[Tale of Iphis and Araxarathen.]Whilom be olde daies ferOf Mese was the king Theucer,Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis:Hic narrat qualiter Iphis, Regis Theucri filius, ob amorem cuiusdam puelle nomine Araxarathen, quam neque donis aut precibus vincere potuit, desperans ante patris ipsius puelle ianuas noctanter se suspendit. Vnde dii commoti dictam puellam in lapidem durissimum transmutarunt, quam Rex Theucer vna cum filio suo apud Ciuitatem1427Salamynam in templo Veneris pro perpetua memoria sepeliri et locari fecit.Of love and he so maistred is,That he hath set al his corage,As to reguard of his lignage,3520Upon a Maide of lou astat.Bot thogh he were a potestatP. ii. 120Of worldes good, he was soubgitTo love, and put in such a plit,That he excedeth the mesureOf reson, that himself assureHe can noght; for the more he preide,The lasse love on him sche leide.He was with love unwys constreigned,And sche with resoun was restreigned:3530The lustes of his herte he suieth,1428And sche for drede schame eschuieth,And as sche scholde, tok good hiedeTo save and kepe hir wommanhiede.And thus the thing stod in debat1429Betwen his lust and hire astat:He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe,Bot yit for oght that evere he coutheUnto his sped he fond no weie,So that he caste his hope aweie,3540Withinne his herte and gan despeireFro dai to dai, and so empeire,That he hath lost al his delitOf lust, of Slep, of Appetit,That he thurgh strengthe of love lassethHis wit, and resoun overpasseth.As he which of his lif ne rowhte,His deth upon himself he sowhte,So that be nyhte his weie he nam,Ther wiste non wher he becam;3550The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone,Tofore the gates he cam sone,P. ii. 121Wher that this yonge Maiden was,And with this wofull word, ‘Helas!’Hise dedli pleintes he beganSo stille that ther was nomanIt herde, and thanne he seide thus:‘O thou Cupide, o thou Venus,Fortuned be whos ordinaunceOf love is every mannes chaunce,14303560Ye knowen al min hole herte,That I ne mai your hond asterte;On you is evere that I crie,And yit you deigneth noght to plie,Ne toward me youre Ere encline.Thus for I se no medicineTo make an ende of mi querele,My deth schal be in stede of hele.Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere,Which duellest with thi fader hiere3570And slepest in thi bedd at ese,Thou wost nothing of my desese,Hou thou and I be now unmete.Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete,What dremes hast thou nou on honde?Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde.1431Thogh I no deth to the deserve,Hier schal I for thi love sterve,Hier schal a kinges Sone dyeFor love and for no felonie;3580Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe,Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe.P. ii. 122O herte hard aboven alle,This deth, which schal to me befalleFor that thou wolt noght do me grace,Yit schal be told in many a place,1432Hou I am ded for love and trouthe1433In thi defalte and in thi slouthe:Thi Daunger schal to manye moEnsample be for everemo,3590Whan thei my wofull deth recorde.’And with that word he tok a Corde,With which upon the gate treHe hyng himself, that was pite.The morwe cam, the nyht is gon,Men comen out and syhe anon1434Wher that this yonge lord was ded:Ther was an hous withoute red,For noman knew the cause why;Ther was wepinge and ther was cry.3600This Maiden, whan that sche it herde,And sih this thing hou it misferde,Anon sche wiste what it mente,And al the cause hou it wenteTo al the world sche tolde it oute,And preith to hem that were abouteTo take of hire the vengance,For sche was cause of thilke chaunce,Why that this kinges Sone is spilt.Sche takth upon hirself the gilt,3610And is al redi to the peineWhich eny man hir wole ordeigne:1435P. ii. 123And bot if eny other wolde,Sche seith that sche hirselve scholdeDo wreche with hire oghne hond,Thurghout the world in every londThat every lif therof schal speke,Hou sche hirself it scholde wreke.Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte,Sche caste hire yhen up alofte3620And seide among ful pitously:‘A godd, thou wost wel it am I,1436For whom Iphis is thus besein:Ordeine so, that men mai seinA thousend wynter after this,Hou such a Maiden dede amis,And as I dede, do to me:1437For I ne dede no piteTo him, which for mi love is lore,Do no pite to me therfore.’3630And with this word sche fell to groundeAswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde.1438The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herdeAnd syhe hou wofully sche ferde,Hire lif thei toke awey anon,And schopen hire into a StonAfter the forme of hire ymageOf bodi bothe and of visage.1439And for the merveile of this thingUnto the place cam the king3640And ek the queene and manye mo;And whan thei wisten it was so,P. ii. 124As I have told it hier above,Hou that Iphis was ded for love,Of that he hadde be refused,Thei hielden alle men excusedAnd wondren upon the vengance.And forto kepe in remembrance,This faire ymage mayden licheWith compaignie noble and riche3650With torche and gret sollempniteTo Salamyne the CiteThei lede, and carie forth withalThe dede corps, and sein it schalBeside thilke ymage haveHis sepulture and be begrave:1440This corps and this ymage thusInto the Cite to Venus,Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde,Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde.3660This ilke ymage as for miracleWas set upon an hyh pinacle,That alle men it mihte knowe,And under that thei maden loweA tumbe riche for the nonesOf marbre and ek of jaspre stones,1441Wherin this Iphis was beloken,1442That evermor it schal be spoken.And for men schal the sothe wite,Thei have here epitaphe write,3670As thing which scholde abide stable:The lettres graven in a tableP. ii. 125Of marbre were and seiden this:‘Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,For love of Araxarathen:And in ensample of tho wommen,1443That soffren men to deie so,Hire forme a man mai sen also,1444Hou it is torned fleissh and bonInto the figure of a Ston:3680He was to neysshe and sche to hard.Be war forthi hierafterward;Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,Ensampleth you of that was tho.’Confessor.Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie,It grieveth be diverse weieIn desespeir a man to falle,1445Which is the laste branche of alleOf Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise.Wherof that thou thiself avise3690Good is, er that thou be deceived,Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.Amans.Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,Now have I pleinly understondeOf Slouthes court the proprete,Wherof touchende in my degreFor evere I thenke to be war.Bot overthis, so as I dar,With al min herte I you beseche,That ye me wolde enforme and teche3700What ther is more of youre apriseIn love als wel as otherwise,P. ii. 126So that I mai me clene schryve.Confessor.Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyveAnd hast also thi fulle mynde,Among the vices whiche I findeTher is yit on such of the sevene,Which al this world hath set uneveneAnd causeth manye thinges wronge,Where he the cause hath underfonge:3710Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiereThe forme bothe and the matiere.
