle with new temperance of blood; | |
And on his brows a purfled purple hood, | |
They may not carry any golden thing; | |
And plays some tune with subtle fingering | |
On a small cithern, full of tears and sleep | |
And heavy pleasure that is quick to weep | |
And sorrow with the honey in her mouth; | |
And for this might of music that he doth | |
Are all souls drawn toward him with great love | |
390 | And weep for sweetness of the noise thereof |
And bow to him with worship of their knees; | |
And all the field is thick with companies | |
Of fair-clothed men that play on shawms and lutes | |
And gather honey of the yellow fruits | |
Between the branches waxen soft and wide: | |
And all this peace endures in either side | |
Of the green land, and God beholdeth all. | |
And this is girdled with a round fair wall | |
Made of red stone and cool with heavy leaves | |
400 | Grown out against it, and green blossom cleaves |
To the green chinks, and lesser wall-weed sweet, | |
Kissing the crannies that are split with heat, | |
And branches where the summer draws to head. | |
And Theophile burnt in the cheek, and said: | |
Yea, could one see it, this were marvellous. | |
I pray you, at your coming to this house, | |
Give me some leaf of all those tree-branches; | |
Seeing how so sharp and white our weather is, | |
There is no green nor gracious red to see. | |
410 | Yea, sir, she said, that shall I certainly. |
And from her long sweet throat without a fleck | |
Undid the gold, and through her stretched-out neck | |
The cold axe clove, and smote away her head: | |
Out of her throat the tender blood full red | |
Fell suddenly through all her long soft hair. | |
And with good speed for hardness of the air | |
Each man departed to his house again. | |
Lo, as fair colour in the face of men | |
At seed-time of their blood, or in such wise | |
420 | As a thing seen increaseth in men’s eyes, |
Caught first far off by sickly fits of sight, | |
So a word said, if one shall hear aright, | |
Abides against the season of its growth. | |
This Theophile went slowly, as one doth | |
That is not sure for sickness of his feet; | |
And counting the white stonework of the street, | |
Tears fell out of his eyes for wrath and love, | |
Making him weep more for the shame thereof | |
Than for true pain: so went he half a mile. | |
430 | And women mocked him, saying: Theophile, |
Lo, she is dead; what shall a woman have | |
That loveth such an one? so Christ me save, | |
I were as lief to love a man new-hung. | |
Surely this man has bitten on his tongue, | |
This makes him sad and writhled in his face. | |
And when they came upon the paven place | |
That was called sometime the place amorous | |
There came a child before Theophilus | |
Bearing a basket, and said suddenly: | |
440 | Fair sir, this is my mistress Dorothy |
That sends you gifts; and with this he was gone. | |
In all this earth there is not such an one | |
For colour and straight stature made so fair. | |
The tender growing gold of his pure hair | |
Was as wheat growing, and his mouth as flame. | |
God called him Holy after his own name; | |
With gold cloth like fire burning he was clad. | |
But for the fair green basket that he had, | |
It was filled up with heavy white and red; | |
450 | Great roses stained still where the first rose bled, |
Burning at heart for shame their heart withholds: | |
And the sad colour of strong marigolds | |
That have the sun to kiss their lips of love; | |
The flower that Venus’ hair is woven of, | |
The colour of fair apples in the sun, | |
Late peaches gathered when the heat was done | |
And the slain air got breath; and after these | |
The fair faint-headed poppies drunk with ease, | |
And heaviness of hollow lilies red. | |
460 | Then cried they all that saw these things, and said |
It was God’s doing, and was marvellous. | |
And in brief while this knight Theophilus | |
Is waxen full of faith, and witnesseth | |
Before the king of God and love and death, | |
For which the king bade hang him presently. | |
A gallows of a goodly piece of tree | |
This Gabalus hath made to hang him on. | |
Forth of this world lo Theophile is gone | |
With a wried neck, God give us better fare | |
470 | Than his that hath a twisted throat to wear; |
But truly for his love God hath him brought | |
There where his heavy body grieves him nought | |
Nor all the people plucking at his feet; | |
But in his face his lady’s face is sweet, | |
And through his lips her kissing lips are gone: | |
God send him peace, and joy of such an one. | |
This is the story of St. Dorothy. | |
I will you of your mercy pray for me | |
Because I wrote these sayings for your grace, | |
480 | That I may one day see her in the face. |