I set her sengeley in synglere.
Alas, I lest her in an erbere:
10 Thurgh gresse to grounde hit fro me yot.
I dewyne, fordolked of luf-daungere
Of that privy perle withouten spot.
Syn in that spot hit fro me sprang,
Oft have I wayted, wyschande that wele,
15 That wont was while devoyde my wrang
And heven my hap and all my hele;
That dos bot thrych my herte thrange,
My brest in bale bot bolne and bele.
Yet thoght me never so swete a sange
20 As stille stounde let to me stele;
For sothe there fleten to me fele,
To thenk her colour so clad in clot:
O moul, thou marres a mery juele,
My privy perle withouten spot.
25 That spot of spyces mot nedes sprede
There such rychess to rot is runne.
Blomes blayke and blue and rede
There schines ful schyr agayns the sunne.
Flour and fruyt may not be fede
30 There hit doun drof in moldes dunne.
For uch gresse mot grow of graynes dede:
No whete were elles to wones wonne.
Of good uch good is aye begonne:
So semely a sede myght fayle not
35 That spryngande spyces up ne sponne
Of that precious perle withouten spot.
To that spot that I in speche expoun
I entred in that erber grene,
In Augoste in a high sesoun,
40 When corne is corven with crokes kene.
On huyle there perle hit trendeled doun
Schadowed these wortes ful schyre and schene,
Gilofre, gyngure and gromyloun,
And pyonys powdered aye bitwene.
45 If hit was semely on to sene,
A fayr reflayr yet fro hit flot.
There wones that worthly, I wot and wene,
My precious perle withouten spot.
Before that spot my hande I spenned,
50 For care ful colde that to me caght.
A devely doel in my hert denned:
Thagh resoun set myselven saght,
I playned my perle that there was penned
With fyrce skylles that faste faght;
55 Thagh kynde of Cryst me comfort kenned,
My wreched wille in wo aye wraghte.
I fel upon that floury flaght,
Such odour to my hernes schot;
I slode upon a slepyng slaght
60 On that precious perle withouten spot.
II
Fro spot my spyryt there sprang in space;
My body on balke there bode in sweven;
My gost is gon in Godes grace
In aventure there mervayles meven.
65 I ne wyst in this world where that hit was,
Bot I knew me cast there clyffes cleven.
Toward a forest I bere the face,
Where rokkes rich were to discreven:
The lyght of hem myght no man leven,
70 The glemande glory that of hem glent;
For were never webbes that wyes weven
Of half so dere adubbement.
Dubbed were all tho downes sides
With crystal clyffes so clere of kynde;
75 Holtwodes bryght aboute hem bides,
Of boles as blue as ble of ynde;
As burnist sylver the lef on slydes,
That thik con trylle on uch a tynde:
When glem of glodes agayns hem glydes,
80 With schymeryng schene ful schrylle thay schinde;
The gravayl that on grounde con grynde
Were precious perles of orient: –
The sunnebemes bot blo and blynde
In respecte of that adubbement.
85 The adubbement of tho downes dere
Garten my gost all gref forgete.
So fresche flavores of fruytes were,
As fode hit con me fayr refete.
Fowles there flowen in frith in fere,
90 Of flaumbande hues, both smal and grete;
Bot sytole stryng and gyternere
Her reken mirthe myght not retrete;
For when those bryddes her wynges bete,
Thay songen with a swete asent;
95 So gracious gle couth no man gete
As here and see her adubbement.
So all was dubbed on dere assyse
That frith there fortune forth me feres:
The derthe thereof for to devise
100 Nis no wye worthy that tonge beres.
I welke aye forth in wely wyse:
No bonk so big that did me deres;
The ferre in the frith, the fayrer con rise
The playn, the plonttes, the spyce, the peres, –
105 And rawes and randes and rich reveres,
As fildore fyne her bonkes brent.
I wan to a water by schore that scheres:
Lord, dere was hit adubbement!
The dubbement of tho derworth depe
110 Were bonkes bene of beryl bryght.
Swangeande swete the water con swepe,
With a rounande rurd raykande aryght.
In the founs there stonden stones stepe,
As glent thurgh glasse that glowed and glyght,
115 As stremande sternes, when strothe-men slepe,
Staren in welkyn in wynter night;
For uch a pobbel in pole there pyght
Was emerad, saffer, or gemme gent,
That all the logh lemed of lyght,
120 So dere was hit adubbement.
III
The dubbement dere of down and dales,
Of wode and water and wlonke playnes,
Bylde in me blisse, abated my bales,
Fordidden my stresse, disstryed my paynes.
125 Doun after a strem that dryly hales
I bowed in blisse, bredful my braynes.
The ferre I folwed those floty vales,
The more strenthe of joy myn herte straynes, –
As Fortune fares thereas ho fraynes:
130 Whether solace ho sende or elles sore,
The wye to whom her wille ho waynes
Hittes to have aye more and more.
More of wele was in that wyse
Then I couth telle, thagh I tom hade:
135 For urthely hert myght not suffyse
To the tenthe dole of tho gladnes glade.
Forthy I thoght that Paradise
Was there over gayn tho bonkes brade.
I hoped the water were a devise
140 Bitwene mirthes by meres made;
Biyonde that brok, by slente or slade,
I hoped that mote merked wore;
Bot the water was depe – I durst not wade,
And ever me longed aye more and more.
145 More and more, and yet wel mare,
Me lyst to see the brok biyonde:
For if hit was fayr there I con fare,
Wel loveloker was the ferre londe.
Aboute me con I stote and stare;
150 To fynde a forde fast con I fonde;
Bot wothes mo, iwysse, there ware,
The ferre I stalked by the stronde;
And ever me thoght I schuld not wonde
For wo, there weles so wynne wore.
155 Then newe note me com on honde
That meved my mynde aye more and more.
More mervayl con my dome adaunt:
I saw biyonde that mery mere
A crystal clyff ful relusaunt;
160 Mony ryal ray con fro hit rere;
At the fote thereof there sat a faunt,
A mayden of mensk, ful debonere;
Blysnande white was her bleaunt.
I knew her wel: I had sene her ere.
165 As glysnande gold that man con schere,
So schon that schene anunder schore.
On lenghe I loked to her there:
The lenger, I knew her more and more.
The more I frayste her fayre face,
170 Her figure fyne when I had fonte,
Such gladande glory con to me glace