[Tale of Iphis and Araxarathen.]Whilom be olde daies ferOf Mese was the king Theucer,Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis:Hic narrat qualiter Iphis, Regis Theucri filius, ob amorem cuiusdam puelle nomine Araxarathen, quam neque donis aut precibus vincere potuit, desperans ante patris ipsius puelle ianuas noctanter se suspendit. Vnde dii commoti dictam puellam in lapidem durissimum transmutarunt, quam Rex Theucer vna cum filio suo apud Ciuitatem1427Salamynam in templo Veneris pro perpetua memoria sepeliri et locari fecit.Of love and he so maistred is,That he hath set al his corage,As to reguard of his lignage,3520Upon a Maide of lou astat.Bot thogh he were a potestatP. ii. 120Of worldes good, he was soubgitTo love, and put in such a plit,That he excedeth the mesureOf reson, that himself assureHe can noght; for the more he preide,The lasse love on him sche leide.He was with love unwys constreigned,And sche with resoun was restreigned:3530The lustes of his herte he suieth,1428And sche for drede schame eschuieth,And as sche scholde, tok good hiedeTo save and kepe hir wommanhiede.And thus the thing stod in debat1429Betwen his lust and hire astat:He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe,Bot yit for oght that evere he coutheUnto his sped he fond no weie,So that he caste his hope aweie,3540Withinne his herte and gan despeireFro dai to dai, and so empeire,That he hath lost al his delitOf lust, of Slep, of Appetit,That he thurgh strengthe of love lassethHis wit, and resoun overpasseth.As he which of his lif ne rowhte,His deth upon himself he sowhte,So that be nyhte his weie he nam,Ther wiste non wher he becam;3550The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone,Tofore the gates he cam sone,P. ii. 121Wher that this yonge Maiden was,And with this wofull word, ‘Helas!’Hise dedli pleintes he beganSo stille that ther was nomanIt herde, and thanne he seide thus:‘O thou Cupide, o thou Venus,Fortuned be whos ordinaunceOf love is every mannes chaunce,14303560Ye knowen al min hole herte,That I ne mai your hond asterte;On you is evere that I crie,And yit you deigneth noght to plie,Ne toward me youre Ere encline.Thus for I se no medicineTo make an ende of mi querele,My deth schal be in stede of hele.Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere,Which duellest with thi fader hiere3570And slepest in thi bedd at ese,Thou wost nothing of my desese,Hou thou and I be now unmete.Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete,What dremes hast thou nou on honde?Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde.1431Thogh I no deth to the deserve,Hier schal I for thi love sterve,Hier schal a kinges Sone dyeFor love and for no felonie;3580Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe,Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe.P. ii. 122O herte hard aboven alle,This deth, which schal to me befalleFor that thou wolt noght do me grace,Yit schal be told in many a place,1432Hou I am ded for love and trouthe1433In thi defalte and in thi slouthe:Thi Daunger schal to manye moEnsample be for everemo,3590Whan thei my wofull deth recorde.’And with that word he tok a Corde,With which upon the gate treHe hyng himself, that was pite.The morwe cam, the nyht is gon,Men comen out and syhe anon1434Wher that this yonge lord was ded:Ther was an hous withoute red,For noman knew the cause why;Ther was wepinge and ther was cry.3600This Maiden, whan that sche it herde,And sih this thing hou it misferde,Anon sche wiste what it mente,And al the cause hou it wenteTo al the world sche tolde it oute,And preith to hem that were abouteTo take of hire the vengance,For sche was cause of thilke chaunce,Why that this kinges Sone is spilt.Sche takth upon hirself the gilt,3610And is al redi to the peineWhich eny man hir wole ordeigne:1435P. ii. 123And bot if eny other wolde,Sche seith that sche hirselve scholdeDo wreche with hire oghne hond,Thurghout the world in every londThat every lif therof schal speke,Hou sche hirself it scholde wreke.Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte,Sche caste hire yhen up alofte3620And seide among ful pitously:‘A godd, thou wost wel it am I,1436For whom Iphis is thus besein:Ordeine so, that men mai seinA thousend wynter after this,Hou such a Maiden dede amis,And as I dede, do to me:1437For I ne dede no piteTo him, which for mi love is lore,Do no pite to me therfore.’3630And with this word sche fell to groundeAswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde.1438The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herdeAnd syhe hou wofully sche ferde,Hire lif thei toke awey anon,And schopen hire into a StonAfter the forme of hire ymageOf bodi bothe and of visage.1439And for the merveile of this thingUnto the place cam the king3640And ek the queene and manye mo;And whan thei wisten it was so,P. ii. 124As I have told it hier