And at the end of the month it behoved my mistress, by reason of whom I lived in anguish, to quit the castle afore-named, for no longer could she remain there, and so she departed. Then was I truly in grievous plight, since I lost from sight the very perfect fair one without whom I could not live. Now was all my happiness ended, for longwhiles had I been used to look on her, and to be with her, at all times. But now it befell that perchance three months or four would pass ere I should hear of her, or see her, the which was very grievous unto me to endure. And I so grieved over the past, and felt such dolour at her departure, that I lost my colour, my judgment, my demeanour, and my self-command. Thus I believe that, as it might well be, many folk perceived my yearning, about which they made gossip, the which caused her disquiet. And so much did this weigh upon me, that I thought to die of grief. And when I heard it noised abroad that I loved my fair lady, my grief was the more increased, for, because of this, I had suspicion that this great friendship made discord between me and her friends, and this grief caused me very dire distress, for I much [pg 43] feared me that she was constrained to leave because of this, and so much did this disquiet me, that I know not how to tell of it. Howsoever, as far as in me lay, I hid my sorrowful anger better than was my wont, and, enduring great grief, sighing, I uttered these words:—
BALLAD
Now in good sooth my joy is vanished clean,
And all my gladness changed to grievous ire:
What profits it, dear flower! since I have seen
Thy going hence, that I could never tire
When thou wast here
To greet thee every day in every year?
Delight that was is grown disaster fell:
Alas! How can I bid thee now farewell!
My love, my choice, my lady and my queen,
For whom my heart is kindled in desire,
What shall I do when love from what hath been
Taketh the gold and leaveth me the mire?
Nor far nor near
Is comfort found, nor any pleasant cheer.
Gone is thy beauty, that did all excel:
Alas! How can I bid thee now farewell!
Thine is the deed, O evil tongue and keen!
Forged for my fate upon an anvil dire:
Fortune, that loveth not my hand, I ween,
Nor yet my pen, did in the task conspire.
[pg 44]
No help is clear
Save Death, when God shall grant him to appear;
Else thou alone could'st win me out of hell.
Alas! How can I bid thee now farewell!
Ah, simple and dear!
At least behold me and my mourning drear.
Thy loss is torment more than I can tell.
Alas! How can I bid thee now farewell!
And the day of departure came, and my lady set forth, and I verily believe that she would have still delayed her going if she had dared, but it was meet for her to do her lord's will, since it behoved her to guard his good name. And she gave thanks to all, and took her leave, and set out on her way.
And I, unhappy being, who attended her, rode beside her litter, and the fair one, who could well perceive how that, without disguise, I loved her with a true love, looked at me fixedly with so tender a glance, that methinks she desired to cheer my drooping heart, which was sad, and moreover she might perchance have conversed with me but that on her left hand there rode another, who came so nigh unto us that we were not free to say aught which he [pg 45] might repeat, for the which I hated him fervently, and I saw well that I should oft have to endure much vexation.
In such manner we rode for a day and a half, until that we were come to her dwelling, but in nowise did the journey seem long to me, but quickly ended, and in truth it wearied me not, albeit I verily suffered. And I would have taken my leave of her, but her Lord, making much false pretence of welcome, endeavoured to detain me, but I knew from his demeanour that he was beside himself on account of me. And this jealousy had been put into his head by one who was at our feast, and to whom I had afterward made a recompense, and never did I think that he would keep watch on her. This caitiff had the charge of the fair one whom I worshipped, and for whom I was dying of grief. So I took my leave, and went on my way, and out of regard for my sovereign lady I dissimulated, and hid the sorrow that was mine, and never did any eye discover that which was such grievous pain to me, and scarce could I restrain my feelings. But this was needful for fear of the slanderer, and so I departed, saying:—
[pg 46]
BALLAD
Farewell, my lady dear and dread,
Farewell, of all sovereign and queen,
Farewell, perfect and sacred head,
Farewell, who dost all honour mean,
Farewell, true heart, loyal and clean,
Farewell, best flower the world doth bear,
Farewell, yet not farewell, O white and fair!
Farewell, O wise, that no ill said,
Farewell, river that made life green,
Farewell, in whom fame harboured,
Farewell, voice that all ears could win,
Farewell, solace of all my teen,
Farewell, whose grace is wide as air,
Farewell, yet not farewell, O white and fair!
Farewell, soft look that through me sped,
Farewell, more fair than Helen queen,
Farewell, body and sweet soul wed,
Farewell, thou most gracious demesne,
Farewell, pole-star, joyous and keen,
Farewell, fountain of valour rare,
Farewell, yet not farewell, O white and fair!
Farewell, Princess of noblest mien,
Farewell, thou aweing smile serene,
Farewell, without fault, sin's despair,
Farewell, yet not farewell, O white and fair!
Thus did I commune with myself, and, sighing, I departed, and made great haste to reach my dwelling. [pg 47] And I was weighed down and troubled with grievous sorrow when I no longer saw there her whom I had dared choose as my lady, and whom my heart held so dear.