CHAPTER VI. THE ORCHARD OF BRUNISSENDE.
Harassed, fatigued, and sore with many a bruise, Jaufry was sinking too for food and drink; and yet the want of sleep,—of all our wants the most imperious,—so weighed him down, he scarce could keep his seat. Still he went on a quarter of the night with limbs benumbed and eyelids partly closed, taking such course his charger pleased to lead.
Serene and lovely was the atmosphere, and by the light the stars in shining gave he by adventure a large orchard saw, shut in with marble walls and skirt with trees of umbrage such as earth scarce saw before. Flowers and fragrant herbs abounded there; and with each puff of wind there issued out a sweet and balmy breath like paradise. 'Twas thus that, as night fell, the birds for leagues around did hither flock, and perching on the leafy boughs, warbled their dulcet notes till matin prime.
This orchard appertained to a great dame known as fair Brunissende. Within the castle of Montbrun she lived; and father, mother, husband, had she none; fine was her court and rich, of breeding high; and knights and burghers, minstrels, jugglers from all countries, hither trooping came. The palace, built of hewn and massive stone whereon the sculptor had employed his art, was flanked with towers blackened o'er by time. 'Twas in the centre Brunissende was lodged; and to it seven gates a passage gave, whereof the keepers could each one lead forth a thousand men.
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Five hundred damsels waited her commands; but though 'twere rare to see such beauty met, yet Brunissende held empire over all in loveliness and grace: one might have sought throughout the realms of earth, and yet not found such high and gentle dame, or one so fine in form. Her eyes and her sweet face swept from the mind of those who gazed on her all thought of former charms. She was more fresh, more fair, more purely white than snow that lies upon the frosted dew, and rose that opens on a lily's breast. *
* Car plus es fresca e bella e blanca
Que neus gelada sus en branca
Ni que rosas ab flor de lis....
Que cant hom auria cercat,
Totas cellas que son nascudas.....
Non auria hom una trobada
Tan bella ni tan gen formada;
Que sos oueils e sa bella cara
Fai oblidar qui ben l'esgara
Totas cellas que vistas a.
Ms. fol. 36, w. 3062 and 3159.