above,Hou that Iphis was ded for love,Of that he hadde be refused,Thei hielden alle men excusedAnd wondren upon the vengance.And forto kepe in remembrance,This faire ymage mayden licheWith compaignie noble and riche3650With torche and gret sollempniteTo Salamyne the CiteThei lede, and carie forth withalThe dede corps, and sein it schalBeside thilke ymage haveHis sepulture and be begrave:1440This corps and this ymage thusInto the Cite to Venus,Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde,Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde.3660This ilke ymage as for miracleWas set upon an hyh pinacle,That alle men it mihte knowe,And under that thei maden loweA tumbe riche for the nonesOf marbre and ek of jaspre stones,1441Wherin this Iphis was beloken,1442That evermor it schal be spoken.And for men schal the sothe wite,Thei have here epitaphe write,3670As thing which scholde abide stable:The lettres graven in a tableP. ii. 125Of marbre were and seiden this:‘Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,For love of Araxarathen:And in ensample of tho wommen,1443That soffren men to deie so,Hire forme a man mai sen also,1444Hou it is torned fleissh and bonInto the figure of a Ston:3680He was to neysshe and sche to hard.Be war forthi hierafterward;Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,Ensampleth you of that was tho.’Confessor.Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie,It grieveth be diverse weieIn desespeir a man to falle,1445Which is the laste branche of alleOf Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise.Wherof that thou thiself avise3690Good is, er that thou be deceived,Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.Amans.Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,Now have I pleinly understondeOf Slouthes court the proprete,Wherof touchende in my degreFor evere I thenke to be war.Bot overthis, so as I dar,With al min herte I you beseche,That ye me wolde enforme and teche3700What ther is more of youre apriseIn love als wel as otherwise,P. ii. 126So that I mai me clene schryve.Confessor.Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyveAnd hast also thi fulle mynde,Among the vices whiche I findeTher is yit on such of the sevene,Which al this world hath set uneveneAnd causeth manye thinges wronge,Where he the cause hath underfonge:3710Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiereThe forme bothe and the matiere.
[Tale of Iphis and Araxarathen.]Whilom be olde daies ferOf Mese was the king Theucer,Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis:Hic narrat qualiter Iphis, Regis Theucri filius, ob amorem cuiusdam puelle nomine Araxarathen, quam neque donis aut precibus vincere potuit, desperans ante patris ipsius puelle ianuas noctanter se suspendit. Vnde dii commoti dictam puellam in lapidem durissimum transmutarunt, quam Rex Theucer vna cum filio suo apud Ciuitatem1427Salamynam in templo Veneris pro perpetua memoria sepeliri et locari fecit.Of love and he so maistred is,That he hath set al his corage,As to reguard of his lignage,3520Upon a Maide of lou astat.Bot thogh he were a potestatP. ii. 120Of worldes good, he was soubgitTo love, and put in such a plit,That he excedeth the mesureOf reson, that himself assureHe can noght; for the more he preide,The lasse love on him sche leide.He was with love unwys constreigned,And sche with resoun was restreigned:3530The lustes of his herte he suieth,1428And sche for drede schame eschuieth,And as sche scholde, tok good hiedeTo save and kepe hir wommanhiede.And thus the thing stod in debat1429Betwen his lust and hire astat:He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe,Bot yit for oght that evere he coutheUnto his sped he fond no weie,So that he caste his hope aweie,3540Withinne his herte and gan despeireFro dai to dai, and so empeire,That he hath lost al his delitOf lust, of Slep, of Appetit,That he thurgh strengthe of love lassethHis wit, and resoun overpasseth.As he which of his lif ne rowhte,His deth upon himself he sowhte,So that be nyhte his weie he nam,Ther wiste non wher he becam;3550The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone,Tofore the gates he cam sone,P. ii. 121Wher that this yonge Maiden was,And with this wofull word, ‘Helas!’Hise dedli pleintes he beganSo stille that ther was nomanIt herde, and thanne he seide thus:‘O thou Cupide, o thou Venus,Fortuned be whos ordinaunceOf love is every mannes chaunce,14303560Ye knowen al min hole herte,That I ne mai your hond asterte;On you is evere that I crie,And yit you deigneth noght to plie,Ne toward me youre Ere encline.Thus for I se no medicineTo make an ende of mi querele,My deth schal be in stede of hele.Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere,Which duellest with thi fader hiere3570And slepest in thi bedd at ese,Thou wost nothing of my desese,Hou thou and I be now unmete.Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete,What dremes hast thou nou on honde?Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde.1431Thogh I no deth to the deserve,Hier schal I for thi love sterve,Hier schal a kinges Sone dyeFor love and for no felonie;3580Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe,Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe.P. ii. 122O herte hard aboven alle,This deth, which schal to me befalleFor that thou wolt noght do me grace,Yit schal be told in many a place,1432Hou I am ded for love and trouthe1433In thi defalte and in thi slouthe:Thi Daunger schal to manye moEnsample be for everemo,3590Whan thei my wofull deth recorde.’And with that word he tok a Corde,With which upon the gate treHe hyng himself, that was pite.The morwe cam, the nyht is gon,Men comen out and syhe anon1434Wher that this yonge lord was ded:Ther was an hous withoute red,For noman knew the cause why;Ther was wepinge and ther was cry.3600This Maiden, whan that sche it herde,And sih this thing hou it misferde,Anon sche wiste what it mente,And al the cause hou it wenteTo al the world sche tolde it oute,And preith to hem that were abouteTo take of hire the vengance,For sche was cause of thilke chaunce,Why that this kinges Sone is spilt.Sche takth upon hirself the gilt,3610And is al redi to the peineWhich eny man hir wole ordeigne:1435P. ii. 123And bot if eny other wolde,Sche seith that sche hirselve scholdeDo wreche with hire oghne hond,Thurghout the world in every londThat every lif therof schal speke,Hou sche hirself it scholde wreke.Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte,Sche caste hire yhen up alofte3620And seide among ful pitously:‘A godd, thou wost wel it am I,1436For whom Iphis is thus besein:Ordeine so, that men mai seinA thousend wynter after this,Hou such a Maiden dede amis,And as I dede, do to me:1437For I ne dede no piteTo him, which for mi love is lore,Do no pite to me therfore.’3630And with this word sche fell to groundeAswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde.1438The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herdeAnd syhe hou wofully sche ferde,Hire lif thei toke awey anon,And schopen hire into a StonAfter the forme of hire ymageOf bodi bothe and of visage.1439And for the merveile of this thingUnto the place cam the king3640And ek the queene and manye mo;And whan thei wisten it was so,P. ii. 124As I have told it hier above,Hou that Iphis was ded for love,Of that he hadde be refused,Thei hielden alle men excusedAnd wondren upon the vengance.And forto kepe in remembrance,This faire ymage mayden licheWith compaignie noble and riche3650With torche and gret sollempniteTo Salamyne the CiteThei lede, and carie forth withalThe dede corps, and sein it schalBeside thilke ymage haveHis sepulture and be begrave:1440This corps and this ymage thusInto the Cite to Venus,Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde,Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde.3660This ilke ymage as for miracleWas set upon an hyh pinacle,That alle men it mihte knowe,And under that thei maden loweA tumbe riche for the nonesOf marbre and ek of jaspre stones,1441Wherin this Iphis was beloken,1442That evermor it schal be spoken.And for men schal the sothe wite,Thei have here epitaphe write,3670As thing which scholde abide stable:The lettres graven in a tableP. ii. 125Of marbre were and seiden this:‘Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,For love of Araxarathen:And in ensample of tho wommen,1443That soffren men to deie so,Hire forme a man mai sen also,1444Hou it is torned fleissh and bonInto the figure of a Ston:3680He was to neysshe and sche to hard.Be war forthi hierafterward;Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,Ensampleth you of that was tho.’Confessor.Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie,It grieveth be diverse weieIn desespeir a man to falle,1445Which is the laste branche of alleOf Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise.Wherof that thou thiself avise3690Good is, er that thou be deceived,Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.Amans.Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,Now have I pleinly understondeOf Slouthes court the proprete,Wherof touchende in my degreFor evere I thenke to be war.Bot overthis, so as I dar,With al min herte I you beseche,That ye me wolde enforme and teche3700What ther is more of youre apriseIn love als wel as otherwise,P. ii. 126So that I mai me clene schryve.Confessor.Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyveAnd hast also thi fulle mynde,Among the vices whiche I findeTher is yit on such of the sevene,Which al this world hath set uneveneAnd causeth manye thinges wronge,Where he the cause hath underfonge:3710Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiereThe forme bothe and the matiere.
[Tale of Iphis and Araxarathen.]
Whilom be olde daies fer
Of Mese was the king Theucer,
Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis:
Hic narrat qualiter Iphis, Regis Theucri filius, ob amorem cuiusdam puelle nomine Araxarathen, quam neque donis aut precibus vincere potuit, desperans ante patris ipsius puelle ianuas noctanter se suspendit. Vnde dii commoti dictam puellam in lapidem durissimum transmutarunt, quam Rex Theucer vna cum filio suo apud Ciuitatem1427Salamynam in templo Veneris pro perpetua memoria sepeliri et locari fecit.
Of love and he so maistred is,
That he hath set al his corage,
As to reguard of his lignage,3520
Upon a Maide of lou astat.
Bot thogh he were a potestat
P. ii. 120
Of worldes good, he was soubgit
To love, and put in such a plit,
That he excedeth the mesure
Of reson, that himself assure
He can noght; for the more he preide,
The lasse love on him sche leide.
He was with love unwys constreigned,
And sche with resoun was restreigned:3530
The lustes of his herte he suieth,1428
And sche for drede schame eschuieth,
And as sche scholde, tok good hiede
To save and kepe hir wommanhiede.
And thus the thing stod in debat1429
Betwen his lust and hire astat:
He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe,
Bot yit for oght that evere he couthe
Unto his sped he fond no weie,
So that he caste his hope aweie,3540
Withinne his herte and gan despeire
Fro dai to dai, and so empeire,
That he hath lost al his delit
Of lust, of Slep, of Appetit,
That he thurgh strengthe of love lasseth
His wit, and resoun overpasseth.
As he which of his lif ne rowhte,
His deth upon himself he sowhte,
So that be nyhte his weie he nam,
Ther wiste non wher he becam;3550
The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone,
Tofore the gates he cam sone,
P. ii. 121
Wher that this yonge Maiden was,
And with this wofull word, ‘Helas!’
Hise dedli pleintes he began
So stille that ther was noman
It herde, and thanne he seide thus:
‘O thou Cupide, o thou Venus,
Fortuned be whos ordinaunce
Of love is every mannes chaunce,14303560
Ye knowen al min hole herte,
That I ne mai your hond asterte;
On you is evere that I crie,
And yit you deigneth noght to plie,
Ne toward me youre Ere encline.
Thus for I se no medicine
To make an ende of mi querele,
My deth schal be in stede of hele.
Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere,
Which duellest with thi fader hiere3570
And slepest in thi bedd at ese,
Thou wost nothing of my desese,
Hou thou and I be now unmete.
Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete,
What dremes hast thou nou on honde?
Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde.1431
Thogh I no deth to the deserve,
Hier schal I for thi love sterve,
Hier schal a kinges Sone dye
For love and for no felonie;3580
Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe,
Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe.
P. ii. 122
O herte hard aboven alle,
This deth, which schal to me befalle
For that thou wolt noght do me grace,
Yit schal be told in many a place,1432
Hou I am ded for love and trouthe1433
In thi defalte and in thi slouthe:
Thi Daunger schal to manye mo
Ensample be for everemo,3590
Whan thei my wofull deth recorde.’
And with that word he tok a Corde,
With which upon the gate tre
He hyng himself, that was pite.
The morwe cam, the nyht is gon,
Men comen out and syhe anon1434
Wher that this yonge lord was ded:
Ther was an hous withoute red,
For noman knew the cause why;
Ther was wepinge and ther was cry.3600
This Maiden, whan that sche it herde,
And sih this thing hou it misferde,
Anon sche wiste what it mente,
And al the cause hou it wente
To al the world sche tolde it oute,
And preith to hem that were aboute
To take of hire the vengance,
For sche was cause of thilke chaunce,
Why that this kinges Sone is spilt.
Sche takth upon hirself the gilt,3610
And is al redi to the peine
Which eny man hir wole ordeigne:1435
P. ii. 123
And bot if eny other wolde,
Sche seith that sche hirselve scholde
Do wreche with hire oghne hond,
Thurghout the world in every lond
That every lif therof schal speke,
Hou sche hirself it scholde wreke.
Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte,
Sche caste hire yhen up alofte3620
And seide among ful pitously:
‘A godd, thou wost wel it am I,1436
For whom Iphis is thus besein:
Ordeine so, that men mai sein
A thousend wynter after this,
Hou such a Maiden dede amis,
And as I dede, do to me:1437
For I ne dede no pite
To him, which for mi love is lore,
Do no pite to me therfore.’3630
And with this word sche fell to grounde
Aswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde.1438
The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herde
And syhe hou wofully sche ferde,
Hire lif thei toke awey anon,
And schopen hire into a Ston
After the forme of hire ymage
Of bodi bothe and of visage.1439
And for the merveile of this thing
Unto the place cam the king3640
And ek the queene and manye mo;
And whan thei wisten it was so,
P. ii. 124
As I have told it hier above,
Hou that Iphis was ded for love,
Of that he hadde be refused,
Thei hielden alle men excused
And wondren upon the vengance.
And forto kepe in remembrance,
This faire ymage mayden liche
With compaignie noble and riche3650
With torche and gret sollempnite
To Salamyne the Cite
Thei lede, and carie forth withal
The dede corps, and sein it schal
Beside thilke ymage have
His sepulture and be begrave:1440
This corps and this ymage thus
Into the Cite to Venus,
Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde,
Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde.3660
This ilke ymage as for miracle
Was set upon an hyh pinacle,
That alle men it mihte knowe,
And under that thei maden lowe
A tumbe riche for the nones
Of marbre and ek of jaspre stones,1441
Wherin this Iphis was beloken,1442
That evermor it schal be spoken.
And for men schal the sothe wite,
Thei have here epitaphe write,3670
As thing which scholde abide stable:
The lettres graven in a table
P. ii. 125
Of marbre were and seiden this:
‘Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,
For love of Araxarathen:
And in ensample of tho wommen,1443
That soffren men to deie so,
Hire forme a man mai sen also,1444
Hou it is torned fleissh and bon
Into the figure of a Ston:3680
He was to neysshe and sche to hard.
Be war forthi hierafterward;
Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,
Ensampleth you of that was tho.’
Confessor.
Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie,
It grieveth be diverse weie
In desespeir a man to falle,1445
Which is the laste branche of alle
Of Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise.
Wherof that thou thiself avise3690
Good is, er that thou be deceived,
Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.
Amans.
Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,
Now have I pleinly understonde
Of Slouthes court the proprete,
Wherof touchende in my degre
For evere I thenke to be war.
Bot overthis, so as I dar,
With al min herte I you beseche,
That ye me wolde enforme and teche3700
What ther is more of youre aprise
In love als wel as otherwise,
P. ii. 126
So that I mai me clene schryve.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyve
And hast also thi fulle mynde,
Among the vices whiche I finde
Ther is yit on such of the sevene,
Which al this world hath set unevene
And causeth manye thinges wronge,
Where he the cause hath underfonge:3710
Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiere
The forme bothe and the matiere.